Chapter 147: Zhang Pu, Who Thought Too Much

The main avenue of Zhengyang Gate, the vital artery of the Great Ming, was at this moment engulfed by an unprecedented wave of heat.

Crowds surged like weaving threads; carriages and horses clamored in noisy bustle.

In days past, the liveliness here was the hawking of merchants, the hurrying of pedestrians — the prosperity of the marketplace.

But today, the heart of this heat wave was one bookshop after another, establishments whose doorways were ordinarily far from the busiest.

"Make way! Make way!"

"Stop shoving! Queue up in the back!"

"Shopkeeper! Spare me one more copy! Just one!"

The boiling din of voices seemed about to trample the bookshop thresholds flat. Whether it was well-dressed landed gentry or scholars in square caps, all had lost their usual composure, each craning their necks and thrusting arms and silver money desperately inward.

In the center of the crowd, a scholar in a Confucian robe who had finally managed to snatch a copy of the Great Ming Times had not even caught his breath before three or four heads crowded around him.

"Brother, I'll offer two mace! How about sharing it with me?"

"I'll offer five mace!"

The scholar in the Confucian robe was just about to refuse when a fat merchant shoved through the crowd. "One tael! Brother, do me this kindness!"

The scholar's eyes lit up. That newspaper, still carrying the fragrance of fresh ink, instantly changed hands.

The fat merchant, as if he had obtained a priceless treasure, held the newspaper high and strode off smugly under the envious gazes of the crowd.

Not far away, several Imperial Academy students traveling together clustered around a classmate who had bought a paper, chattering in animated discussion, their faces alight with excitement and joy as if they had passed the provincial examination, heading cheerfully toward the Imperial Academy north of the city.

Xia Yunyi and his servant Xia An stood at this clamorous street corner, stunned speechless by the scene before them.

This was no newspaper purchase — it was plainly a scramble for money!

Xia An swallowed hard and glanced somewhat fearfully at the bookshop where the crowd was thickest, asking in a low voice, "Master, shall we… still go in?"

Xia Yunyi's face flushed pale and red by turns.

He recalled the guarantee he had made yesterday at the banquet, pounding his chest before his good friend Zhang Pu.

"Brother Qiandu, set your mind at ease. A mere copy of the Times — leave it to me!"

Those words still rang in his ears, yet the scene before him struck like a silent slap to the face.

He gritted his teeth, as if steeling himself to some resolve.

"Buy it! Why wouldn't we buy it!"

He said in a deep voice, "A gentleman's word, a team of four horses cannot overtake it. Since I have already promised Brother Qiandu, how can I shrink back now!"

He pointed to the two largest bookshops on the street and said to Xia An, "You go that way, I'll go this way. We split up!"

"Right away, Master!" Xia An answered, lifted the hem of his robe, and together with Xia Yunyi plunged into the surging tide of people.

A moment later, Xia Yunyi was shoved out of the crowd by a great force, his topknot askew, his clothes creased, thoroughly disheveled.

He leaned against a wall and caught his breath, then raised his eyes to search anxiously through the crowd.

Soon, beneath the eaves of a rice shop at the street corner, he spotted Xia An, who was looking around in every direction.

"Did you get one?" Xia Yunyi hurried over.

Xia An shook his head dejectedly, his face covered in dust.

"This small one charged into four or five bookshops, shouted himself hoarse, and asked everywhere." He panted heavily. "The original edition of the Times printed by the Directorate of Ceremonial's Scriptorium was long sold out. The copyists hired by the various bookshops are now frantically transcribing, but even for a manuscript copy, the next batch won't arrive for another two hours — and besides… they've all been pre-ordered!"

He looked up at the sun and said with a bitter face, "Master, it's already past the middle of the hour of the Sheep. Even if we wait for the next batch, we won't make it in time. What about your side?"

Xia Yunyi's cheeks burned slightly, and he answered vaguely, "…On my side, it was the same."

— He had been too embarrassed to shout loudly, and somehow, while squeezing through, he had been pushed right out.

Regret flooded his heart.

It was all because of yesterday's overindulgence in drink — a single night's hangover, and he had risen so late.

Had he come just one double-hour earlier, how could it have come to this!

"What is to be done?" Xia Yunyi paced anxiously on the spot. "Nothing at Dengshikou, nothing here — must we really go try our luck at the City God Temple? And what if there is nothing at the City God Temple either!"

Just as master and servant were at their wits' end, a few light coughs sounded from behind them.

"This gentleman."

Xia Yunyi turned at the voice and saw the rice-shop keeper standing behind the counter, smiling genially at him.

The keeper was around fifty, fair-skinned, with a trim goatee, his smile appearing especially warm.

"Might you be seeking to purchase the Great Ming Times?"

Xia Yunyi seemed to have grasped at a life-saving straw and nodded repeatedly. "Exactly! It must be the issue of the twentieth day of the ninth month, no other will do. Shopkeeper, you have one?"

The rice-shop keeper's smile deepened. Stroking his beard, he said unhurriedly, "As it happens, this old man here does still have one copy. And it is the original edition from the palace Scriptorium — the ink is bright, the engraving is sharp, not at all comparable to those crude manuscript copies outside."

He smacked his lips as if savoring some delicacy. "I bought it and read it through. Tsk, tsk — that article, truly… it split the heavens like a thunderclap and cut to the very marrow!"

Xia Yunyi was in no mood to hear his reflections and urgently cupped his hands in salute. "Shopkeeper, I am entrusted by a friend and must purchase a copy before the hour of the Sheep to keep an appointment. Would you… bear the pain of parting with it?"

The moment these words left his mouth, Xia An beside him rolled his eyes.

It's over — he spoke far too honestly.

Sure enough, a shrewd gleam flashed in the rice-shop keeper's eyes, and his smile grew ever more genial.

"Since the gentleman needs it urgently and for an appointment, this old man ought not to stand in the way of a good deed." He shifted his tone and continued in a measured drawl, "It is only that this newspaper is truly too splendid; the arguments within, one might say, are deafening and enlightening. This old man, too, finds it hard to put down…"

He paused, looked at Xia Yunyi with a beaming smile, and at last showed the fox's tail.

"Seeing that the gentleman is acting on another's behalf, selling it to you is not out of the question. However…"

"— The price must go up!"

Xia An had long anticipated this. He stepped forward and asked bluntly, "How much?"

The keeper unhurriedly extended an open palm.

Xia An raised an eyebrow. "Five mace?"

The keeper shook his head and flipped his palm back and forth.

"Five taels!"

"What?!"

At these words, both master and servant sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.

Xia An jabbed a finger toward the bookshop across the way, incredulous and furious: "You've got a black heart! The original is only five wen a copy, and the shop across the street sells hand-copies for a hundred wen! You're flipping it for a hundred times that?"

The shopkeeper was utterly unmoved, still slowly shaking his head, and uttered only two words: "The original."

"This thing's only worth anything for these two days!" Xia An fumed. "Copies are spreading all over the Imperial Academy — in a couple of days, that paper of yours won't be worth a thing!"

The shopkeeper kept that same look of untroubled serenity, shook his head, and repeated: "The Classics Workshop original."

Xia An was so angry the corners of his eyes twitched.

This grain-shop boss had clearly sized them up as desperate marks and meant to gorge himself fat in one bite!

It was all this fool of a master's fault, running his mouth with those foolish words — now they were well and truly had.

He tugged at Xia Yunyi's sleeve. "Master, let's go! We'll try the City God Temple — I refuse to believe that in a capital this huge, we can't find a single copy of a newspaper!"

Yet under his tug, Xia Yunyi did not budge an inch.

Xia Yunyi stood rooted to the spot as though his feet had grown into the earth, his face full of hesitation and inner struggle.

A top-grade warhorse cost no more than eight or nine taels — spending five taels on a single sheet of paper was so absurdly expensive it beggared belief.

But... it wasn't that he couldn't afford it. More to the point, the gathering later was waiting on this very newspaper.

On the other side was his promise to a friend, and the earth-shaking secret that article might contain.

After a moment, he finally made up his mind. He raised his head, looked at the shopkeeper, and ventured, "Three... four taels — will that do?"

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up instantly. Without the slightest hesitation, he slapped the counter and declared, "A gentleman's word is a whip to a swift horse! Seeing how urgent the gentleman is, this old fellow will take a loss today — four taels it is!"

Xia Yunyi's heart went thump.

He'd bid too low!

But the words were already out, and under so many watching eyes, he could hardly take them back.

With infinite reluctance, he drew four taels of broken silver from his sleeve and clutched them tight in his palm.

The shopkeeper was a brisk man. He plucked the silver right out of his hand, weighed it, and only then, beaming, produced from beneath the counter a neatly folded copy of the Times and presented it with both hands.

"Sir, look here — the paper, the ink, the calligraphy — absolutely impeccable!"

Xia Yunyi took the newspaper and carefully unfolded one corner.

It was indeed a Classics Workshop product: the paper thick and sturdy, the engraving exquisite, the characters sharp and clear, a faint fragrance of ink wafting up to meet him.

With the matter settled, a great weight lifted from his heart, and that aching sense of loss faded considerably.

He tucked the newspaper carefully into his breast and said to Xia An, "Let's go. The hour grows late — we must hurry on."

Ten li northwest of Gaoliang Bridge, springwater wells up from level ground and gathers into a lake called Haidian.

This place, lush with water and grass and thick with mist-wreathed trees, was a scenic spot of the first order in the capital's outskirts.

The Qinghua Garden, the country estate of the Li family, Marquis of Wuqing, was situated right here.

The garden spanned ten li, with pavilions and terraces, rockeries and winding streams — luxury carried to its utmost extreme.

A pity, then, that such a place was not for ordinary scholars to set foot in.

Xia Yunyi and the other scholars who had been invited set up that day's feast outside Qinghua Garden, in a waterside pavilion beside Danleng Brook.

Seen from afar, figures moved within the pavilion, sunlight glittered on the water's rippling surface, and Haidian in the distance lay like a vast slab of jade under the autumn sky — a scene of enchanting beauty.

Xia Yunyi hurried into the pavilion with Xia An. A dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at them in unison.

The man in the seat of honor wore a moon-white scholar's robe and had a broad, open countenance — none other than the host of the gathering, Zhang Pu.

Seeing Xia Yunyi approach, he laughed heartily and rose to his feet. "Brother Yizhong, why so late! By rule, you owe a forfeit cup!"

Xia Yunyi bowed to all around, his face apologetic but without the slightest awkwardness. "Some mundane affair delayed me on the road. Late arrival is a fault — I deserve the forfeit, I deserve it!"

With that, he stepped to the table, lifted a cup of wine, tilted his head back, and drained it in one draught.

"Well done!"

"Brother Xia is forthright!"

The whole pavilion cheered in unison.

From the crowd, a man leaning lazily against a pavilion pillar drawled in jest, "The way I see it, Brother Yizhong isn't taking his punishment — he's just here to cadge free wine."

At this, everyone burst into laughter.

Xia Yunyi looked closely. The speaker had a lean face and an untamed air about the brow — it was Zhang Cai.

He pointed at him and laughed, scolding, "You rascal Zhang Shouxian! Today I'll make sure to drink you under the table!"

Zhang Cai sprawled against the railing, his robe hanging open at the chest, a long slender bamboo pole in his hand as he idly teased the fish swimming below.

Without turning his head, he merely snorted. "Xia Yizhong, the wine at today's feast isn't yours for the taking just because you want it."

Zhang Pu watched the two banter with a smile and said nothing.

When the laughter in the pavilion had subsided somewhat, he gave a light cough.

"Gentlemen."

His voice was not loud, yet the pavilion gradually fell quiet.

Zhang Pu rose to his feet, looked around at everyone, and his expression grew solemn.

"Everyone is here. All present today are good friends of mine, but you may not all know one another. Allow me to make the introductions."

He raised a hand toward Xia Yunyi.

"Xia Yunyi, courtesy name Yizhong, of Huating County, Songjiang Prefecture."

Xia Yunyi clasped his hands to the company; they all returned the salute.

"Xu Jiong, courtesy name Jiuyi; Jiang Can, courtesy name Taozhong. Both are of Changzhou County, Suzhou Prefecture."

"Shi Kefa, courtesy name Xianzhi, of Xiangfu County, Kaifeng Prefecture."

As Zhang Pu made the introductions, each person rose in turn to exchange formal greetings, and the atmosphere in the pavilion gradually shifted from the earlier ease to solemnity.

Zhang Pu then gestured toward two young men whose builds were noticeably taller and sturdier than those of ordinary scholars.

"Zhang Mingzhen, courtesy name Houfu, of Jiangning County, Yingtian Prefecture."

"Li Ruolian, courtesy name Chengfu, of the Fan Yu Office in the Upper Forest Park."

"Both intend to sit for next year's military examinations."

When the two rose to salute, they moved with a vigorous, imposing air and their gazes were sharp — clearly men trained in the martial arts.

Finally, Zhang Pu pointed to himself and Zhang Cai.

"Zhang Cai, courtesy name Shouxian."

"Zhang Pu, courtesy name Qiandu. We two are from the the Taicang treasury treasury Subprefecture in the Southern Metropolitan Region."

With the round of introductions complete, the mood of the gathering had already changed.

Once everyone was seated again, Zhang Pu spoke in a clear, ringing voice: "At today's banquet, as the host, I shall first set the rules."

"First: at today's banquet, we shall not discuss romance, nor evaluate poetry, nor compose the prescribed eight-legged essays — we shall speak only of statecraft and policies to govern the realm and succor the people! Do you gentlemen consent?"

The company's expressions turned solemn; they exchanged glances, then one after another raised their right hands.

Zhang Pu nodded and continued: "Second: today's drinking shall not follow drinking games, nor impose forfeits. Only words of statecraft that cut to the bone and provoke deep reflection shall earn a single cup of wine, merely to moisten the lips! Do you gentlemen consent?"

The company raised their hands once more.

"Third," Zhang Pu's voice grew ever more resonant, "today's procedure shall be this: first, one among us shall read a masterful essay aloud for us all, and thereafter we shall each give voice to the views in our hearts! Do you gentlemen consent?"

The company raised their right hands for the third time.

After those three shows of hands, the atmosphere in the pavilion was utterly different from the laughter and jesting of moments before.

Even Zhang Cai, who had been reclining at an angle the whole time, cast aside his bamboo pole, drew his robes together, sat upright, and assumed a solemn expression.

The lake surface still glittered with rippling light; fish flicked their tails, sending out ring after ring of spreading ripples.

Beyond the pavilion, the autumn breeze was mild, and the willows trailed tenderly.

Yet within the pavilion, the atmosphere had become something else entirely.

Zhang Pu turned to Xia Yunyi and asked genially, "Brother Yizhong, were you able to purchase a copy of the Da Ming Times for the twentieth day of the ninth month?"

Xia Yunyi nodded and, with great gravity, drew from his breast the newspaper that had cost him a considerable sum.

Zhang Pu made a "please" gesture toward him.

"Then I must trouble Brother Yizhong to read for us this essay… the foremost essay of statecraft in all of history."

Xia Yunyi drew a deep breath, carefully unfolded the newspaper, and let his gaze fall upon that earth-shattering headline.

He cleared his throat and, in a solemn tone more weighty than any he had used before, began to read aloud.

"'Several Conjectures on the Timing of the Great Ming's Fall.'"

"'…In the Cheng-Zhou period, the dynastic line endured for eight hundred years, the longest of any era…'"

"'…And now our Great Ming, from the Hongwu founding to the present day, has already lasted two hundred and fifty-nine years…'"

Zhang Pu listened quietly to Xia Yunyi's unhurried recitation, but his mind was no longer on the essay itself.

He had already read this essay long ago.

Every month he gave the bookshop owner five taels of silver; the moment the Da Ming Times came out, the shop's errand boy would set aside an original copy and deliver it at once to his lodgings at the Suzhou guild hall.

The reason he still had Xia Yunyi go to such trouble to buy a copy —

was simply to make him feel that he had contributed something to this group.

The young Son of Heaven upon the throne had said that whoever could answer the question of this age would be the sage of the present era.

But Zhang Pu understood in his heart that one man's wisdom might glimpse a momentary ill, yet only the collective will of many could reverse a heaven-toppling course.

He, Zhang Pu, would surely pass the spring metropolitan examination with high honors next year, his name inscribed on the golden roster.

In that case, there were certain matters he could begin laying the groundwork for in advance.

And the people before him now were the first group he had carefully selected from among the examination candidates residing in the capital.

Among them were scholars preparing for next year's spring examination, and also military talents he had his eye on, men who intended to sit for the military selection.

The question of manpower and territory, in the end, could not be separated from external campaigns.

Though, as His Majesty had said, the time was not yet ripe, he himself was still young; a few years of accumulation would be just enough to meet that moment when it came.

When it did, would it not be the story of Zhang Juzheng and Qi Jiguang playing out once more?!

Xia Yunyi's voice echoed through the pavilion, and soon he reached the essay's closing lines.

"'…His Majesty said: "Those who wish to join me in reversing this great tide and shattering this ordained fate… raise your right arms!"'"

As the final line was read, silence filled the pavilion.

Xia Yunyi slowly lowered the newspaper in his hands and remained silent for a moment.

Then, he raised his own right hand.

Silence, within the pavilion.

Immediately after, Zhang Cai, Xu Qian, Shi Kefa… one young and solemn face after another raised their right hands.

Arms like a forest, standing firm and unwavering.

The lake water beyond the pavilion was ruffled by the wind; the shimmering reflected light played across every face, gleaming with fervent radiance.

Zhang Pu smiled gently and set aside the myriad thoughts in his heart.

He raised his wine cup, swept his gaze over the company, and declared in a ringing voice: "Gentlemen! To shatter this ordained fate — let us drink this cup together!"

"Drink deep!"

The company roared in unison, raising their cups and draining them in a single draught!