Chapter 351: Life's Journey South and North Is Full of Forking Paths

Taking advantage of the pause between pieces, Zhang Pu had already sorted out his thoughts.

He drew a deep breath and spoke slowly:

"Just now, Ai Nanying used glib words and a pleasing manner, deceiving us with nothing but grandiloquence, yet in the end he still fled in disarray."

"This is because his intent to chase after antiquity runs counter to His Majesty's New Policies, and therefore he could not argue his case."

"He came drifting in by boat, speaking cunningly to attack the jointly published examination essays in our collective volume — and it was never truly about some new eight-legged essay or old eight-legged essay argument..."

"The truth is simply that our collective volume has become a great hit, and this man is green with envy."

"But though the principle is thus, plain for all to see, we must still be wary of him writing polemical pieces to slander us with empty words."

"After all, the common folk of this realm are muddled and dim; not all can see through this man's true face."

He looked toward Xia Yunyi:

"Yizhong, you are fair-minded in your conduct. After today, you shall draft a record of proceedings, faithfully setting down everything that happened today, and have it printed and circulated. Let all under Heaven see Ai Nanying's arrogant, perverse, and self-serving conduct!"

Xia Yunyi rubbed his somewhat aching shoulder and nodded helplessly.

Yet the matter did not end there.

People's hearts, stirred up by Ai Nanying's disruption, had already grown somewhat scattered.

A mere rebuttal after the fact would, in the end, seem pale and feeble.

If Zhang Pu was to salvage the situation, he would still have to produce some genuine ability.

Zhang Pu continued:

"When we first gathered and established our covenant, we agreed to revere the classics and restore antiquity, to uphold the Dao and seek renewal — precisely to use the spirit of ancient prose to carry out the substantive intent of the New Policies. The literary society we founded is named the New Society, precisely drawing on the meaning: 'If you can renew yourself one day, then renew yourself every day, and keep renewing every day thereafter.'"

"This covenant aligns with the New Policies, and is moreover meant to manifest a new literary spirit, a new moral climate, a new vigor of heart."

"In the days past, the reason we freely discussed the meaning of the classics and critiqued official documents without touching on the equal-field measures in Zhejiang was truly not that we would not discuss it. Rather, when principles are not yet clear, affairs cannot be unified. When all hearts are not in accord, nothing can be accomplished."

"But now, Ai Nanying's outburst has forcibly thrown our agenda into disarray, compelling us to prove our own innocence."

He looked around at everyone and said:

"But this is just as well! With a common foe and shared hatred, all hearts will naturally unite — and that is better than any amount of scriptural debate and deliberation."

"Those who can remain are all the more men who are not deluded by cunning words, who judge clearly and keep faith."

"Let us simply settle it right here, making a covenant on the spot, and divide among ourselves the equal-field work for each locality!"

"Henceforth, one society per prefecture; each society shall establish its own president, each taking charge of equal-field measures in his own area. After investigating and adjusting the circumstances, they shall report to the local 'venerable father-and-mother' officials, to provide counsel. In this way, within we have our covenant oath binding us, and without we have the slander of petty men spurring us on."

"In public terms, this is for the affairs of all under Heaven; in private terms, it is also a fine prescription for proving our own innocence."

"Working steadily thus, when the autumn winds have passed, let us look again upon this world and see who truly is the man deceiving the age and stealing a name!"

At this grand declaration, everyone — whatever their private thoughts — nodded in assent.

This was also the direction Zhang Pu had readjusted after much deliberation just moments before.

The equal-field matter was something he had originally not wished to touch.

— At least, not to touch so quickly before the situation became clear.

Everyone knew that once the New Policies were launched, all the corresponding reforms — equal-field, tax-clearing, and the like — would surely be an unstoppable tide.

But the timing of one's intervention was a matter of great subtlety.

He, Zhang Pu, bore grand ambitions; there was truly no need for him to charge into the breach at the very beginning.

Otherwise, if things went badly, he might well be treated as a pawn to cross the river, casually taken and discarded.

— This was not a matter of unwillingness to touch it, or begrudging it.

Although the Zhang family of the the Taicang treasury treasury was an old official-gentry lineage, with many fields held under fraudulent registration, split registration, and scattered registration — extra acres beyond their rightful share —

what did any of that have to do with him, Zhang Pu?

The main branch of the Zhang family was the line of his uncle, Zhang Fuzhi.

This man was a jinshi of the fourteenth year of Wanli, who rose to be Minister of the Nanjing Ministry of Works, and was now retired at home.

But this main branch had swallowed up the estate of Zhang Pu's father, Zhang Yizhi, and because Zhang Pu was the son of a concubine, they had repeatedly humiliated him.

Even Zhang Fuzhi's servants regarded him, Zhang Pu, as beneath notice; aside from framing him time and again, they even mocked him to his face: 'What can a squashed rush-mat brat ever amount to?' — meaning, 'What prospects can a son born of a lowly woman possibly have?'

Such deep enmity — had he not feared that the equal-field matter was too grave and might jeopardize his own future prospects,

he, Zhang Pu, would have long since erupted in person, borrowing the momentum as a blade and sending his uncle's entire family to hell with his own hands!

But now, since Ai Nanying had given him the opening, it was just the thing to turn his passivity into initiative!

Such high-sounding public opinion, seized and used to pressure the members of the society, was far better than speaking out himself and personally descending into the fray to agitate for equal-field measures!

As for those society members entangled in family interests, who did not wish to broach the equal-field topic — he could no longer be concerned with them. Above, linking to the great tide of the New Policies; without, borrowing the threat of the Jiangxi literary societies; and with him, Zhang Pu, maneuvering at the center — if anyone still dared stick their neck out, they would be the first fool to be ground to dust!

Zhang Pu spread out a sheet of white paper upon the table on the spot and declared with fervor:

"Since we are to survey and equalize the fields, we must begin with ourselves, to show impartiality and selflessness."

"As a man of the the Taicang treasury treasury, I shall boldly take responsibility for the the Taicang treasury treasury Subprefecture myself, and begin the surveying with my own family first!"

"I shall also send a letter to Brother Shouxian (Zhang Cai). If he is willing, then the affairs of the two Zhang surnames in the the Taicang treasury treasury shall be my affair alone, Zhang Pu's!" Zhang Cai would certainly be willing!

The two had known each other since youth and had pledged themselves to a common purpose: once they held authority, they would rectify the chaos of servants and retainers bullying others in Jiangnan.

This equal-field matter, though not entirely the same as the servant-disorder they had spoken of back then, could — considering Zhang Cai's future prospects under the New Policies — be treated as entirely the same undertaking.

The others, seeing Zhang Pu so resolute, directly taking the knife to his own clan and even drawing in Zhang Cai, who had just passed the examinations, had no further objections. Those whose hearts were free of selfishness, such as Chen Zilong and Xia Yunyi, spoke up one after another, each taking responsibility for Huating, Shanghai, Qingpu, and other localities.

Following Zhang Pu's example, they too would write letters to inquire of close fellow-locals serving as officials in the capital.

One must not underestimate this tactic.

The Wu-Kuai region is a gathering place of literary talent, producing more officials serving away from home than any other province in the realm — and many of them were among those appointed under the New Policies. For instance, Li Shiqi of the capital tax office is a man of Qingpu County.

For instance, Zhang Kentang, County Magistrate of Xiong County in Northern Zhili, is a man of Huating County.

For instance, Chen Renxi, head of the military affairs group in the Secretariat, is a man of Changzhou County.

And so on and so forth — the relevant persons are far too many to list exhaustively.

If this move truly stirred up waves and coalesced into a united force, Zhang Pu's reputation would surely soar straight upward.

This was entirely different from that day in the great hall, when the hundred officials one after another pledged before the Emperor to restrain their own households and carry out the land surveys.

After all, though the opinion of the literati circles may be a fart, if it truly coalesces into a united force, that restraint — one might even say — could well prove weightier than the empty, unsecured pledges the hundred officials made before the Emperor.

As more and more men stepped forward, even those with selfish motives found it awkward to voice opposition in such an atmosphere and could only each acknowledge their share. In the end, one sheet of white paper was filled, and then more than a dozen sheets were changed out before all the names, regions, and local gentry to be contacted were completely written down. The arrow has left the bow — there is no turning back.

Since Zhang Pu had chosen this most radical path, he could only devote himself wholly to carrying it through.

"Gentlemen! The matter of equalizing the fields must be undertaken in person!"

"Let the Yinshan gathering conclude as of today! From here on, no more discussing the classics, no more discussing state affairs — only feasting and drinking!"

"After this revelry, let each of you return to your home districts and carry it out with your own hands!"

"On the ninth day of the ninth month, the Double Ninth Festival! We shall gather here again, climbing the heights to meet once more! Then we shall see who has taken the lead, and who has fallen behind!" "Come! Let us drink this cup together!"

As his voice fell, everyone — whatever their private thoughts — raised their cups as one.

After the wine had gone three rounds, the feasting was gradually pushed to its highest pitch.

Some simply loosened their robes and sashes, sat sprawling with legs outstretched, and raised their wine cups to drink deeply with upturned faces.

Some struck their plates with chopsticks and, riding a tipsy high, loudly chanted verses whose words could no longer be distinguished.

Still others gathered in twos and threes, discussing the details of the "land equalization" after returning home.

Of course... amid the clamor, there were inevitably some whose faces wore forced smiles of joy, yet whose hearts were tangled in a hundred knots of hesitation, unable to taste the slightest flavor of the wine in their cups. In the midst of all the uproar, the top-ranking courtesan of the pleasure quarters, Xu Fo, gently raised her fair hands and from time to time played a tune, drawing bursts of cheering applause.

Ever since the last affair of serving as a midwife-investigator for Wujiang County, her status was no longer that of an ordinary celebrated courtesan.

She had plainly become the sort of "master" who could discuss great matters of family and state with the literati.

This was also the reason she was able to appear at this literary gathering today.

After performing several tunes and chatting with a few scholars about the local conditions and geography of various counties, Xu Fo finally found a gap, and on the pretext of fetching water to wash her face, withdrew briefly to rest.

She walked to the lakeside, gazing at the scenery within the lake, feeling the breeze brush her face — just as she stood there in a daze.

A crisp, lively voice came barreling straight toward her.

"Elder Sister! I've been looking for you forever — so you were here all along!"

Liu Rushi came bouncing and skipping over, an empty wine jug in one hand, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead like a melon rind. Xu Fo, tickled by this silly sight, burst out laughing with a pfft, took out her handkerchief, dampened it with lake water, and began wiping her face.

Children fear the heat, yet also don't quite fear the heat.

Liu Rushi closed her eyes and giggled, enjoying a personal service worth nearly a hundred taels of gold.

From her mouth, however, came a stream of heartfelt sighs:

"Elder Sister! I'm so happy today! There are so many heroes here!"

This time Xu Fo was truly amused. Her fair finger tapped lightly: "At your tender age, what can you understand of heroes?"

At these words, Liu Rushi immediately broke free and puffed out her chest indignantly:

"Who says I don't understand heroes! Someone like Imperial Inspector Li — that's a hero! Someone like Wang Sancai — that's a hero too!"

"Since these men want to equalize the fields, then they are heroes as well!"

"Didn't Imperial Inspector Li say it?"

"'If an official won't champion the people's cause, he might as well go home and sell sweet potatoes!'" At this, Xu Fo laughed so hard she shook like a flowering branch trembling in the breeze. Only after a long while did she stop and say:

"Fine, fine... Not understanding it the way you do — that's a kind of blessing in itself..."

Now Liu Rushi grew even angrier. "Hey! Elder Sister, how can you be like this! I told you, I understand heroes best of all!"

"Alright, alright, alright... You understand, you understand — no one under heaven understands better than you..."

Xu Fo answered her offhandedly. After retying her hair, she simply took her by the hand and led her back toward the gathering.

There they saw that by now, everyone was striking their plates with chopsticks and singing in unison the poem Zhang Pu had just composed:

"Old abuses long entangle the people, new ordinances shine across the Nine Provinces."

"Root out the treacherous (pointing at Ai Nanying, haha), cleanse the literary path; equalize the fields to ease the people's sorrows."

"Fear not the clamor of many voices; ponder instead the woes within the Four Seas."

"With one heart, revive the Way of governance; for ten thousand ages, look up to this grand design."

The top-ranked celebrated courtesans of Jiangnan were not judged by figure and complexion alone.

Xu Fo sat cross-legged. As her fair hands gently rose, she had already changed to a different piece — "Li Sao."

This piece was composed by the late-Tang qin master Chen Kangshi. Its melody, desolate and grief-laden yet grand in spirit, was a perfect match for the scene before them. At this, the atmosphere truly ignited.

With the stories of worthy ministers past and present reflecting one another, the throng of scholars grew so stirred they could scarcely contain themselves.

The brief lines of verse were sung in chorus again and again, startling flocks of birds into flight that circled and wheeled for a long time without alighting.

The resonant notes of the qin poured forth, mingling with the crowd's chanting, blending with hearts each in a different frame of mind, threading through the deep and secluded woods, skimming the rippling lakeshore, and at last drifting faintly, indistinctly, toward the distance.

And at this very moment, Qi Biaojia and Zhang Dai, having threaded their way past the many scholars, had only just boarded a small boat.

Seeing that there was no one around, Zhang Dai could at last hold back no longer and asked:

"Youwen, what's the matter with you? Why did you tug me away from the gathering just now?"

"Ai Nanying's words were so utterly unsparing — I'm sure Zhang Pu will have a response in due course."

"Wouldn't it have been good to stay and watch the excitement? Why rush off in such a hurry?"

Qi Biaojia shook his head and said,

"Those two hold opposing views, and each has been using his influence to draw men to his side — it has clearly taken on the appearance of faction-forming."

"At this point, the matter of literary style has become a matter of partisan dispute. It would not do for me to become too deeply entangled."

"Better to take advantage of the fact that I have not yet registered my name and no one is paying attention, and slip away early. Best to simply act as if I never set foot in this place today."

Zhang Dai, still immersed in the lingering aftertaste of the great battle just past, laughed and said:

"Youwen, you are being far too cautious."

"You are an official who entered service through the proper examination path. Who could — who would dare — drag you into such messy affairs?"

Qi Biaojia was at a loss for words, inwardly shaking his head at his friend's political obliviousness.

"Let me ask you something…"

"Everyone says this literary gathering was initiated by Xiong Kaiyuan, the County Magistrate of Wujiang. Where is this Xiong Kaiyuan today?"

"Well…" Zhang Dai opened his mouth, looking rather awkward. "Is he in the seat of honor?"

That fellow Zhang Dai had been too busy watching the spectacle just now — he hadn't even noticed the flower-like beauty standing in the hall, let alone any Xiong Kaiyuan. Qi Biaojia was speechless.

I knew it!

But this was his best friend. What else could he do?

Qi Biaojia spoke, resigned:

"I already asked around in the hall earlier."

"Ever since Ai Nanying crossed east and came in person to join the debate, Magistrate Xiong suddenly came down with a heat affliction and fell ill. He has not shown his face at this venue for many days." He sighed faintly, turned around, looked at this carefree, utterly innocent friend of his, and said with sincerity:

"Since you have ambitions for official achievement, you really ought to pay more attention to the ways of officialdom."

"Before Master Liu left the capital, he specifically entrusted Huang Daozhou to bring me a letter, telling me to speak no more of Donglin affairs, and above all not to brandish the Donglin label to promote myself."

Master Liu — that was Liu Zongzhou, a native of Shanyin County in Shaoxing Prefecture, now serving as Governor in Shaanxi, his mouth currently blistered with anxiety over this year's sudden drought. Zhang Dai finally came back to his senses and mustered a few brain cells, saying:

"You mean… His Majesty, he…"

Qi Biaojia nodded and picked up the thread:

"Factional matters have now become the greatest taboo at court."

"Since the first month, His Majesty has grown utterly impatient with the multitude of impeachment memorials."

"If one impeaches corruption, impeaches failure in duty, impeaches incompetence, and the like — once it passes verification by the Three Judicial Offices, there will be commendation and a red mark."

"But if one wantonly slanders and maligns, one will at every turn be reprimanded, marked green, or even personally issued…" Qi Biaojia paused here, rather hesitant.

But recalling those original texts of the imperial edicts enclosed in the distant letters, he truly could not think of a more fitting phrase, and could only say with embarrassment: "…mockery and abuse!"

He looked at Zhang Dai, his tone grave, trying to make his friend take this matter seriously:

"And if one attacks with charges of forming cliques, partisan factions, or even so-called eunuch faction or Donglin… once such a memorial is submitted, one is not even worthy of abuse — the immediate consequence is dismissal and being sent home."

"Even worse, some provincial officials far from court, unaware of the capital's atmosphere, still submit memorials in the old manner and likewise meet with dismissal, with no chance of reprieve. One might even call this somewhat overcorrecting."

Zhang Dai hesitated for a moment, but something felt off.

After thinking it over, he finally caught on and asked, puzzled:

"This sounds like a forceful suppression of factional strife, but… will it really work?"

"When people form factions, how can it be limited to attacking partisan rivals and self-serving schemes? Impeaching for corruption — wasn't that also a common factional tactic in the past?" "Yang Lian, Zuo Guangdou… who among them was not convicted on trumped-up charges of embezzlement?"

"Even my own Zhang family personally contributed to the redemption silver for Lord Mianzhen…" (Note: Referring to the Donglin figure Zhou Qiyuan, convicted of embezzling one hundred thousand taels.)

Qi Biaojia shook his head and said:

"That I do not know. After all, I have not been to the capital; relying on scattered words from friends is ultimately scratching an itch through a boot."

"These doubts — ask Ruyu, Yibo, and the others once you enter the capital."

As the two spoke, the small boat had already pulled back to shore.

Qi Biaojia took the reins from his page boy and swung up onto his horse.

"Let's go! Pay them no more mind."

"If Zhang Pu truly means to assemble a literary society and exchange essays on the eight-legged form, that would be harmless enough."

"But if he intends to use this as a pretext to rally hearts, and even to inherit the mantle of the Donglin…"

Qi Biaojia shook his head, gave a wry chuckle, and simply said no more. He raised his riding crop and rode off into the distance.

Zhang Dai was left standing there. He stood dumbly for a moment, then, itching with curiosity, turned his head and looked back at Yinshan Lake.

At that moment, from the direction of the Mid-Lake Pavilion, the faint strains of a zither drifted over again. The music sounded rather impassioned, though the tune was indistinct. The sun was setting in the west, and the lake's surface was dyed a blood-red gold.

The zither's notes echoed across the empty expanse of water, then were gradually muffled and swallowed by the rustle of wind through the reeds.

Zhang Dai sighed, finally extinguishing the urge to go back and join the excitement.

In any case, between the two schools of thought, considered on their own, he ultimately still preferred Ai Nanying's side of the argument.

So his leaving outright was not, in a sense, wrong.

So be it — he would find someone to ask about the rest of this debate later.

Zhang Dai painfully tore himself away from his gossip-loving heart, mounted his horse, flicked the reins, and galloped off after Qi Biaojia's retreating figure.

The staccato of hoofbeats startled a few waterbirds into flight.

The distant mountains were tinged with indigo; the nearby waters, like mist.

Yet this territory of Yinshan, after all, could not hold everyone.

Ai Nanying drifted west by boat, but who knew how he meant to put into practice that Way of seeking antiquity and bending the body to duty he spoke of?

Zhang Pu remained at the heart of the lake, borrowing the wind's force to whip up a great momentum — who knew how much he would ultimately achieve?

Zhang Maowu toiled at equalizing the land; Xiong Kaiyuan pled illness to avoid suspicion. In the end, neither remained within these Yinshan bounds.

As for Zhang Dai and Qi Biaojia, their goal was clear: they headed north the whole time. Yinshan, for them, was merely a place passed through.

A gathering of men, each with his own designs, each bound for a different destination.

Some wished to do solid work; others wished to use this to make a name.

Who was substantial? Who was hollow?

Before it enters the histories, how can there be a fair verdict?

Even once it enters the histories, how can that be counted as a fair verdict?

The great affairs of the realm have always been thus — public and private, black and white, all jumbled together in a muddle, patched along as best they can.

Patch after patch — sometimes the patching holds, and all under heaven is at peace.

Sometimes it can be patched no longer, and at worst, the mountains and rivers are simply shattered. That is all.

When all is said and done, every story in this world comes down to this:

Life's road forks north and south, a hundred branching ways — generals, ministers, immortals, gods — all must begin as ordinary men.

A hundred dynasties rise and fall, morning to dusk; the river wind topples the trees of the former age.

Merit, fame, wealth, rank — none can be held fast. Wear out your heart chasing them, and you only squander the light as it slips away.

Three cups of unfiltered wine, and sink into drunken oblivion — who knows where the waters flow, or where the blossoms fall?