Chapter 69: Huang Chao: Your Words Amused Me～

Song Jiang may not be wealthy, but his methods of distributing righteousness and wealth

are beyond the reach of ordinary people—always offering coal in snow.

On the way back to Chen Wen’s home, Zhang Jie pondered Song Jiang’s extraordinary tactics.

It was only because the Great Song forbade those without official merit from holding office

that Song Yasi, the Timely Rain and Filial Righteous Black Third,

could not have achieved great deeds—or even risen to command armies or become chancellor.

“Song Yasi, Song Yasi—just for this poem, even if you stick your ass up to heaven, you’re still dead.”

Zhang Jie’s thoughts turned to Song Jiang’s exile to Jiangzhou,

when he climbed alone to Xunyang Tower, drank until drunk,

and inscribed on the white plaster wall a ci poem titled “West River Moon” and a seven-character quatrain:

My heart is in Shandong, my body in Wu; drifting like dandelion fluff across rivers and seas, I sigh in vain.

When I someday fulfill my lofty ambition, I’ll laugh at Huang Chao for lacking manhood!

Listen—this poem names Huang Chao, the Great General Who Soars to Heaven!

Recall how Huang Chao trampled the bones of ministers on the imperial avenue,

and burned the imperial treasury into ash of brocade—how could any of you, from lowly ministers to the Zhao Emperor, not tremble in fear?

Should I keep Song Jiang alive so he learns from Huang Chao and kills me?

Indeed, on the matter of killing Song Jiang, the civil and military officials of the Great Song, even the emperor, reached an unprecedented consensus.

Civil and military officials, the Zhao Emperor: If Song Jiang lives, I cannot sleep!

Zhang Jie’s assessment: The emperor and officials of the Great Song are just like the Korean army—

they train daily with a map of Pyongyang, yet every real battle is fought at Seoul,

all their martial virtue expended on their own people.

“But how dare Song Jiang laugh at Huang Chao?

Huang Chao stormed straight into Chang’an; Song Jiang is still scheming how to be pardoned by the court.”

Song Jiang’s pretentious words made Zhang Jie laugh.

Huang Chao: Observing your words, they amused me～

Wu Song said well: “Today’s amnesty, tomorrow’s amnesty—your brothers’ hearts grow cold.”

Zhang Jie believed the most nauseating thing Song Jiang ever said was:

“When I gathered righteous men on Liangshan, the hundred-and-eight were so lively;

now that I’ve gained fame and success, they scatter like birds and beasts—did I, Song Jiang, err?”

Zhang Jie thought Song Jiang should never have been the Heavenly Star—he was more the Star of Official Obsession.

“But Song Jiang doesn’t have much time left.”

Zhang Jie stroked his chin, his gaze distant.

Earlier, while drinking with Song Jiang, he had silently infused a trace of Northern Darkness Divine Art qi

into Song Jiang’s body, ensuring he would die spitting blood within three months.

As for killing Song Jiang before he sent his brothers to die—was this not reckless with human life?

Zhang Jie replied: This is preventing disaster before it strikes—truly acting in Heaven’s name, a great good deed.

Moreover, Zhang Jie had a second purpose:

“Does this world truly possess transcendent power?”

Song Jiang claimed the Nine Heavens’ Mystic Lady descended to enlighten him—

Zhang Jie wanted to see if the Nine Heavens’ Mystic Lady would save his life!

Zhang Jie wanted to see whether the Nine Heavens Mystic Goddess would save his life!

The next day, Zhang Jie and Chen Wen discussed classical texts in the study.

Since he planned to take the spring imperial examination in February next year, he could not slack off.

Pan Jinlian went shopping with Lady Wang.

“To study and practice regularly—is this not joyful? Friends come from afar—is this not delightful?”

Zhang Jie took a copy of the Analects from the shelf and recited it with a swaying head.

“I examine myself thrice daily: Have I been unfaithful in serving others?

Have I been untrustworthy in friendship? Have I failed to practice what was taught?”

“To fulfill these three—this is wisdom!”

Chen Wen sighed.

Zhang Jie, however, had another insight: “The sages’ writings are meant to be read, not applied.”

“What? Why so, Renjie?”

Chen Wen was stunned—this was heretical.

If this remark spread, even if he were the top scholar, he’d be cursed by all scholars.

“Brother Wen, all officials in the world are educated in the sages’ texts—

yet do their actions align with the sages’ teachings?”

Zhang Jie countered.

But do their actions accord with the teachings of the sages?

Chen Wen fell silent.

The Great Song court was already overrun with corrupt officials; take Cai Jing, for example—

his son-in-law Liang Zhongshu once sent him a birthday tribute worth one hundred thousand strings of cash.

One hundred thousand strings!

Even if Liang Zhongshu abstained from all spending for fifty years, his salary couldn’t cover it.

This hundred thousand strings were all extracted from the people’s flesh and blood.

This was only the birthday tribute—what of Dragon Boat, Mid-Autumn, New Year’s Eve,

Spring Festival, Lantern Festival, Qingming? Could Liang Zhongshu possibly have failed to offer gifts?

If one dependent of Cai Jing is this vile, how much worse must the others be?

Remember, the emperor’s favorites include not only the powerful minister Cai Jing, but also the grand eunuch Tong Guan and the Grand Marshal Gao Qiang.

If a mere Liang Zhongshu clinging to Cai Jing is this way, how much more horrifying must the others be?

Chen Wen’s mind dared a treasonous thought.

If Cai Jing and Gao Qiang are so wicked, what of the emperor who promotes them?

“It must be that the treacherous ministers Cai Jing and others have deceived the emperor!”

Chen Wen, raised on sages’ texts, instinctively defended the Zhao Emperor.

“Does the emperor truly not know?”

Zhang Jie asked, pointedly.

“The emperor…”

Chen Wen shut his eyes in pain.

If he didn’t know, how could he hold the throne? How could he command with absolute authority?

The truth was: he knew—and he didn’t care.

Could an emperor who viewed the people as livestock, letting his minions plunder at will, truly be fit to rule?

“I examine myself thrice daily?

In my view, it should be: Do I grip power tightly?

Do I hold the blade firmly? Are my tools loyal?

Beyond these three, all else is trivial.”

Zhang Jie continued his shocking pronouncement.

“Brother Chen, in Shi Hao Village, husband and wife part in tears greater than those in Changsheng Hall!”

Zhang Jie bowed deeply to Chen Wen.

“Renjie, leave me. Let me be alone.

I’ll pretend you never said these words today.”

Chen Wen, unable to accept it, dismissed him.

“Good. As long as he doesn’t report me to the authorities, it’s a success.”

Zhang Jie walked out of the study with a light step.

If Chen Wen, fiercely loyal to the Great Song, chose to report him,

Zhang Jie would have no choice but to shed tears and execute Ma Su, saying to him: “I’ll care for your wife and children.”

As for Chen Wen, he was utterly loyal to Da Song and intended to report Zhang Jie.

After Zhang Jie left the study, Chen Wen slammed the door shut.

Chen Li, playing in the courtyard, was startled by the noise.

“Uncle Zhang, is my father alright?”

Chen Li, playing in the courtyard, was startled by the tremendous commotion.

“Uncle Zhang, is my father alright?”

He asked Zhang Jie with some concern.

He had never seen his father like this before.

Zhang Jie patted Chen Li’s small head:

“It’s fine. Your father is just thinking through some problems.”

“Oh.”

Hearing this, Chen Li relaxed, regained his cheerfulness, and went back to play.

In the parlor, Zhang Jie brewed himself a cup of tea and gazed toward the study:

“Brother Chen, I hope you come to your senses soon.”

Overthrowing the Great Song requires people who share his ideals.

Chen Wenyun was one of the candidates he had chosen.

Of course, they couldn’t yet say they planned to storm Bianliang and seize the throne.

They needed to be subtle—something like “Make the Great Song Great Again.”

…

“Young master, young master.”

At noon, Pan Jinlian and the others returned from shopping.

“Jinlian, who is this?”

What made Zhang Jie frown was that Pan Jinlian and the others had brought back a strange woman.

The woman was graceful and elegant, with a delicate beauty.

Even compared to Pan Jinlian, she held her own—each had her own merits.

“Young master, her surname is Yan, her given name is Poxi.”

“Today, while shopping with Sister Wang, I came across her…”

Pan Jinlian introduced Yan Poxi to Zhang Jie and explained how she had met her.

“Yan Poxi? Isn’t she the key figure who drove Song Yasi to Mount Shuipoliang?”

Hearing the name Yan Poxi, Zhang Jie’s brow twitched.

Song Yasi had been ruined by Yan Poxi:

Yan Poxi was beautiful and skilled in poetry, music, and dance.

Her mother, Yan Po, wishing to repay Song Jiang for his charity, gave her to him as a concubine.

But since Song Jiang cared little for women, Yan Poxi grew to despise him.

She instead took a liking to Song Jiang’s fellow clerk, Zhang Wenyuan, and began an affair with him.

Later, she discovered a letter from Chao Gai to Song Jiang, along with the gold offered as payment,

and used it to blackmail Song Jiang into giving her the gold—whereupon he killed her in a rage.