Chapter 140: Song Yingxing

Fenyi County in Jiangxi was a picturesque small county, with a population of under thirty thousand, more mountains than flat land—a typical lower-tier county.

Because it was located in a mountainous region, vigorously developing agriculture and sericulture was nearly impossible, and the civil official faction had always looked down on commerce, so Fenyi's economy had been quite backward for many years. The County Magistrate was basically a jinshi who had ranked at the bottom of the palace examination and had no connections at court; coming here meant a very bleak official career prospect.

Fenyi had produced a famous figure in the Jiajing reign whom the locals still took pride in to this day—Yan Song, styled Yan Weizhong. This great man who served as Chief Grand Secretary for over twenty years during the Jiajing reign met a rather tragic end. After being struck down by Second Grand Secretary Xu Jie, he was sent back to his native place under surveillance, and later, at the deliberate instruction of certain people, this man of over eighty years of age froze and starved to death.

The most ironic thing was that this man, called a treacherous minister by all, yielded only over thirty thousand taels of silver when his property was confiscated, while Xu Jie, famed for his incorruptibility, owned several hundred thousand mu of fertile farmland in his hometown of Songjiang Prefecture alone. Calculated at the then market price of four taels of silver per mu, Shorty Xu was already equivalent to several dozen Yan Weizhongs.

It was also because of Yan Song's burden that, ever since he was branded a treacherous minister, Fenyi had never been well regarded by court officials. Fenyi, which had been fairly prosperous during Yan Song's time in power, gradually declined and still had not recovered to this day.

In a courtyard at the northeast corner of the county yamen in the city center, Song Yingxing, who had served as Fenyi County's Director of Education for nearly three years, was writing furiously at a worn-out desk inside the room.

Song Yingxing, already fifty years old, had grey streaking his temples. His swarthy complexion, paired with his unremarkable features, made him look less like a scholar and more like an old farmer.

After passing the provincial examination with the third rank in Jiangxi in the forty-third year of Wanli, he and his elder brother Song Yingsheng had traveled to the capital for the metropolitan examination five times in succession, but both ultimately failed each time. From then on, the two abandoned all thoughts of the imperial examinations, instead having one take up an official post while the other returned home to care for their mother, who was already seventy.

In the seventh year of Chongzhen, Song Yingxing's mother fell ill, and with the family in straitened circumstances, Song Yingxing could only find this lowly official position in Fenyi, not far from home, barely managing to support his family on a meager salary.

It was nearly noon when Song Yingxing, who had been writing for two full hours, finally stopped. After placing his brush on the brush rest, he rubbed his dry, irritated eyes and sighed inwardly: one cannot defy old age—after all, he was a man of fifty, and when he wrote for too long, the characters before his eyes would become blurry.

He picked up the article he had just written and reviewed it from beginning to end, to guard against any errors or omissions.

After a moment, the examination was complete. Song Yingxing nodded in satisfaction, gently breathed on the ink to dry it, and then added this new piece to the thick stack of manuscripts.

Finally finished.

The manuscript that had consumed two years and immeasurable effort was officially completed today. He had finally accomplished one of the three immortalities spoken of by the sages—establishing words—and his years of reading the books of the sages had not been in vain.

Recalling all the hardships of the two years spent writing the book, Song Yingxing sighed to himself.

Because he had no spare money, aside from purchasing essential writing materials, he could not verify the production processes of many items described in the book. Though the procedures seemed smooth on paper, the results could not be known.

For example, one short piece in the manuscript, titled "Sweetness," recorded how to plant sugarcane and how to turn the harvest into sugar.

He had learned this from correspondence with his elder brother Yingsheng, who served as County Magistrate of Enping County in Zhaoqing Prefecture, but how exactly to operate to produce sugar could only be known through personal practice.

As for debating the authenticity of what was recorded in the book with friends who shared his interests, he lacked the facilities and materials to do so.

If only he were as wealthy as the Yangzhou salt merchants—then he would have abundant silver at his disposal. He could find a place, build a grand facility, and verify everything recorded in the book, so that later generations might avoid many detours, and farmers could learn a small skill sufficient to support their families. How many poor households across the land would benefit from that—what a wonderful vision it would be.

Regardless, he would have this book printed and distributed across the realm, so that more people with such aspirations could use their own resources to practice, correct, and innovate.

This was the true essence of establishing words—not merely establishing words for the sake of fame.

He despised from the bottom of his heart those pampered sons of privilege who knew only the taste of things without knowing their origins, as well as those pedantic scholars who buried their heads in the classics all day long.

Did these people not know that everything they used daily was produced through the various labors of farmers and artisans?

The food they ate, the clothes they wore, the things they used—which single item appeared out of thin air after reading a book? Were they not all manufactured by the blood and sweat of the lowly commoners they regarded as filth?

Those grand secretaries of the Grand Secretariat and chief officials of prefectures and counties paid lip service to pitying and cherishing farmers—but was there a single one who truly kept the farming households in their hearts?

Aside from the numerous government taxes and levies of every description, there was the extortion and exploitation of the low-level clerks, each like a vicious ghost sucking marrow from bones. In all their various deeds, what single aspect resembled loving the people as one's own children? Was this how the sages taught them in the books? All those years of reading the sages' works went straight into a dog's belly!

Suddenly a rumbling sound came from his stomach, interrupting Song Yingxing's thoughts.

The county yamen provided simple meals—though meat was rarely seen, rice was enough to fill one's stomach.

His wife had stayed home to care for his elderly mother, and Song Yingxing had come to Fenyi alone.

Because he had no spare money to hire servants or maids, Song Yingxing had endured these two years entirely by himself.

These were trifling matters to him, who was accustomed to a life of frugality.

What he was considering now was where to seek money to have his manuscript printed.

Most of his elder brother Yingsheng's salary also had to be sent home, to support their elderly mother and the brothers who farmed at home.

There were four brothers in the family. Besides himself and his eldest brother Yingsheng serving as officials away from home, the second and fourth brothers both worked the fields in their native Fengxin. Both of their households had many mouths to feed—nephews and nieces totaling over ten—and the meager output of the fields was barely enough to fill their stomachs. All other daily expenses had to be covered by the monthly salaries of him and his brother.

Oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar; social obligations; repairing houses and building roofs; weddings and funerals—these were all very large expenses and utterly unavoidable.

Song Yingsheng, always incorruptible and upright, would not have much extra income. In his years serving as an official away from home, he had only one old servant attending him, while his wife and children remained in their hometown.

The county Director of Education was an unranked official post, with a monthly salary of only one tael and seven mace. Occasionally a government student from a well-off family would send some festival gifts—nothing more than cured meat and pastries—and no one had ever given him money.

Even from this meager income, Song Yingxing saved one tael each month. Once he had saved five taels, he would entrust someone to send it home, so that the family might have a bit more ease and his elderly mother could eat something better.

Right—what name should he give this manuscript?

Forgetting the hunger in his stomach, Song Yingxing knitted his brows in deep thought.

Since it was a book on investigating things, he could not use names like "collection" or "record."

What name would be best?

The Commentary on the I Ching says: "Heaven's work, man replaces it—then it must be without difference from Heaven; to investigate things one must open things, only then can one accomplish affairs."

Got it! That's it!

All things in the world have their own laws; by investigating things one attains knowledge, and attaining knowledge further enhances one's learning. Then, using practice to realize it, the object of one's thought will be manufactured—and its ingenuity will surpass nature itself!

Tiangong Kaiwu!

Yes! Tiangong Kaiwu!

At this moment Song Yingxing danced with joy, as happy as a child—were it not for the wrinkles on his face as deep as furrows.

The sound of hurried footsteps came, as if someone had jogged into the courtyard.

Song Yingxing stopped his movements, feeling somewhat puzzled.

Usually few people came here to find him. County affairs had nothing to do with him, and he did not enjoy associating with anyone other than government students.

"Director Song! The County Magistrate requests your presence!"

A yamen runner stood at the door, panting as he called out.

Song Yingxing straightened his robes and cap, and said in a low voice: "Do you know what the County Magistrate wants with me?"

"Someone has come from the capital! They say they were ordered to escort Director Song to the capital! Director Song, you're about to rise in the world!"

The runner said with a face full of delight.

Song Yingxing was taken aback. Someone from the capital? What was this about? He had no relatives or friends in the capital, nor any fellow examination candidates. Who could be looking for him?

When Song Yingxing arrived at the second hall of the yamen, Fenyi County Magistrate Zhao Fengchun rose to greet him with a face full of smiles, saying: "Brother Changgeng, please have a seat! Two envoys from the capital have come seeking you, saying they were dispatched by His Majesty, requesting you to come to the capital for important appointment! Congratulations, congratulations!"

Song Yingxing's gaze fell upon two young men in blue armor sitting on chairs, who were examining him with curious eyes.

Seeing Song Yingxing look at them with an inexplicable expression, the two young men rose simultaneously and bowed with clasped hands, then one of them spoke: "Are you Mr. Song in person? We two are riders of the Northern Bastille Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard — I am Colonel Li Cheng, and he is Colonel Xu Song. We have been ordered by His Majesty to escort Mr. Song to the capital!"

Hearing this, Song Yingxing was even more astonished.

Hadn't the Embroidered Uniform Guard already declined? Why had they suddenly appeared in this remote little county, and come specifically to find him? He was merely a low-ranking miscellaneous official, and had never violated any taboo in his daily conduct.

Seeing his expression, Li Cheng naturally understood what was on his mind. He smiled and said: "Mr. Song, do not worry overmuch. To be frank, we two have come on His Majesty's personal order. His Majesty has heard of your great talent and wishes to summon you to the capital for important appointment. If you have nothing else pressing, you should pack your things, and we should hasten to the capital as soon as possible!"

County Magistrate Zhao Fengchun beside them watched the whole scene with envious eyes. This Song Yingxing had an odd temperament and rarely associated with others. Even working in the same yamen, he and Song Yingxing had met only a few times, and those occasions had all been public gatherings during the county examinations — the two had never had any private contact.

How could such a low-ranking miscellaneous official, already half-buried in the earth, suddenly reach the emperor's ears? Nor had he heard of any particular talent in the man? Occasionally he heard that the fellow hid in his room writing and drawing, but no famous verses had ever circulated from him either?

Zhao Fengchun smiled and spoke: "Instructor Song need not have any doubts. Just now I verified the waist tokens of these two officers — they are indeed men of the Embroidered Uniform Guard's own ranks. Your name, Instructor Song, has reached His Majesty's ears directly — your future prospects are boundless! I offer you my congratulations, Instructor Song!"

Song Yingxing no longer doubted the identities of the two men, but he was deeply puzzled as to how His Majesty, thousands of li away, had come to know his name.

His Majesty, who managed a myriad of affairs and worried over state matters day and night — how could he know of an obscure nobody like himself?

Li Cheng urged: "Mr. Song, kneel and kowtow to give thanks for the imperial favor. His Majesty repeatedly instructed that all of your manuscripts must be brought along. After that, we two will escort you on your journey!"

Only then did Song Yingxing remember that whether it was an imperial edict or an imperial order, he was required to kneel in full ceremony to give thanks.

He hurriedly knelt facing north, cried out his thanks, kowtowed three times, and rose. Turning to Li Cheng, he said: "Colonel Li, my hometown of Fengxin is not far from here. Might I be permitted to return home to bid farewell to my elderly mother? This journey leads thousands of li away, and I know not when I shall return. My mother at home is past seventy, and I fear..."

Li Cheng smiled: "Mr. Song, you do not know this — His Majesty knows you are a man of deep filial devotion, and so specially ordered Guard Commander Officer Luo to dispatch another company of officers to Fengxin, to bring your elderly mother and other relatives to the capital as well. By then you will be reunited with your family in the capital!"

Song Yingxing was stunned for a moment. A wave of warmth surged through his heart, his chest seemed suddenly blocked, his eyes grew hot, and hot tears spilled forth. The man of fifty sobbed aloud like a child.