Chapter 125

Wang Shizhen maintained the posture of having dropped the jar, and faced with the Emperor's question, he did not reply for a long while.

His thoughts churned incessantly, and he could not decide how to answer.

If the Emperor had asked him whether he could write an essay when they first met,

then Wang Shizhen would certainly have been able to dash it off immediately.

But after the Emperor had spoken those previous words, asking him again whether he could write an essay carried a vastly different meaning.

Especially that one sentence: "Can the Sage not be wrong?"

The implications contained within were truly too complex, to the point that Wang Shizhen did not even dare to ponder them deeply.

Luo Shigong stood to one side; the jar in his hand and the cloth were dotted with spots of egg yolk, nothing out of the ordinary.

But in Wang Shizhen's eyes, there was an unspeakable, immense terror within it.

A flash of panic subconsciously crossed his eyes.

Whether fireflies were truly born from rotting grass or produced by the mating of adult insects, Wang Shizhen did not know, nor did he care.

Chanting about grass and singing of flowers, composing poems on objects and praising events—these were all just metaphors for people using things as a medium.

Who would have nothing better to do than fuss over a pile of them to make them mate, and then lie there watching these things every day?

Did they have no shred of a scholar-official's demeanor left?

Furthermore, even if the "Book of Rites" truly had errors or omissions, it was not a major problem.

Having reached the pinnacle of the scholarly world in his learning, how could he still believe in any "laws that remain unchanged for ten thousand generations"?

Everyone daubing and modifying the classics, packaging their own ideas as the meaning of the Sage—that was the norm in the scholarly world.

If it were not so, where would all these schools of classical studies come from?

Classics? They were just dead things for people to daub as they pleased.

The "Book of Rites" has errors? Confucianism has a flexible stance; at worst, one could just reinterpret it.

But the crux of the problem lay in:

What exactly did the Emperor intend to do!

He had specifically seized upon this flaw in the "Book of Rites," and every time he opened his mouth, he blamed the Sage.

He did not feel that the Emperor was unaware of the gravity of the situation and speaking on a whim.

Therefore... was the Emperor trying to seize the power of interpreting the classics, or was he trying to shake the very foundations of Confucianism!?

The former would still be fine.

It would at least be a struggle without a total break.

If you can even translate the Sage's words incorrectly, what face do you have to establish a sect?

We'll let it slide this time, but in the future, you must listen to my opinions; let's all manage Confucianism well together, understand?

If it were the latter...

This was exactly what Wang Shizhen feared!

"Born from rotting grass" was the black-and-white text of the "Book of Rites"; "mating of adult insects" was the Emperor's golden decree.

If the Sage of the present age were unwilling to acknowledge the orthodoxy of the Sage of ten thousand generations, it would be no different from the collision of purity and turbidity, opening up chaos once again!

He did not know how many innocent blades of grass would be crushed.

From the "Book of Rites," Confucianism, and the Sage above, down to students, scholars, and the literary world below, all would be swept into this!

How many people in the world relied on this for their livelihood?

Even he, the leader of the literary world, could he possibly survive apart from the Confucian school?

His relatives, friends, descendants, and fellow villagers would suffer even more unprovoked disasters!

It would be no different from the extermination of his entire clan!

The matter was of great importance; Wang Shizhen remained silent for a long while, long without a word.

Naturally, the leader would not stand in place waiting for his subordinate.

Seeing Wang Shizhen's hesitation, Zhu Yijun did not urge him.

He turned around, swaying his steps, and continued his stroll.

The group followed behind him once again.

Zhu Yijun naturally knew how much pressure his sentence, "Can the Sage not be wrong?", had caused Wang Shizhen.

But Zhu Yijun was not truly so inflated that he wanted to dig the grave of Confucius at this moment.

He did not yet have the diamond drill to take on this porcelain job.

In a sense, the entire orthodoxy of the imperial court was built upon the foundation of the Sage's classics.

Whether it was he, the "Son of Heaven" who followed Confucian rites, or the licentiates and jinshi selected through the Four Books and Five Classics, or even the tens of millions of scholars waiting to be fed.

Everyone was eating from the same pot; who dared to overturn it?

Apart from eunuchs and imperial relatives, who was willing to hear the imperial court say a word of disrespect toward Confucius?

With Zhu Yijun's current ability, if he were to let slip any wind of his intention to shake the foundations of Confucianism,

then the first thing to be eliminated would likely be his own physical body.

Therefore, his previous remark pointing out the Sage's error was merely a deliberate attempt to exert pressure on Wang Shizhen.

The goal was to psychologically force this leader of the literary world to play a game of taking two steps forward and one step back.

If he were to say he wanted to seize the power of interpreting the classics, Wang Shizhen would certainly push back and obstruct.

But if he asked whether the Sage was wrong?

Then Wang Shizhen would have to cry and say—the Sage's original intention was good, it was they who understood it wrong! I will go correct it right now, Your Majesty, please say no more!

Therefore, Zhu Yijun was not in the least bit anxious to urge Wang Shizhen, letting him engage in a battle between heaven and man in his heart at this moment.

The Emperor walked in front, leisurely telling Wang Shizhen the ins and outs of the matter: "Last year, when I was studying the classics, I read the 'Book of Rites' and became interested in this matter, wanting to witness such a magical event with my own eyes."

"Afterward, I began to set to work, ordering the inner officials to dig ponds and pile up rotting grass, and at that time, I even invited you gentlemen to witness it."

"It is just a pity that, in the end, the rotting grass failed to turn into fireflies."

"I was not reconciled, and just as I was about to try again before the summer of this year, my cousin Li Chengming volunteered, saying that my method was wrong and that he could do it."

"He is a person who is quite trustworthy, so I handed the matter over to him to follow up."

"Afterward, he used the so-called 'controlled experimental method' he learned from the academy and tried it several times."

"In a clean pond, he separated three water tanks: one only piled with rotting grass, one only with adult insects, and one with both."

At this point, Zhu Yijun stopped abruptly.

Wang Shizhen was on one hand piqued with a little curiosity, and on the other hand, he was intentionally trying to buy time to think, happy to ramble on.

"'Controlled experimental method'?" He first repeated it with doubt, then immediately asked, "May I ask the result, Your Majesty?"

Zhu Yijun's expression was gentle; he waved his hand to skip the first topic: "This is the achievement of logic; it has not yet been compiled into a volume, so we shall discuss it another day."

"As for the result..."

He nodded slightly.

Zhang Hong, who was behind him, took a manuscript from his bosom and sent it to Wang Shizhen.

After bowing, Wang Shizhen received it in his hands.

He looked closely and saw a few large characters on the cover, peculiar in style but simple and easy to understand—"A Method Based on Controlled Experiments to Explore the Reproductive Mode of a Certain Firefly Living in Water."

Below it was a small subtitle: "Specially funded by the inner treasury to resolve the Emperor's doubts regarding 'rotting grass turning into fireflies' in the 'Book of Rites'."

Holding this manuscript in his hands, Wang Shizhen's expression was strange.

What on earth?

Not to mention that this string of subtitle names had no literary aesthetic, why did the line below even use the Emperor's private name?

Changwei was the little Emperor's name; because it had a strong private attribute, it was usually not used—historically, he was called Yuzhai, but Zhu Yijun felt it did not sound good, so he did not adopt it.

Now that there was no other Emperor, the fact that it specifically pointed out which Emperor it was made Wang Shizhen feel strange instead.

Zhu Yijun seemed to see his doubt and smiled: "I don't understand it either, but my cousin said that doing experiments is different from doing scholarship; it does not speak of literary elegance, only precision, and every person or object that appears should not have ambiguity."

"Now that I have no posthumous title and no temple name, I just used my name."

The Emperor spoke lightly.

Hearing this, Wang Shizhen's heart felt even heavier.

This behavior did not respect status and seemed frivolous, but it also revealed the Emperor's attitude, appearing very serious and earnest.

Wang Shizhen sighed in his heart again; I'm afraid this will not end well.

With a heavy heart, he opened the "experimental manuscript" made by the grandson of the Earl of Wuqing and began to read it seriously.

It only contained the process of some so-called experiments, slightly detailed.

For example, the process of capturing adult insects: "Fireflies live in water; they began to come ashore in mid-March, and six were captured at an irrigation canal in a certain township in Tongzhou."

Or for example, during the experiment: "Same clean pond, same temperature, same specifications for the water tanks..."

Wang Shizhen did not care about these; his appearance of reading seriously was just for show.

In his heart, he was pondering what choice he should make.

There was silence on the scene for another long while, with only the sound of Wang Shizhen flipping through the manuscript.

A long time passed.

Wang Shizhen finally made a move.

He closed the manuscript and returned it to Zhang Hong.

The content naturally went without saying; it was nothing more than adult insects producing offspring, having nothing to do with rotting grass.

Furthermore, because the description was detailed, even farmers and commoners could repeat it—farm boys were the most active, and there was no threshold for getting a wooden box and laying two layers of cloth.

This matter was no longer something that could be resolved by confusing black and white like the debates on classics in the past.

Wang Shizhen finally made a decision.

He turned to bow to the Emperor, seemingly having weighed his words, and slowly said: "Your Majesty, I have received your instruction regarding this error."

"I will go back and write an essay to correct the annotations of the 'Book of Rites' through the ages!"

He spoke slowly, but his tone was firm, with a sense of decisiveness.

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun looked at Wang Shizhen with great interest: "Correct the annotations?"

It was just as he had expected; faced with ironclad evidence, Wang Shizhen chose to reinterpret the classics rather than blame the Sage.

Faced with the temptation of a bright official career and burying his father, Wang Shizhen still could not let go of that consciousness of defending the foundations of the Confucian school.

It is truly difficult for outsiders to intervene in the literary and scholarly world!

Wang Shizhen did not know what the Emperor was thinking; seeing his unhappy expression, he could not help but feel panicked.

But in his words, there was no retreat; instead, he nodded heavily and said: "Your Majesty, please observe clearly."

"Starting from Zheng Xuan's 'Annotations on the Book of Rites' in the Former Han, to Kong Yingda's 'Correct Meaning of the Book of Rites' in the Former Tang, and even the theories of investigating things in Neo-Confucianism, etc."

"All are misinterpretations of the Sage's original intention, erroneously annotating 'rotting grass turns into fireflies' as being born from rotting grass."

"Now, it is time to set things right!"

The Emperor's preparations were complete, to the point of being irrefutable.

Rather than entangling himself in this, it was better to define it first—misannotations by later generations.

Speaking from the heart, he could write an essay for the Emperor to seize the power of interpreting the classics, but if he wanted to shake the foundations of Confucianism, he, Wang, really could not accompany him.

After saying this, Wang Shizhen bowed down again.

It was to plead guilty, and even more to beg for mercy.

Unfortunately, the Emperor seemed unmoved.

Faced with such a plea, he still held on and asked with doubt: "Is it really not the Sage who made a mistake?"

Wang Shizhen's heart was gripped again.

This was the second time the Emperor had asked this question today.

It could be called aggressive.

Wang Shizhen became even more embarrassed, and his head was buried even lower.

With a sincere tone and earnest words, almost with a crying voice, he said: "Your Majesty, please be careful with your words!"

"'Wei' (turn into), besides having the meaning of becoming, also has the interpretation of guarding."

"The so-called rotting grass turns into fireflies should mean that the rotting grass guards around the fireflies; in other words..."

"It means that in the month of late summer, fireflies circle and dance around the rotting grass; this is clearly describing the habits of fireflies!"

"Those people are unlearned and incompetent, misinterpreting the classics and poisoning the world for a thousand years."

"Your Majesty must never misunderstand the Sage and despise Confucianism because of this!"

Zhu Yijun lacked scholarly training; hearing these words, he really could not help it, so he turned his face away and hid from Wang Shizhen to laugh.

I'm convinced.

He is worthy of being the leader of the literary world, with extremely profound scholarly training.

This is why he did not let Li Zhi do this, but insisted on waiting for Wang Shizhen to arrive in the capital.

Besides the reason of literary prestige, there was also the difference in professional quality.

For things like debating the classics, without Wang Shizhen's scholarly training, others simply could not do it.

Fortunately, after this tug-of-war, Wang Shizhen, this leader of the literary world, finally annotated the "Book of Rites" in front of the Emperor.

He even denounced the external flow as "unlearned and incompetent, poisoning the world for a thousand years."

Once this matter came out, no matter how much Wang Shizhen might waver, he would not escape the fate of ruin in the scholarly world.

On the contrary, only by going all the way down this path could he find clarity.

In this way, regarding the struggle for the power to interpret the classics, not to mention the outcome, at least in terms of the team, he had assembled the national champion of the literary world.

But Zhu Yijun had a heart of stone and still did not intend to stop while he was ahead.

Don't look at Wang Shizhen's appearance of being forced to commit suicide; in reality, he clearly had not reached his bottom line.

Zhu Yijun pulled a long face and said in a deep voice: "Does Wang Qing take me for a three-year-old child?"

"Pointing at a deer and calling it a horse, confusing black and white—have you not heard of the crime of deceiving the Emperor?"

"Confucius is a Sage, am I not a Sage? Wang Qing has no place for me in his heart!?"

Wang Shizhen kowtowed repeatedly to admit his guilt, crying out that he was guilty.

His heart was filled with bitterness.

Even though the Emperor had spoken such harsh words, he could not talk back.

Similarly, no matter how many errors the "Book of Rites" had, he could not speak ill of the Sage's classics.

This had nothing to do with his perception or likes/dislikes of the Emperor, nor did it have anything to do with whether he was superstitious about Confucian classics—everyone was confined by their era and found it difficult to break free.

Zhu Yijun remained displeased.

After Wang Shizhen kowtowed for a long while, choking and silent, Zhu Yijun's expression eased slightly.

He scolded unpleasantly: "It is only because of your father's affair, which makes me owe something to my Imperial Grandfather, otherwise I would certainly not spare you!"

Although it was my grandfather's mistake that cost your father his life.

But after all, it is a feudal society; if the monarch wants a subject to die, it is reasonable and appropriate, belonging to the general moral level.

And his owing something and wanting to compensate for it belonged to a benevolent Son of Heaven.

Zhu Yijun waved his hand and let Zhang Hong help the man up.

He thought for a moment and finally drew the line: "My golden words are spoken, and I will not take back the reward just because you are rebellious."

"Regarding the Lantai and your father's affair, I will issue a note to the Cabinet for discussion."

Wang Shizhen was extremely grateful: "Your Majesty's great grace! I cannot repay it even with ten thousand deaths!"

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "I don't need your ten thousand deaths."

"Besides reinterpreting the 'Book of Rites', there is one more thing I am entrusting to Wang Qing."

A bitter smile flashed across Wang Shizhen's face: "I respectfully listen."

The Emperor's tone clearly meant this was not a simple matter either.

If burying his father were not his lifelong obsession, which was the so-called "a hundred joys cannot overcome one bitterness."

He would have to claim illness and not attend court tomorrow, or even directly resign and return to his hometown.

This little Emperor was truly draining the pond to catch the fish.

Zhu Yijun softened his tone: "It is not a complicated matter."

"The Tongzheng Office started a newspaper last year, and it occasionally serializes some novels."

"Previously, it was Li Zhi and Tao Dalin from the Imperial Academy, as well as Li Zaiting from the Ministry of Personnel, the three of them updating in turns."

"Now Li Zaiting has been sent to inspect the local areas, and Tao Dalin has other assignments and will soon be unable to spare himself, so I have to trouble Wang Qing to work harder."

This guy, writing "Jin Pingmei" was a set of skills, and since it was so refined and popular, how could he not make the best use of it?

Wang Shizhen was unexpectedly surprised.

Writing a novel? Just this little thing?

He thought it was another difficult matter of the same level as before.

With many debts, one does not worry; compared to before, this was much easier.

However...

Wang Shizhen seemed to remember something again, and a flash of hesitation crossed his face.

"I obey the decree." He bowed and asked hesitantly, "I wonder what kind of novel Your Majesty is talking about?"

Because of the origin and the audience, most novels circulating in the marketplace were erotic reading materials.

Even he, the dignified leader of the literary world, had to cater to the market.

Otherwise, if it were just to humiliate Ximen Qing, he would not have needed to write so many scenes.

Now that the Emperor was summoning him to write, could it be that he had read his masterpieces, felt itchy, and was deliberately hinting...

Fortunately, the Emperor did not know what the leader of the literary world was thinking, otherwise today would not have ended well.

Zhu Yijun appropriately revealed a smile and explained: "Speaking of which, it can be considered related to Wang Qing's main duty at the Lantai."

"I yearn for the wind and clouds of our dynasty's founding."

"I admire the founding Emperor for his arduous journey and for leveling the world."

Zhu Yijun said this, restrained his smile, and said seriously: "Wang Qing, can you write a biography of heroes for the founding of our dynasty?"

This matter was Li Zhi's suggestion; for this, he had suppressed it for half a year to pave the way and prepare.

The slogan of expelling the Tatars and restoring China was first proposed by our dynasty—this matter had been verified twice, and in terms of ideology, it was invincible.

Coupled with the legendary story of starting with a bowl and opening up a dynasty.

Was it not an excellent medicine to condense consensus and knead together an imagined community?

(End of chapter)