Chapter 573: Family Matters, National Matters, World Matters

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Gong Zhulu

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( ) 1st Floor 2014-03-19 08:41

Gong Zhulu

Fenghuo Xizhuhou

After the spring rain, Tai'an City, the imperial capital, seemed instantly refreshed and clean. No matter how boisterous the court got, that was the officials' business. Ordinary citizens continued their lives, eating when they should, sleeping when they should, mostly living diligent lives from dawn till dusk. However, there were also those who were idle. These idlers, often dismissed as "playboys" or "good-for-nothings," were also divided into ranks. Those who could afford to play with courtesans were of the first rank. Those who played with famous horses and ancient treasures were of the second. Less affluent ones might play with bracelets or polished walnuts. At the very least, they'd have a few fish or insects to maintain appearances. But a young man living in a humble alley called Xieyan Street, in the southwest corner of the capital, was completely unremarkable. Living among common folk in such a lane, it would be strange if he could afford luxuries. Wasn't it a matter of fate if one wasn't born into a good family? This young man, like many others in the capital with the common surname Zhang, belonged to one of Liyang's prominent clans, yet he amounted to little. He was never seen doing anything productive. All he did was borrow money for carousing and wander around with a pigeon whistle, though he couldn't even afford a decent pigeon. In Tai'an City, this was known as putting on airs despite poverty, a spectacle that even the truly destitute looked down upon. Zhang Bianguan was such a scoundrel, despised by everyone. In the eyes of his neighbors, he was fortunate to have accumulated some unknown blessings in a past life, enough to marry a rather attractive wife. Yet Zhang Bianguan never knew contentment; he refused to stay home and enjoy time with his wife, preferring to roam outside daily, leaving early and returning late, always empty-handed. He lived day to day in a daze. Over time, even kind-hearted old neighbors gradually grew tired of him. Not long ago, this Zhang fellow was apparently beaten, his face severely bruised and swollen, only recently recovering. Still, he remained frivolous, laughing and greeting everyone he met, eagerly calling out to uncles and aunts, regardless of whether they responded.

As the weather grew hotter and clothing became lighter, Zhang Bianguan naturally spent more and more time away from home. After all, the capital was vast, and how could it lack beautiful young women on its streets? One day, as dusk approached, Zhang Bianguan wandered back near Xieyan Street. He heard the melodious cooing of pigeons above him, sometimes urgent, sometimes lingering. Habitually, he looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. On his wrist was an old pigeon bell, wrapped with green thread, which he had constantly caressed and played with over the years. He just stared blankly at the sky, his eyes narrowed. For years, he had been ridiculed as the lowest of the low, someone who was utterly useless. No one knew what he was thinking, and frankly, no one cared. Those who roughly understood his temperament knew that this useless coward still wanted to indulge in pleasure, but he dared not accompany the wealthy to high-class entertainment venues. In the end, he could only observe inanimate objects that cost no money: the colorful mortise and tenon joints of pavilions, the gloomy, nameless alleys, the Chongwu Gate for military, the Chaoyang Gate for grain, the Dingshan Gate for wine, and the stone qilin perched on the Drum Tower, which had been there since Liyang's dynasty was established a few years prior. The cooing of pigeons, wandering the sky, had its beginning and end. Zhang Bianguan reluctantly withdrew his gaze, thinking it was still early and not yet time to go home. After a moment's thought, he went to squat by the "Dragon-Locking Well," the only notable landmark on Xieyan Street. This ancient well had long been dry. Beside its mouth sat a judge figure, molded from yellow mud bricks. Folk legends claimed that Liyang used fire to suppress all the water in the world. This mud sculpture was human-sized, seated with a bare chest and exposed belly, mouth agape in a smile. Every Mid-Autumn Festival, common folk would add firewood to him, and flames and smoke would billow out from the mud judge's mouth and nostrils.

As usual, Zhang Bianguan squatted by the mud sculpture at the well, occasionally raising his sleeve to wipe his mouth. Some time ago, he had been severely beaten by a group of people, likely because they mistakenly thought Zhang Bianguan's father was finally losing power and it was time to teach this disgrace to the capital's noble families a lesson. But after they had their fill of punching and kicking, they discovered the next day that the Liyang court's situation remained unchanged. Furthermore, this young man's father, for the first time, fiercely dealt with several major factions, leaving them wailing. Those who had been living off these factions and had beaten Zhang Bianguan immediately went into hiding, not even daring to apologize to him. Later, after being on edge for more than half a month and receiving no retaliation, they collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Gathering together, they mocked the Zhang fellow even more, calling him a big failure who wasted having a father they couldn't even pray for, and he didn't even know how to use his father's influence to enjoy life. He deserved to be treated like a piece of rotten dog poop that would dirty one's shoes even if stepped on.

Zhang Bianguan's only forte was daydreaming and letting his mind wander afar. When he suddenly noticed an elegantly composed young man beside him, he glanced over but said nothing. After a long wait, he finally asked with a smile, "You're really not here to beat me to vent your anger, are you?" The scholarly-looking man shook his head, smiling. "How would I dare hit the Grand Councilor's son? Besides, if we truly fought, I wouldn't be your match, so why invite humiliation? Even if you didn't fight back and let me beat and curse you, I'd merely be seen by you as a foolish jester." Zhang Bianguan let out a surprised sound. "So you're an understanding person? You're not from the capital, are you? Anyone from the capital with your insight wouldn't even bother to see me." The scholar asked, "Are you admitting that you're a smart person?" Zhang Bianguan scoffed, self-deprecatingly, "If I'm considered smart, then what would my father be?" The scholar nodded, "Indeed." Zhang Bianguan lay sprawled over the wellhead, gazing into the dark, bottomless opening. He no longer paid attention to the unknown scholar, who, now that he understood things, had become uninteresting. The scholar sat leaning against the wellhead and calmly said, "I know you like to observe the intricate designs of palaces and pavilions, because they only complement each other, far more amiable and appealing than the mutual harm people inflict upon each other. I also know that when you left the Zhang residence to live independently, you planted a peach tree at home. People in Tai'an City like to have trees in their courtyards: pomegranates for many children and blessings, jujube trees for early birth of noble sons, and persimmon and Ailanthus trees are also common. But peach trees are rarely seen, because the character for 'peach' (桃, táo) is a homophone for 'escape' (逃, táo), which is considered inauspicious. Tai'an City is the root of Liyang. A tree dies when moved, and without Tai'an City, where could the people of Liyang escape to? You, Zhang Bianguan, are not foolish; you planted it for your father. But your father, our Grand Councilor of Liyang, turned a blind eye. If he doesn't escape, you, as his son, can naturally only continue to live in Tai'an City, idling away your life, hoping that at least in the future, you can give him a proper burial, and perhaps offer wine on Qingming. That would be even better." Zhang Bianguan simply said "Oh" flatly and continued to gaze into the wellhead. The scholar smiled faintly. "You must have guessed that I am Sun Yin, the one who came from Beiliang to seek an official position from Grand Elder Tan." Zhang Bianguan turned his head. "Sun Yin, is it? Then tell me, what is that stone qilin on the Drum Tower silently gazing at the world for hundreds of years waiting for?" Sun Yin had now quietly and smoothly entered the Central Secretariat, successfully attaching himself to the towering figure of Grand Elder Tan. Although he held a minor, unranked official post, since he had caught the eye of Elder Huan, wouldn't his rise to power be imminent? The few discerning individuals naturally understood this long ago, and most of the confused people would not remain confused forever. Sun Yin looked directly into the eyes of this green-eyed young man and shook his head. "How would I know what a stone qilin is waiting for? It's certainly not waiting for a great storm to rise and signal war, leading to widespread suffering and devastation, only to replace one dragon-robed ruler with another. Is that fun?" Zhang Bianguan smiled, stroking his stubbled chin. "No, it's not fun." Zhang Bianguan sat side by side with Sun Yin. He stretched his neck, exhaled, then inhaled, before letting out a chuckle. Raising his wrist, he showed Sun Yin the simple pigeon bell and said, "I once received a pigeon as a gift, a top-tier specimen, black with a purple sheen, its price comparable to King Xu Fengnian of Beiliang's falcon. At that time, my father wasn't yet Grand Councilor; he was only a third-rank official. My father found me, and he didn't scold me – you should know what kind of person my father is; to scold someone is to flatter them. Except for Elder Huan, he has barely scolded anyone in his life. He just asked me, 'This pigeon represents my current worth. What are you, Zhang Bianguan, worth this price? Are you foolish, or truly foolish?' I was fourteen that year. In a fit of anger, I returned the pigeon to the giver. That person, right in front of me, smilingly said he didn't have a habit of taking back gifts, and then he strangled the pigeon with his hand. Yes, that was His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Zhao Zhuan. From that day on, I swore I would never associate with such people again. I'd rather go listen to the creaking of doors in humble homes than listen to their mutual flattery and sycophancy. I'd rather observe ignored inanimate objects than watch those privileged scions who could sell their farts as gold and silver. Gradually, no one wanted to socialize with me, and I was content to be left alone."

Speaking of his father, Zhang Julu, Zhang Bianguan involuntarily fell into thought. He remembered that after his father rose from the Hanlin Academy, his grandparents moved from their hometown to the city early on. During the sweltering summers, the two elderly people particularly enjoyed lying on wicker chairs in the shade of a tree, fanning their grandchildren repeatedly, summer after summer. Slowly, only his grandmother remained, and then, she too was gone. Their father didn't observe filial mourning. The imperial court was even more impatient than the scholar-official son, issuing an immediate decree to recall him to service, overriding the mourning period. None of them, his children, noticed anything unusual on their father's face. Zhang Bianguan clearly remembered that Tai'an City at that time was initially filled with rumors, all saying that their father had neglected his humanity for the sake of official position. However, as his father's official rank grew higher, these voices gradually faded, until no one mentioned them at all. Zhang Bianguan had been idle for so many years, and he left home later than his two elder brothers, yet he understood family matters more clearly than they did. When did the Zhang family's affairs begin to equate to the affairs of the capital and the world? Zhang Bianguan's expression was forlorn. He rested the back of his head on the wellhead, gazing up at the hazy twilight sky. When he was little, there was a Lion Bridge not far from their residence. Once, the family rarely went out to play. His father asked them to count how many stone lions were carved on the bridge. His eldest brother, most like their father, was serious about everything and counted meticulously. His second brother was a bookworm who did whatever their father said since childhood and mimicked whatever his eldest brother did. Zhang Bianguan, only a few months older than his younger sister Zhang Gaoxia, took advantage of their parents returning home and directly took his sister to play on the frozen river surface under the bridge. When they got tired, seeing his elder brothers still foolishly counting, Zhang Bianguan directly ran to the all-knowing Uncle Huan Wen to ask for the answer. As a result, his elder brothers only returned late at night, finding him, their younger brother, kneeling on the ground. From then on, Zhang Bianguan, having learned his lesson, realized that petty cleverness was not true wisdom. However, afterward, his mother secretly brought him a bowl of hot rice. His father stumbled upon them but didn't get angry; he just patted his head and said something that Zhang Bianguan only understood many years later: "You are far too smart compared to your two brothers, but since you bear my surname, Zhang, that is not a good thing."

Zhang Bianguan sniffled softly, covering his face with a sleeve. Sun Yin was about to speak when he heard a series of undisguised footsteps and closed his mouth. A tall woman, wearing a sword, approached gracefully. Zhang Bianguan, hearing the all-too-familiar footsteps, quickly and haphazardly wiped his face, then beamed with a bright smile. "Oh, a rare guest, Lady Zhang! Why don't you be generous and spare a few silver coins for this humble one?" Zhang Gaoxia glared. "In the jianghu, they say 'help in urgency, not in poverty.' Do you think I'd give a whole bag of money to a pauper like you? I share your surname!" Zhang Bianguan rolled his eyes. "We already share a surname." Zhang Gaoxia's lips curved upwards. "Exactly," she said, then tossed a heavy bag of silver high into the air. Zhang Bianguan, unsurprised, caught the silver and burst into laughter. "This Lady is truly as kind-hearted as a Bodhisattva! You'll surely find a perfect husband in the future—handsome, highly talented, politically powerful, and one who cherishes his wife! Before that, how about this, Lady? Why don't you take me in? Just drag me home and provide food. Meat would be best, and wine would be even better..." Zhang Gaoxia didn't bother joking with her third brother. She cast a cold glance at Sun Yin, the minor official in the Central Secretariat whose background she knew well. Sun Yin stood up alone, leaving Zhang Bianguan seated. He looked at Zhang Gaoxia, the Grand Councilor's beloved daughter, ignoring her piercing gaze that could strip one's soul. "Miss Zhang," he asked, "I have something to say, but I'm not sure if I should."

Collapse replies 2nd floor 2014-03-19 08:42: Jiji2014-03-19 08:43: Squeeze2014-03-19 08:44: Inserted?2014-03-19 08:45: Squeeze2014-03-19 08:48: Squeeze2014-03-19 08:49: Ahhh!1 more reply,

Zhang Gaoxia said coldly, "Then keep quiet." Sun Yin slowly rose, tossing the silver bag with a gloating expression. "Sun Yin, oh Sun Yin," he said, burning his bridges, "Chancellor Yao praises you as a brilliant scholar who passed all three imperial examinations. Unfortunately, my sister has never liked literati who dabble in writing. So don't expect her to see you in a different light. If you want to talk about principles, your prowess is your business, and what I like is my business. But if you're truly determined and want to marry my sister, I don't care, but you'll have to defeat her first, then she has to find you pleasing to the eye, and then you have to be personally approved by my father as his son-in-law. Where would one find such a rare young talent? You, who delivered yourself to us, definitely don't count." Sun Yin said, slightly helpless, "Why would I like a woman who already has someone in her heart?" Zhang Gaoxia sneered, "Sun Yin, you certainly know a lot." Sun Yin was unconcerned. He calmly said, "Anyway, in this life, I'm destined to speak half a sentence with the Grand Councilor. Being able to speak with the Grand Councilor's son is already a way to make up for regrets. As for you, Miss Zhang Gaoxia, you're merely an unexpected delight. Don't worry, the person you like, I also like, but I won't compete with you for them." Zhang Gaoxia mocked, "Do you like men?" Sun Yin smiled. "It's a liking, but not the kind a woman has for a man. To appreciate someone from the bottom of your heart is also a form of liking. For example, I greatly appreciate that the Grand Councilor couldn't write magnificent poetry like 'May there be tens of thousands of spacious houses, providing shelter and joy to all scholars in the world,' yet he concretely accomplished this unprecedented feat. The Six Ministries' offices, a total of four thousand rooms, will house fewer aristocratic scions and more descendants of humble origins in the future. This is no different from senior Li Chungang opening the Heavenly Gate with his sword in the jianghu, paving the way for future generations." Sun Yin turned to leave, saying leisurely, "To assume what others will like and then give it to them, as if that's giving, without ever asking if they want it or are willing to accept it. Such a person, no matter how sincere they seem, is merely self-righteous, feeling magnanimous and clear-conscienced, but in fact, still selfish. This applies whether discussing romantic love or fraternal relationships. Because being kind to people isn't easy, but it's not too difficult. However, truly putting oneself in another's shoes and respecting them, that is very difficult. The ancients used the term 'bosom friend' to describe close companions. Thus, how one truly becomes a 'bosom friend' is a profound question. Sun Yin is a foolish man; he doesn't know what the world will be like in a thousand years. But the world we live in is still transparent enough. There are many muddled people, but there are always some who don't value profit, reputation, fine swords, posthumous titles, friends' kindness, dying in the right place, the continuation of a family's legacy, or even the nation itself..." Zhang Gaoxia furrowed her long, beautiful brows. "What is this fellow rambling about? Is he scolding our father for embodying loyalty and righteousness at the expense of Uncle Huan? But then he seems to be praising him. Isn't that contradictory?" Zhang Bianguan said carelessly, "Perhaps he's confused himself. People who are too clever often like to contradict themselves, going back and forth, ending up with nothing." Zhang Gaoxia glared. "I don't know what nonsense Sun Yin is spouting, but I can certainly tell you're scolding our father!" Zhang Bianguan unfastened the pigeon bell and casually tossed it into the Dragon-Locking Well. He made a cynical face and chuckled, "Father is too lazy to scold me, so I secretly scold him. You won't go tell on me, so what do I have to fear?" Zhang Gaoxia's tone grew a bit heavier. She asked, "Are you truly not going to follow father's wishes and join the army in Liaodong?" Zhang Bianguan gently shook his head. "As a son, since I can't be of much help, I must at least send father off. Bearing children is merely about supporting parents in their old age and burying them when they die. I, as a son, should at least try my best to do one of those things."

Collapse replies 5th floor 2014-03-19 08:42: Squeeze2014-03-19 08:45: Insert2014-03-19 08:47: Top wipe2014-03-19 08:52: Ahhh!

Zhang Gaoxia sat on the wellhead. Zhang Bianguan said, surprised, "I'm telling you such a thing, and you won't even shed a tear?" Zhang Gaoxia replied flatly, "I am not that kind of woman." Zhang Bianguan hummed. "Actually, none of us are as much like Father as you are." Zhang Bianguan seemed to recall something and said, "You're about to leave the capital to wander the jianghu. Listen to your brother: wherever Father says he doesn't want you to go, that's actually the place he most wants you to be in his heart." Zhang Gaoxia lowered her head. "Stop talking. If you say anymore, I really will cry." Zhang Bianguan slapped his cheeks hard with both hands. "Damn it, you, a woman, haven't cried yet, and I, a big man, can't hold it in anymore. Someone said something that is absolutely true! I've never heard anything more profound in my life. Even Saint Zhang would have to admit defeat!" Zhang Gaoxia looked up. Zhang Bianguan blinked. "He said that a 'hero' who sheds blood but no tears is a joke. Women all over the world shed blood every month without shedding tears!" Zhang Gaoxia took a deep breath, then another deep breath, finally calming her murderous thoughts. Zhang Bianguan said softly, "Go. When the world is in chaos, it will surely be a sight where heroes, villains, and cowards emerge in droves. Don't miss it. Consider it giving our father a few more glances." Zhang Gaoxia neither agreed nor refused. But from that day on, Tai'an City no longer saw the sword-wielding Lady Zhang.

Zhang Bianguan was no different from usual. He walked back to Xieyan Street in the darkness, where a dim yellow light glowed in his courtyard, waiting for him to come home. His not-so-beautiful, simple wife, no matter how angry she was about his carousing, still waited like this, day after day. Perhaps she felt her life had no hope and no end. Other women, not to mention those who married into a distinguished family like the Zhangs—unique in the entire Liyang Dynasty—even those who married sons of third or fourth-rank officials would live splendidly. Not only would they themselves enjoy a life of luxury, but their future children would also be free from worries about food and clothing for life. When they grew up, they could live extravagantly if they wished, or govern the country and serve society if they chose. Zhang Bianguan was about to casually push open the courtyard gate as usual, yelling for his wife to serve him good wine and meat. Suddenly, for no reason, he squatted down, then heard footsteps of passersby, quickly stood up again, and pushed the door open to return home. The woman, as always, silently brought out warm, suitable dishes. She ate with small chopsticks, occasionally glancing at the man who had one foot propped on a long bench, wolfing down his food, a man who never seemed willing to speak another word to her. He was her husband. Yet, she never showed any resentment or grievance on her delicate face. Zhang Bianguan always liked to say that her good temper stemmed from fear of his family background, believing that "a starved camel is still bigger than a horse"—no matter how useless he was, he was still Zhang Julu's son, so how could she not serve him carefully? However, whenever he mentioned this, Zhang Bianguan would always slap himself, saying that only "flowers, birds, fish, and insects" needed to be "served" with such "absurd" words. Then she would secretly smile, only turning her head away when Zhang Bianguan glared at her, but the faint smile on her lips never diminished.

Late that night, after she had fallen asleep, Zhang Bianguan quietly began to sob. "I was like this because I was afraid of liking you, and even more afraid of you liking me." "How could I not want an obedient and sensible child? Both sons and daughters are wonderful." "But I am Zhang Julu's son. The more I do, the more mistakes I make. If I told you the truth, would you flee? But where could you escape to? If you don't flee, would your life be easier than it is now? Even if you're foolish, you'd come to realize things when you die with me, but I'd rather you hate me then. I just want you to be confused now, complaining that I'm unpromising, useless, and not managing the household. Wife, consider me indebted to you in this life. If there's truly a next life, I will definitely repay you..." Zhang Bianguan, his face drenched in tears, haphazardly wiped them away, then gradually drifted into a heavy sleep. The gentle woman, who slept facing the wall with her back to him, unmoving all night, only slowly opened her eyes when she heard her husband's snores. Her gaze was as gentle as ever, just as it had been on the day she stepped out of the sedan chair, the moment he lifted her red veil.

The next morning, Zhang Bianguan, as if carefree, ate breakfast and strode out of the house. After leaving the house, Zhang Bianguan walked down Xieyan Street, looked towards the northwest, and murmured, "Gaoxia, you must go to Beiliang. Only there will the chaos be temporary, not eternal." Today, the Grand Councilor's youngest son was still the most ridiculed scion in Tai'an City, perhaps even under heaven. But what about the woman? The woman quietly performed one trivial household chore after another. When she had nothing to do, she would sit diagonally on the threshold of the inner courtyard, gazing towards the courtyard gate, waiting for him to come home.

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