Chapter Forty-Eight: The Hardship of the Humble House (First Update)

At that moment, Chen Shengzhi suddenly recalled Zhang Yue's farewell to him that day. The thought made Chen Shengzhi rise to his feet, and Li Xuezheng immediately followed suit. With a chuckle, Chen Shengzhi recited, “The sage has no fixed master, but keeps a child’s heart; with constant diligence to sweep away dust, all things may become our teachers. These words, I remember well.”

Li Xuezheng lowered his head, unsure of the meaning behind Chen Shengzhi’s words. What Chen Shengzhi recited were the very words Zhang Yue had said to him upon his departure.

“When I first met the boy, he said he studied under Master Meng. I was half convinced, half doubtful. But having read this ‘Three-Character Poem’ today, I begin to understand. Li Xuezheng, if you told me any child of thirteen could write such a poem, I would never believe it—only this one, I might give two or three points of credence.”

Li Xuezheng replied, “I do not understand. May Lord Chen enlighten me?”

Chen Shengzhi said, “When I met him, he told me: ‘The learning of the sage lies in doing what should be done, but the learning of Mencius lies in knowing what not to do.’ Tell me, would an ordinary child be able to say such things?”

Li Xuezheng drew a sharp breath. If the boy truly had such insight, at only twelve or thirteen, it was remarkable.

Chen Shengzhi continued, “At the time, I thought he might have merely repeated what he’d heard, yet to make hearsay his own words is talent enough. That’s why I took him in as a page… But now, I see my vision was short. A pity, and somewhat laughable.”

Li Xuezheng quickly said, “It is I who should be ashamed. I thought some other person was using this child to make a name for himself.”

At this, Li Xuezheng glanced at Scholar Zhuang.

“If not for Master Zhuang’s strong recommendation, I would have missed this ‘Three-Character Poem’ altogether.”

Chen Shengzhi asked, “And what is your background?”

Scholar Zhuang bowed his head. “I passed the academic examination in the second year of Tiansheng, granted the title of academician, but have remained without appointment, idle at home…”

Chen Shengzhi said, “There are so many idle officials these days. Not to mention those with your title—even some who passed the jinshi exam go unappointed.”

Scholar Zhuang knew well. In recent years, the practice of bestowing posts on the descendants of officials had flourished. The current emperor, praised as a ‘good sovereign’ among officials, delighted in granting favor to officials’ sons—sometimes thousands in a year. For scholars like him, there was no path to office. Even if somehow appointed, there was no real prospect of employment.

Chen Shengzhi asked a few questions about Zhuang’s qualifications and experience, then said, “It is a shame for a worthy man to be buried in obscurity. But at your age, seeking office would be laborious. You’d be better off with an idle post and a stipend. Go to the front hall and see my old steward; serve as a retainer here for now. When I go to the capital, I’ll find a vacancy for you.”

Scholar Zhuang, after decades of disappointment, had never imagined he might hold an official position. Even without assignment, an idle post and salary meant he would have official status. Overcome with joy, he knelt and thanked Chen Shengzhi with tears in his eyes.

Chen Shengzhi added, “But you must not speak of today’s matters to anyone, nor reveal a word of this ‘Three-Character Poem.’”

Scholar Zhuang straightened at once. “I will remember. Your grace in granting me office, I shall never forget.”

Chen Shengzhi waved him away, and Scholar Zhuang withdrew, understanding the signal.

Li Xuezheng sighed, “Even a sinecure is better for Master Zhuang than holding actual office. To be an official, yet not appointed—on the official stage, we fight bitterly for even six months less of waiting, to the point of murder. Only when one becomes a court official in the capital can there be true satisfaction.”

Chen Shengzhi said, “The current method of selecting officials brings peace but not talent—you mustn’t expect perfection. Still, if you wish to become a capital official, opportunity is not out of reach.”

Li Xuezheng eagerly asked, “Please, Lord Chen, instruct me!”

Chen Shengzhi smiled and said nothing. Instead, he picked up the slip of paper with the ‘Three-Character Poem.’ “Prince Pu’s household has asked me whether I have a primer suitable for a young student. Now, I can present this.”

At these words, Li Xuezheng understood.

At court, the ministers were all embroiled in the matter of the heir, causing utter chaos. Outwardly, they claimed it was for the stability of the realm, but in truth, it was for their own advancement.

Chen Shengzhi, however, did not involve himself, instead building ties with Prince Pu’s household.

Should the emperor name an heir, Zhao Zongshi of Prince Pu’s house was the likeliest choice. Chen Shengzhi’s move was to profit while others struggled—truly astute.

And this ‘Three-Character Poem’ would likely be presented as a primer for Zhao Zongshi’s eldest son, who, though young, was said to be eager to learn. Was Chen Shengzhi hinting something to him through these words?

Suddenly enlightened, Li Xuezheng said, “Thank you for your guidance, Lord Chen. This child truly has remarkable fortune.”

Chen Shengzhi smiled, then said, “Ah, speaking of primers, the prince’s household must have at least eighty or a hundred of them. Whether this one will be favored depends on the child’s fate. But since we speak of Master Meng, there is another, from the Fang family. Can you guess who?”

Li Xuezheng considered. “Could it be… Wang Jiepu of Linchuan?”

Chen Shengzhi laughed. “Indeed.”

After the Four Ministers’ Flower Banquet, Chen Shengzhi and Wang Anshi had become friends, exchanging letters frequently.

Chen Shengzhi said, “In his letters to Ouyang Yongshu, Wang once wrote, ‘If one day I might glimpse the learning of Mencius, how could I ever hope to reach Lord Han?’ See, he compares himself to Mencius, and Ouyang to Han Yu—such grand words!”

Han Yu once spoke of the transmission of the Way.

Originally, this idea came from Mencius: Confucian learning was passed down through the generations, with Confucius as the inheritor of the sages, and after Confucius, only one could claim true succession.

Han Yu restated this, implying that after Mencius, he himself was the only true successor.

Indeed, before Han Yu, few Confucians studied under Mencius, so Han Yu could be called Mencius’s talent-spotter.

In his letter, Wang Anshi likened himself to Mencius and Ouyang Xiu to Han Yu, thus praising both his friend and himself, and thanking Ouyang for recognizing his talent.

Chen Shengzhi smiled, “That man will not rest unless his words shock the world, and he is most stubborn.”

He recalled how, when Wang Anshi served as Livestock Judge, at a banquet he steadfastly refused to drink, even when Prefect Bao Zheng himself offered wine. Wang replied, ‘Forgive me, but I have never drunk wine in my life.’ Even Bao Zheng could only say, ‘Jiepu’s rules are unyielding—admirable indeed!’”

“A while ago, Jiepu even considered submitting a memorial to His Majesty, saying that though all seemed well, the nation’s hidden ills were grave, and only reforms could save the realm. But His Majesty is lenient by nature, pleased with the current peace, and unwilling to change. Only after our persuasion did Jiepu relent.”

“So I thought to find something for him to do. This ‘Three-Character Poem’ should suit his taste.”

Li Xuezheng nodded, then asked, “And what of the boy from the Zhang family?”

Chen Shengzhi smiled, “Let us not disturb him for now, nor reveal any word of the prodigy’s achievement. Besides, to call him a genius on the strength of one poem is premature—once its method is understood, any ordinary person could write it.”

“But such a one is still worth keeping in reserve. If not of use now, he may be in the future. There’s no hurry to recruit him. As a poor scholar, he’s bound to meet setbacks everywhere; if he suffers some grievances, and then is brought in, he will be all the more grateful.”

Li Xuezheng replied, “Lord Chen’s way of employing men through kindness is worthy of the highest respect.”

Unbeknownst to Zhang Yue, his ‘Three-Character Classic’ was about to be presented to Wang Anshi, the future Grand Councillor, or even appear on the emperor’s own desk.

He also did not realize that he might lose even the right to have his name attached to it, and that it might be attributed to some official or their son.

At that very moment, as Zhang Yue studied in Wuxi, he received bad news:

His opportunity to study at the Daylight Brocade Hall had fallen through.

Who had meddled in this? Zhang Yue suspected there was something behind it, but only learned the reason later—and discovered he’d been set up by his second brother.

It turned out that after the New Year, the clan school would select some children from the clan to study at Daylight Brocade Hall.

Children with official family status were given priority; those like Zhang Yue from poor families rarely had a chance. But through the recommendation of Professor Zhang Youzhi, he had come close.

However, in recent years, because Emperor Renzong had opened so many routes for officials’ sons, even the Zhang family, with its jinshi pedigree, had benefited. This year, there were many official-registered children entering the clan school; if Zhang Yue joined, he would take the place of some other official’s child from the clan.

Thus, there were murmurs. Someone pointed out that Zhang Yue’s elder brother, Zhang Xu, had fled an arranged marriage, bringing disgrace to the clan—how could his younger brother have the face to attend the clan school?

This caused quite a stir among the Zhangs. After much discussion, even Zhang Youzhi’s strong endorsement was useless—Zhang Yue was ruthlessly rejected.

ps: First update—please recommend! Second update around 11 p.m.!