Chapter 28: No Nobility Among the Poor

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"So it's Brother Guanxi," Wang San adopted a formal tone and asked, "May I ask which house you hail from, Brother Guanxi?"

Zhang Chi, knowing little about the prominent families within Jiankang City, could only reply, "In truth, I am much the same as you, Third Brother. I am a household guard in the residence of Lord Wang Guobao, the Left Vice-Minister."

"Ah, so we're relatives by marriage!" Wang San clapped his hands with delight.

"Relatives by marriage?" Zhang Chi was bewildered. I have neither son nor daughter, how could I possibly have in-laws?

"Naturally so! My young master is soon to wed your family's young lady. If I recall, the wedding is to take place within these very days," Wang San explained with a gesture, holding up his index fingers to symbolize a couple. Grinning, he continued, "The Left Vice-Minister and the Chief Secretary are becoming in-laws—tell me, if our two households are not related now, then what are we?"

Zhang Chi could only force a bitter smile. What business is it of yours if they're getting married? Of course, Zhang Chi knew nothing of Wang Guobao having arranged such a match for his daughter, and so, perplexed, he asked, "Miss Wang is to wed your young master?"

But Wang San did not answer. Instead, he craned his neck, staring intently at the city gate, as if he'd spotted something he dared not let out of his sight. Without turning, he patted Zhang Chi on the shoulder. "Brother Guanxi, wait for me a moment."

With that, Wang San quietly moved toward the city gate, where he caught hold of a youth who had been glancing anxiously about. The boy looked to be sixteen or seventeen, with delicate features. He was so intent on scanning his surroundings that he failed to notice Wang San behind him, who seized him around the waist and dragged him back to Zhang Chi.

In a secluded corner, the youth shook off Wang San’s grip, his face flushed with anger. "Leave me be! You may be content to live as a servant, but I am not!"

Wang San, too, grew angry. "You think I want to meddle in your affairs? If our parents had not died young, leaving only us three brothers, do you think I'd care what happened to you?"

He turned to Zhang Chi. "Forgive the spectacle, Brother Guanxi. This is my younger brother, his name is Wang Qi."

"My name is Lin Qi, not Wang Qi," the youth shot back loudly. "A true man bears the name of his ancestors, nourished by Heaven and Earth. How could anyone forget his family name? Only someone resigned to servitude would cast away his surname!"

These three brothers truly were of different temperaments; you’d hardly believe they shared the same mother. Even Zhang Chi, watching from the side, could not help but think so.

He expected Wang San to scold his brother, but—surprisingly—Wang San only hung his head and sighed. "Brother, I know you've always been proud, but you were born into poverty, and no matter how lofty your ambitions, what good does it do?"

"In times like these, pride will not fill your belly," he continued, patting his brother's shoulder. "We three brothers were orphaned young. Not a tile above our heads belongs to us, not a foot of ground beneath our feet is ours. Common folk are like blades of grass—anyone may trample them. If we didn’t join the Wang household, we’d only be more nameless corpses in the wilderness. You think I wanted to abandon my family name? If I hadn’t, where do you think your meals these years came from?"

Wang San spread his hands in resignation. Blood was thicker than water, after all. For all his slippery tongue, when it came to his brothers, his sincerity was plain to see.

But the youth was unmoved. His eyebrows arched, he declared, "So long as they feed you, you’re content to be their dog?"

The retort struck Wang San speechless, his prepared arguments stuck in his throat. He could only tremble in indignation, pointing at Lin Qi, unable to utter a word.

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"I’ve had enough of that young master’s bullying," Lin Qi declared, raising his fists. "He idles about all day, doing nothing but tormenting me. Today I finally beat him to a pulp—turned him into a pig’s head! I doubt you’ll get me back into the Wang household now."

"You actually struck the young master?" The news left Wang San utterly aghast.

Seeing his brother’s alarm, Lin Qi snorted, "Don’t worry, Third Brother. I won’t drag you and Fifth Brother down with me. I’ll take responsibility for my own actions. I’ll go on the run—let them try to catch me if they can!"

Wang San’s first thought had been for his brother’s safety, knowing well the Wang family’s influence. But Lin Qi’s words made it sound as if he was only worried about being implicated himself, which left him at a loss for words.

Yet, he could not abandon his brother. He tried to frighten Lin Qi, saying, "Do you think you’re the only clever one? Listen, don’t go running around. Haven’t you noticed the city is under lockdown? The gates are closed. If they want to catch you, it’ll be easy. If you’re caught, you’ll be executed on the spot—see how wild you can be then!"

He pleaded, "Just listen to me and find a quiet place to hide. I’ll return to the house and beg for leniency. Perhaps there’s still a chance."

Lin Qi, young and headstrong, had indeed wondered why the city was sealed, and now half believed the story that it was all to catch him. He stuck out his tongue but did not seem afraid. His eyes darted about, clearly already hatching an escape plan.

Wang San was a shrewd man in worldly matters, but when he shed that armor, his true affection for his siblings showed through. Worried for his brother’s fate, he sighed, then turned to Zhang Chi. "Brother Guanxi, forgive me for this scene. My brother is young and does not know the hardships of the world. I must hurry back and plead for him—perhaps I can save his life."

Zhang Chi waved it off. "No need for apologies, Third Brother. Go, quickly."

Wang San turned, half warning, half pleading with Lin Qi, "Don’t you dare run off—you might die and not even know where you fall!"

With that, he jabbed a finger at Lin Qi and hurried away, anxiety twisting his brow as he pondered how to explain this to his master and clear his brother’s name.

As soon as he was gone, Lin Qi muttered, "Don’t run? If I stay, I’ll be waiting for death!"

He turned to leave, but Zhang Chi, finding something of his own younger self in the boy, called after him, "You’re quite bold. Are you really not afraid of being caught? Even if you make it out, you’ll have nothing to eat—won’t you starve?"

At that age, Lin Qi was ruled by hot blood and never considered such things. He replied, "So what if I starve? At least I’ll keep my pride. That wretch torments me daily; today he tried again, and I’d had enough. If I hadn’t been unarmed, I’d have killed him outright."

Zhang Chi, finding the tale amusing, asked, "So how did you beat him?"

"The sons of noble families are always sickly, useless without their servants," Lin Qi boasted. "I pinned him down easily and gave him a sound thrashing. Sadly, I hadn’t finished when his cries brought the guards running. Luckily, I’m quick—their clumsy lot couldn’t catch me."

"But the city is sealed tight. Where can you go?" Zhang Chi was genuinely worried for the youth. "Why not take your third brother’s advice, endure for now, and look for another chance?"

Lin Qi scoffed, "You sound just like him. I’ll do something great one day, and then you’ll see. How would some bird know the ambitions of a gourd?"

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Lin Qi, born into poverty, had never studied, but he’d heard the saying and tried to remember it. Zhang Chi laughed, "How could sparrows know the ambitions of a swan? Not gourd."

"Whatever. That’s what I mean. I’m leaving—don’t follow me." Lin Qi, unconcerned, glanced around for soldiers and, seeing none, darted into a side alley.

Zhang Chi sighed. Yet he, too, was caught up in matters beyond his control. He still could not understand why Wang Xun was so bent on his destruction. His fellow brothers in arms, who had escaped with him, were scattered—who knew where or if they were safe. How could a man adrift in troubled waters help anyone else? Still, this young man, wild though he was, was someone Zhang Chi could appreciate.

"There is no nobility among the poor, and the low-born lack power," Zhang Chi mused. Suddenly, a voice behind him said, "Do you, too, feel the heavens are unjust, sir?"

Zhang Chi turned and replied with a soft "Oh?"

"Some are born into silk and brocade, idle and useless, unable to lift a thing or compose a verse, unskilled in either pen or sword—yet such men always rise to high office. Others, with ambition as high as the sky, yearn to serve their country, but only because they are low-born, find every road barred. How unjust is Heaven!"

This was the first time Zhang Chi had heard this man speak so earnestly. For the speaker was none other than the old Taoist who had twice told Zhang Chi’s fortune—a man who seemed part charlatan, part sage.

Watching the old Taoist approach, Zhang Chi smiled, "But you are an enlightened one, Master. How could I know what you do not?"

"Those who have pondered the Way do not necessarily understand it," the Taoist replied solemnly. "Some have never studied the Way, and yet their words and actions are its very embodiment. I am one who seeks the Way, but perhaps you are one who knows it."

Zhang Chi had meant only to say he did not know, but the Taoist had split ‘knowing’ and ‘the Way’ into two, making a riddle of his words. Zhang Chi asked, "Master, we’ve only met a few times—how can you say I am one who knows the Way?"

He found such speech almost tongue-twisting.

Suddenly, the old Taoist dropped his solemnity, reverting to his usual roguish self. He chuckled, "Don’t forget, I can read fortunes!"

Zhang Chi was struck—those two readings had indeed been uncannily accurate. Wishing to test the old Taoist’s skill, he asked, "Can you tell me, Master, why Jiankang’s gates are sealed today and no one is allowed to enter or leave? Can you divine the reason?"

"My abilities can reveal a thousand years ahead or five hundred years past—such a small matter is nothing to me! But divining events is not like reading a person. For people, all I need is a word, a face, a bone. For matters, I must find a place to cast a hexagram."

The old Taoist was full of confidence. "There’s a tavern not far ahead. Why not let me treat you to a drink while I cast your fortune? What do you say?"

"A splendid idea indeed." Zhang Chi was a lover of drink, and he had been famished since leaving the city. At the Taoist’s suggestion, he could not agree quickly enough, nodding eagerly.