Chapter Eighty-Seven: A Life as Rowdy as Firecrackers

By tomorrow night, the year’s end would be upon them. The elders all held that once the Minor New Year had passed, children were no longer to be beaten, so Tie Xinyuan was naturally spared a thrashing.

But Fox seemed no longer very willing to stay with Tie Xinyuan. Taking the litter of puppies—already able to roll and toddle about on the floor—it went off to his mother’s room.

His mother could not sense the fire raging in Tie Xinyuan’s heart, but Fox could feel it clearly.

The moment it turned back and dragged the cradle basket out through the doorway, Tie Xinyuan saw the contempt in Fox’s eyes, as though it were looking at a pile of filth.

Han Changli once wrote in his “Way of the Original Dao”:

Kings issue commands.

Ministers carry out the kings’ commands and impose them upon the people.

The people produce grain, silk, and hemp, make utensils, trade goods, and thus support those who rule above them.

He also said that the reason the world could advance and keep developing was all thanks to the sages. It was the sages who led mankind in driving off savage beasts, the sages who taught people to plant crops, the sages who taught them how to heal disease, the sages who taught them how to weave clothes against the cold, and the sages who established the moral order of human society. Even the warm meal in our mouths, he said, was taught by the sages.

Come to think of it, ever since Pangu split heaven and earth apart, there had never been any escaping the shadow of the sage in human life.

Thus the world was created by sages; mankind was flung into being when sages dipped willow branches in mud and whipped it into shape; when the sky collapsed, sages propped it up with the legs of a turtle; when the Heavenly River leaked, sages patched it with five-colored stones. In all of this, the earth itself had nothing whatever to do with it.

Later generations said that the earth’s high mountains, seas, lakes, and plains were all formed by volcanoes and earthquakes. That was complete nonsense.

How could those dreadful natural disasters compare with a kind, brave, and benevolent sage?

Tie Xinyuan discovered that he possessed the potential to become a sage. The death of an old Liang who had nothing to do with him already made him deeply uneasy; if a few more people were to die, would he not go mad?

He fell asleep with a head full of chaotic thoughts. These were questions he had never even thought of in his previous life. Now that he began to think of them in this one, they still seemed obscure and difficult to grasp.

While Tie Xinyuan slept, in the imperial palace only a wall away, Zhao Zhen had not the slightest desire to sleep. He sat alone in the Grand Celebration Hall, wearily reviewing endless memorials.

Wang Jian stood beside the blazing dragon-pillar, clutching his whisk. The place was warm and very comfortable, and before long his eyelids were nearly sticking together.

A sudden sting flared between his fingers. Wang Jian opened his eyes at once and quietly dropped the short stick of incense pinched there. He went to the emperor’s desk and replaced the water that had grown cold with water at a more pleasant warmth. Seeing the emperor’s lips slightly dry, he added a spoonful of honey to the lukewarm water.

Just then Zhao Zhen extended his hand, and Wang Jian placed the prepared honeyed water into it.

After taking a sip, Zhao Zhen asked, “Is that dangerous tower the property of the Prince of Ruyang’s household?”

Wang Jian bowed. “So it is said, Your Majesty. But when I checked the deed, the name written on it was not that of any lord of the Prince of Ruyang’s residence.”

“Oh? Whose name was it?”

“The third daughter of the Master of the Hall of the Three Sophoras, Wang Yu.”

Zhao Zhen was silent for a moment, then said, “Summon the Chief of the Imperial Library. Summon Pei Yuan, the Left Deputy Censor-in-Chief. Summon Bao Zheng, Prefect of Kaifeng.”

Wang Jian answered and hurried out of the Grand Celebration Hall to send for Pei Yuan and Bao Zheng. As for the chief of the Imperial Library, he was always left waiting in the side hall for the emperor’s summons.

At the hour of the second watch, Wang Jian reported softly, “Your Majesty, the Left Deputy Censor-in-Chief Pei Yuan, the Prefect of Kaifeng Bao Zheng, and the Chief of the Imperial Library Hou Yuanyi are waiting outside the hall.”

Zhao Zhen set down the vermilion brush in his hand and waved. Wang Jian immediately announced the three men’s audience in a loud voice.

After entering the hall and paying respects to the emperor, Hou Yuanyi of the Imperial Library took a seat behind a small table at the side of the great hall and lifted his brush, ready to record the emperor’s exchanges with the ministers.

Zhao Zhen came out from behind the desk, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced a circuit around the hall before asking Bao Zheng, “I have heard that this tower may have involved the forcible seizure of private homes. Is Kaifeng aware of this matter?”

Bao Zheng said, “There have indeed been reports of land being bought from the common people at low prices. I have already sternly warned Kaifeng County that all contracts for the sale of land connected to the tower must be concluded in broad daylight, under everyone’s watchful eyes, and that no private transactions will be permitted. Otherwise, I will seal the files and refuse confirmation.”

Zhao Zhen nodded. “I am reassured by how properly you handle affairs, my lord. But do you think Kaifeng County can ensure fairness and impartiality?”

Bao Zheng frowned. “No dossier has yet been submitted by Kaifeng County, so I do not yet know. If Your Majesty intends a full investigation, I shall at once order Kaifeng County to submit the files so that truth and falsehood may be distinguished.”

Zhao Zhen gave a silent smile, then turned to Pei Yuan, the Left Deputy Censor-in-Chief. “What does Lord Pei think? Was there any violation of regulations in the construction of the tower?”

Pei Yuan bowed. “I report to Your Majesty: the tower stands by the West Water Gate, in low-lying ground. Though it was built six stories high, it still cannot rival the Grand Celebration Hall on the higher ground.”

Zhao Zhen nodded. “My lord has always been fair-minded; what you say is naturally beyond reproach.”

Bao Zheng bowed again. “I report to Your Majesty: if the Prince of Ruyang has taken one wrong step, we will never permit the matter to be passed over lightly. We will investigate it to the end and give Your Majesty an account, and give the people an account as well.

“But this is only within the laws and statutes of Great Song.

“If the Prince of Ruyang has broken the law, then even with his lofty rank and power he cannot escape the net of Great Song’s justice. Your Majesty need not worry at every turn. You should also remember that when Your Majesty was born, it was the Prince of Ruyang who sent one hundred and twenty eminent monks to return you to the palace.”

Zhao Zhen frowned. “Can it be that the Prince of Ruyang still cannot be repaid for his services?”

Bao Zheng smiled. “Your Majesty is Heaven itself. As long as there is Heaven, the people under Heaven all hope for a merciful sovereign above their heads.

“Even if human disasters and human crimes bind together and virtue goes unrepaired, people still yearn for Heaven’s compassion, hoping it will grant them a year of favorable wind and rain and a good harvest.”

Zhao Zhen laughed softly. “Then am I to do nothing but be merciful?”

Bao Zheng bowed. “Beside the Heavenly Emperor there are the God of Thunder and the Mother of Lightning to punish the wicked of the mortal world for Your Majesty.”

“And who is my God of Thunder and Mother of Lightning?”

“This old minister is unworthy, but I may serve as Your Majesty’s God of Thunder and clear away the demonic miasma of the world.”

Zhao Zhen sighed. “If that is so, my lord may go.”

After Pei Yuan bowed and departed the hall, Bao Zheng remained. Zhao Zhen looked at him in surprise. “Does my lord have something further?”

Bao Zheng smiled. “Your Majesty is impatient. The Prince of Ruyang is only behaving arrogantly at present; this does not amount to a grave offense.”

Zhao Zhen frowned. “I do not wish to be like Duke Zhuang of Zheng, waiting until my own brother’s crimes are great enough for execution before I move to stop them. That would make me neither a fit emperor nor a fit brother.”

Bao Zheng smiled. “Your Majesty is compassionate; this old minister is ashamed.”

“Go then. Go warn the Prince of Ruyang and order all his sons to remain within the offices of the clan administration, shut in to reflect on their faults, and not to step outside even once. This is the Capital of the East, beneath my feet. As members of the imperial clan, they may live in luxury, but they may not be brutal.

“I think it is an excellent thing that the tower should collapse. From the very start they have forced the people to the point that they would rather die than drive their fat hogs against the tower and topple it. I fear that if this goes on long enough, some will one day lay the blame for these crimes at my feet and hurl themselves against the palace in desperation.”

Bao Zheng smiled. “Your Majesty is the emperor, so of course you must stand up for all your officials. In truth, no matter which official commits wrongdoing, the consequences are ultimately borne by Your Majesty.

“Your servant intends to deal with the owner of the tower. What does Your Majesty think?”

Zhao Zhen gave a detached smile. “That is the duty of your Kaifeng office.”

Bao Zheng withdrew from the hall with a slight smile. Zhao Zhen glanced at Hou Yuanyi, who was writing furiously, and said, “Do not record what follows.”

He then stepped out of the Grand Celebration Hall, stretched lazily beneath the starlight, and looked out at the brilliantly lit streets of the Eastern Capital. “At times I feel that being an ordinary commoner would be quite a fine thing.”

Wang Jian smiled ingratiatingly. “That is because Your Majesty is such a benevolent ruler. Only then can the people live in such peace and contentment.”

Zhao Zhen laughed aloud. “Do you mean that if someone else were emperor, the realm would be plunged into ruin and bloodshed?”

Wang Jian answered with conviction, “That is inevitable!”

Zhao Zhen laughed heartily and, surrounded by his guards and palace maids, entered the inner palace. But tonight Wang Jian did not follow him in. Every year on the eve before New Year’s Eve, the emperor granted Wang Jian leave to depart the palace and return to his ancestral home to pay respects to his forebears, and this year was no exception.

After changing clothes and sticking on a small mustache above his lips, Wang Jian drove a carriage out of the imperial city alone.

The body, hair, and skin are received from one’s parents and may not be damaged. Wang Jian knew full well that he was a man who had suffered castration. All the ancestors in his family could be worshipped, all the brothers in the lineage could be honored, but he alone could not.

The wheels of the carriage crushed over the flagstones with crisp sounds. Not far ahead, a streak of white light suddenly shot into the sky and burst with a thunderclap, leaving a chrysanthemum-shaped firework hanging in the darkness for only an instant before vanishing without trace.

These were fireworks made by the acrobats of the market streets. Wang Jian had even made them with his own hands when he was a child. Back then he had dreamed of becoming the greatest acrobat of all. Who would have thought that he would never become the greatest acrobat, but instead would become the greatest eunuch in Great Song?

As he passed the Tie residence, Wang Jian glanced inside. The house had long since gone dark, its black silhouette melding with the imperial city itself. Unless one looked carefully, it was hard to notice that there was even a household there.

Wang Jian strongly approved of Tie Xinyuan’s conduct in becoming a child prodigy without rushing everywhere to seek masters or study in order to make a name for himself.

A person cannot live like a firework, brilliant for only a single moment. However dazzling, however radiant that instant may be, it still cannot compare with the faint glow of a single lamp. A single lamp burns until all the oil in its bowl is spent, and only then does it slowly go out, just like a human life passing through a complete journey.

Each time he left the palace, Wang Jian would drive the carriage all over the streets of the Eastern Capital until the crimson sun rose in the east. Only then would he hurry back to the palace, to await the coming of the new year together with the emperor.