Harboring ill intentions

The four of them negotiated briefly at the palace gate. Only then did Zhang Ling realize that the burly man with the beard who clearly had no friends was Yan Han, commander of the Imperial Guard. With his towering stature and fierce gaze, Yan Han flatly refused Song Linjie entry, showing no mercy or leniency. Such people were commonplace within the imperial palace, and Song Linjie was hardly surprised by it anymore. Zhang Ling followed the old eunuch into the emperor’s study, where ink calligraphy and paintings adorned the walls. The landscape paintings of Jinluo Prefecture depicted mountainous scenery; the brushwork was about eighty to ninety percent refined, but the spirit only reached forty to fifty percent. This was still considered accomplished. True masterpieces of landscape art often capture realms beyond the mundane world—those realms that can only be fully appreciated through personal meditation. To produce such works was a feat worthy of a master. Moreover, the numerous paintings collectively were priceless. Born into poverty, Zhang Ling had rarely seen famous mountains and waters firsthand; he had to rely on studying scholars’ works. Even if those were merely copies or imitations, not originals, over time he had gained modest achievements in appreciation.

Suddenly, Zhao Weizhong noticed the emperor’s unexpected arrival and quietly stepped out of the room. Zhang Ling remained entranced, gazing at these authentic masterpieces by renowned artists. Then, without warning, a man from Chenliu suddenly clapped him on the back, startling Zhang Ling. He quickly recovered, adopting a formal tone to compliment, “Student Zhang Ling pays respects to His Majesty.”

The man from Chenliu gestured for Zhang Ling to lower his hand, seemingly sensing his enthusiasm, and spoke calmly: “These masters of painting have traversed mountains and rivers for countless days and nights, seeking to glimpse an extraordinary realm. Guided by their hearts, they extract the essence of breathtaking vistas and translate them onto the canvas, creating a work of unparalleled grandeur. Yet to form such a natural marvel in the world takes an incalculable span of years. Zhang Ling, do you understand this?”

Just as Zhang Ling was about to reply, he stopped himself and guessed, “Your Majesty, is this an allegory for the empire concealed within the paintings?”

Laughing, the man tapped Zhang Ling’s head playfully. “There’s no need to overthink it. If I spoke to you as plainly as you just did to others, I’d be exhausted. I’m simply asking about your knowledge of calligraphy and painting.”

Zhang Ling responded with a simple “Oh.” The man chuckled again: “So, how do you like the paintings? Seen one you fancy? I’ll give it to you.”

Without hesitation, Zhang Ling pointed to a piece depicting majestic peaks and grinned, “That one.”

Casually pulling up a stool to reach it, the man examined the painting as he handed it over, explaining with some self-importance, “A pinnacle work symbolizing lofty aspirations. Do you wish to scale the summit of martial arts or become a scholar-general?”

Zhang Ling smiled teasingly, “Your Majesty said just now that a painting is just a painting, with no deeper meaning. Most interpretations are subjective conjectures. Who knows? Perhaps the artist just wanted to climb up there and urinate.”

The man laughed heartily. “What a notion—to climb the peak and sprinkle water, letting those below taste a bit of the mountain’s essence.”

Seeing the emperor’s joyful expression, Zhang Ling cautiously asked, “Then, Your Majesty, may I ask why you summoned me here?”

The man waved him to wait, stepping behind a screen before returning with a covered round tray. Sitting down casually, he beckoned Zhang Ling to join him. Though puzzled, Zhang Ling felt no anxiety; as long as the emperor meant no harm, all matters were negotiable.

The man lifted the lid to reveal flawlessly translucent jade beads arranged on either side. Zhang Ling immediately recognized the game as Chinese checkers. Marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship—real jade, finely carved, and a board of premium fragrant cedar wood—he knew such a set was worth a small fortune. That the emperor used such a set was unusual.

“Do you know how to play?” the man asked.

Zhang Ling nodded, “I know the rules, though I don’t play often.”

The emperor arranged the jade beads with courteous deference, inviting Zhang Ling to start. Confused but obedient, Zhang Ling moved pieces haphazardly. The emperor followed suit with equally erratic moves, repeatedly passing up chances to capture pieces. This baffled Zhang Ling even more, but he said nothing, simply playing game after game with the emperor, ending in fairly even wins and losses.

The emperor seemed reluctant to end, but finally pushed the board aside and asked, “Have you gleaned any insights?”

Zhang Ling inwardly cursed. What wisdom could one possibly derive from a game of Chinese checkers? At least with Go, he could spout some nonsense convincingly. But since the emperor asked, he would say something, even if it was nonsense. “May I speak freely? Will I be punished if I’m wrong?”

The emperor laughed, “Speak as you please. Even if you insult me, I’ll bear it.”

Relieved, Zhang Ling said, “The pieces are birds, the board is a cage. No matter how much the birds struggle, they cannot escape.”

The emperor pondered, “Are you saying I am the bird in the cage, bound by fate no matter how I strive? That you wanderers in the rivers and lakes live freer lives?”

Zhang Ling firmly denied, “I never said that. You overinterpret. But whether common folk or wanderers, each has their burdens. Most wanderers are ordinary people, struggling year after year in the lakes and rivers, never glimpsing the world beyond. Even those at the peak eventually fall back to the lake’s bottom. What I mean is not to be a foolhardy struggler within the lake, but to face life calmly and with equanimity.”

The emperor shifted uneasily, frowning. “Do you think I should do nothing at all?”

Zhang Ling shrugged. “That’s what Your Majesty said. Not my concern.”

The emperor continued, “Let me share my own understanding. Earlier, I deliberately avoided capturing your pieces, prolonging the game. If we both thought like me and avoided conflict, the game would never end. Pieces or birds in a cage, they could coexist peacefully, forever.”

Zhang Ling retorted, “No one thinks exactly alike. For every sage, there is a villain. Our friendship does not mean others harbor no ill will.”

The emperor suddenly smiled. “See? You said it yourself. If you and I are friends, no matter who attacks, together we need not fear. Tell me, what makes a friend?”

Zhang Ling sensed ill intent and answered cautiously, “To share life is kinship; to share heart is friendship. If one has good things, share them; if one faces hardship, offer full support.”

The emperor clapped his hands and jumped up excitedly. “Zhang Ling, see, I just gave you a famous painting to share. Are we friends? If I face trouble, should you not help me?”

Zhang Ling suddenly realized the trap and thought, *This emperor is waiting here for me.* He countered, “Your Majesty, is it still possible to take the painting back?”