Chapter Eight: Murder (Part One)

Yan Qing had no other choice!

In his previous life as an official, he deeply understood the principle that “a tree that stands out in the forest is sure to be felled by the wind.” So many who rushed ahead, so many who flaunted their talents, all ended in desolate retreat. In his decades of governance, Yan Qing would never step forward voluntarily; more often, he preferred to remain behind the scenes.

Laozi’s principle of ruling through inaction does not mean being idle or ineffectual.

The key lies in “circumstance,” and Yan Qing excelled at leveraging it.

But now, he had no circumstances to borrow from, nor people to use.

Even Zheng Shian could not, upon a single word, impulsively send men to watch Zheng Chang and Wang Jingwen.

After all, in this age, the idea of hierarchy ran deep; how could ordinary people dare to commit such a transgression?

————————————————————————————

Within the inner quarters of Anyuan Hall was a quiet little courtyard.

In the yard stood a single small room of blue bricks and red tiles, a retreat where Zheng Dashi read and rested. Behind the house, a flowerbed now lay under a shroud of lingering snow, with an air of desolation. Yet in one corner, a red plum blossom bloomed, radiating vibrant life amidst the white.

The study was called Red Reed, named for its red-tiled roof and the tips of reeds growing above, their hue echoing the tiles, resembling red reeds swaying in the wind.

Zheng Dashi sat upright in the study, watching as Zheng Shian brewed tea for him.

With a smile, he said, “Shian, your tea-making skills are still a bit lacking compared to Yan Qing’s.”

Zheng Shian grinned. “That boy Yan Qing learns quickly and puts his heart into it. Though he’s a little cool by nature, not much like a child… he’s sensible and very filial. Haha, thank you, Master, for giving this old servant such a good child.”

“This is only what you deserve.”

Here, Zheng Dashi suddenly changed the subject.

“Shian, have you looked into Madam Xu’s origins?”

Zheng Shian separated the froth on the tea, his expression grave. “I’ve investigated, but so far, there are no clues.

I thought to follow leads from the Dragon Subduing Skill, to see if something could be traced, but… after five years, there’s not a single lead.”

Zheng Dashi smiled. “If that’s so, let it be.

Madam Xu has been with the Zheng family for five years, always proper and never overstepping. As long as she harbors no ill intent, there’s no need to keep checking. Who hasn’t seen hard times? But after we go to Luoyang, keep an eye on them.

I’ve heard the Sage wished to move the capital to Luoyang, but was dissuaded. Still, Luoyang will surely become vital in the future. Now that Renji is taking up a post as scribe in Luoyang, you must support him. There are many great clans and official families in Luoyang. Since Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei settled thirty-eight noble clans and ninety-eight tribal chiefs in the Luo River region, things there have been complicated. Renji is still a bit rough around the edges in his work.”

Zheng Shian nodded. “Rest assured, Master, this old servant will do his utmost.”

When alone with Zheng Dashi, Zheng Shian spoke with ease, nothing like the respectful humility he showed in public. Zheng Dashi did not mind; it was clearly a long-standing habit.

“I hear Yan Qing likes to write, often using tree branches as brushes and yellow sand as paper at home, drawing and practicing—no easy feat.

Hongyi is also of school age now. When we’re in Luoyang, let Yan Qing study with him.

Renji has invited Yan Shigu from Chang’an as Hongyi’s tutor. Yan Qing can be his companion.”

Zheng Shian was at first startled, then overjoyed.

“Is it that ‘Why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken’ Yan Shigu?”

Zheng Dashi nodded. “The very same!”

—

Yan Shigu was a renowned scholar of Northern Qi, grandson of Yan Zhitui, author of the “Yan Family Instructions,” and a native of Wannian, Jingzhao. At the beginning of the Renshou era, Yan Shigu was recommended by Li Gang, the Left Deputy Director of the Ministry of Personnel, to serve as county bailiff of Anyang (modern Xiangfan, Hubei). At the time, Yang Su, the Director of the Ministry of Personnel, saw he was young and joked, “Anyang is an important county. Can you govern it well?”

He meant: Anyang is such an important place—can you handle it?

Yan Shigu replied, “Why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken?”

He meant: sending me to govern a small place like that is like using an ox-cleaver to butcher a chicken—a waste of ability…

Thus, “Why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken?” became a nickname for Yan Shigu. Later, though his achievements were outstanding, his upright character led to his dismissal, after which he resided in Chang’an. Unexpectedly, Zheng Renji managed to invite him to Luoyang. Certainly, hardship played a part, but even more, it was a testament to the Zheng clan’s influence.

The great clans cherished the classics and history, which held tremendous appeal for scholars.

Zheng Shian had heard of Yan Shigu’s fame. For Zheng Yan Qing to study under such a learned man naturally delighted him, even if only as a companion reader. To receive such an education was no small blessing.

It showed the Zheng family was beginning to value Yan Qing and arranging for him to stay at Zheng Hongyi’s side, the intention plain to see.

“On Yan Qing’s behalf, this old servant thanks Master for his support.”

“Shian, you’ve been with me since childhood—fifty years have passed in the blink of an eye. Though we are master and servant in name, in truth, we are like brothers. Yan Qing may not be your flesh and blood, but he is clever and I am fond of him. There’s no need for such polite words in the future.”

Tears of gratitude streamed down Zheng Shian’s cheeks.

“What has Yan Qing been busy with lately?”

“The same as always—either practicing martial arts or drawing and writing.”

Here, Zheng Shian paused, as if with something to say.

Zheng Dashi smiled, “Shian, if you have something to say, speak plainly… hemming and hawing is not your way.”

“Yan Qing said something odd a while ago.”

“Oh?”

“Master, please do not be angry. I know he shouldn’t have said it, but on reflection, there’s some truth… Yan Qing said the Second Master is sometimes too indulgent with Wang Jingwen and Pei An, and those two lack respect for their superiors.”

Zheng Dashi was taken aback, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Yan Qing actually said this?”

Zheng Shian started, hastily explaining, “A child’s nonsense, careless words—please forgive him.”

Zheng Dashi said, “I’m not angry, and I know you secretly think the same.”

“This old servant dares not.”

Zheng Shian instantly prostrated himself, confessing guilt.

Zheng Dashi chuckled, “I said you’re not in trouble—don’t worry. But there are things you do not understand; go back and teach Yan Qing not to speak recklessly, lest he bring trouble on himself… That’s all, you may go.”

Zheng Shian withdrew, still uneasy.

After he left, Zheng Dashi’s eyes suddenly opened wide, a strange smile curling his lips.

Unexpected—this little fellow has such keen perception!

If that’s the case, he’s truly worth cultivating…

————————————————————————

The days passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was the twelfth lunar month.

—

The weather grew colder, but with the New Year approaching, everyone became even busier. The Laba Festival, Minor New Year, and New Year’s Eve followed in quick succession. On the twenty-third of the twelfth month, the Minor New Year arrived, known in later times as the “Little New Year,” the day of the Kitchen God’s sacrifice.

This sacrifice had its origins among the Five Sacrifices of pre-Qin times.

For a great family like the Zhengs, ancestral rites were of grave importance.

So from early morning, Anyuan Hall was bustling. The ceremony for the Kitchen God was usually held at dusk, requiring the attendance of the entire clan. Over a hundred members of Anyuan Hall, led by Zheng Dashi, began the ritual.

Zheng Yan Qing took part and played an important role.

When Zheng Dashi performed the sacrificial rites, a child was required to stand behind him. The child’s age was also specified—once over eight, he could no longer serve in this role. Yan Qing was five in actual years, but by traditional reckoning, just seven.

So this was his first and last time as the assistant at the sacrifice.

For ordinary folk, assisting at a Zheng family ceremony was a great honor. It meant the Zhengs considered you one of their own.

At this moment, Yan Qing was dressed in splendid robes, holding a rooster in his arms.

This was called the “Kitchen Horse.”

After the sacrifice, the Kitchen God would “ride” the Kitchen Horse back to Heaven to give his report.

Thus, the rooster even had a little saddle and bridle. Yan Qing, clutching the rooster, knelt behind Zheng Dashi, solemn and composed.

Zheng Dashi first recited the sacrificial text, then bowed to Heaven and Earth, praying for favorable weather and peace in the coming year.

The words of the prayer were elegant and ornate.

Accompanied by unique melodies and rhythms, the chanting was especially moving.

Yan Qing found this style of singing far more beautiful than the popular songs of later generations, and listened with quiet attention.

When Zheng Dashi finished praying, Yan Qing stepped forward with the rooster.

Zheng Dashi, face grave and solemn, gripped the rooster’s neck with one hand, pushing it three times toward the heap of ritual fodder on the altar. With the other hand, he scooped a handful of cool water and sprinkled it on the rooster’s head. Yan Qing could feel the rooster’s shudder.

“The Kitchen God accepts! The Kitchen God accepts!”

The rooster’s shudder meant the Kitchen God had accepted the “Kitchen Horse,” or else the act would need to be repeated.

Before the ceremony, Zheng Shian had already coached Yan Qing, so he cried out in a loud voice.

Next, Zheng Dashi took a knife from the altar and, with a swift stroke, slit the rooster’s throat.

Blood sprayed onto Yan Qing, yet he did not flinch.

Zheng Dashi lit the sacrificial offerings, and Yan Qing threw the rooster’s body into the blaze. Smoke billowed, flames soared.

“The Kitchen God ascends to Heaven!”

This was Yan Qing’s line.

As his childish voice rang out, all the members of Anyuan Hall prostrated themselves, chanting together, wishing the Kitchen God a smooth journey. The sacrificial text had been arranged in advance, and the chanting continued until the fire died down.

For a time, solemnity and reverence filled Anyuan Hall.