Chapter Eleven: My Heart Mirrors Yours (Part Three)

Since the Zhang family of Yangzhou was known as the richest in the city, it was only natural that they had considerable wealth. Moreover, this time they were to deliver goods to Yang Su, so a sizable entourage accompanied them.

While Zhang Zhongjian’s group was setting up camp, Zheng Shian led Zheng Yanqing back to the fireside.

“Grandfather, who is Zhang Jiling?”

“Oh, Zhang Jiling is originally from the Zhang family of Wuxian, a family of high standing. Years ago, however, he had a falling out with his kin, left Wuxian in anger, and established his own household. He is a master of finance, and in just over a decade, he became the richest man in Yangzhou. When the Crown Prince pacified Chen, Zhang Jiling rendered distinguished service, which brought him into frequent contact with the nobility in Chang’an. He has also done business with our family. As for Zhang Zhongjian, I have heard of him. His mother was a Hu maiden whom Zhang Jiling took as a concubine, and she bore him Zhang Zhongjian. It is said that when this Third Young Master was born, his appearance was so ugly that he was nearly put to death by Zhang Jiling. Later, he was taken away by a renowned master and trained in martial arts… Heh, seeing him today, he is indeed rather unattractive—such is the result of mixed blood.”

Zheng Weishan, who stood by, laughed, “Old Steward, you are indeed well connected. If not for you, I would have no idea who this Zhang Jiling is.”

“When away from home, one must keep one’s eyes open. The Zheng family has been a great clan for hundreds of years, always watched by many. That’s why we, as their servants, must be especially astute—not to offend others by carelessness, lest we bring trouble to our master, which would not do at all.”

Though Zheng Shian seemed to be speaking to Zheng Weishan, Zheng Yanqing knew these words were meant for him. In Zheng Shian’s eyes, Zheng Yanqing would one day take his place, so certain lessons had to be taught from an early age. Especially since Zheng Yanqing had just caused some trouble, Zheng Shian was all the more attentive.

“Old Steward, Zhang Zhongjian requests an audience.”

A servant came to report, and Zheng Shian frowned. He was old and tired from the journey and had no wish to see Zhang Zhongjian. Yet, when he thought of Zhongjian’s father, he had to pull himself together. Zhang Jiling was not someone to fear, but the influential people behind him were. It was not worth creating enmity over trifles; if Zhang Jiling decided to make trouble, the Zheng family, though unafraid, would still be drawn into unnecessary strife. Besides, Anyuan Hall had also aligned itself with Yang Guang, placing them on the same side as Zhang Jiling.

“Yanqing, come with me to greet our guest,” Zheng Shian said, reluctantly rising to his feet.

Yanqing responded and accompanied his grandfather out of the camp. There they saw Zhang Zhongjian standing ten paces from the carriages, dressed in a broad-collared robe, exuding an extraordinary presence.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir!” Zhang Zhongjian spoke with both boldness and gentility. If not for his rugged looks, he would be considered an outstanding figure.

He had several boxes of food and ten jars of wine brought forward.

“My father has spoken of you, sir, saying you were General Zheng’s right hand. A chance encounter is better than a planned meeting, so I have prepared a few ancient louzi cakes and some jars of Wucheng yellow wine as a token of respect.”

The ancient louzi, also called giant Hu cakes, was a delicacy of the Sui and Tang dynasties. One would slice a catty of lamb, spread it evenly on a large flatbread, add pepper, fermented black beans, and other spices, moisten it with oil, and roast it over a fire until the meat was half done. The resulting cake, similar to later meat-stuffed flatbreads, was fatty but delicious.

Yanqing had tasted this in Xingyang, finding it a bit greasy but flavorful. As for Wucheng yellow wine, it was a famous brew from south of the Yangtze, said to be the favorite of Yang Guang during his stay in Jiangdu. Evidently, the relationship between Yangzhou’s Zhang Jiling and the Crown Prince Yang Guang was anything but ordinary.

Zheng Yanqing couldn’t help but admire Zheng Shian. Had he relaxed his vigilance, conflict between the Zheng family and Zhang Jiling might have arisen. As Zheng Shian had said, the Zhengs did not fear Zhang Jiling, but unnecessary entanglements were best avoided.

Moreover, as Yanqing observed Zhang Zhongjian’s vivid red beard, he felt a sense of familiarity. Behind Zhang Zhongjian stood two men: one in plain garb, around thirty or forty, with an air of detachment from the world; the other, just past twenty, dark-skinned and composed.

Zhang Zhongjian introduced them, “These are friends I met on the road. This is Master Sun Simiao; this young man is Du Ruhui, grandson of Minister of Works Du Guo.”

“Ah!” Zheng Shian was startled and promptly saluted. Du Ruhui was one thing, but Sun Simiao was famed far and wide. It was said that Master Sun began reading at seven, could recite a thousand words a day, and by twenty could discourse on Laozi and Zhuangzi and interpret the Diamond Sutra, earning the title of ‘Sainted Child.’ Born in Huayuan, Jingzhao (modern Shaanxi), during the reign of the Northern Zhou’s Emperor Jing, the Sui founder Yang Jian attempted to recruit him as a National Scholar, but Sun Simiao declined. Disinterested in officialdom, he pursued Daoist practices at Mount Taibai, studying longevity and becoming renowned for his medical skill. Thus, the elite vied to have him as a guest, and his status was extraordinary.

Sun Simiao was not born to a noble family nor did he hold office, yet mention of his name always brought respect. As the steward of Anyuan Hall, Zheng Shian treated him with utmost reverence.

As for Du Ruhui, though his grandfather had served as Minister of Works, Zheng Shian was not particularly impressed. But Zheng Yanqing was. He had heard of Sun Simiao, of course, but Du Ruhui’s name was even more renowned to him. “Fang’s Strategy and Du’s Decision” referred to two eminent ministers of the Zhenguan era—Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui. Yanqing’s heart skipped a beat; seeing his grandfather’s slight neglect, he discreetly tugged at Zheng Shian’s sleeve and looked meaningfully at Du Ruhui, then his grandfather.

Zheng Shian understood—Yanqing was reminding him not to favor one over the other. He hadn’t paid much attention to Du Ruhui, but since his grandson thought otherwise, he could not be too dismissive. After saluting Sun Simiao, he bowed to Du Ruhui, “Young Master Du, your reputation precedes you.”

Du Ruhui’s brow furrowed, and he replied coldly, “I am but an obscure scholar, without rank or title. How could Steward Zheng have heard of me?”

Clearly, Du Ruhui had sensed the earlier slight and was unimpressed. Unlike the seasoned statesman he would later become, the young Du Ruhui was full of youthful pride. Zheng Shian, slightly embarrassed, had only meant to be polite; had it not been for Yanqing’s hint, he might not have bothered with Du Ruhui. Who would have thought Du Ruhui would be so arrogant?

Sensing his grandfather’s discomfort, Zheng Yanqing quickly interjected, “Our eldest young master once mentioned Mr. Du in correspondence, praising his passion for the classics and history and predicting a bright future.”

“Eldest Young Master Zheng knows me?” Du Ruhui started, his coldness vanishing. Although Zheng Renji was not especially famous, as a direct heir of the Zhengs of Anyuan Hall, his status was exceptional. Du Ruhui, proud as he was, could not help but feel pleased to be praised by Zheng Renji.

Zheng Shian looked at Yanqing in surprise. When did the eldest young master praise this young man? But he wisely held his tongue, nodding with a smile to endorse Yanqing’s words.

Yanqing continued, “Mr. Du, do you know Master Yan Shigu?”

“You mean Brother Yan Zhou?” Yan Zhou was Yan Shigu’s courtesy name, four years older than Du Ruhui. Yanqing relaxed; as long as they knew each other.

“After the New Year, Master Yan will accompany our eldest young master to Luoyang and has spoken highly of Mr. Du, saying you are deeply learned in the classics and history, with profound insights. Thus, our eldest young master holds you in great esteem.”

“Is that so?” Du Ruhui’s smile broadened. “While I have some knowledge of the classics, if we speak of true masters, the Zheng family must come first. I am ashamed—I have studied hard for ten years and remain nameless, a scholar with empty learning, not worth mentioning.”

“Respect earns respect in return,” thought Yanqing. “To study the classics and history is hardly pedantry. As the saying goes, ‘With people as a mirror, one learns success and failure; with history as a mirror, one discerns rise and fall.’ Mr. Du, there is no need for self-deprecation. Even if you lack fame now, you will surely become a great man in time.”

“With people as a mirror, one learns success and failure; with history as a mirror, one discerns rise and fall.” These words would one day be spoken by Emperor Taizong Li Shimin, yet here Yanqing had said them first.

Du Ruhui’s eyes lit up at these words. “Well said, little brother. With history as a mirror, one does discern the rise and fall of states.”

He looked up at Zheng Shian, “Steward Zheng, may I ask who this young man is?”

Zheng Shian replied, “This is my grandson,” pride filling his voice, though he was puzzled—why was Yanqing being so gracious to this bookish youth? Still, those words just now were indeed profound. Heh, he is, after all, my grandson!

Not only was Du Ruhui intrigued, but Zhang Zhongjian and Sun Simiao also looked at Yanqing differently. For such a young boy to speak so insightfully—truly remarkable!