Chapter Fourteen: The Flaws of Xu Shiji (Part One)

The bond between the Xu and Zheng families could be traced back to the generation of Zheng Dashi’s father, Zheng Wei. In those days, Zheng Wei rallied the Zheng clan and marched northward, fighting side by side with Xu Gai’s grandfather. At the time, the Xu family was modestly known in the Qi and Lu region, far from being a powerful merchant house. It was precisely due to this connection with the Zhengs that the Xu family’s fortunes began to rise.

By the time Xu Gai came of age, the Xu family had become a renowned merchant clan in the Heluo region. Yet as times changed and the court’s attention shifted ever more toward Heluo, certain ventures had to be suspended. After all, as an established family in the eastern provinces, the Zhengs were feeling increasing pressure from the military aristocracy of Guanlong and had to be cautious.

Forbidden dealings could no longer continue; thus, Xu Gai began contemplating a withdrawal from Heluo, returning to his ancestral home. Both Zheng Dashi and Zheng Renji agreed with this idea. However, Xu Gai made a request: he wished for Xu Shiji to be taken under the Zheng family’s wing, so that he might have a stepping stone for advancement in the future. Despite their wealth, the Xu family still suffered from a low social status. As the son of a merchant, Xu Shiji faced numerous obstacles in making a name for himself. With the Zhengs’ support, his prospects would surely improve. Given the longstanding ties between the two families, Zheng Renji readily agreed.

This was why Zheng Renji instructed Zheng Dashi to bring Xu Shiji to Luoyang.

Returning to camp, Zheng Shian’s spirits seemed dampened.

Yanqing found this odd and asked, “Grandfather, why do you seem unhappy?”

Zheng Shian sighed, “Yanqing, have you not noticed certain clues?”

“Clues?”

“The eldest master asked me to bring Xu Shiji to Luoyang with me. I fear this won’t bode well for you.”

Zheng Yanqing curled up in the carriage, hands pressed together as if meditating, neither affirming nor denying.

Truthfully, Zheng Shian was deeply satisfied with this grandson. Years ago, he had been injured while rescuing Zheng Dashi, leaving him crippled and unable to father children. Yet Heaven was kind, granting him a grandson. Yanqing was intelligent, thoughtful, and dutiful… If there was anything to complain about, it was his excessive composure.

Composure is a virtue, but in a child, it often comes across as lacking vigor.

Seeing Zheng Yanqing remain silent, Zheng Shian forced a bitter smile and said no more. After all, it was only his speculation; speaking without evidence might backfire. He didn’t wish to burden Yanqing with undue pressure.

In fact, Zheng Yanqing had already understood.

Wasn’t it simply a matter of each person finding their place?

He was favored by Zheng Dashi, but not necessarily by Zheng Renji. Who could say whether Zheng Renji had other intentions in bringing Xu Shiji to Luoyang? If so, what would become of Yanqing?

As for his own future, Yanqing wasn’t overly concerned. He was still young; as long as Zheng Dashi lived, Zheng Shian would not fall out of favor, and Yanqing would be safe. Yet, the rule of ‘new masters, new favorites’ applied as much in aristocratic families as it did in court.

There was little affection between Zheng Renji and Zheng Shian, unlike the trust Zheng Dashi showed. Since entering public service, Zheng Renji rarely spent time at home and naturally surrounded himself with confidants. Zheng Dashi’s decision to send Zheng Shian was well-intentioned, but Zheng Renji might not accept it. Even if he did, Zheng Shian would never wield the same authority as he had at Anyuan Hall.

That was the crux of the matter!

Zheng Dashi was nearly sixty—an advanced age for his time. Who knew how much longer he would live? Should Zheng Dashi pass away, Zheng Shian’s days of favor would likely end as well.

Thus, Zheng Shian’s attitude in this journey to Luoyang would determine his standing in Anyuan Hall thereafter…

But how could one persuade Zheng Shian?

From Yanqing’s understanding, the old man was stubborn and meticulous. One could call him earnest, but equally, one might say he flaunted his seniority. If Zheng Renji saw him in the latter light, it could spell real trouble…

—

That night, Zheng Yanqing pondered his future.

Meanwhile, Shouyang Tavern was enveloped in lively clamor.

To open a tavern in Yanshi and rise to prominence required an exceptional background. The hidden proprietor of Shouyang Tavern was none other than Zhang Zhongjian’s father, Zhang Jiling, the wealthiest man in Yangzhou. Yet Zhang Zhongjian took no part in tavern affairs; in fact, the establishment had become an asset of the Zhang clan in Wuxian, and a gesture of Zhang Jiling’s return to his ancestral home.

The nominal manager was a clansman of the Zhangs.

However, the true overseer was Zhang Cong, the registrar of Yanshi County. Zhang Cong was the illegitimate son of Zhang Jiling’s elder cousin, Zhang Jixun.

The Zhang clan of Wuxian had pledged themselves to Crown Prince Yang Guang while he was stationed in Jiangdu. During Yang Guang’s rivalry with Yang Yong, he lavished gold and silver to win favor among the elite, and the Zhangs played the role of financiers, acceding to Yang Guang’s every request. After Yang Guang became crown prince, he could not openly reward the Zhangs, but privately arranged many official posts for the clan’s sons.

It was under such circumstances that Zhang Cong quietly arrived in Yanshi and took charge of Shouyang Tavern.

That evening, he was entertaining Zhang Zhongjian at home, unaware of the events unfolding at the tavern. Early the next morning, he received word: a prodigious child had appeared at the tavern last night, writing an unprecedented poem in a novel script. When he hurried to the tavern, the hall where Xu Gai had feasted was already crowded. Squeezing through, he saw four lines of verse inscribed upon the wall—sweeping strokes, vigorous and bold.

Scholars gathered before the wall, discussing the script and the poem—some praised the calligraphy, others critiqued the verse. Some even summoned the waitstaff to make rubbings of the poem, eager to take them home for study and imitation.

“Who drank here last night?”

Zhang Cong, knowledgeable as he was, immediately recognized the extraordinary script on the wall.

He pulled the tavern manager aside for questioning.

The manager replied, “Last night, it was Xu Gai from Lihu hosting guests. But who exactly he invited, I am not sure.”

“Xu Gai?”

As the registrar, Zhang Cong naturally knew Xu Gai’s background.

He frowned slightly and asked, “Who served in the hall last night?”

“It seemed to be the group of singing girls… Xu Gai didn’t have anyone attend him upstairs, just ordered some music and dancing.”

“Summon those girls immediately.”

The manager, not daring to delay, quickly fetched the performers from the previous night.

Zhang Cong questioned them carefully. Though the girls knew little, he managed to glean some clues.

The poet was indeed a young child.

According to the singer, he was only eight or nine years old… Xu Gai was not alone; a plump, elderly gentleman accompanied him.

There were two principal guests, both bearing remarkable presence.

One seemed like a scion of officialdom; the other appeared to bear the surname Sun.

Beyond this, the performers could not say much, except that the poet was the grandson of the plump old man. From their conversation, it seemed the script on the wall was the child’s own invention.

“Did they mention what the script was called?”

“I believe so… The gentleman named Sun asked about it, and the child replied it was ‘Goose Ode Script.’”

—

“Goose Ode Script?”

The singer tried to recall, “Mr. Sun praised it then, saying, ‘Goose Ode script for a goose ode—so fitting, so fitting!’”

Mr. Sun… Could he be Sun Simiao?

Last night, my cousin said Sun Simiao was with him. Yet, everyone knows Sun Simiao is of a tranquil nature, averse to noise, so Zhang Cong had wished to call upon him but refrained. Sanlang mentioned Sun Simiao was accompanied by the grandson of Du Gongbu①—likely the official’s son… The child poet? Could he be a member of the Zheng clan?

“Did you send anyone to inquire after Xu Gai?”

“I did…” The manager replied hurriedly. “When Xu Gai and his party left, it was already late. I dared not disturb them at night, but sent someone at dawn. Yet his servants said Xu Gai left at first light.”

“He left?”

“Yes. Apparently, Xu Gai means to wind up his business here and retire to his ancestral home in Lihu. His family left Yanshi over ten days ago, leaving only Xu Gai and his eldest son. Early this morning, he departed… His residence has reportedly been sold to a merchant from Luoyang, with all the paperwork nearly done, just awaiting the handover.”

Xu Gai’s departure from Yanshi was no surprise to Zhang Cong, the registrar.

In his view, Xu Gai was but a merchant, not worth excessive attention. Besides, retiring home was reasonable. For a departing businessman, Zhang Cong would not waste effort.

Hearing the manager mention it now, Zhang Cong remembered the matter.

His curiosity piqued, he ordered ink and brush, and penned a letter.

He was about to send someone to catch up with Zhang Zhongjian and inquire further when he was informed that the county magistrate of Yanshi had arrived.

Zhang Cong was immediately flustered. Despite being a member of the Zhang clan, and enjoying the support of Yang Guang, he dared not neglect the county magistrate.

For good reason—the magistrate was a nephew of the current Censor-in-Chief Pei Yun, and a son of the illustrious Pei clan of Hedong.

The Zhangs were a noble house, but compared to the Pei clan of Hedong, theirs was of a lesser tier. The Pei clan, leader among the four great houses of Hedong, was deeply entwined with the eastern aristocracy, far surpassing the southern gentry of Wuxian.

Zhang Cong quickly ordered a reception, and casually handed his letter to the tavern manager, instructing him to pursue Zhang Zhongjian.

But in the rush, the manager forgot. By midday, when he finally remembered and sent someone to chase after them, the caravan of Zhang Zhongjian and his party was already long gone, and catching up would be difficult.

The county magistrate, upon viewing the poem on the wall, praised it highly.

He bestowed the tavern’s upper chamber with the name ‘Goose Ode Pavilion,’ and ordered a stele erected by the pond at the rear.

He instructed the gathered scholars to compose essays, and named the pond ‘Northern Goose Pond’ to distinguish it from the famous Goose Pond at Lanting, Wang Xizhi’s homeland.

He had Zhang Cong make rubbings of the wall poem, and upon returning to the county office, personally wrote two letters—one to his uncle, Censor-in-Chief Pei Yun, and another to his cousin and friend, Commandant Pei Renji.

In the letters, he wrote that Yanshi had witnessed the advent of the Goose Ode Script, an innovation unseen through the ages.

He referred to Zheng Yanqing as the ‘Goose Young Master,’ praising him for creating the Renshou script at so tender an age, worthy of comparison to the two Wangs of the Southern Dynasties.

—

① Note: This Du Gongbu is not Du Fu, but refers to Du Guo, grandfather of Du Ruhui and Minister of Works during the Sui dynasty.