The Ming Storm

by Yan LeiSheng

  “Please can you inform Master Yangming that his old friend Zhang Yong has come to visit,” asked the smaller of the two.

  The request startled old Wu.

  “Oh, you’re a friend of Master Yangming, how wonderful! Please wait here a moment, I will let him know immediately.”

  It could not be denied that the university owed much of its prestige to the work of its rector. Without him, despite the efforts of the prefectural magistrate, it would have been unable to stand out from its competitors. Over the years Wu had seen many scholars come to pay their respects to the master, yet it was the first time he had seen someone claiming his friendship. It would have unacceptable to disrespect this imposing man, under whose gaze he had to restrain his tremors. He had barely taken several steps before he encountered Wang Ji, Yangming’s favored disciple, reading a document as he walked.

  “Hey! Wang Ji!” the warden called.

  The twenty-eight year-old Shaoxing native had failed the entrance exam at the ministry of rites three years earlier and returned to the country to continue studying under the rector. Since then, he had single-mindedly dedicated himself to preparing for this year’s session.

  “Old Wu, what is it?”

  “Wang Ji, please can you find Master Yangming and tell him that his old friend Zhang Yong is here?” the warden asked quietly.

  While he was trying to avoid saying the visitor’s name with any emphasis, Wang Ji, was a well-informed young man, and so was seized with a sudden shiver. Mind racing, he began to think aloud.

  “Uncle Zhang! What is he doing here? I didn’t know he and my master were close…”

  Of course, the most powerful man in the empire would never come here simply to study, but then it seemed just as unlikely that he knew the rector personally. “Very well, old Wu, I will accompany him.”

  In The Great Learning, Confucius wrote that “the principle of higher learning lies in high virtue”. This text and this quote had greatly inspired the precepts of the university. Wang Ji guided the visitors to the room of Great Learning and stopped before the Hall of High Virtue where Master Yangming gave his lectures. The vast room was divided into two sections, the first dedicated to Confucius, the second to canonical texts. Once, this library had been known as the Reading Room, but when the old academy had given way to the beautiful new buildings it had been renamed the Chamber of Canonical Texts in a fit of enthusiasm.

  Wang Ji turned towards his guests. “Please wait here, I will inform my master immediately.”

  Qiu Ju, who found it unacceptable that anyone would dare make anyone of their importance wait, felt his anger build. If Zhang Yong had not been there, he would already have become enraged.

  He complained despite himself. “Venerable captain general, these petty intellectuals overstep themselves.”

  “The rector of this university is the most learned man in the empire,” Zhang Yong smiled. “You don’t want to skip the courtesies, is that not right, Qiu Ju?”

  “Of course not, venerable captain general.”

  The bodyguard examined their surroundings to distract himself from his frustration. The Hall of High Virtue was a large, spacious construction with a very high ceiling, in the corner of which stood a statue of an eagle ferociously tearing its prey to pieces. The bird was not large, perched arrogantly on a protruding beam, its eyes flashing in the light. That bird of prey looks down on us, just like these damned intellectuals, Qiu Ju grumbled to himself.

  A man strode towards them, calling out before he reached them, “Uncle Zhang, how shameful! My warden did not recognize you, and my disciple left you waiting here, it’s inexcusable!”

  At the age of fifty-four, Master Yangming was no longer a young man but his elegance and the spontaneous openness on his face charmed even the impatient Qiu Ju, his anger dissipating like smoke blown by an auspicious wind. Zhang Yong moved to greet the newcomer.

  “Brother Yangming, I see the years have treated you kindly, congratulations!”

  Anyone who didn’t recognize the most influential man in the country would have thought that this was an everyday meeting between old friends. When Master Yangming gave lectures from his platform in the Hall of High Virtue, the crowd of students gathered there to listen exceeded the room’s capacity and flowed out onto the steps. When they saw him enter, the young people studying there prostrated themselves, pressing their foreheads to the ground and welcoming him with the formal greeting of “Honor to our esteemed master”, as required by the strict rules. The rector led his two guests to the platform and asked a servant to bring some tea.

  “Brother Yangming,” said Zhang Yong, “you returned to the region of your birth to continue your glorious teachings. I am humbled by your success.”

  “You flatter me,” the rector responded with a small laugh, “I am but a simple teacher who gives instruction to these young students, nothing more.”

  “Have you seen Brother Ning recently?”

  “The prince of Ning is a vigorous old man, the brave always last the longest. But I haven’t seen him for a while. You haven’t seen him in the capital, Uncle Zhang?”

  “Brother Ning is over seventy years old now, and while he is as hardy as an ancient tree, he is no longer of an age to make merry in the city. The Emperor still needs him on the border, so he has not been to the capital for two years.”

  These nostalgic platitudes annoyed Qiu Ju, who was keen to find out more about the death of Gao Feng. Nonetheless, he suspected that Zhang Yong, cunning tactician that he was, was surely taking the most direct route to achieve his ends. With the congratulations and reminiscing over the pacification of the rebellion finished, the captain mentioned news from the capital, then turned to the banners displayed on the walls of the Hall of High Virtue over the platform. They read: The mind itself is neither good nor evil. Good and evil are born of intention. Discerning good and evil is an essential knowledge. Studying the ten thousand things enables one to work for good and eliminate evil.

  These words, which summarized the philosophy of the institution, were now known as the “four principles of Master Wang Yangming”, and all his students knew them by heart.

  “Are these the four principles of the School of Mind?”3 asked the captain.

  3 Wang Yangming, also known by the name Wang Shouren, was the famous representative of the School of Mind which revolutionized Confucianism under the Mings.

  “Exactly, but don’t laugh, Uncle Zhang!”

  Zhang Yong read the sentences aloud before saying:

  “Brother Yangming, if the mind is neither good nor evil, then the universe is my mind, and my mind is the universe. In this case, intention, knowledge, and the ten thousand things are also the universe. How then could there be good and evil in them?”

  “You ask a very pertinent question, Uncle Zhang. While good and evil didn’t exist in the beginning, they appeared alongside intention, which is why we have an innate understanding of them. However, as knowledge governs behavior, it is by studying, by examining the fundamental principles, that we cultivate good and reject evil.”

  Growing more confused with every word, Qiu Ju was a man who rejected wholesale anything he didn’t immediately understand. What an old bookworm! He grumbled inwardly. Zhang Yong on the other hand was bursting with joy.

  “Yes, yes, what clarity!”

  The two men exchanged several more pleasantries before the captain finally said, “The hour grows late, we should go. Brother Yangming, you are a philosophical genius. If I didn’t have so many duties to perform for the Emperor, I’d stay here to benefit further from your knowledge.”

  The rector offered his guests one last cup of tea before entrusting them to Wang Ji. The student, who worshipped his master like one of China’s sacred mountains, had never noticed that the first of the principles seemed to contradict the other three, and admired Zhang Yong for the unexpected pert
inence of his remark. Never had he imagined that a man with such political power could also be a scholar! And even more admirable, he’d had the courtesy to address the rector with respect despite his elder years.

  After leaving the building and returning down the mountain, the visitors climbed back into their palanquin.

  “Qiu Ju,” ordered the captain, “return to the university with several of our most competent agents and identify all the men, young and old, standing five feet five inches and taller and examine their comings and goings over the last three days. I want a thorough investigation and a full report.”

  Qiu Ju was relieved to finally have concrete instructions. Barely able to recognize even a few Chinese characters, he hadn’t understood a single word of the exchange he had heard. Among the Eight Tigers, Wei Bin and Zhang Yong were the ones who had received the best education, but disparities within the group could be significant…

  “Yes, venerable captain general!” he responded enthusiastically.

  Between the masters, their disciples, and travelling scholars, Jishan University could hold around a thousand people, with almost two hundred standing over five feet five inches tall. The operation was simple in principle, but long and tiresome in its execution.

  “Must Master Yangming also be questioned?”

  Qiu Ju wondered if Zhang Yong had forgotten that his old friend also measured over five feet five inches. The rector was undoubtedly a special case, so perhaps it was better he himself asked the question. Would it be overstepping the mark to trouble a person of such stature?

  Zhang Yong considered his answer for a moment. The reason he had discussed the four principles with his old friend was to better understand his philosophical beliefs and confirm, as he believed, that their thoughts had diverged since their younger years.

  For Master Yangming, the mind was neither good nor evil, and one must examine the nature of good and evil to eliminate the latter. Was this world view compatible with his own? It was a dilemma but returning to the university to resolve it was out of the question.

  “Yes, question him the same as the others,” he answered coldly.

  “You don’t completely trust him, venerable captain general?”

  “Of course I do, but everyone must be treated equally, that is the principle of acquiring information. Thanks to Yu Dayong and Ma Yongcheng, the prostitute Shao Jun will be caught in our net whether she travels north or south. It will of course be her accomplice who chooses their destination. And if she chooses to go south…”

  He chose not to continue, aware that his subordinate was as weak in mind as he was physically powerful. He felt like a general of old, playing out his war like a game of chess. Now his pawns were in place, the game could really begin. Shao Jun had gained the upper hand for now, but neither she nor her companion could have suspected that they were actually heading into a trap set by Zhang Yong. Yu Dayong, waiting in the south, was slightly weaker than Ma Yongcheng. Zhang Yong deduced that he would be correct about her guide’s identity if she chose to travel in that direction.

  He smirked and let out an evil laugh. His master’s opaque humor irritated Qiu Ju. Why had he not finished his thought? What did it matter if the prostitute went south?

  Zhang Yong had nonetheless felt pained on realizing that his old friend had become distant from him, despite his courtesy. While their goals remained the same, their paths to reach it were radically different. Far from the assured façade he displayed to Qiu Ju, in his heart he prayed that Master Yangming was not his mysterious adversary.

  Chapter 3

  Zhang Qiang couldn’t help looking in the direction of the Palace of Earthly Tranquility as the setting sun reflected off the glossy varnished tiles. She took a deep breath and pushed open the doors of the imperial palace.

  “Let’s go in,” she said to her servant.

  The concubine hierarchy had seven ranks: the pure, the beauteous, the worthy, the respectful, the favored, the clear, and the serene. Just a few years earlier Zhang Qiang had been in the fifth rank and lived in the sixth pavilion to the east, in the coldest and most miserable corner of the palace complex.

  Now she lived in the imperial palace, a huge building that was still freezing due to the small number of people who lived there. Once in her apartments she washed, then her servant lit a candle, bid her goodnight and left. Alone in her room, the concubine watched the play of light and shadow caused by the flame, remembering with a smile how she had reprimanded the Empress that day – she couldn’t bear to see a mere favored named as an imperial consort.

  Zhang Qiang recalled her trepidation as she waited to discover her rank on arriving at the harem, and her jealousy when Jun was named the imperial favorite. It all seemed so distant that it felt like another life.

  She wished she could see Jun again…

  “A-Qiang…” someone whispered.

  She leapt up, heart thudding in her chest.

  Had her prayers been answered? Perhaps she was going mad, the result of living like a recluse for so long in the palace. She almost screamed when a hooded shadow appeared in front of her, but stopped as she recognized a familiar face. The intruder removed their dark cloak and stepped into the light, and Zhang Qiang had to hold back another exclamation, this time of joy. The person standing before her was none other than the only friend she had ever had in the palace. The concubine had to control the urge to jump forward and envelop her in a hug, as her bound feet made any sudden physical movement painful. Full of emotion, she lost her balance and was caught by a hand whose warm contact finally convinced her that it wasn’t a ghost. No, it was really her. She seemed to have been marked by the challenges of recent years, but there was no doubt…

  “Jun! Is it really you?”

  “Yes,” her friend answered before glancing around the room. “A-Qiang, how long have you lived in the imperial palace?”

  “Three years. I moved here after you left.”

  The imperial consort’s voice trembled. She cast a suspicious look at her friend, and asked, “Jun, how did you get in here?”

  Jun gave a small smile. They were so different. When Emperor Zhengde had chosen her as favorite, he had entrusted her with the task of spying on the eunuchs. She had come to know the Forbidden City like the back of her hand and was certainly more familiar with the topography than A-Qiang. Nonetheless, while she had easily entered on this occasion, it was only thanks to Master Yangming, who still maintained a solid network of contacts in Beijing despite the fall of the Brotherhood. People everywhere still treated him with deference – in the roads, the shops, and even within the palace complex. Under these conditions, avoiding the surveillance of the Hidden City was not as impossible a task as Zhang Qiang seemed to imagine.

  “Don’t worry,” Shao Jun responded quietly. “No one saw me. I just came to see you; I’ll leave again soon.”

  The imperial consort’s face was beautiful, but she seemed to lack vitality as she gazed blankly into the distance.

  “Jun, have you come t-t-to collect it?” she stammered, very unlike herself.

  The Emperor had been seduced by her dancing and singing talent. Seeing the young woman, who always spoke with such clarity and confidence, expressing herself in such an uncertain way didn’t bode well. Hesitating a moment, she continued.

  “Jun, I’m really sorry but I… lost it.”

  Shao Jun’s eyebrows twitched slightly, but she simply rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder to reassure her.

  “Do you remember where you were when you lost it?”

  “The day you left and I performed the mulberry tree dance for the Dowager Empress, I left it in the Palace of Benevolent Longevity…”

  It had been the third year of Jiajing’s reign. As an imperial concubine, Shao Jun had lived with the Dowager Empress in the Palace of Benevolent Tranquility and been subject to a strict regime which forbade her from going out
without permission. As a result, she had needed to disguise herself to flee when Zhang Yong had begun to eradicate the Brotherhood in Beijing. Urgently needing to leave and avoid being caught up in it, she had entrusted her most precious possession to Zhang Qiang, who had been free to move around. She had hidden it in a decorative vase in the Palace of Benevolent Longevity, a relatively safe place due to the small number of people who lived in the residence. Who could have known that two years and three months later the palace would be devastated by a fire which ravaged the building down to the last tile? Now it was nothing more than a pile of ashes, vases included.

  Shao Jun listened to this tearful account without betraying the slightest emotion.

  “It must have been fate,” she eventually sighed.

  She had noticed when she entered the Forbidden City that the Palace of Benevolent Longevity had been destroyed and replaced with a new building, but she had never imagined that a fire was to blame.

  The gift from former Emperor Zhengde had thus disappeared forever. The young woman almost felt like she was grieving a second time over.

  The life she had led in the Forbidden City had been sad and lonely, but she had least had her freedom thanks to Zhengde. He had granted her the right to move around as she pleased, a privilege no other concubine had ever received. In the beginning he had asked her to spy on the nobles, dignitaries, and eunuchs, but shortly before his death when she was thirteen, he had given her an object and asked her to keep it safe. This mark of absolute trust had made her cry for the first time in her life. The item in question had become a symbol of her relationship with her deceased spouse.