Zhang Ping Lowered His Eyelids and Asked, “This Student Wants to Ask Lord Lan Whether There Are Any Vacant Accounting Positions at Your Home.”
T/N: I forgot to mention, the character ‘Chen Zishang’ was previously brought up in Chapter 11, but I wrote his name as ‘Chen Zizhen’, which was (pronunciation-wise) incorrect. Please forgive this translator for the many changes orz.
Zhang Ping returned to his residence. After he took a bath, he laid down and fell asleep.
The next day, he walked to the lake at the Capital’s south. In previous years, this lake was called Qiutang Lake; six years ago, after Chen Zishang suicided by throwing himself into the lake, the name was changed to (1) Xicai Lake. There was also a memorial hall dedicated to Palace Graduate Chen. The Imperial Court had conferred Chen Zishang a posthumous title of ‘Palace Graduate’ and set up the memorial hall for offerings.
The memorial hall’s stairway was smooth and the copper pieces nailed onto the threshold were all well-polished. The incense smokes curled within the memorial hall. In the seat of honour, Chen Zishang’s statue wore the Palace Graduate attire and held a scroll in his hand, appearing auspicious and peaceful.
Embed on the sidewall were two stone slabs. Carved into one of them were inscriptions: Chen Zishang was a talent from Jiangxi with remarkable gifts. Unfortunately, he was killed by crafty villains. The Imperial Court lost a person of outstanding ability. It seems such talent shouldn’t be wandering in the mortal world.
The person who carved this inscription turned out to be the former Prime Minister – the current Grand Tutor Yun Tang.
Carved into the other stone was the《Plum Blossom Poem》Chen Zishang had been unjustly accused for.
Under the statue’s base was a table; beside the table sat an old Daoist priest. Before him were joss sticks, joss papers, and such. He’d dozed off with half-closed eyes.
Zhang Ping looked at the statue and two stone slabs for quite a while before he walked to the table. “(2) Daozhang, I’m here to burn incense.”
The old Daoist raised his eyelids. “There are twenty wen per bundle, eighteen wen per bundle, and fifteen wen per bundle. Which do you want?”
Zhang Ping pulled out a few copper coins from his sleeve. “I’d like to burn only three Sanka incense sticks.”
The old Daoist drew out three incense sticks. “Six wen.”
Zhang Ping gazed at the three incense sticks and said, “Daozhang, the cheapest incense only cost fifteen wen per bundle. Why are you giving this student the most expensive ones, where three sticks need six wen?”
The old Daoist looked impatient. “There’s only this kind of Sanka incense – one price. You’re a scholar – in any case, you’re still wearing a Changshan – so why are you bargaining for some incense sticks?”
Zhang Ping cupped his hands. “This student is poor. I hope Daozhang can sympathise.”
The old Daoist waved his hand. “Whatever.” He drew out three incense sticks from the cheapest bundle and threw them onto the table. “Three wen. It can’t go any cheaper.”
Zhang Ping held the incense sticks in his hand, yet his eyes cast glances towards the other two types of bundles, hesitant.
“Since this student came to pray, should I use better incense sticks to appear more sincere?”
He touched the incense sticks from the eighteen wen bundle before finally putting down six wen. “This student should use the most expensive one.”
The old Daoist rolled his eyes and accepted the six wen coins. Zhang Ping held the three incense sticks and lit them. He bowed and paid his respects towards Chen Zishang’s statue before inserting the incense sticks into the incense burner. Then, he paced towards the old Daoist’s table again. “Daozhang, are there brushes and ink in this memorial hall? This student wants to compose a poem to express my grief.”
The old Daoist tucked his hands within his sleeves. “No writing is allowed on the memorial hall’s walls. If you want to write a poem then go back home.”
Zhang Ping refused to give up. “Writing mottos is allowed for fond recallings even in ancient temples, so why can’t I do the same here? Daozhang is too unreasonable.”
The old Daoist sneered. “If you want reason, then go to court. I’m just here to guard this memorial hall. Look at the memorial hall’s inner and exterior walls – are they clean? If someone secretly wrote on them, this poor Daoist will have to remove them and flatten the wall surfaces again. Not letting you write is to not let you uselessly waste effort.”
Zhang Ping silently paced away towards the wall. He took a piece of paper from his sleeve and pressed it against one of the wall’s stone slabs before also taking out a lump of graphite.
The old Daoist leapt up. “Tut! What are you doing?!”
Zhang Ping solemnly replied, “This student wants to (3) make rubbings from Grand Tutor Yun’s essay and this poem – to bring them back home and learn more from them.”
The old Daoist bitterly said, “This poor Daoist has been guarding this memorial hall for many years, yet I’ve never encountered anything more troublesome than you. Ten wen – after you’ve finished making the rubbings, leave immediately.”
Zhang Ping hesitatingly asked, “How about eight wen? This student is poor.”
»»————-¤————-««
Zhang Ping walked out of the memorial hall with two pages of rubbings. He strolled around the lake. The lake’s pavilion had been reconstructed into the memorial hall, so a small pavilion was constructed on the other side of the lake called Xiude Pavilion. The night Ma Lian was murdered, Chen Chou, Han Weijuan, and Lu Zhonghe were drinking in that pavilion.
Zhang Ping walked to the pavilion and saw someone standing within, their hands clasped behind their back; on the stone table beside them was an hourglass. He also caught a glimpse of Zhang Ping and couldn’t help but frown slightly.
Zhang Ping bowed in greeting. “Assistant Minister.”
Wang Yan narrowed his eyes on him. “You want to right a wrong for Chen Chou?”
Zhang Ping said, “This student is just casually walking around.”
Wang Yan snorted and no longer paid any mind to him. From a distance, a constable was pantingly running towards the pavilion. He kneeled by the pavilion with rapid breaths, gasping for air.
Wang Yan muttered to himself irresolutely as he looked at the hourglass on the table.
Zhang Ping said, “Assistant Minister, if we don’t ride a horse, it takes approximately 45 minutes to get to this lake from Xiao Haozi Lane where Chen Chou and I live. It takes two hours to arrive at this lake from Ma Lian’s Zhuyin Lane; riding a horse would cut that time down by half.”
Wang Yan coldly said, “Piss off.”
»»————-¤————-««
Zhang Ping left the lake and returned to his residence. He made a pot of braised noodles and sent them to Chen Chou.
Chen Chou lamented how they were interrogated by Assistant Minister Wang yesterday; Wang Yan forcibly asked them why they drank by the lake Chen Zishang had committed suicide.
Chen Chou had wept – why else but drinking by the lake felt more appropriate considering their mood at that time? Before the exam, they were afraid of bringing bad luck so they didn’t dare approach the lake. After they failed the exam, they went to drink there yet bad luck still followed them back.
Han Weijuan and Lu Zhonghe both held the braised noodles and sighed tearfully.
»»————-¤————-««
After he left the prison, Zhang Ping arrived outside that day’s examination venue and lingered for a while. The corvee standing guard there said to him, “Miscellaneous personnel are not allowed to get close – hurry up and leave.”
Zhang Ping said, “This student just wants to go in and take a look. Could you help accommodate?”
The corvee replied, “It’s because of people like you we have to stand guard here every day – we can’t even go back at night! Even if you look at the examination rooms ten more times, you still failed. Come back three years later!”
Zhang Ping was shooed away. He continued to wander at the opposite side of the street. After a while, he saw a blue-clothed sedan chair exit from the door and someone wearing a small minister’s attire get into it. Then, the sedan chair swayed towards the Capital’s north.
Zhang Ping sat at a wonton stall beside the street and ordered a bowl of wontons; he asked the stall owner, “Who was the Lord who just left?”
The stall owner laughed. “As a scholar who has stayed in the Capital for so long, you can’t even distinguish between the different minister attires? The one who just left is the Examination Hall’s Superior, Lord Sun. Although he isn’t a real minister, even a magistrate can’t compare to him.”
Zhang Ping asked, “He doesn’t seem easy to meet.”
The stall owner sized him up a few glances and said, “It’s hard for ordinary people. This Lord Sun has an uncle who works as a steward for the Ministry of Rite’s Assistant Minister Lan – he doesn’t accommodate easily for ordinary people.”
Zhang Ping nodded before lowering his head to silently eat his wontons.
»»————-¤————-««
Night fell. Lan Jue was returning home from the yamen; when his sedan chair arrived by his residence’s entrance, a young servant outside said, “Master, the shabby man who delivered zongzi last time has come again. Do you want me to shoo him away?”
Lan Jue lightly replied, “Let him follow in.”
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Lan Jue entered his residence and changed out of his minister’s attire. When he arrived at the side hall, Zhang Ping was at the centre of the hall. He cupped his hands in greeting. “This student greets Lord Lan.”
Lan Jue nodded slightly and pointed to a side seat. “There’s no need to be so reserved. Sit.” Only after he sat on the seat of honour did Zhang Ping himself take a seat.
As a servant-girl poured tea, Lan Jue said, “For what reason did you come to find me? You may speak forthrightly.”
Zhang Ping lowered his eyelids and asked, “This student wants to ask Lord Lan whether there are any vacant accounting positions at your home.”
Lan Jue couldn’t refrain from laughing. “You didn’t want to come over that day, so the accountant’s office already found someone else. Right now, there’s only a shortage in the kitchen – whatever should we do?”
Zhang Ping raised his eyes and looked at him. “This student can cook.”
Lan Jue smiled. “I know you can cook, but kitchens shouldn’t be for scholars to enter; I won’t dirty you like this either. How about this – my son, Lan Hui, is naughty and mischievous; a guest teacher can’t control him. Help Wu Shixin for a few days first while I help you arrange other matters. Is this alright?”
Zhang Ping stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Lord Lan.”
Lan Jue spoke up again, “If it weren’t for your rigid handwriting and learning, it would’ve been possible for you to directly teach (4) Hui’er. No matter if you’re studying or handling other matters, being a little more flexible is beneficial.”
Zhang Ping lowered his head. “This student thanks Lord Lan’s teaching.” His voice was still rigid.
Lan Jue smiled slightly. “Go back home and pack your things. You can move in anytime.”
»»————-¤————-««
Zhang Ping returned to his residence and packed his clothing and personal items; the next day, he moved into Lan Jue’s residence.
Before leaving to the yamen, Lan Jue had already given the steward a heads-up. Steward Sun amicably led him to the prepared side room and even brought over a tailor to measure his body and make a new robe.
Lan Hui’s guest teacher, Wu Shixin, was three or four years older than Zhang Ping and from the South; he was fair and clear with an extremely good temper. Teaching Lan Hui didn’t bring too much work anyway, so he let Zhang Ping sort out Lan Hui’s homework.
Wu Shixin led Zhang Ping to see Lan Hui. Both Lan father and son were born with extreme beauty, but Lan Hui didn’t look similar to Lan Jue; on the contrary, he had more similarities with Liu Tongyi, who Zhang Ping happened to meet once. Lan Hui sized up Zhang Ping before disinterestedly burying his head into his book again. Wu Shixin began a lecture about books and he weakly listened; the pages of his book were barely flipped.
After one lesson was done, Wu Shixin quietly told Zhang Ping that Young Master Hui encountered a ghost a few days ago at the Liu Residence and he hadn’t been very spirited lately; blues and purples would often appear on his body as well. It was truly very strange.
Wu Shixin went to the lavatory and had Zhang Ping watch over Lan Hui doing his homework. Lan Hui rested his upper body on the table as he scribbled randomly. Zhang Ping held his hand and straightened his brush-holding position. “Practicing martial arts requires steady progress. If you’re too eager for success, it’s easy to become possessed by the devil.”
Lan Hui’s hand trembled and he abruptly raised his head to look at him. “How do you know?”
Zhang Ping’s gaze lightly swept over his red, swollen hands and the bruises exposed under his cuffs. He didn’t answer; instead, he stared into Lan Hui’s eyes, where dark circles hung below. “Practicing your inner strength overnight is further undesirable. Your spirit will be lacking and you’ll gain no achievements.”
Lan Hui blinked and grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t- Don’t tell my dad…”
Zhang Ping patted his head. “Don’t stay up all night. Split bricks and practice (5) Qinggong.”
Lan Hui immediately nodded his head.
»»————-¤————-««
At night, when Lan Jue returned to his residence, he found Lan Hui was quite willing to have another Zhang Ping teach him; he couldn’t help but feel surprised.
After he had dinner and took a bath, Lan Jue took a walk in the back garden and heard faint chattery behind the (6) fake mountain; it vaguely sounded like Steward Sun sighing. “…Your circumstance is indeed pitiful, but if you pay respects within the residence and Master knows about it, your job will be gone. No matter. I have a nephew who works in the Examination Hall – I’ll see if he can take you in…”
Another voice replied gratefully, “Thank you very much, Uncle Sun.” It turned out to be Zhang Ping.
Lan Jue silently made a detour back to the small hall. After two cups of tea, he called someone to bring Zhang Ping over. After the screen was pushed aside, he smiled. “I once said you were rigid – it seems I misunderstood you. To investigate a case, you even found a way to enter my residence.”
Zhang Ping stood with lowered eyelids, silent.
Lan Jue’s eyebrows jumped up. “Where’s all that flexibility you used to coax Steward Sun? Which ancestor in your family do you need to pay respects to at the Examination Hall?”
Zhang Ping replied with a stuffy voice, “This student does not dare deceive My Lord. This student wants to know the true culprit behind Ma Lian’s murder, which is why I want to enter the Examination Hall and have a look.”
Lan Jue put aside the teacup. “The Ministry of Justice is currently investigating Ma Lian’s case. It’s fine if you don’t believe in Wang Yan and want to investigate for yourself, but I remember that Ma Lian was murdered by a vendetta – what does this have to do with the Examination Hall?”
Zhang Ping replied, “There’s one thing this student feels strange about. That day, when we entered the Examination Hall, Ma Lian drew the fourteenth exam room and began arguing with the supervisor. He said because a person once died within the exam room, it was inauspicious, so he wanted to change. This wasn’t in line with his usual behaviour.”
According to Ma Lian’s usual behaviour, it was impossible for him to offend the supervisor.
“This student feels it was as if he wanted to tell someone he was in the fourteenth exam room.”
Lan Jue said, “You’re suspecting he’d colluded with someone to cheat in advance? If he really wanted to cheat, he had to have gone through with the supervisor. Even if he didn’t go through, the person who helped him cheat must’ve had the ability to get him the exam room number. Why bother doing more than required?”
Zhang Ping was silent.
Lan Jue took a sip of his tea before Zhang Ping responded, “During the exam, someone was crying in the empty exam room across mine. The examinee in exam room 356 suffered from epilepsy the next day.”
The corners of Lan Jue’s lips curled up. “What you’re trying to say is that the examinee suffered from epilepsy because he got frightened by a ghost?”
Zhang Ping confidently answered, “It wasn’t a ghost.”
Lan Jue moved around the tea leaves. “No matter. If you’re really so idle as to want to investigate a case, then help me with a favour. Hui’er encountered a ghost – you may have heard of this – that was caused by a brush pot in Lord Liu’s residence. Tomorrow, help me go to Lingjue Temple and ask the abbot which talisman Lord Liu requested from him – I’d also like to request a set.”
»»————-¤————-««
Wang Yan had been going through dossiers in the yamen until night; suddenly, one of his subordinates came in to report, “Assistant Minister, Brother Ling is here.”
The sound of footsteps transmitted from the outside. Sure enough, Wang Xuan’s laughter came in. “Brother, for your official business you’re not even coming back home. Sister-in-law’s even suspecting you’ve (7) raised a small singer outside and had me come to drag you home.”
Wang Yan closed the dossier and stood up. He rubbed his temples as he looked at Wang Xuan, who’d stepped past the threshold. “You usually despise the Ministry of Justice’s unluckiness. Why are you here today?”
Wang Xuan replied, “I’ve accepted an order from mother, auntie, and sister-in-law – no matter how unlucky this place is, I still have to come. Diedie has ordered everyone to come home for dinner. Sister-in-law arrived in the afternoon. Mother and auntie personally took charge of the kitchen to stew soup that’ll help replenish your body. Hurry up – come home with me and drink it.”
Wang Yan helplessly said, “You brought such a lethal force – how would I dare not follow back? If I delay this, auntie and mother will chop me up and put me into the stew.”
Wang Xuan smiled. “It’s good you understand.” Just like this, he pulled Wang Yan out the door.
The next morning, when Wang Yan just arrived at the yamen, Physician Kong entered the government affairs’ palace hall with a heavy expression, locked the door, and whispered, “Assistant Minister, something bad happened. The two maids from the Liu Residence died in prison.”
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(1) Xicai Lake – (惜才湖) ‘xi’ means ‘pity’ and ‘cai’ means ‘talent’.
(2) Daozhang – an honorific used on Daoist priests.
(3) Rubbings – also known as ‘inked squeezes’. A method used to make multiple copies of inscribed records, where the inscriptions are ‘printed’ onto a piece of paper with ink.
(4) Hui’er – I don’t remember if I’ve explained this before, but the addition of ‘er’ after the name suggests that this person is the speaker’s son or is closely related to the speaker.
(5) Qinggong – in Wuxia fiction, ‘Qinggong’ is a technique where characters can move swiftly and lightly at lightning speed, but in truth, it’s just a training technique for jumping off vertical surfaces.
(6) Fake mountains – in Ancient China, many rich or noble families had fake mountains as decoration in their back gardens. It may have been from real mountains or man-made.
(7) Raised a small singer – this refers to singer girls in high-end brothels where the prostitutes don’t sell their bodies and instead, sell their skills (e.g. instrument-playing, dancing, singing). Many ladies in these kinds of brothels are also known for their scholarly knowledge in poetry, war strategies, etc. They were widely admired by great historical figures (e.g. Li Bai), especially during the Tang dynasty; the more skilled they are, the harder it is for clients to meet them (in other words, they become more expensive).