Chapter 14: From Today On, I Live for Myself

From the perspective of a transmigrator, losing the title of Celestial Master Zhang seems to have made little difference. Although the Zhang family would be suppressed by the Ming emperor, they still enjoyed wealth and peace until the dynasty’s fall. Yet for the Zhang family now, the title of Celestial Master carries immense significance.

Before the Yuan dynasty, although not officially recognized, the Zhang family freely styled themselves as Celestial Masters without interference. Now, with the emperor’s single remark—“Does Heaven require a master?”—it was as if the Zhangs were forced to relinquish the title altogether. Even in private, one doubts they would dare use it, no matter how indifferent the emperor might seem. For the Zhang family, this name is too important—a legacy from their ancestors, now completely severed in the hands of Zhang Zhengchang. Such disgrace may be something future Celestial Masters become accustomed to, but for Zhang Zhengchang, the forty-second Celestial Master, it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Zhang Yi was silent. He recalled that his father was now only thirty-nine, with a mere ten years of life left. In a decade, he himself, then just seventeen or eighteen, would be attending the funeral of the old man before him. Dying at forty-nine might be ordinary in ancient times, but for a Daoist of profound cultivation, it was strange indeed. If not for brooding and melancholy, perhaps he could have lived longer.

“Father, you have too high an opinion of me. It’s not just us—even if the ancestors were reborn, they could not change the mind of that sovereign. He is Zhu Yuanzhang. Besides, after the Zhu family, there will be several more formidable rulers; with them, this matter is beyond hope.”

The old Zhang did not catch the nuances in Zhang Yi’s words. He only knew the emperor admired Zhang Yi, which might be the family’s only chance.

“Do your best, leave the rest to fate. I ask only a promise from you.”

“Very well, I’ll do everything I can.”

Zhang Yi had no choice but to agree to Zhang Zhengchang’s request. He clearly saw that Zhang Zhengchang was on the verge of tears, but quickly reined in his emotions. In life, everyone has something they hold dear. Though Zhang Yi did not understand why his father placed such faith in him, he agreed regardless. At the very least, it gave his father hope for a few more years of life. Otherwise, there would not have been the awkward situation where, after his father’s early death, Zhang Yuchu failed to inherit the Celestial Master’s legacy and had to seek a teacher elsewhere.

Having received Zhang Yi’s promise, Zhang Zhengchang felt a great weight lifted from his heart, his spirit renewed. Observing these changes, Zhang Yi became even more convinced that his father’s early death was likely connected to the matter of the Celestial Master title.

With his greatest request fulfilled, Zhang Zhengchang began to chat idly with his son. In all these years, father and son had never spoken so openly. At first, Zhang Zhengchang treated Zhang Yi as a child, earnestly instructing him. Soon, however, he realized he was being led by Zhang Yi’s conversation without even noticing.

Only then did Zhang Zhengchang discover that, unconsciously, he had begun to speak to Zhang Yi as an equal. This subtle shift caught his attention, though Zhang Yi did not notice. Taking his son’s precocity for granted, Zhang Zhengchang was unfazed. The two talked late into the night, gradually easing the knots in their hearts. Yet Zhang Zhengchang knew that the distance between them would be hard to bridge completely.

The next morning, Zhang Yi awoke to find Zhang Zhengchang already up.

“You’re awake. The place you’ll need—I’ve prepared it. Come with me.”

Zhang Zhengchang led Zhang Yi out into the city of Nanjing. In the early morning hours, the people of Ying Tian were already up, striving for their livelihoods. The streets bustled with hawkers’ cries. Zhang Yi looked around curiously; he had never seen Nanjing like this before.

Everyone hurried about their business, the common folk busy earning their keep, while the officials prepared for court at the palace.

“Freshly steamed buns!”

“Make way, make way, my master needs to pass!”

“Sir, come inside and have a seat!”

Zhang Zhengchang paid no heed to the commotion, simply buying two buns from a stall and handing them to his hungry son. The two walked out of the city, and soon Zhang Yi saw a dilapidated Daoist temple.

“Qingxin Temple? Is this to be my new dwelling?”

He had not expected his father to settle him in such a rundown place.

“You’ve taught me to keep the Zhang family low-profile. Many of our assets, I’ll be returning to the court when I take my leave of the emperor. So this is the only temple I can arrange for you. I know you possess great wisdom, but you are still young. I’ll leave Deng Zhongxiu to look after you, and once I have a reliable elder sent down from Dragon and Tiger Mountain, Deng can return. Each year, they’ll send some silver, though not much. As you said, since the emperor’s attention is on us, we must remain inconspicuous. When I return to Dragon and Tiger Mountain, I’ll reform the atmosphere there, hoping to satisfy the palace.”

Zhang Zhengchang spoke with care, making it seem like he was explaining arrangements, but in truth he was seeking advice from Zhang Yi. Zhang Yi gave no comment. He could foresee the fate of Dragon and Tiger Mountain over the next few centuries and knew the Celestial Master’s estate would come to no great harm. In the emperor’s eyes, the Zhang family still had some use and posed little threat. As long as they did not court disaster, things would proceed smoothly enough. Of course, if his eldest brother were to become a menace in the future, the court could remove him with ease.

This thought prompted Zhang Yi to say to Zhang Zhengchang, “Father, there’s nothing major, but you must pay attention to my eldest brother’s upbringing. He is clever and studious, and you and mother dote on him, but this can easily breed arrogance. The Zhang family must keep a low profile or it will suffer greatly. Also, you should cultivate your health and not brood over such trivial matters—and eat fewer elixirs.”

Zhang Yi urged his father repeatedly, suspecting that his early death was largely due to reckless consumption of elixirs and persistent melancholy. Zhang Zhengchang stared at him, sensing there was more in his words. Remembering that Zhang Yi had accurately predicted the loss of the Celestial Master title, he took his warnings to heart. Moreover, being cared for by this “jinx” actually warmed his heart.

“Just take care of yourself and mind your tongue,” Zhang Zhengchang said, after some hesitation, not daring to be direct. “Your Uncle Huang is a remarkable man. Treat him with respect. If he’s willing to help you, he’s even more useful than your father. All right, let’s head back. I’ll announce that you’re to remain in the capital, but won’t explain further. We’ll keep things low-key.”

With that, Zhang Zhengchang turned and left. Zhang Yi touched the grass and trees in the temple, a faint smile on his lips.

“For now, I’ll be a Daoist priest. If there’s a chance, perhaps I’ll change my registry. From now on, I’ll be alone. Though it’s earlier than I planned, from here on, I live for myself.”

With these words, he followed after his father.

What neither father nor son realized was that the contents of their conversation the previous day, and even their movements this morning, had already been reported to the emperor.

“So Zhang Zhengchang was so frightened by me that he chose a rundown temple for his son?” The emperor put down the confidential report and handed it to Zhu Biao, displeased.

Zhu Biao smiled. “Father, you can’t blame Master Zhang for being frightened. After all, your words revealed everything found on their mountain. It would be stranger if he didn’t suspect you had someone on Dragon and Tiger Mountain. And he was right—the content of their conversation yesterday is right here, isn’t it?”

The emperor snorted, knowing Zhu Biao was right. He was allowed to keep people under surveillance, but others weren’t allowed to be cautious? Choosing a dilapidated temple just to avoid scrutiny for his son?

“This child is rather unusual,” Zhu Biao said, pointing at a passage in the report.