Chapter 19: The Immortal’s Abode, The Wordless Tome

The most crucial principle for a ruler is to maintain an air of mystery, never allowing others to easily discern his thoughts. If a king's mind can be readily guessed, it is a most dangerous thing. Emperors, by their nature, are contradictory creatures; they desire loyal ministers who understand them, yet they absolutely refuse to let anyone see through their true intentions.

When Zhang Yi first pointed out Zhu Yuanzhang's sense of inferiority, Zhu could accept it. But regarding the rewards he granted to Xu Da and Chang Yuchun, how did this child know about them?

Could it be...

At once, the image of an old immortal flashed through Zhu Yuanzhang’s mind.

“Did you dream of your family's ancestor again?”

“Uncle Huang, what are you doing?”

In his anxiety, Zhu Yuanzhang gripped Zhang Yi’s hand tightly, making Zhang Yi cry out in pain. He was surprised at Zhu Yuanzhang's reaction. Why would a merchant care if the Chang family was to be granted a dukedom or a marquisate? Wasn’t this needless worry?

“Come, let’s return to your Daoist temple and talk in detail!”

Zhu Yuanzhang signaled to the guards. He and Zhang Yi had intended to stroll, but after the interruption caused by Chang Mao, Zhu lost his mood for it. The guards brought a carriage, and everyone climbed aboard. Following Zhang Yi’s directions, they headed toward the Qingxin Temple.

Upon arrival, they disembarked. The emperor surveyed the temple. After Zhang Zhengchang and his disciples had cleaned, the once dilapidated temple was now reasonably tidy. Still, the foundations were poor; the walls were mottled, and the plaster was falling off.

Zhu Yuanzhang pondered. Zhang Zhengchang seemed so frightened by him that he dared not even find a better temple for his son. Of course, there was likely another reason: Zhang Zhengchang did not dare to place Zhang Yi in a more prominent temple. With more people and more talk, he clearly feared Zhang Yi’s sharp tongue might let slip something that could cost him his head.

Indeed, Zhang Yi’s words could be venomous. If not for the fact that he was only a child—and had an immortal ancestor backing him—the emperor might have already done away with him.

“Brother Zhongxiu, please fetch some supplies. I need to talk with Uncle Huang!” Zhang Yi, seeing the emperor’s demeanor, guessed he wanted details. Not wishing for Deng Zhongxiu to know too much, he sent him away. The emperor signaled to the guards, who handed Deng Zhongxiu five hundred coins. The young Daoist nodded and left.

Inside the battered temple, Zhang Yi led the emperor to a relatively clean room to sit. He lowered his gaze, looking meek and obedient.

Old Zhu, knowing his character, laughed. “Second son of the Zhang family, stop pretending. Speak honestly with your uncle. If you do well, I promise to supply you with all the alchemical materials you need!”

Zhu Yuanzhang saw Zhang Yi's skeptical expression and realized the boy was not easily deceived. He continued:

“You must know that I am a merchant! For us merchants to survive in this world is no easy matter. If the information you spoke of is true, it will help me judge the situation. I’ve come from Wu to the capital to seek my fortune, unfamiliar with everything, and the most important thing is to quickly find someone to attach myself to. But even that requires timing and connections!

Zhang Yi, let’s strike a deal. If you have useful information, share it with me, and I will do my best to fulfill your requests!”

Zhu Yuanzhang paused. “I said I’d look after you, but I see you are a person who knows your limits and will not accept undue charity from me.”

These words made Zhang Yi fall silent.

“So, let’s be straightforward: you tell your uncle stories; good or bad, I’ll judge for myself. If I benefit from your stories, I’ll share the rewards with you. What do you think?”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s proposal tempted Zhang Yi. Ever since he became independent, he’d been thinking about how to make money; there were so many things he wanted, but to achieve them required wealth.

Zhang Yi had ways to earn money, but not necessarily the channels. The Ming dynasty’s household registration system was extremely strict; Zhang Yi, living on Dragon Tiger Mountain, was naturally a Daoist. This identity meant he could not amass wealth like a merchant, and even if he did, how could a seven- or eight-year-old child keep his fortune safe?

Uncle Huang before him seemed a suitable partner. He was his father’s close friend, and his character was vouched for by Old Zhang, so he should be reliable.

“Hmm…”

He nodded silently. As a transmigrator, he had no magical cheat; his only asset was the modern knowledge in his mind. If he could sell his knowledge for money, it was only right to live better.

“So, how did you know the emperor would grant dukedoms but not marquisates to those meritorious officials?”

“Did your ancestor lecture you again?”

Zhang Yi: …

He realized that once he had told a lie, he would have to keep weaving it. So he nodded silently, tacitly admitting it. To prevent Zhu Yuanzhang from probing further, he needed to invent details of his conversations with Zhang Daoling. Zhang Yi supplied more:

“It wasn’t that my ancestor told me directly, but I dreamed I was in his cave, chatting with him. He wasn’t there, but on the table lay a book…”

“The book had no words, but when I opened it, I could see certain things…”

Zhang Yi spun his tale freely; having read many fantasy novels in his previous life, inventing a golden finger was easy. Sure enough, Old Zhu and Zhu Biao were convinced—the child’s fate with immortals was deep indeed.

The heavenly book without words—clearly an object of the immortals. But what did the child see within it?

Though half-believing, Zhu Yuanzhang pressed on: “So, what did you see?”

“I saw a list… written on it were…”

“Li Shanchang, Duke of Han, four thousand bushels salary; Xu Da, Duke of Wei, five thousand bushels; Chang Mao, Duke of Zheng… Li Wenzhong, Duke of Cao…”

Zhu Yuanzhang's pupils contracted. The details Zhang Yi recited from the heavenly book were almost identical to the list in his own mind.

Xu Da was widely seen as the greatest contributor, but Old Zhu placed Li Shanchang first, which the shrewd might guess. But Xu Da’s title as Duke of Wei—no one could foresee this, for Xu Da already held the title of Duke of Xin, awarded before Zhu’s ascension, when Xu Da captured Pingjiang.

By normal logic, even if Xu Da were granted a dukedom, it should be Duke of Xin! This child had some real insight!

“Is there truly an immortal in this world?”

Old Zhu became uncertain and looked at Zhang Yi as if he were a spirit.

Yet, he noticed one name stood out: Chang Mao, Duke of Zheng. Why Chang Mao?

Zhu Yuanzhang pointed at Chang Mao’s name. “How is this child qualified to be listed among the dukes and marquises?”

Zhang Yi was silent for a moment, then said, “The child rides on his father’s merit.”

“Nonsense! However skilled Chang Mao may be, he cannot surpass Chang Yuchun. Wait—where is Chang Yuchun? Why isn’t he on the list?”

Zhu Yuanzhang pressed Zhang Yi, but a sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

But Zhang Yi remained silent, and Old Zhu understood it all.

No one knew himself better. If, in the future, Chang Mao replaced Chang Yuchun as a duke, there could be only one reason: Chang Yuchun would not live to see Old Zhu reward his meritorious officials. He would not be in this world by then.

The mere thought of this possibility made Zhu Yuanzhang’s heart tremble violently.

“I don’t believe it!”

Old Zhu slapped his hand down, covering the list.