Chapter 32: Little Warm Boy, There Are Bugs in the Water

"Greetings, Young Celestial Master!"
Lady Lan stepped before Zhang Yi and offered a respectful bow, her manner impeccable.
"My son, Chang Sen, has reached the seventh day after his passing. Upon hearing that the true heir of Dragon and Tiger Mountain is in the capital, I specially invited you here to preside over the rites for his soul’s release."
Zhang Yi and Deng Zhongxiu exchanged a glance at her words.
If such rites were needed, they should have been performed earlier—why wait until the seventh day?
Fearing Zhang Yi might speak, Deng Zhongxiu hastily interjected,
"Madam, there are real masters at Dragon and Tiger Mountain, but no Celestial Master. My junior is indeed the true heir, but he is still young and lacks experience. I have followed our master for several years; let me handle this matter."
"Very well," Lady Lan replied, her gaze cool as it swept over Deng Zhongxiu, then lingered on Zhang Yi.
Zhang Yi’s youth made it difficult for her to believe he was a figure of great ability. Moreover, she had vaguely heard that this child was not favored by Celestial Master Zhang, and had been sent to exile in the capital.
Lady Lan’s invitation had another purpose altogether.
"Please, both of you."
Lady Lan led everyone inside, soon guiding them to a mourning hall. Upon the altar, the spirit tablet bore the name Chang Sen.
At the sight of the hall, Lady Lan could not help but sob softly.
"My poor child, your father could not let you enjoy fortune and glory, and you left before your mother… If your spirit lives on, tell me how you died?"
"Mother, how else could my brother have died? It must be that wretched servant…"
Deng Zhongxiu walked ahead, Zhang Yi lagged slightly behind. Lady Lan and her son spoke quietly, but their words reached Zhang Yi’s ears.
Suddenly, he understood why they had been invited—indeed, hidden motives were at play.
Zhang Yi did not believe Chang Sen’s death held any secret, but he recalled what Brother Huang Mu had said: when Chang Sen tried to beat a servant to death, the Crown Prince intervened.
"In the end, it's just a refusal to face reality—a way to excuse their own failures."
Because of Zhang Yi’s age, Lady Lan and her son paid him little mind. Lady Lan was rarely mentioned in official histories, yet in popular tales she was the subject of many vivid stories.
Among the most famous was the tale of the Jealous Wife’s Soup.
Legend held Lady Lan was fiercely jealous; Chang Yuchun, afraid of his wife, once received two beautiful palace maids from the emperor. Lady Lan, consumed by envy, cut off the maidens' hands and sent them to her husband.
Upon learning this, the emperor had Lady Lan dismembered, cooked her into "Jealous Wife’s Soup," and tricked Chang Yuchun into drinking it.
From then on, Chang Yuchun was said to suffer from epilepsy, dying violently later as a result of the illness.
Of course, the story is hardly credible, but as the saying goes, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
At least from the personalities of Lan Yu and Chang Mao, it was clear Chang Yuchun’s wife was not to be trifled with.

To Zhang Yi, marrying such a wife and serving an emperor like Zhu Yuanzhang was akin to living atop a ticking bomb.
Had Chang Yuchun not died young, he would scarcely have met a peaceful end.
Now, with Chang Sen’s drowning so obvious, Lady Lan refused to accept her son's fault, seeking someone to blame. Yet the two servants she wished to punish were shielded by the Crown Prince Zhu Biao, leaving her powerless.
With no outlet for their grief, mother and son became suspicious and paranoid.
To say they suspected Chang Sen was murdered was merely to have someone to vent their feelings upon.
Understanding this, Zhang Yi knew what he must do, but he did not hurry to act, since Deng Zhongxiu had already offered to handle the rites. Zhang Yi was content to watch the proceedings.
Deng Zhongxiu, standing before the spirit tablet, began to comfort Lady Lan.
"Madam, if you are ready, I will begin the ceremony for the young master’s soul."
Such rites were originally Buddhist, and the Chang family had doubtless arranged them already.
Yet Daoist sects, competing with Buddhism for years, had developed their own methods.
Deng Zhongxiu was indeed worthy of being the future pride of Zhang Zhengchang—a pillar of the Orthodox One sect. Though he had not yet mastered much of Dragon and Tiger Mountain's arts, he was resourceful.
He produced a copy of the "Scripture of Earth Mother’s Rebirth," and solemnly began chanting.
The ceremony was a long and tedious affair.
Lady Lan and the Chang brothers knelt silently nearby, while Zhang Yi, bored, glanced around.
He was only seven; the Chang family merely required his presence, not his participation. Zhang Yi, wandering idly, soon noticed a girl hiding in the distance.
Her features strongly resembled Lady Lan’s.
Zhang Yi immediately recognized her as the beloved of Brother Huang, Zhu Biao’s future wife, Lady Chang.
"No wonder Huang is so besotted. The histories never describe Lady Chang’s beauty, but she is truly lovely… Alas, her life was short, gone at twenty-four."
As Zhang Yi gazed at the girl, she quickly noticed the handsome young Daoist boy watching her.
Their eyes met; the little Daoist seemed about to greet her, but Lady Chang hastily signaled him to be silent.
Zhang Yi looked left and right, seeing no one paying attention, and quietly ran over to Lady Chang.
"Sister, I’m thirsty. I’d like some water!"
"Sister, why aren’t you inside? You must be the young lady of the Chang family, right?"
His voice was a touch too loud; Lady Chang, afraid her mother might hear, pulled him into a secluded corner.
"Master Daoist, my mother won’t let me near—she says I’m unclean…"
Lady Chang’s expression was shy, her brow furrowed, and a trace of cold sweat appeared on her forehead.
"Sister, you’re having your period, hmm…"
Zhang Yi immediately understood; Lady Chang was menstruating, and Lady Lan believed her presence would affect the rites, forbidding her from entering the mourning hall.

"Period?"
At first, Lady Chang did not understand, then her cheeks flushed as realization dawned.
A young woman discussing such matters with a stranger was embarrassing, but remembering Zhang Yi was only a child, she relaxed.
"Sister, if you feel much pain, try drinking hot water, or ginger sugar tea.
If that’s still uncomfortable, fill a bag with hot water and place it on your stomach for relief!"
Seeing her pallor, Zhang Yi offered his advice.
"Thank you, little Daoist, but how do you know about women’s troubles at your age?"
Zhang Yi replied,
"The Five Arts of Daoism: mountain, medicine, fate, physiognomy, divination. I’m the true heir of Dragon and Tiger Mountain—a very capable fellow!"
His childlike playfulness made Lady Chang smile.
"I’ll try hot water then. Oh, you wanted water, right? Let me take you!"
Lady Chang led Zhang Yi to the family kitchen, where a water jar stood. She told him to ladle out water, but Zhang Yi said,
"Sister, I only drink boiled water!"
It was not fussiness but wisdom; Zhang Yi knew that, in ancient times, drinking boiled water was vital for survival.
With poor hygiene, raw water could easily cause illness—or even death.
Lady Chang was surprised; boiling water was not difficult for wealthy families, but aside from tea, ancient people rarely drank boiled water. Yet her gentle nature prevailed, and she called a maid to prepare hot water.
Remembering Zhang Yi’s suggestion, she also had ginger tea made and fetched a hot water bag.
Soon, the two sat in the courtyard, Zhang Yi blowing on a cup of hot water before sipping it carefully.
His manner struck Lady Chang as inexplicably endearing.
With the hot water bag pressed to her stomach, as the little Daoist had advised, her cramps eased considerably.
Her fondness for Zhang Yi grew.
"Little Daoist, why do you only drink hot water?"
She could not help but ask.
"Because there are worms in raw water…"
Zhang Yi answered honestly.