Chapter 80: Father, Are You Foolish? The Emperor Is Plotting Against You

The "Micro Words Record" was Zhang Yi's attempt to explain the microscopic world in terms understandable to ancient people. Though it could serve as a subject for future generations, the book he hastily wrote proved somewhat difficult for those of his era to comprehend. However, after Zhang Yu first arrived in the capital, Zhang Yi helped him organize his thoughts, and thanks to Zhang Yu's intelligence, his explanations were surprisingly articulate.

Despite their differing intentions, both Li Shanchang and Liu Ji acknowledged the talent of the boy before them; Liu Ji even showed a look of appreciation. When Zhang Yu finished his presentation, the emperor praised him:

"Truly the scholarly seed of the Zhang family—reward him!"

The emperor summoned a eunuch to present Zhang Yu with a small jade token. Zhang Yu promptly knelt to express his gratitude.

"Enough, let's leave it at that for now."

With most matters discussed, Li Shanchang and Liu Ji rose to take their leave. Zhang Zhengchang considered, stood up, then sat back down. The two old foxes, Liu Ji and Li Shanchang, noticed this and simply walked out.

"Is there something more?" Zhu Yuanzhang waited until the others had left before asking Zhang Zhengchang. Zhang Zhengchang dutifully handed over the manuscript for "One Hundred Thousand Whys."

"This was written by that rascal Zhang Yi for his brother's amusement. Please, Your Majesty, judge its worth."

The old emperor was pleased by Zhang Zhengchang's tact and nodded slightly. Seeing Zhang Yu's reluctance to part with the book, he smiled:

"I'll have someone copy it for you and send the original back."

"Thank you, Uncle Emperor!" Zhang Yu instantly brightened.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

Zhu Yuanzhang didn't look at the manuscript but instead raised his head to ask Zhang Zhengchang.

"Your Majesty's orders—I dare not refuse! I plan to return to Dragon Tiger Mountain first, instruct my disciples to produce smallpox seeds day and night, then proceed to Yangzhou!"

"I'll have the Imperial Medical Bureau manufacture them as well and send them to you in Yangzhou. Since you're departing tomorrow, tonight I'll host a farewell banquet for you!"

Zhang Zhengchang felt anxious, but he understood that Zhu Yuanzhang did not truly regard him highly; everything he did was for Zhang Yi's sake. Therefore, Old Zhang wisely did not refuse and thanked the emperor before leaving.

After Zhang Zhengchang departed, the old emperor casually flipped through "One Hundred Thousand Whys," and was soon engrossed, unable to put it down. The reading experience was not pleasant, but precisely because it was so awkward, the emperor immediately concluded that this book must be from the future.

He could not understand the knowledge within because he had not studied the underlying system.

For instance: Why is the sky blue? Refraction of light... Why can snakes crawl without legs?

And, why do people develop a fever, why must they drink water when feverish, and so on...

The book contained a myriad of strange topics, and its questions were fantastical, much like a child's wild inquiries. Yet the emperor quickly realized all the answers were factual.

"So this is the world through the eyes of future people? Why do those who come after us see the world so differently from our own?"

The emperor felt uncomfortable, but he forced himself to study the material carefully. Before long, he reached the end and found a picture.

"Pencil?"

The strokes in the drawing were clearly made with the pencil Zhang Yi had brought, depicting a Daoist busily copying books—the person was Zhang Zhengchang.

The style of the drawing differed from traditional paintings, and what shocked Zhu Yuanzhang most was how realistic it was—almost indistinguishable from life.

"It seems this is another of Zhang Yi's works. Is this the future's technique for painting? It's so lifelike—should I have him make one for me?"

The emperor was simply fascinated. The distinctive trait of this art was its realism. The palace painters made portraits every year, but their traditional methods could not match Zhang Yi's approach in capturing the human likeness.

"Have someone copy this tonight; it must be returned to the boy tomorrow... I must not break my word!"

Zhu Yuanzhang handed the book to Zhu Biao, who looked at it in silence.

"Though it seems meant for children, this is an excellent book..."

"In time, I'll have it printed, so you and your brothers may read it as well. 'One Hundred Thousand Whys?' There are barely a hundred questions here—Zhang Yi still owes me ninety-nine thousand nine hundred more. I'll have him write them all!"

"Perhaps this book can help us piece together the image of the world yet to come!"

Zhang Yi had no idea that the Hongwu Emperor had just assigned him a workload vast enough to exhaust him for the rest of his life. At this moment, he was still asleep.

Having stayed up all night with Zhang Zhengchang, he napped during the day, and Old Zhang was loath to wake him. When Zhang Yi finally awoke, it was already afternoon.

He emerged from his room to see everyone in the temple busy. Clearly, after their brief reunion, Zhang Zhengchang and Zhang Yu were soon to depart.

Zhang Yi had grown accustomed to such farewells in this era. From the moment he decided to leave Dragon Tiger Mountain, this was the reality he had to face.

He looked around for Zhang Zhengchang, but then heard a familiar voice:

"Big Brother Zhang, I didn't lie to you—here's your book back..."

Zhang Yi followed the sound and saw Huang He and his son sitting with Zhang Zhengchang.

Huang He, sharp-eyed, noticed Zhang Yi approaching and laughed loudly:

"Well, Zhang family's second son, sleeping from sunrise to midday—aren't you afraid of sleeping yourself to death?"

Zhang Yi chuckled; he was long familiar with Uncle Huang and felt no need for formality.

"I am the Immortal of Sleep; my wondrous methods emerge in meditation!"

It was a casual jest, yet everyone present was struck by it.

Zhu Yuanzhang reconsidered: the boy was not wrong—in every respect, Zhang Yi was indeed a little immortal.

"Enough nonsense!"

Old Zhang assumed the air of a stern parent. Zhang Yi stuck out his tongue, giving him some face.

"Father, you've returned from the palace—did you gain anything?"

Zhang Zhengchang nodded and recounted the happenings at court.

"The emperor is still the emperor—remarkable! But for you, it's a good thing that he plots so deeply!"

Pfft!

Zhu Yuanzhang was sipping tea contentedly, but Zhang Yi's remark made him spit it out.

Damn, the emperor never offended you—why must you always poke fun at him?

Zhang Zhengchang was also embarrassed; he hadn't said anything, yet Zhang Yi twisted it into the emperor scheming against him.

Most awkwardly, the subject himself was right there—how was Zhang Zhengchang supposed to respond?

"What's wrong with you all?"

Zhang Yi saw everyone at the table looking odd and was puzzled.

"Ahem, nothing. How do you see it? How is the emperor plotting against your father, and why is that a good thing?"

Ultimately, Zhu Yuanzhang's thick skin allowed him to bear it all.

He asked, and Zhang Yi answered:

"Yesterday, I vaguely thought that even if the emperor wanted to use my father to pressure the Kong family, he gave far too much!"

"Gold! He actually gave real gold!"

Zhang Yi still looked incredulous.

The old emperor was annoyed: give too little, and he's stingy; give too much, and Zhang Yi still complains?

(End of chapter)