Chapter 92: The Emperor's Solitary Hell

The carriage came to a halt before a grand residence. Kong Ne followed Zhu Biao out of the vehicle, looking up to see the sign above the gate inscribed with the words “Kong Residence.” He was dazed—rather than bringing him to the imperial palace, the crown prince had first taken him to the Kong family estate in the capital?

“The previous Duke of Sage Succession is resting here,” Zhu Biao explained. “The palace sends imperial physicians daily to tend to him. I know you are a filial man, so I brought you here first!”

Kong Ne, anxious, replied, “A commoner like me ought to enter the palace to meet His Majesty before returning to see my grandfather!”

“Among all virtues, filial piety comes first. You may enter the palace tomorrow just the same,” Zhu Biao smiled. “I won’t accompany you inside. See you in the palace tomorrow, Master Kong!”

Upon hearing this, Kong Ne hurriedly bowed in gratitude. Watching Zhu Biao’s carriage depart, he remained somewhat bewildered. The crown prince had come out of the city to welcome him, only to deliver him to the Kong Residence? The underlying significance of this gesture was far beyond what a ten-year-old could comprehend. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for the Zhu family’s prince.

“This crown prince bears the aura of a wise ruler. But whether the Zhu family can truly hold onto the empire remains uncertain. Father and Grandfather still hope that Wang Baobao and Li Siqi might move south, but is that truly possible?” Kong Ne recalled his father’s instructions before departure, and the humiliation suffered in Ying Tian. In Kong Ne’s mind, the Zhu emperor was nothing short of a demon, inspiring terror.

“Master, let us go inside,” the old servant reminded him. Kong Ne nodded, “Thank you, Uncle Fu.” The two turned and entered the Kong Residence.

The staff had already received Zhu Biao’s instructions and greeted Kong Ne with respectful bows. “Greetings, Master Kong!” A steward approached and ushered them in. Kong Ne glanced around. The residence bestowed by the Hongwu Emperor upon the Kong family was crafted with care. Whether servants or maids, the emperor had provided them at the highest standard. Yet these very things were also the source of the Kong family’s suffering.

“Where is my grandfather?” Kong Ne asked, impatient to see Kong Kejian. The servant replied, “The master is in the garden, basking in the sun.”

“At this hour?” Kong Ne looked up at the sky—it was barely dawn when he entered Ying Tian, and there was hardly any sunlight yet. He didn’t press further, simply allowing the servant to lead him to the rear garden.

Soon enough, he spotted a familiar figure. “Grandfather!” The moment Kong Ne saw Kong Kejian, he could no longer hold back his tears. Though it had only been a month since they last met, Kong Kejian had visibly wasted away. His attire remained elegant, but he seemed lost, dull and vacant.

He stared blankly at the lotus pond in the garden, drooling slightly at the corner of his mouth. The maid hurried to wipe it away with a towel. Anyone witnessing Kong Kejian’s state would think him mad.

Kong Ne scrambled over, falling to his knees before Kong Kejian and weeping loudly. “Grandfather, Yanbo has come to see you, though he has not fulfilled his duty of filial piety…”

Kong Kejian’s body trembled imperceptibly, tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes. He murmured, “Who is Yanbo? Yanbo, why don’t you smile? You must smile more—smiling is so wonderful, ha ha ha…”

Kong Kejian burst into wild laughter, tears mingling with mania. “Master!” “Master!” Seeing Kong Kejian about to fall into madness again, the others, evidently experienced, rushed forward to restrain him.

Kong Ne clung tightly to Kong Kejian, shouting,

“Grandfather, I am Yanbo, I am Yanbo…” He whispered at Kong Kejian’s ear, “You forbade Father from speaking, but Father told Yanbo everything…”

“Walls have ears,” Kong Kejian’s voice was barely audible, yet it reached Kong Ne. Only by witnessing his grandfather’s condition firsthand did Kong Ne grasp the Kong family’s predicament.

Kong Kejian, feigning madness, was trapped in an invisible cage crafted by the emperor’s every gesture of concern. From the moment he chose to act insane, he had been locked in a unique prison. All those around him were the emperor’s eyes and ears. To protect his family—and himself—Kong Kejian could only persist in his act.

No one spoke to him, and he dared not reveal his true feelings to anyone. The environment reminded Kong Ne of the Buddhist Eighteen Hells, one of which was named Solitude. This Kong Residence was the solitary hell constructed for Kong Kejian by the Ming emperor.

“Yanbo, you must smile! Ha ha ha!” Kong Kejian gripped Kong Ne’s shoulders fiercely, shaking him in a frenzy. But as he finished speaking, some inner resolve seemed to relax, and he collapsed, fainting on the ground.

“Grandfather!” Chaos erupted at once in the Kong Residence.

“Imperial physician, fetch an imperial physician from the bureau!” The servants rushed about, shouting loudly.

Kong Ne knelt before Kong Kejian, lost in thought, as if everything around him was irrelevant. This first meeting with his grandfather made him realize how dire the Kong family’s situation was in the face of the emperor.

…

All of this had nothing to do with Zhang Yi at the Purity Temple.

In undisturbed days, he continued practicing Tai Chi daily, then tinkered in the alchemy room. With newfound silver, Zhang Yi decided to hire someone to complete the final step for his latrine: installing a water tower. Just as he was about to ask Deng Zhongxiu to find a craftsman, Deng Zhongxiu reported that Huang Mu had arrived.

“Brother Huang! It’s been a while since I saw you!”

As one of the few friends he had in this world, Zhang Yi was genuinely pleased by Zhu Biao’s arrival.

“Where have you been running off to for business lately? Has it gone well?”

“Thanks to your blessing, it’s been fairly successful. We managed to make pencils from the recipe you gave us!” Zhu Biao produced a bundle of pencils from his sleeve.

Zhang Yi took them and examined them—remarkable, indeed. In terms of compressing the lead core and affixing the wooden casing, the craftsmanship in Ming was certainly inferior to later generations, but even so, the pencils made by Zhu Biao’s craftsmen were far superior to those Zhang Yi himself had cobbled together.

He was glad he’d sold the recipe to Master Huang, as he himself could never have produced them in quantity.

“I’ve used them for a while and found them quite handy, though they have their own flaws! But for certain special tasks, they’re much more convenient than brush pens! Father’s already found some sales channels—once we recoup our investment, you’ll get your share!”

“Thank you, Brother Huang!” Zhang Yi grinned. “Then let me give you a design for a pencil sharpener—it’s not hard to make, much easier than carving with a knife!”

He took out a knife and sharpened the pencils Zhu Biao had brought, then casually sketched on the paper. After verifying the pencils’ quality, Zhang Yi, without ceremony, kept them.

Zhu Biao watched as Zhang Yi, with a few strokes, effortlessly outlined a human figure. He recalled the portrait Zhang Yi had drawn for Zhang Zhengchang, and was intrigued. “Your sketching skills are enough to found a school of art. To learn skills from the future—what a talent! By the way, can these drawing techniques be taught?”

“Do you want to learn, brother?”

If Zhu Biao wished to learn, Zhang Yi would naturally teach him—it was no great secret.

Zhu Biao nodded, then shook his head. “I am interested, but I fear I won’t have the time… Still, your method is very useful. I’m thinking, if the officials learned your skills, at least the wanted posters would be more accurate, and wanted criminals wouldn’t go unrecognized!”

He spoke with amusement, and Zhang Yi agreed wholeheartedly.

Although traditional painting also had realistic gongbi techniques, it didn’t follow the path of “likeness.” The artists in the government responsible for wanted posters were mediocre, so unless the fugitive had distinctive features, it was difficult to identify them from the portraits.

“If you wish to learn, I will teach you. But to teach others—I can’t be bothered!” They chatted idly. Zhu Biao seemed burdened by thoughts, yet couldn’t decide how to ask Zhang Yi for advice.

Just then, as they talked, Zhu Biao’s guard rushed in and whispered in his ear.

“Miss Chang is here!”

Zhu Biao startled—how could the Chang family’s young lady arrive at this hour? If she ran into him, his identity would be exposed!

“Brother, Miss Chang has arrived…” Zhu Biao was flustered. Deng Zhongxiu also ran in to report.

Zhang Yi jumped up, his face changing dramatically. “Chang family sister is here—this is bad…”

Zhu Biao: ???

Why was Zhang Yi more anxious than he himself?

“Our temple has no back door, brother—find someplace to hide!” Zhang Yi pulled Zhu Biao along, scanning for a hiding place.

Damn, he mustn’t let Miss Chang discover Zhu Biao! Who knew what embarrassing words this lovesick fool might utter when meeting a girl? If he upset the future crown princess, neither the Huang family nor Zhang Yi himself would escape unscathed.

Zhu Biao: …

This Zhang family brother is so considerate!

“Stay in the latrine. Later, I’ll lure Miss Chang into the house, and you must leave quickly! Don’t even think about speaking to your beloved—you’re not worthy!”

To prevent Zhu Biao from acting foolish, Zhang Yi warned him, then shoved him into the newly built latrine.

As soon as the door was closed, Miss Chang entered with her maid. By then, Zhu Biao’s attendants had vanished. Only Zhang Yi and Deng Zhongxiu remained in the courtyard, staring at each other.

“Brother Zhang, I’ve brought some new pastries I’ve learned to make. Would you like to try them?”

Zhang Yi immediately donned the innocent smile unique to children and ran over cheerfully.

“New pastries? Thank you, sister!”

He ran up, grabbed the food box, and opened it. Sure enough, there were many new varieties inside. Zhang Yi took one and ate it, pulling a face of exaggerated delight.

“This is delicious! As Lu Xun said: To capture a man’s heart, you must first capture his stomach. If you marry the crown prince, he’ll be so happy!”

Zhang Yi deliberately spoke loudly, provoking the lovesick fool hiding in the latrine. His cruelty was not without reason; he simply didn’t want someone to fall too deep, and used this method to remind him.

“Who is Lu Xun, this esteemed sage? To capture a man’s heart, first capture his stomach?” Miss Chang blushed at Zhang Yi’s exaggerated words, yet pondered his statement. The wisdom of this Mr. Lu Xun made perfect sense.

(End of chapter)