For the next few days, Zhu Mo went to work at the Hanlin Academy as usual. He increasingly felt that the Imperial Academy was truly pathetic, lacking everything and earning a much lower salary than others. With nothing to do, he decided to study the system, finding it truly remarkable, as many of his questions were answered.
That evening,
As he left the Hanlin Academy, he suddenly saw a blood-red sunset cast upon the streets and alleys, giving him a strange feeling. His mood was somber, and he didn't feel like returning to his residence, so he decided to wander through the market. As soon as he reached the entrance of the market, he saw a wave of clamor from the crowd.
For some unknown reason, the common people today seemed to be acting strangely. They gathered in groups of three to five, muttering incessantly. It was as if, overnight, the people had stopped their proper work. Everyone's face showed surprise and joy, and they whispered in twos and threes, but no one knew what they were discussing.
And in their hands, without exception, they held scrolls of Xuan paper, as if copying an article.
"I heard the Emperor likes Mr. Zhu's poem..."
"It's written so well. Alas, the common people, the Emperor has finally remembered them..."
"I heard this Mr. Zhu is also a handsome young man..."
"Naturally, someone saw him at the gate of the Hanlin Academy; he's a dashing young man..."
"Does this mean we common people finally have hope...?"
"Shh...! Don't spread the word. The Emperor has his own plans..."
"Yes, yes..."
Zhu Mo finally smiled—
So they were talking about me. I never imagined this poem would have such a powerful effect! The common people saw the sentiment for the people within it and imagined the Emperor was about to conquer the world...?
Thinking this, his smile turned into a wry one—
This Emperor is not what you think he is. And with the current situation, there's no time to care about you! It would be good enough if chaos could be prevented...
He shook his head, his mood suddenly gone, and he decided to return to his small courtyard.
And at this moment, suddenly,
Amidst the exclamations of the people, with a roar, they scattered. Looking in the direction of the sound, they saw a funeral carriage approaching the street!
A middle-aged scholar, clad in mourning attire, held a large couplet in his left hand and a handful of ghost money in his right. With a whoosh, he scattered it towards the sky, and then it drifted down, a chilling aura instantly sweeping over them.
The middle-aged scholar's hoarse voice suddenly wailed and sang:
"Leaving the nine heavens to accept the mandate of heaven, how can my feelings bear it;
Ruling the four seas and mourning the common people, my heart is wounded for it!"
Alas...
Woeful...
"What fortune is mine? To be able to recite such an article in my final hour!"
"And what misfortune? To not be able to witness the prosperity of the common people..."
"..."
This person had a refined face, but his grief had made him so haggard that he now seemed somewhat mad. Dressed in mourning, his eyes were vacant. He supported the funeral carriage, weeping and singing all the way. The scene suddenly became incredibly bizarre, instantly frightening the common people. The bustling market suddenly fell silent, leaving only his cries of injustice and his mournful songs echoing to the heavens. The ghost money fluttering throughout the street, coupled with the numb and fearful faces of the crowd, made Zhu Mo's heart suddenly tremble. In a daze, he felt as if he were in the underworld...
Who is this person?
What is going on?
Why is he singing Zhu Gongzi's poetry with such sorrow?
Zhu Mo watched from afar, unable to recall such a figure in the Great Ming. He couldn't help but move closer and look around.
"Alas, a generation's renowned scholar, to end up like this... truly pitiful!"
"Yes, Wang Shizhen was also a great talent..."
"His father, Wang Yun, died mysteriously in prison... and he himself contracted a serious illness. Alas, the Wang family is finished!"
"Heh, who told him to offend that notorious figure..."
"That's true. Writing poems to mock that person, it's not strange to end up like this... Besides, he's not the first one..."
"Alas... he's a good person. Even in this state, he's still mourning for the common people..."
"..."
Three or four scholars spoke in low voices, their faces filled with sorrow and sympathy.
Zhu Mo suddenly remembered—
It's Wang Shizhen!?
Yes,
It's him!
So, Wang Shizhen and his father were also killed by Yan Song and Yan Shifan...? I didn't know from reading books that Wang Shizhen was also an enemy of the Yan family, and that his end was so tragic...
As he was contemplating, Wang Shizhen began to cry and sing with heart-wrenching anguish again. His voice was sorrowful and moving, and he was singing his own poem, which deeply touched Zhu Mo: the Great Ming was far more cruel than he had imagined...
At this moment,
The entire street's populace was also awestruck by the scene. They began to avoid the carriage, scattering back several feet. Some leaned against the windows and doors along the street... In their astonishment, they were unsure if he was mourning for himself, his father, or the common people. In an instant, everyone felt boundless fear and sorrow... Everyone knew the truth but had never seen such intense grief...
Those who had not dared to speak out or discuss now suddenly voiced their indignation—
"Alas, Yan Shifan, that notorious figure, what evil deeds!"
"As a scholar, you can't speak or write carelessly. Who told him to write poems to mock that Yan fellow?"
"He was also a great talent..."
"I never thought Mr. Zhu's poem would become a eulogy for their father and son..."
"That's why you shouldn't write things carelessly..."
"But he was writing an article to speak up for the common people..."
"So what? What are the common people worth!"
"That's true, what can be done..."
"Does this mean Mr. Zhu might also have met a tragic end?"
"How could that be? That was a poem written for the Emperor. Zhu Mo's fate is better than his; the Emperor likes him, so the Yan family can't harm him..."
"Alas, what has happened? If you speak for the common people, you can't live?"
"..."
Watching Wang Shizhen support the funeral carriage as it disappeared at the end of the street from afar... and then looking at the numb and sorrowful expressions of the common people, Zhu Mo was truly horrified. At the same time, a thought, like a fire rising from the abyss, emerged—
It's over, the Great Ming is truly beyond saving...?
...
The next morning,
Zhu Mo, recalling the bizarre and sorrowful scene of yesterday, was still trembling slightly. He made his way to the Hanlin Academy alone, wanting to see what others were saying.
As soon as he entered, Zhang Juzheng had already been sitting in the Hall of Rituals for a long time.
"Mr. Zhu, the Hanlin Academy is holding a public discussion on the policy for the finances of Jiangnan today. The Grand Secretariat attaches great importance to it. Elder Yan and Elder Xu are also here... You should listen more and think more. Well, cough, cough... Jiangnan, uh... there was a severe flood, nine counties were submerged, and the court is greatly troubled... Uh, let's work with the scholars to devise a good plan to resolve the court's urgent needs..."
Zhu Mo finally saw Zhang Juzheng up close and felt that this person was indeed quite capable. With a long beard and mustache, his mind was remarkably clear.
"Oh, thank you, Minister Zhang, for the reminder."
At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder: the matter of destroying the dikes and flooding the fields was actually so easily dismissed...? Was there really no whisper of it? That's too terrifying...
The atmosphere was strange and tense throughout. The two arrived at the Hall of Rituals in silence.
The scholars were already arranged on both sides. Sitting on the two rows of Grand Preceptor chairs were Yan Song, Yan Shifan, and Yan Maoqing. On the other side were Xu Jie and Gao Gong. The empty seat was for Zhang Juzheng. And in a Grand Preceptor chair slightly to the right of the center sat a middle-aged eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial, who must have been Huang Jin.
At this moment, Zhu Mo was already a famous person. The ministers of the Hanlin Academy and the Grand Secretariat all cast envious, jealous, and resentful glances at him.
After settling down, Yan Shifan said,
"Esteemed scholars, there are now Japanese pirates in the southeast and Tatars in the north. Jiangnan, a region of great financial importance, has suffered floods in nine counties. How should disaster relief be handled? How should the silk trade with overseas countries be conducted? How should farmers supply silkworm cocoons, and how should the military provisions for resisting the Japanese be resolved? These are all important matters for the court. The Emperor has ordered the Hanlin Academy to also propose a plan..."
"I think everyone should discuss it. Let's not talk about how to deal with the national crisis for now. Consider it as a practice for the scholars. The Grand Secretariat will review any useful proposals..."
Hiss!
Yan Shifan was a powerful figure of the current era. When he said this was a selection of talent, what could it mean but immense opportunity? If one were indeed chosen, wouldn't it be an instant ascent to glory?
Every scholar longed for an official position, so each had an excited expression, appearing eager to try.
Xu Jie had just taken a sip of tea when a fair-skinned and refined young man walked out from the crowd. He cleared his throat and said, "May I, a student, say a few words, Your Excellencies and Ministers?"
This person was none other than Gao Hanwen. He had already drafted his own strategy and submitted it privately to the Grand Secretariat. Xu Jie and Zhang Juzheng had previously admired his strategy, but when Yan Shifan praised it so highly that day, they felt something was amiss. Now, they naturally wanted to hear what he had to say.
Xu Jie then said with a gentle smile,
"Today is for public discussion. You may speak freely, and so can others."
"Good!"