Chapter 7: The Legacy of Xu Zengshou

Chapter 7: The Legacy of Xu Zengshou

Xu Jingchang looked up at the moon, his heart filled with an unusual joy.

It wasn’t that he had suddenly become a high official—being a mere Minister of Communications was nothing extraordinary. What truly pleased him was that his decade-plus experience in the political arena had finally borne fruit. Even facing someone as formidable as the monk Yao Guangxiao, he had managed to discern his limits.

Zhu Di was wise and valiant, unmatched in military strategy. From a small corner of the realm, he had overturned the Jianwen Emperor to successfully quell the rebellion—a ruthless man among the ruthless.

Yet, regrettably, Zhu Di’s team was utterly lacking. Among those around him, only Yao Guangxiao, an eccentric monk of peculiar origins, could be considered a civil official.

The rest were a group of mediocre warriors. They might have sufficed against the inexperienced Jianwen Emperor, but governing the vast Ming dynasty was beyond their capacity.

Yao Guangxiao had hoped to spare Fang Xiaoru’s life to win over the empire’s civil officials. Unfortunately, Zhu Di did not understand this and, in a fit of anger, executed Fang Xiaoru.

This left Yao Guangxiao disheartened and eager to retire to a monastery, to withdraw honorably from public life.

But Xu Jingchang’s arrival rekindled the old monk’s hope.

As the grandson of Xu Da, nephew to Empress Xu, a dual founding hero of the Jingnan Rebellion, and a lover of books with sharp intellect—

Such a man entering the court would naturally draw followers, whether remnants of the Huai West nobility or literati officials, gradually forming a powerful faction.

If managed well, this faction could definitely rival the Jingnan nobles led by Qiu Fu and Zhu Neng.

For the emperor to maintain a stable position, he must create a subtle balance within the court, preventing any one faction from dominating.

Take the present situation: the Jingnan nobles’ momentum was overwhelming. Zhu Gaoxu sought to leverage their power to pressure Zhu Di into naming him crown prince.

If Zhu Gaoxu succeeded, who would truly rule the realm?

An emperor seated on the dragon throne but lacking absolute authority, unable to command decisively—what kind of sovereign would that be?

Xu Jingchang applied a bit of office politics theory and found it suited the Ming court perfectly: a newly installed department manager must promote fresh talent and win over veterans to keep the department running smoothly.

Having seen through Yao Guangxiao’s hand, Xu Jingchang felt even more composed.

“Master Yao, see how the moonlight shines bright and tree shadows dance. I sit here admiring the moon, and I can spend a happy evening. If I were to immerse myself in worldly affairs, scheming with court officials, striving to suppress the new nobles, exhausting myself to the point of collapse—that too is just another night passing. Since both are just passing time, why shouldn’t I choose the lighter, happier way?”

Yao Guangxiao ground his teeth in frustration. “Young lord, if I remember correctly, you are only fifteen. How could someone your age afford such ease?”

Xu Jingchang chuckled. “Master Yao, as Wei Wu Emperor once said, ‘An old steed in the stable still aspires to gallop a thousand miles.’ You have already aided His Majesty in the Jingnan victory, but there is still a distance to becoming a legendary minister. You should continue to serve with utmost dedication until death, then you can face off with Zhuge Liang himself. With your wisdom, suppressing new nobles and balancing the court should be easy. Why make things difficult for me?”

Yao Guangxiao’s head buzzed. He hadn’t found dealing with Zhu Di so troublesome. This impudent youth was impervious to reason, full of twisted logic. He even thought of digging up Xu Zengshou’s grave to ask how such a creature had come to be.

Yet Yao Guangxiao remained calm. “Young lord, I am but a monk—neither scholar nor warrior, with no foundation but the emperor’s favor. At my age, in court I am only a solitary official. How could I suppress new nobles or balance the court? But if you agree to enter the court, I will wholeheartedly support you. His Majesty’s ascent is the perfect opportunity to demonstrate your talents; why waste time?”

With this, the old monk laid his cards on the table: “I will back you; you lead the charge.”

Such a promise was more than even Zhu Di had received—or he wouldn’t have been so thoroughly cornered by Zhu Gaoxu.

Seeing Yao Guangxiao’s terms, Xu Jingchang responded, “Master Yao, the Xu family is now down to me alone. My father was posthumously awarded the title of Marquis of Wuyang, and I intend to inherit it. But if I accept the position of Minister of Communications, I would have to give up the hereditary title. That seems a bit unfair; I hope you understand.”

Yao Guangxiao burst into laughter. “Young lord, so you have demands after all—I thought you just wanted to fish and admire the moon.”

Xu Jingchang was unrepentant. “Fishing requires a pond, rods, bait—all costly. And to admire the moon requires peace of mind. Without power or influence, barely able to fill one’s belly, everything looks like mere steamed buns. Where’s the mood to appreciate the moon?”

Finally, Yao Guangxiao nodded. “You speak truly. Without His Majesty’s favor, I could not dwell peacefully in a monastery to enjoy my twilight years. His Majesty promised to elevate me to Duke of Rongguo. I had no desire for it, but now it seems the only choice. Young lord, what say you?”

A smile spread across Xu Jingchang’s face. If Yao Guangxiao took the title of Duke of Rongguo, he would become less conspicuous in court. At least when attacked, they would think twice about confronting this inscrutable master.

A dual appointment of office and title—that was a worthwhile deal.

But it wasn’t enough.

“By the way, Master Yao, my uncle is still in the imperial prison. His guilt is unresolved, and his fate unknown. I remain a relative of the imperial prisoner, which taints my background and hinders my official career.”

Yao Guangxiao growled, “Fine. I will petition His Majesty to pardon Xu Huizu’s crimes. Instead, he shall be assigned to guard the tomb of Prince Zhongshan, reciting scriptures and repenting daily in place of his father and brothers. What say you?”

Xu Jingchang felt elated. Given Xu Huizu’s deeds, merely staying alive was already miraculous. This arrangement would clear his name somewhat and relieve Xu Jingchang from blame for inadequate rescue efforts.

“In that case, thank you, Master Yao. But... I have one more request.”

“Speak!” Yao Guangxiao barked.

“I have just lost my father. By tradition, I should observe mourning for three years. But considering the turmoil at court, I hope to shorten it to a hundred days as a full measure of filial piety. I ask for your understanding.”

“You must be dreaming!” Yao Guangxiao exploded in anger. “Do you think I don’t know court protocol? In our Ming, civil officials must observe three years of mourning without exception. But as a military family, you need not observe even a single day.”

Yao Guangxiao was right. Imagine a general in battle suddenly losing his parents and having to return home for three years of mourning, leaving the army leaderless, the campaign lost, and the nation’s affairs in chaos. Such a scenario was unthinkable.

Thus, military men were exempt from mourning in the Ming dynasty.

“Master Yao, though I understand, once I transfer to Minister of Communications, I will be a civil official and must observe the rules. Otherwise, my colleagues will look down on me,” Xu Jingchang argued firmly.

Yao Guangxiao looked at him but said nothing. Instead, he raised his palm and struck the exquisite golden nanmu chess box beside him with a fierce blow, venting all his fury on the poor wooden case.

The old monk slowly withdrew his hand. Xu Jingchang glanced at the box and saw several deep cracks—a shocking sight.

My heavens, this monk has some force after all!

Xu Jingchang instinctively touched his forehead. “Master Yao, when shall I report?”

Yao Guangxiao rose slowly. “Tomorrow, to the Ministry of Personnel, then an audience with His Majesty.”

Xu Jingchang obediently promised, not daring to be negligent.

Only then did Yao Guangxiao leave the Xu residence. Standing outside under the moonlight, the old monk wore a bitter smile. Decades of unshakable Zen discipline had been undone by this young man.

A person who charms the monarch with words but resorts to force has already lost.

“Forgive me, forgive me indeed!”

...

The next morning, Xu Jingchang rose early. He held the rank of commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a sinecure granted by Zhu Yuanzhang that paid a salary without requiring service.

He instructed Xu Yi to fetch his clothes. After dressing, he said, “Build a shelter at Grandfather’s tomb, prepare bedding and firewood. Uncle will need it.”

Xu Yi trembled, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you, young lord. Your kindness is deeply felt.”

Xu Jingchang said nothing more and departed for the Ministry of Personnel.

Sure enough, Minister Jian Yi awaited him there.

“Young lord, from now on I shall address you as Minister Xu Tongzheng.”

Xu Jingchang bowed deeply. “The celestial officials above, I shall rely on your care henceforth.”

Jian Yi smiled kindly, inviting him into the main hall. After seating himself, Jian Yi spoke plainly: “I was originally just a deputy minister. Thanks to the emperor’s grace, I was promoted to minister, chief among all officials. This great favor is inseparable from one person.”

Xu Jingchang blinked in surprise. “Who might that be?”

“Your father, the Marquis of Wuyang,” Jian Yi sighed. “Your father once drafted a list for His Majesty of officials worthy of promotion upon entering the capital. I topped that list, with Left Deputy Minister of Revenue Xia Yuanji second. We are all disciples of your father’s.”

(End of chapter)