Chapter Ten: The Magistrate Is Curious

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At the Liang family’s stage, a performer dressed in flowing white robes gracefully moved her sleeves and sang melodiously, "A thousand miles bound by a single thread of fate, the umbrella gently shields the twin lotus blossoms. Tonight, West Lake blooms like the sea in spring; may we be like mandarin ducks, never envying immortals..."

Liang Heng and Chen Niang sat beneath the stage, utterly captivated by the performance.

Liang Fengyang hurried over and, standing behind Liang Heng, whispered, "Father, please send someone to fetch news from Scholar Gu’s servant. They say Scholar Gu has entered the city."

"Oh? Have you found out where he went?" Liang Heng asked, somewhat surprised.

Liang Fengyang shook his head slightly. "Still investigating."

Liang Heng glanced up at the stage, a faint smile playing at his lips. "The first two acts of ‘The Legend of the White Snake’ have been rehearsed. It’s only proper to invite Scholar Gu to watch."

Liang Fengyang nodded in agreement and was about to leave when a servant appeared.

"County Magistrate Li has arrived."

"County Magistrate isn’t ‘Sir,’ it’s ‘Grand Master!’" Liang Heng corrected Liang Fengyang as he rose.

Liang Fengyang nodded ruefully.

Since the founding of the Ming dynasty, Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang had been strict about etiquette and protocol. What officials wore, the badges on their robes, their attire for day and night, even the clothing, colors, tools, and modes of transport used by commoners and merchants were all regulated.

With these rules in place, any improper self-styling among the populace was naturally forbidden.

For example, during the Song dynasty, commoners called officials “officials,” never “Sir” or “Lord.” If Bao Zheng had been called “Lord Bao” back then, he might have darkened his face in anger, perhaps even kicked the offender.

In Song times, “Lord” referred only to one’s father. Addressing someone as “Lord” was no different than calling them dad.

The practice of calling officials “Lord” began in the Yuan dynasty.

In early Ming, probably due to the confusion caused by mixed titles like “Lord,” “Sir,” and “Official,” Zhu Yuanzhang standardized the titles: county magistrates were “Grand Masters,” prefects “Grand Lords,” inspection censors “Great Marshals,” and the chiefs of the messenger department “Great Archangels.”

Of course, such official titles never fully took root among the people, who continued to use mixed terms.

Liang Heng had served as an official under the Yuan and knew well that dealing with government required utmost caution, no hint of overstepping or flaw. He personally went out to greet County Magistrate Li Yi.

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Li Yi wore loose casual clothes and carried a fan with three torn slits. Seeing the elderly Liang, he hurried forward and bowed, “Old Liang, I trouble you once more.”

Liang Heng returned the bow politely. “The Grand Master’s visit honors our humble home. Please come in.”

Li Yi entered the Liang household gladly.

Seated and served tea, Li Yi exchanged pleasantries before speaking plainly: “Old Liang studied for ten years during the previous Yuan era and is renowned far and wide for his profound knowledge and many disciples. Now, in this new dynasty brimming with promise, it is time for the court to employ talented men. I wish to invite you to come out of retirement, to teach at the county school and oversee instruction.”

A flicker crossed Liang Heng’s lips.

The court employing men?

If they truly wished to employ talent, why abolish the imperial examinations?

Without the exams, countless scholars would lose their only path forward. Scholars would find it difficult to advance except through recommendation, which could breed corruption—pay to play.

Liang Heng declined tactfully: “The Grand Master’s invitation is most kind, and I should devote myself utterly. But the years spare no one. I am over sixty now; even if willing, my body is too frail to teach.”

Li Yi, observing Liang Heng’s surprisingly robust appearance, frowned slightly and said softly, “As Xunzi said: serve Heaven above, Earth below; honor ancestors and esteem teachers—these are the three pillars of propriety. If you become a teacher to the county school students, Old Liang, not only do you follow the sages’ teachings and uphold propriety, but you also assume the role of ‘teacher’ among Heaven, Earth, ruler, parents, and teachers. Your family’s future prosperity can be expected.”

Liang Heng shook his head bitterly. “The Grand Master’s words are true, but alas, my energy is insufficient to manage scholarly affairs.”

Seeing Liang Heng’s firm refusal, Li Yi did not insist further and took his leave. As Liang Heng accompanied him to the door, a servant rushed in and called out, “Master, I’ve found out—Scholar Gu went to Sun the Wealthy’s house.”

“Gu Zhengchen?” Li Yi’s brow furrowed as he looked at Liang Heng.

Liang Heng glared at the servant, who showed no decorum despite the guest’s presence.

Curious, Li Yi asked, “Old Liang, why do you seek Scholar Gu?”

Liang Heng chuckled, “Gu and I are friends across generations. I invited him to watch the play, for a little amusement.”

Li Yi regarded the solemn old man skeptically but asked no more, fanning himself as he left.

Sun the Wealthy’s house?

Li Yi glanced at the fork in the road and altered his course.

Gu Zhengchen.

That name was familiar.

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Gu Zhengchen, given name Bu’er, courtesy name Zhengchen, was a scholar who passed the county exam in the fifth year of the Hongwu era.

“Bu’er” came from “loyalty as the heart, unchanging through rise and fall, pure and steadfast,” and “Zhengchen” meant “upright minister.”

But everyone called him Gu Zhengchen—a young man known by his courtesy name.

Being known by one’s courtesy name was not unusual, as in ancient times with Qu Yuan—given name Ping, courtesy name Yuan; Xiang Yu—given name Ji, courtesy name Yu; and Wu Zixu—given name Yuan, courtesy name Zixu.

Li Yi cared little whether Gu was known by his given or courtesy name; what mattered was the man himself.

A few days prior, Gu Zhengchen caused a scandal by breaking off his engagement with the Zhao family, stirring gossip throughout Teng County.

According to the law, the county office should have punished Gu with fifty lashes, but Xu Wenfeng, the county school instructor, surprisingly interceded, arguing that since Gu was a scholar at fault, leniency was warranted, and the punishment was waived.

Xu Wenfeng was a stubborn old man who had served as instructor for three years and never pleaded for anyone—except Gu Zhengchen, for whom he personally intervened.

Ultimately, Xu likely valued talent and recognized Gu’s scholarly ability.

Still, Li Yi could not fathom why Liang Heng favored Gu. The young man was arrogant and disdainful of many in the county school. Why single out Gu?

Moreover, Gu was a destitute scholar who, it was said, had once gone mad after the imperial exams were abolished. Just as he recovered, why did he go to Sun the Wealthy’s house?

“Did you hear? Scholar Gu went to borrow money again, and this time the unlucky lender is Sun the Wealthy.”

“Sun is stingy. He wouldn’t do anything without profit. Gu must be desperate and grasping at straws.”

“Right, the Wang family will come to collect the debt soon. If Gu can’t pay six guan, he’ll be indentured to the Wang family.”

“Six guan is tough. We earn twenty wen for a day’s labor. How could a frail scholar come up with such a sum?”

Listening to the bystanders’ gossip, Li Yi frowned and caught up with them. “Pardon me, may I ask, what is this about Scholar Gu being indentured to the Wang family?”

The two, seeing Li Yi’s scholarly demeanor, calmly repeated what they had heard.

Afterward, Li Yi thanked them, gazed toward Sun the Wealthy’s house, and murmured resolutely, “I want to see just how capable a man is, who is valued by both Instructor Xu and the Liang family.”