Chapter 28: The Villain Still Laughs, the Tear-Stained Sword Is Drawn

Gu Zhengchen sat in the courtyard, staring blankly at the dim night sky, a copper coin constantly flipping between his fingers.

There was no doubt: his father had been murdered. Besides Wang Fugui, there must have been other accomplices. Few people had access to the official register; the former magistrate Huang Qian, or the current county registrar, vice-magistrate, chief of police, or various clerks—any of them could be involved. Whoever they were, he would have his revenge.

Gripping the coin tightly between his fingers, Gu Zhengchen stood up and said to Gu Cheng, who was approaching, "Wake up early tomorrow. You are coming with me to town on business."

"Understood, Master," Gu Cheng replied obediently.

Gu Zhengchen glanced back at his mother’s room. The candles had been extinguished, leaving it in total darkness. It was better not to tell her about his father for now; he would wait until the truth was uncovered before recovering and burying his father’s remains.

The next morning, after greeting his mother, Gu Zhengchen set out with Gu Cheng.

At the county town’s small pond, Gu Zhengchen stood on the bank, gazing at the calm water.

"Scholar Gu."

Wang Youcheng approached, shaking a white paper fan, his tone mocking: "I heard a skeleton was pulled from the pond last night—looks like your father’s. Tsk tsk, how truly unfortunate. But I am curious: it’s just a pile of bones, are you sure it’s your father? Don’t misidentify him; that would be a grave act of unfilial piety."

Gu Zhengchen turned, his icy eyes fixed on Wang Youcheng. "Scholar Wang, your eyes are sunken and dark; you didn't sleep well last night, did you? What’s the matter—afraid of the ghost coming for your life?"

Wang Youcheng’s expression flickered, and he said resentfully, "What do I have to fear! Gu Zhengchen, you broke my ankle and made me sit idle for half a month..."

"Next time, it won’t just be sitting idle for half a month!" Gu Zhengchen turned back to the pond, silently adding to himself: "I will make sure you are lying in a coffin!"

Ignoring Wang Youcheng further, Gu Zhengchen entered an alley. Seeing the image of a rabbit on the wall, he instructed Gu Cheng, "Go get some pen and ink."

Gu Cheng hurried off to borrow the supplies. Gu Zhengchen had been here the night before and had scrubbed away the official’s cap that had been painted on the rabbit’s head, leaving only the rabbit. If he hadn't removed it, there could be dire consequences.

During the chaotic twenty years at the end of the Yuan Dynasty, the propaganda had centered on the slogans "The Ming King has emerged" and "Maitreya has descended." Zhu Yuanzhang had risen from the Red Turban Army; his initial identity was that of a White Lotus and Ming Cult member, serving under the "Little Ming King." Later, however, he betrayed those sects and drowned the Ming Cult leader to become the Great Ming Sovereign himself.

In the first year of the Hongwu era, the Emperor issued a decree banning all "heretical sects," specifically targeting the White Lotus Society, the Great Ming Cult, the Maitreya Sect, and the White Cloud Sect. The Emperor’s message was clear: the Great Ming would not tolerate role-playing, witchcraft, secret societies, or the spread of seditious works. If the Emperor found out that someone was equating officials to rabbits, he would surely slaughter the entire family.

It was a small matter, but one that shouldn't be blown out of proportion.

When Gu Cheng returned with the ink, Gu Zhengchen took the brush, dipped it, and after a moment of reflection, wrote on the wall:

*I hear the ghosts wail in sorrow, I weep as the jackals laugh.*
*Shedding tears to honor the hero, I draw my sword with head held high.*

Gu Cheng looked at the poem—not particularly refined, yet imbued with an extraordinary spirit—and sighed in secret. The villains were still laughing, but the sword was drawn to wipe away the tears.

Gu Zhengchen clasped his hands behind his back and left the alley after Gu Cheng returned the borrowed brush.

In the marketplace, Gu Zhengchen wandered about, stopping to look at folding fan stalls and inspecting paintings and calligraphy.

"Master, where exactly are we going?" Gu Cheng finally asked after an hour of walking.

At the end of the street, Gu Zhengchen still hadn't found what he was looking for. He glanced into a side alley, where a ragged boy was resting against a wall, a basket at his feet containing scrolls and folding fans. Seeing someone approach, the thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy quickly said, "Big brother, buy a fan to cool off. It’s not expensive, five coins. The calligraphy is fifteen."

Gu Zhengchen bent down and picked up a painting from the basket. It depicted an eagle; the brushwork looked very similar to the rabbit he had seen. He asked, "Do you have any paintings or fans of rabbits?"

"Yes." The boy searched through his items and pulled one out.

Gu Zhengchen unfolded it. Although the rabbit in this picture was different from the one on the wall, the brushwork was identical, even down to the expression. It was highly likely they were by the same hand.

"My brother likes rabbits very much and wants to have some commissioned. Can you tell me where I might find the artist?" Gu Zhengchen had Gu Cheng produce twenty coins.

The boy took the money and said happily, "At the Wenchang Shrine in the south of the city, there is a scholar named Deng Quan..."

"Deng Quan?" Gu Zhengchen’s eyes narrowed.

Leaving the city, they headed south to the Wenchang Shrine, three miles away. The shrine was dedicated to the Wenchang Emperor, the deity overseeing the honors and ranks of scholars. However, in the third year of the Hongwu era, Zhu Yuanzhang had issued a decree: "Any shrine in the empire that provides no service to the people and is not part of the official sacrificial system is a 'lascivious shrine'; officials are forbidden from offering sacrifices there."

The Wenchang Shrine was now quite desolate. With the imperial examinations suspended, no one came to pray anymore. The Emperor had essentially forced the Wenchang Emperor into unemployment.

Inside a side room, Gu Zhengchen found the middle-aged Deng Quan. Deng, who had been painting, grew wary when he saw a stranger. Gu Zhengchen had Gu Cheng wait outside and walked over, sitting cross-legged before the low table. He slowly unfolded the painting: "You painted this, didn't you?"

Deng Quan’s face showed a flicker of unease. "Who are you?"

"Gu Zhengchen."

"You are the son of Gu Zhi—Scholar Gu?"

Gu Zhengchen stared deeply at him. "You clearly know the truth. Please, tell me."

Deng Quan shook his head. "I saw nothing, and I know nothing."

Gu Zhengchen narrowed his eyes. "You dared to leave a painting to cry out for justice, yet you won't speak? Are you afraid of the people in the magistrate's office, or the Wang family?"

Deng Quan lowered his head, gritting his teeth. "How can you prove you are Gu Zhengchen?"

Proving that he was himself? Gu Zhengchen wondered if this man had somehow traveled here from the modern era.

"This should be proof enough." Gu Zhengchen reached for the red cord around his neck and pulled out a small black wooden tablet. It was two inches long, with the name "Gu Zhengchen" carved on the front.

In those chaotic, war-torn years when families were constantly torn apart, his father, Gu Zhi, had made these tablets for his family so they could recognize each other if they were separated. Even after they had settled down, he had kept it. It was a token, one of the few mementos his father had left behind. He would never lose it.