Chapter 19: Not a Single Truth Spoken

The air of mystery surrounding Mr. Lu had deepened, yet his manner and conduct suggested he was far from a wild or uninhibited soul; he appeared well-versed in the unspoken rules of the world of fame and fortune.

Knowing that Mr. Lu was staying at the Tianxiang Inn, Gongyan took the youth in the golden crown and departed. Before they left, Zhu Hao deliberately walked up to the boy and whispered, "Besides fishing, I also like catching rabbits. I occasionally sell them at the flower and bird market on the Prince's East Street. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to come by and take a look."

"Hmph!"

The youth gave a soft snort and turned his head away, leaving it unclear whether he had any interest in rabbits at all.

Once they were gone, Zhu Hao withdrew his gaze and found that Mr. Lu had calmly sat back down by the river, picked up the fishing rod he had cast aside, and resumed his leisurely angling.

"This 'Jiang Taigong' fishing of yours—could it be that you weren't actually fishing for that old man and the boy from the Prince Xing Residence?" Zhu Hao asked probing.

"You think you understand?" Mr. Lu glanced at him.

Zhu Hao picked up his own rod but merely fiddled with the line. "Who was that man? He seems to have a very close relationship with the people from the Prince Xing Residence."

"'Very close'? The *Book of Songs* says, 'They threw me a peach, I returned a gem. It is not that I am repaying them, but that I wish to be friends forever.' *Fei* means 'not.' Who taught you that word?"

It seemed Mr. Lu had a certain understanding of the level of education expected for a child his age; he had instantly singled out a term that exceeded the expected cognitive range of a boy like Zhu Hao. Zhu Hao had no intention of answering such trivial questions.

Mr. Lu looked up at the calm river surface. "His surname is Sui, courtesy name Gongyan. He is a private secretary at the Prince Xing Residence and is quite well-known in the scholarly circles of Anlu."

"Is he a *jinshi*?" Zhu Hao asked.

Mr. Lu glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly. "A *juren*."

Zhu Hao pressed further: "So, that makes him just like you, doesn't it?"

Mr. Lu frowned at the remark. Zhu Hao’s question was double-edged; while it sounded like an inquiry into Mr. Lu’s academic status, his true goal was to observe the man’s reaction. As expected, Mr. Lu was deeply sensitive about his status as a *juren*.

"Since the secretaries of the Prince Xing Residence treat you with such respect, Mr. Lu, you must be a man of great renown in this world... I wonder, what is your true identity?" Zhu Hao deliberately kept his tone simple—if he couldn't probe, he would ask directly. That was how a child should behave.

As expected, Mr. Lu did not answer.

Zhu Hao continued, "You said he is an instructor at the Prince Xing Residence, then... that boy my age—he wouldn't happen to be the Heir Apparent of Prince Xing, would he?"

Mr. Lu smiled and shook his head. "How would I know?"

"Then what *do* you know, sir?"

"To know what you know, and to know what you do not know—that is true knowledge." Having said this, Mr. Lu closed his eyes again, swaying his head in evident enjoyment.

...

The two, one old and one young, remained in silence. Several times, Zhu Hao tried to strike up a conversation to uncover Mr. Lu’s true identity, but he received no response. With no other choice, Zhu Hao could only fish obediently. Soon, his mind was filled with thoughts of that young boy. The boy was clearly from the Prince Xing Residence and seemed to hold a position of some importance, yet aside from suggesting he would be at the market, Zhu Hao had no way to capture his attention.

"I'm leaving!" Mr. Lu suddenly tossed his rod aside and rose to go.

Zhu Hao hurriedly chased after him. "Where are you going, sir?"

Mr. Lu didn't look back as he threw out a single sentence: "Back to our own homes... You should go back as well."

"But... I came today for you to initiate my education and teach me to read..." Zhu Hao said with a look of grievance.

Mr. Lu turned slightly and gave Zhu Hao a meaningful smile. "Though I know not your proficiency in the Four Books and Five Classics, judging by your speech and conduct, you are far beyond the average child. I have nothing to teach you... Our meeting was a matter of fate, so what comes next is up to your own destiny."

He strode away.

Zhu Hao called out loudly, "I heard there is a scholar in Jiangnan known as the 'Layman Liuru,' a man of immense talent whose poetry and painting are unrivaled... Have you heard of him, Mr. Lu?"

Mr. Lu’s striding foot came to a sudden halt. He turned around and fixed a sharp gaze on Zhu Hao.

"Who told you that? The boy from the Prince Xing Residence?" Mr. Lu didn't believe Zhu Hao could know about "Layman Liuru" on his own; he assumed someone must have told him.

Zhu Hao had spent some time alone with the boy in the golden crown; it was possible he had learned of it during their conversation. The questions the boy had asked Mr. Lu were quite sharp, indicating that he had received some information about his identity from Sui Gongyan.

Zhu Hao said, "No one told me, but I offer a word of advice: do not go to Nanchang. The lands of Jiang-Gan and Huguang are not peaceful lately, with bandits appearing everywhere. Local merchants say this may be connected to the Prince in Nanchang. Earlier, you mentioned taking the route through Anlu to Nanchang... I was merely speaking my thoughts."

"Heh."

What would a renowned Confucian scholar think upon hearing such a statement from a seven-year-old child who had yet to begin his formal education? Not spitting in his face was already an act of restraint.

"Zhu Hao, your insight is indeed extraordinary, but at your age, it is impossible for you to be this monstrously precocious... The imperial court is treacherous and fraught with crisis. If someone intended for you to deliver this message to me, give them my thanks!"

This time, Mr. Lu did not linger and walked away completely.

...

"Leaving is for the best," Zhu Hao thought. He didn't really care whether Mr. Lu was Tang Yin or not, because it made no difference to him. Everyone knew how destitute Tang Yin had been during the Zhengde era. What was there to admire about a down-and-out scholar who spent his middle and later years in poverty, relying on paintings and calligraphy to scrape by?

History held him in high regard mainly because his life was rich with dramatic events. The Ming Dynasty had many masters of calligraphy and painting, but Tang Yin’s experience was unique. A brilliant top-ranking scholar of the Southern Zhili region, he was almost certain to pass the imperial examinations, only to be caught in a cheating scandal. Not only did he fail the metropolitan exam, but he was also demoted to a minor official and barred from holding office for life. His life was a series of ups and downs—from the grand act of building the Peach Blossom Villa to the humiliating experience of feigning madness in the Prince of Ning’s residence to escape death. He wandered the world, buried in his art, and his works eventually became timeless treasures.

"Even if you are Tang Yin, what could you do to help me?"

When Zhu Hao returned home, his mother, Zhu Niang, was anxiously waiting. As soon as they met, she grabbed his shoulders and asked, "Where is Mr. Lu?"

"He went home," Zhu Hao blurted out without a second thought.

"Then what did he teach you? And... where does he live?"

Zhu Niang had wanted to ask what he had gained from his time out, but she realized he hadn't even brought back books or writing materials. She figured it was good enough if he had at least been tested on his knowledge. It was safer to ask where the man lived.

Zhu Hao was more practical: "How would I know where he lives? We were fishing peacefully when someone arrived—it seemed to be an instructor from the Prince Xing Residence. After they spoke a few words, he left, and not long after, we parted ways... Mother, you should just ask him yourself next time he comes."

Zhu Hao had to say this to avoid being blamed for driving Mr. Lu away, especially since he hadn't given the man a warm welcome earlier.

Zhu Niang frowned. "You child, really... You went out with the teacher and didn't even check where he lives?"

In truth, Zhu Hao did know where Mr. Lu was staying. He hadn't avoided the conversation when Mr. Lu spoke to Sui Gongyan, and Zhu Hao was no fool; he simply didn't want his mother to keep pursuing the man. Hiring Tang Bohu, who would rely on the charity of friends for the rest of his life, to be his teacher seemed highly unreliable.

"Since this Mr. Lu has ties to the Prince’s instructors, he must be very capable. Uncle Zhong, go and find out his lodging, and prepare a generous gift to send over..."

Zhu Niang placed great importance on Mr. Lu. Zhu Hao suddenly felt that while his mother could be stubborn, her instincts were actually quite sharp. She had picked out a street-wandering drunkard and sensed he had true talent—and she was right; he was the kind of person who would be remembered in history! Her judge of character was excellent.

Aunt Li stepped forward and said, "If he truly doesn't want to teach, Madam, you shouldn't force it. It’s more important to find a proper teacher for Young Master Hao."

Clearly, Aunt Li was less obsessive and more pragmatic, whereas Zhu Niang seemed to be losing sight of priorities.

Zhu Niang said, "It is rare for Mr. Lu to not mind Xiao Hao and to be willing to take him as a student. This is Xiao Hao’s good fortune. If Mr. Lu is truly capable, it will be of great benefit to Xiao Hao’s future in the imperial examinations. As his parents, we cannot fail to be attentive."

Zhu Niang spoke with caution, sounding exactly like a parent worried about their child’s studies.

Zhu Hao said, "Then Mother, you must hurry. I heard Mr. Lu tell his friend from the Prince Xing Residence that he is leaving Anlu in a few days. If he just leaves... does that even count as him being my teacher? Even for a single word?"

Zhu Niang rolled her eyes at her son and stopped bickering with him, hurrying to arrange for Uncle Zhong to find Mr. Lu’s residence. It seemed that even the family’s salt-drying business was no longer as important.

...

Zhu Hao was finally free from the shackles of any mysterious teacher. In the afternoon, he returned to the flower and bird market to set up his stall.

He immediately ran into trouble.

Although there was no formal stall fee in these times, there were always people looking for ways to extort money. He didn't know if they were sent by the market overseer or if they were just local thugs, but they insisted that Zhu Hao pay a fee to set up his stall.

"Selling rabbits is a proper business, and doing business in this market requires paying a 'protection fee.' That’s the rule..."

Seeing the official tone of the man, Zhu Hao frowned. "I’m just a child selling rabbits; do I really have to pay? I haven't even sold one yet."

The man replied, "You’ve occupied the space. Who do you think cleans up after the rabbits? I see you don't have much business, so just pay one *wen*. If I’m on duty tomorrow, you won't have to pay again."

Pay for one day and get two? Quite the businessman, he thought.

Zhu Hao spread his hands. "I haven't made a sale, so I have no money to pay... I’ve never heard of a child going out to do business and his family giving him coins just to pay protection fees... How about this? As soon as I sell a rabbit, I’ll pay you immediately. That should be fine, right?"

"No! If you don't pay, don't come back to sell!"

The local thug was angry, and the consequences were severe. Zhu Hao’s business was about to go under.

Zhu Hao deliberately raised his voice. "My mother is sick, and I rely on these rabbits to earn money for her medicine... How can you be so unreasonable, sir? Wuu wuu... Everyone, please judge this for yourselves!"

Sure enough, people quickly gathered around, pointing and whispering. Manipulating public opinion was exactly what Zhu Hao was good at.

Just then, a childish voice rang out: "I saw you fishing by the river this morning. It’s barely past noon, and your mother is already sick? Don't tell me you’re going to say you were fishing this morning to sell fish for her medicine too? Hmph, not a word of truth in your mouth—you’re a bad egg!"