Chapter Ninety-Eight: Pointing at the Mulberry, Cursing the Locust

Old Dong, though the steward of the Ministry of Personnel’s Vice Minister’s household, showed none of the arrogance of the doorkeeper at the Hanlin Academy. He explained his purpose with great humility: he wished for Yu Lang and his companions to bring Zheng Yuanhe to the Vice Minister’s residence to recuperate and be cared for for a time.

Du Fu, who had already been somewhat concerned about the young man, quickly agreed and was about to set out in search of Zheng Yuanhe when Old Dong stopped him.

“My master’s wish,” Old Dong said, “is that you wait three days before acting. He wants the young master to endure a little more hardship, that he might learn from pain and remember the lesson. His legs are injured; three days hence, he should still be near the Western Market. I must trouble you all to fetch him then.”

Yu Lang sighed with emotion. “Your master is truly a devoted father—both stern and loving, torn between teaching and caring.”

“Is this not the way of all parents?” Old Dong replied with a kindly smile. “Moreover, my master has said, if you accomplish this task, in addition to this small token of gratitude, the Ministry of Personnel’s Vice Minister’s household will owe your esteemed house a favor.”

Yu Lang was momentarily stunned. Suddenly, he envied Zheng Yuanhe for having such a father. He himself had never known the sheltering care of a parent; his own father had left him nothing but a letter and a painting. Once, Liang Chaoran had offered him such meticulous warmth, but before Yu Lang could savor it, Liang was gone forever.

“Rest assured, Old Sir Dong,” Yu Lang promised. “We will care for Yuanhe, and if the time is right, we shall explain to him Lord Zheng’s good intentions.”

Old Dong shook his head. “My master expressly forbade it. Under no circumstances must the young master learn of this. If he knew, he would not only refuse your kindness but might even come to resent you all.”

Yu Lang nodded thoughtfully.

No sooner had Old Dong left than Du Fu opened the brocade box. Lined with red velvet at the bottom, it cradled a pair of exquisitely carved jade horses.

Du Fu caressed them, his face glowing with delight.

“So, Old Du, you’re so fond of jade?” Yu Lang teased.

“No, no,” Du Fu replied. “In my hands are jade horses, but in my heart I see shining silver. These two must be worth at least five hundred taels.”

“They’re worth that much?” Yu Lang exclaimed in amazement. “Then this Vice Minister Zheng is perhaps not such an upright official?”

“Not so,” Du Fu patiently explained. “A true corrupt official is tight-fisted; money is hard to get out of their hands. For a small errand like this, a real bribe-taker wouldn’t part with more than fifty taels. The Zhengs are a renowned and wealthy family in Huainan; entering officialdom is for honor, not for profit. That he dares send such a lavish gift to outsiders, unafraid of censors’ gossip, shows just how substantial his family’s foundation is.”

“If it were Li Linfu…”

They spoke at the door, unaware that a regal old man in fine clothes had been standing nearby, listening for some time.

“Why stop there? If it were Li Linfu, what then?” the old man interjected, unable to restrain his curiosity. “I happened to overhear your conversation and couldn’t help but listen in.”

Du Fu glanced skyward. In Chang’an, speaking ill of Li Linfu was more dangerous than criticizing the Emperor himself. If this old man used their words as leverage, the five hundred taels they had just received would vanish before they’d had a chance to enjoy them. Clearing his throat, Du Fu said, “What I meant was, under our wise Chancellor Li Linfu, the Tang court is clean and upright; such corruption could never arise.”

“Tsk, tsk. How dull,” the old man remarked, disappointed. “I happen to have a longstanding grudge against that old scoundrel. I’ve heard that Du Zimei harbors lofty ambitions to restore ancient virtue—yet you too are soft-hearted, it seems. How disappointing.”

Du Fu was unmoved by his disappointment, but Yu Lang, unwilling for Du Fu’s reputation to be tarnished, retorted, “And do you, old man, dare curse Li Linfu in the street?”

The old man seemed quite taken with Yu Lang. After regarding him a moment, stroking his white goatee, he raised his voice and declared, “Listen well: Li Linfu is a scoundrel and a villain, nepotistic and oppressive, the greatest cancer in our Tang Dynasty. Unless he is removed, the realm will know no peace.”

With that, the old man even twirled about nonchalantly, as if entirely unafraid that any of Li Linfu’s spies might overhear.

“Old sir, are you near the end of your days, that you wish to speak your mind before dying? I admire you,” Yu Lang said, half in pity. Given Li Yu’s notorious vindictiveness, what sort of man could his father be? Yu Lang had seen the Li family’s intelligence network in Yangzhou; he still remembered vividly one of the famed 48 Star Officials, the Wolf of Kui. This old man need only wander into the wrong alley to be hacked to death and fed to the dogs.

But perhaps there was another possibility: perhaps this old man’s own status was such that he need not fear Li Linfu at all. On the court, only the Left Chancellor, Li Shizhi, could still offer any real opposition to Li Linfu. Once a member of Li Linfu’s own faction, Li Shizhi had been recommended by him for the post of Left Chancellor, but gradually grew dismayed by Li Linfu’s actions and shifted allegiance to the Crown Prince, becoming close with the Princess’s brother, Wei Jian.

Yet the age did not match. Li Shizhi should still be in his prime, not so advanced in years.

This old man was in his sixties, his face lean and refined, dressed in finery with a priceless jade pendant at his waist. It was impossible to believe he had no background.

Could he be a prince? The princes, though not as powerful as Li Linfu, were not to be trifled with, for the Emperor cherished his brothers deeply. No matter how Yu Lang racked his brains, he could not guess the old man’s identity.

The old man let Du Fu and Yu Lang speculate to their hearts’ content, his demeanor serene.

“I’ve said aloud what you only dared to think. Will you not invite me in? My old bones can’t stand as long as you young men; a little while and my legs ache and my back grows weary.”

Du Fu immediately ushered him inside, offering him a seat in the main hall and personally brewing tea.

The old man lifted the lid of his cup and sniffed, wrinkling his brow. “Such coarse tea—I haven’t drunk anything like this in decades.” Nonetheless, he pinched his nose and took a sip. “Hm, still the taste of memory. Tell me, why is it that tea leaves of the same variety taste unchanged after decades, and yet men are ever so fickle?”

“I wonder, sir, whom you refer to? Have we met before?”

The old man shook his head. “No, we haven’t. A pity I did not meet young men like you sooner.”

Yu Lang asked, “Then who is this fickle man you speak of?”

“Li Shizhi. Li Linfu thought highly of him, spent much effort to promote him to Left Chancellor, and yet he defected to the Crown Prince’s faction and turned on him. Tell me, is such a two-faced man not contemptible?”

As no one replied, the old man continued, “If Li Linfu is a great villain, does that mean everyone who opposes him is a great loyal minister, and that all who side with him are petty traitors?”

Yu Lang gazed steadily at the old man and asked solemnly, “Who are you, really?”

The old man pinched his nose, sipped the inferior tea, and spat out some dregs. “Why, I am Li Linfu.”