The Wind Was Rising?

Two days later.

At the main gate of the Prince of Nankang's Residence, Chen Cuo's Mother stepped down from an ox cart, her face weary.

She had returned from worshipping at Chongfu Temple with an old friend, taking the opportunity to gather quite a bit of news. She walked silently into the rear courtyard. Everything was as it should be, but her expression was grave.

As soon as Chen's mother sat down, she summoned Chen He and asked how Zhou Youzi was being attended to, what he needed, what he had been doing, and whom he had met.

Chen He replied, "The gentleman keeps to himself and sees no visitors. He eats very little and rarely touches the chicken, fish, meat, or eggs we send him, though he has eaten plenty of fruit."

Chen Cuo's Mother nodded. "Send more fruit each day, but don't cut back on his meals. If the gentleman doesn't touch them, bring them back. We must not neglect him."

"Yes, madam!"

Chen Cuo's Mother rubbed her forehead. "And how is that troublesome second son of mine? He slighted our honored guest, and I couldn't punish him because of what the gentleman said. But once he got back, he still dared to run his mouth, implying I was playing favorites. He has no sense of what matters. If word gets out, what will people think of our household?"

"These past two days, I hear the young lord has been writing articles," Chen He replied. "He's had people from the residence distribute them and invited several friends over to give them copies."

"That wretched son still has delusions of competing with his elder brother! He has no idea how much danger lies beneath our family's splendor. Once the gentleman leaves, I'll punish him severely!" Anger flashed across Chen Cuo's Mother's face. "And those friends of his are no better. Why do they pay him any attention? Because of his elder brother! They show him respect to his face, then laugh at him and gossip behind his back. Yet he goes looking for more humiliation by writing articles. Does he really think he can build a reputation? Does he fancy himself Lu You? He doesn't know his place!"

She shook her head, unwilling to say more about her second son. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him do anything foolish. Report to me at once if anything happens."

"Yes, madam!"

"Go and bring Zhang Ju here."

Before long, Zhang Ju was waiting respectfully outside, addressing her as Aunt.

"Come in." Chen's mother beckoned him inside and had him sit. Her expression softened. "My Second Son is no help. When trouble comes, you're the only one I can discuss it with."

Zhang Ju rose and bowed with clasped hands. "Just tell me what you need, Aunt." He added, "The young lord is still young. Now that he has a title, he'll be out in the world more often. He'll mature in time."

"Never mind him." Chen Cuo's Mother waved a hand and lowered her voice. "What matters is my eldest son. He commands the military forces of nineteen provinces and is His Majesty's trusted man. He should be making great achievements and easing the burden on the state. But alas..."

Her voice trailed off into a sigh.

Zhang Ju immediately asked what had happened.

"Treacherous villains are making trouble for him at every turn." Chen Cuo's Mother gritted her teeth, then looked worried again. "I was speaking with a few close friends and heard that someone at court is spreading slander, saying my son has been plundering at will in the south and terrorizing the people. His Majesty may intend to dismiss him. If that happens, it will be a disaster for our family. Alas!"

Zhang Ju was startled. "Is it true?"

"That is what I need you to find out, my dear nephew, so our family can respond. Whether we must spend money to smooth things over or ask someone to speak on his behalf, we need to know first." Chen Cuo's Mother looked at him expectantly. "My second son is useless. I can only count on you."

"Rest assured, Aunt. I'll do everything I can!"

After making his assurances, Zhang Ju hurried away under Chen Cuo's Mother's expectant gaze.

But once he left the residence, he sighed.

The news about the Prince of Nankang did not surprise him. Zhang Ju knew his cousin rather well.

Whatever happens, our branch of the Zhang Family can hardly rise again without outside support. We can't abandon our connection to Nankang. The imperial clan has few descendants; even Gaozu left no surviving line. The Nankang branch may rise and fall, but it will surely recover. I must not turn away from them. It seems I'll have to make the trip after all.

The Wu Commandery Zhang Family was one of Jiangdong's great houses, prominent since the Han Dynasty. But through Eastern Wu, the Two Jin Dynasties, and successive Southern Dynasty eras, it had shown signs of decline. Chen Baxian's rise from humble origins had only strengthened the influence of families without pedigrees, placing the Zhang Family in an even more precarious position. Its descendants, whatever their standing, were all searching for a way to restore its fortunes. Drawing close to the imperial family was one obvious choice, and Zhang Ju took the matter seriously.

I'll go to Fortune’s Arrival Tower first. Jiang Yi should be there today. I can ask around while I'm at it.

His mind made up, he gave the order and headed straight for Fortune’s Arrival Tower.

Jiang Yi was a good friend of his, and they had once worked together at the Directorate of Historiography. But Jiang Yi had the advantage of a powerful father: Jiang Zong, now Assistant Director of the Secretariat, oversaw the Chamberlain's Office and wielded considerable authority. The Jiang family's younger generation had prospered along with him. Jiang Yi was already an Attendant to the Crown Prince, with a bright future ahead.

Intent on reviving the Zhang Family, Zhang Ju had gone out of his way to cultivate Jiang Yi's friendship. Now he hoped to learn something from him.

The streets grew busier as he went. At last he reached Fortune's Arrival Tower and strode inside, where a storyteller's voice met him at the door—

"A scholar surnamed Wang from Taiyuan set out early one morning and met a young woman..."

Hm? I haven't heard this one before...

Zhang Ju could tell it was a new story. On another day, he might have stopped to listen, but he had other things on his mind. He went straight to the second floor. Around the stairwell, he spotted Jiang Yi in a tall cap and broad sash, drinking with several others. Someone was holding forth, drawing bursts of laughter.

Zhang Ju recognized the men at Jiang Yi's table as writers from Jiankang City.

Jiang Yi spotted him and waved. "Pengcheng, perfect timing. Come have a drink with us."

Zhang Ju put on a smile, walked over, and took a seat. The conversation flowed pleasantly.

After a while, he tried to raise the matter that had brought him there. But with the others present, he could not speak too plainly. He tested the waters several times, and Jiang Yi refused to take the bait.

At last Jiang Yi said bluntly, "If you have something to say, say it. I have nothing to hide, and everyone here is a gentleman. There's no need to hold back. If you won't ask now, I won't answer you in private either."

Left with no choice, Zhang Ju asked tactfully about the Prince of Nankang's situation, though he did not dare repeat everything Chen Cuo's Mother had told him.

Even so, Jiang Yi frowned. "We're men of letters discussing literature. Bringing court affairs to this table spoils the mood. I don't know anything, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you!" With that, he flicked his sleeve, making it plain that Zhang Ju should leave.

Embarrassment crossed Zhang Ju's face. At the sight of the other writers' mocking expressions, his ears burned. He bowed and took his leave.

As soon as he was gone, one of the men said, "He only pretends to appreciate literature. He must have befriended you for your family's influence, Brother Jiang."

Jiang Yi neither agreed nor disagreed. He merely raised his cup.

Getting no response, the man gave an awkward smile and took a sip. Then his eyes shifted, and he said, "Come to think of it, pretending to be cultured runs in the Zhang family. There's something going around now—perhaps you've heard? It concerns the Prince of Nankang's Lineage, whom Zhang Ju was asking about..."

Before he could finish, the man beside him warned, "The Prince of Nankang is a member of the imperial clan. He holds great power and has His Majesty's trust. Mind what you say!"

"I wouldn't dare discuss the prince," the man said quickly. "I meant his younger brother."

"You mean the Marquis of Linru County?" Jiang Yi finally showed some interest. "What could there be to say about him? Let's talk about Lu You's new work instead."

But the man smiled. "An article by the young lord has been making the rounds in Teahouses these past two days."

Now Jiang Yi was interested. "Brother Zheng, you've always enjoyed judging the works that circulate in Teahouses, and you have a keen eye for them. You picked out several pieces for us before, and we found them memorable. Have you found another worth discussing today? Let's hear it."

"You're too kind." Zheng waved a hand, then bowed. "I merely offer a starting point for discussion. Who would dare claim a keen eye in front of you, Brother Jiang? Besides, I haven't read the young lord's new article. I've only heard a few of his earlier poems."

"How were they?" the others asked.

Zheng shook his head. "Nothing remarkable."

The others were disappointed.

"You were expecting something? I brought up his article only because the young lord is another man pretending to be cultured." Zheng laughed. "Ever since the talented Lu You's Green Studio stories, tales of the strange have been all the rage in Jiankang City. Now everyone wants to write one or two, unaware they're only making fools of themselves. Brother Jiang, you ought to be wary of such people."

Jiang Yi simply drank.

Zheng's expression remained unchanged. "Enough of trivial matters. Let's talk about writing. Since we've mentioned Lu You's tales of the strange, allow me to offer a few thoughts."

The others leaned in and urged him on.

"Many people in the city are writing, but most are unremarkable. Only three have produced work with true elegance and vision."

"Which three?"

Jiang Yi answered first. "Lu You, of course. No one else can compare with him."

"Indeed, Lord Lu," Zheng nodded. "Young Master Lu You is immensely talented. His writing captures both form and spirit, often conveying profound meaning in just a few words. His style is so deft that even the small things he sees in everyday life become absorbing in his hands. The storytellers and singers in the Teahouses love telling his stories of ordinary life. They sound light, yet they draw listeners in."

Jiang Yi nodded. "Quite right. He's still writing Green Studio—or rather, that isn't quite right. Lu You writes pieces whenever the mood takes him, and his young attendant collects them. That's why the collection keeps growing."

Someone asked, "And the second?"

Zheng glanced at Jiang Yi and smiled without speaking.

The others understood and laughed.

Only then did Zheng say, "Brother Jiang's collected works must not be overlooked. Not long ago, he used a trip home to visit his family as inspiration for a series of short pieces. Each is a delight, full of life. The ones that use visits to worship the Buddha to explore deeper truths, and objects as metaphors for people, are especially wonderful and meaningful!"

Jiang Yi took a drink, smiling without protest.

"And the third?" someone asked.

Again, Jiang Yi answered first. "The one in the palace, of course. But we had better say no more." Then he turned toward two people at a table in the adjoining alcove. "You two have been listening for some time. Any thoughts? Why not join us and discuss it together?"

Everyone at his table stopped and followed his gaze.

Two men sat at the next table, both in Daoist robes. One was a young man of about twenty; the other still looked like a boy.

The two raised their cups with smiles but did not answer.

Jiang Yi did not press them. He shook his head, turned back, and resumed talking with the others. They discussed several works popular in Jiankang, including Lu You's The Tree Planter, Fish Raising, which had come from the palace, and Before the Buddha, the work by Jiang Yi they had just mentioned.

Just then, cheers erupted from the hall downstairs and continued for some time.

Puzzled, Jiang Yi called someone over to ask what had happened.

"Sir, the establishment has a new story called The Painted Skin."

Jiang Yi narrowed his eyes. "Judging by the reaction downstairs, it must be good. Let's go listen." He was about to rise with the others when a servant in blue came over and whispered a few words in his ear.

Regret crossed Jiang Yi's face. He clasped his hands toward the others. "Something has come up at home. I must leave first. I'll have to hear the new story another day."

The others assured him it was no trouble.

Jiang Yi nodded and set off. At the top of the stairs, he glanced toward the neighboring table and paused.

The two Daoists had vanished without his noticing.

They had an impressive bearing. I'd hoped to make their acquaintance, but it seems it wasn't to be. Jiang Yi was not troubled by it. He walked downstairs at an unhurried pace, just as the listeners were dispersing.

Meanwhile, Zhang Ju had learned nothing from Jiang Yi and was returning home dejected. He did not sit idle, however. On the way, he sent invitations to three close friends, asking them to come to his house.

Those three friends were remarkably well informed. They often spent time in teahouses and taverns and occasionally joined gatherings of writers. Zhang Ju hoped they might know something.