Chapter 878 - Provocation

Huang Zhen lay supine in bed, staring vacantly at a long-legged spider in the corner of the bed curtains, weaving a half-finished web. The Shunhe Old Inn was a reasonably respectable establishment; each day the innkeeper dispatched a young servant to tidy the room, and this spider's web had been torn down several times. Yet nothing deterred the creature from stubbornly squatting in what it evidently considered prime real estate.

"'Surface attacks on Buddhism while deceiving Confucianism; hidden attacks on Confucianism while exalting oneself.' The stubbornness of their heresy and poisonous fallacy exceeds even this insect..." Mumbling a favorite passage from his essay Unbearable Not to Speak, Huang Zhen couldn't resist raising his hand to brush away the half-woven web. "To cleanse the world, must one not begin with a single room?"

Unfortunately, the moment he lifted his arm, a wave of dizziness swept through him. The dull ache in his abdomen intensified, forcing his arm back down. The exertion left him drained, and he could only watch helplessly as the detestable spider continued spinning its web before his eyes.

World-Honored One, Shakyamuni Buddha above, your lay disciple Huang Tianxiang bows in reverence from the south. This disciple journeyed north yet has failed in his sacred duty to reject the demon Ricci. Is he now to die a stranger in this foreign land?

Huang Zhen's premature arrival in Hangzhou was indeed due to the butterfly effect, just as Zhang Yingchen had surmised. Qiwei Depot had recently launched overland passenger and freight services connecting Guangdong, Fujian, and Zhejiang. Though Qiwei hadn't invested in road construction and still relied on existing routes, its transportation organization far surpassed anything else in this time-space. Journeys previously deemed perilous had become acceptably routine.

It was precisely this improvement that inspired Huang Zhen, distant in Zhangzhou, to travel to Hangzhou ahead of schedule and debate the missionaries. Like many of his contemporaries, Huang Zhen would never have left his hometown without compelling necessity, let alone crossed mountains to reach Zhejiang.

Gazing at the spider going about its business, the torment of illness left Scholar Huang silently praying, entirely oblivious to the footsteps approaching his door.

"Sir, mind your step. Allow this humble one to carry the medicine chest." Zhao Tong of Qiwei Escort Bureau led the way. This Mr. Zhang was a wandering Quanzhen Daoist currently residing at Qingyun Temple outside Yongjin Gate. Though a Daoist, his medical skills were superb, and he had earned a reputation for compassionately aiding the poor. Most importantly, he lacked the unsavory habit of those sitting doctors who held patients hostage for fees. Moreover, this Mr. Zhang was highly favored by Master Zhao, an important client of the bureau. Zhao Tong knew that his own shopkeeper treated Master Zhao with extreme respect—and consequently extended the same courtesy to this Daoist.

"No need. Cultivating the body is also cultivating the mind." Zhang Yingchen spoke pleasantly. They had walked nearly half an hour from Qingyun Temple—he had declined the sedan chair Zhao Tong brought, insisting on traveling by foot. For a new religion, projecting an image of pure heart, few desires, and simple living helped establish the preacher's reputation.

Zhang Yingchen, half a head taller than Zhao Tong, carried his medicine chest while sizing up the young man the Qiwei Escort Bureau had assigned to accompany him. Though Qiwei's compensation was unique in this time-space, the lean-as-a-bamboo-pole Zhao Tong wasn't his preferred type. And whether this young man practiced Sha family style or Shaolin style remained unclear, but he walked with ten toes visibly gripping the ground—a habit that inevitably disrupted the body's natural harmony, which was rather unlovely.

Clicking his tongue softly, Zhang Yingchen banished his observations about the young escort to the back of his mind. This house call to Shunhe Old Inn was an exception. To elevate his status and avoid being equated with itinerant "bell-ringing doctors," he generally refused house calls, even though he charged no fees. When wealthy gentry families requested his services, they had to send at least a formal invitation card before he would deign to attend.

This exception was made entirely because Scholar Huang was a crucial element of his plan.

Lay Buddhist Tianxiang—Huang Zhen—initiator of the great debate between Confucian-Buddhist scholars and Christianity in the Two Zhejiang region during the eighth year of Chongzhen. According to old time-space records, he shouldn't have arrived in Hangzhou until 1635. Yet the development of Qiwei Depot had enabled Huang Zhen, far away in Fujian, to travel north to Zhejiang years early. The Transmigration Group's subtle influence on this time-space had reached a point where historical records from the old timeline were beginning to show significant deviations.

According to materials from the Grand Library, this Huang Zhen was a quintessential late Ming scholar who had sought refuge in Chan Buddhism. Beyond the self-appointed guardianship of orthodoxy typical of scholars in this era, he was also a fanatical Buddhist. In his open Chan letter Unbearable Not to Speak, besides hostility toward Matteo Ricci, Western learning, and the Jesuits, Daoism was equally among those he found objectionable. In this regard, he and Catholicism actually shared common ground. Zhang Yingchen calculated that he would need to find ways to gradually eliminate such people later.

But for now, he still needed to use him. As long as this fuse fulfilled its purpose as a fuse, that sufficed. While formulating the details of his next move, Zhang Yingchen followed Zhao Tong into the inn.

The innkeeper and staff of Shunhe Old Inn had been waiting anxiously. A guest falling ill was the last thing any innkeeper wanted. Travelers falling ill for months, exhausting their funds, and becoming stranded in inns was not uncommon in this era—a considerable burden for established, reputable establishments. For the sake of reputation, they couldn't simply eject the ailing; inevitably, they would lose money. If a guest died on the premises, there would be expenses and complications involving officials, inquests, and burial. So as soon as Huang Zhen fell ill, the innkeeper immediately sent for doctors and medicine. When the illness showed no improvement, and word reached him of a Daoist at Qingyun Temple with brilliant medical skills, he hurried to dispatch someone with an invitation.

"The gentleman's ailment arises merely from dampness trapping the spleen and stomach. Away from home, consuming coarse fare, combined with not being acclimated to the local water and soil—some discomfort is inevitable. This illness isn't severe. This poor Daoist will prescribe a remedy. Follow the prescription, rest for two days, and you'll be able to leave your bed. For quicker recovery, adding a dose of Huo Xiang Zheng Qi San will suffice."

Zhang Yingchen checked his pulse and observed his complexion, quickly grasping the situation. Holding a quill pen, he wrote the prescription while offering medical advice to Huang Zhen lying in bed.

"But the prescription Jin'an Hall wrote previously was Banxia Houpo Tang." Scholars of this era often enjoyed discussing medicine; the era when Confucian medicine replaced Daoist medicine had become established trend. Huang Zhen had read some medical texts and could hold his own in conversation. Though in Zhang Yingchen's eyes, this Huang Tianxiang was a standard amateur, he still couldn't resist showing off before this professional.

Huang Zhen's gaze landed on the quill pen in his hand. "That pen is rare, Daoist Master!"

"This is a pen used by people of the Far West. It is convenient to carry. This poor Daoist is one who wanders the four directions; carrying it offers certain advantages." Zhang Yingchen steered the conversation back:

"Banxia Houpo Tang can soothe liver qi—a decent formula. But in this poor Daoist's view, the gentleman's liver qi stagnation has not developed overnight. Since the illness stems from the seven emotions, it should be addressed through the seven emotions. Banxia Houpo Tang can address the surface but cannot address the root." Zhang Yingchen continued writing while replying to this evidently stubborn Fujian pedant. "I hear there is a Great Monk Yuanwu at Tiantong Temple in Ningbo whose Chan methods are profound. Once the gentleman recovers, a visit to this venerable Chan master might prove beneficial. Through the give-and-take of Chan wit, casting off all worldly cares—even without this poor Daoist's medicine, this illness would be seventy or eighty percent resolved."

"Tiantong Temple?" Huang Zhen shook his head gently. He had fallen ill immediately upon arriving in Hangzhou. Tiantong Temple lay far away in Ningbo. Though Monk Yuanwu was indeed among those he intended to visit on this journey, petitioning him to lead the rejection of the "Ricci Demon" might not meet with easy acceptance.

"That Great Monk of Tiantong Temple commands enormous prestige. Even here in Hangzhou city, many scholars and gentry follow and rely upon him." As though unaware of the patient's silence, Zhang Yingchen spoke casually while writing the prescription. "There happens to be a philanthropist in Hangzhou who shares this poor Daoist's clan name. Due to ancestors' military merit, he inherited a Hundred Households position. This Philanthropist Zhang once took the Bodhisattva precepts under Grand Master Lianchi as a disciple, receiving the generation name 'Guang.' Now that Master Lianchi has entered nirvana, he often associates with Chan Master Yuanwu of Tiantong Temple. If the gentleman wishes to visit the Chan master, seeking this Hundred Households Master's assistance might prove helpful."

Picking up the prescription and blowing gently on the ink, Zhang Yingchen's gaze swept across Huang Zhen's face. The wedge had been driven into this Fujian scholar's mind. The drama was about to begin.

When Zhang Guangtian returned from Jingci Temple, a residue of indignation lingered in his heart. This was hardly surprising; when Monk Guangdi, the supervisor of Jingci Temple, saw him out, they happened to encounter Scholar Fan from Fengshan Gate overseeing the burning of wood with several servants.

Not ordinary wood, but gilded and painted statues of gods. Several burly laborers had hauled an entire cartload—Bodhisattvas, Arhats, Wenchang, the God of Wealth—all chopped into kindling without discrimination. Using scrolls depicting Buddhist and Daoist figures as tinder, they were conducting a cremation ceremony. Only a celadon Guanyin of exquisite craftsmanship was spared. Monk Guangdi couldn't bear to watch and spent a string of cash to redeem it from the Fan family servant's hands, saving it from destruction.

"What is the meaning of this?" Zhang Guangtian frowned. He felt no particular sanctity toward religious statues—Chan Buddhism had never placed much emphasis on worshiping Buddhas and burning incense; many Chan temples didn't even install Buddha statues. But as a Buddhist believer, witnessing someone burn statues of Bodhisattvas and Buddhas was still rather distasteful.

"Does Senior Brother not know?" Guangdi knew this Hundred Households Zhang had also taken the Bodhisattva precepts under Chan Master Yunqi. They were disciples of the same generation. Though Zhang was ten years his junior, addressing him as "Senior Brother" was appropriate.

The stout supervisor monk held the porcelain Bodhisattva and gave a dry laugh. "This Scholar Fan conversed several times with those Western priests last year and borrowed a few books to copy and study. Just like Master Yang Qiyuan before him, he converted. Once he converted, it became no small affair: now the entire Fan household venerates that Far Western teaching. They say the Far Western teaching establishes no idols, so the old mistress of his house sent word to dispose of all these 'heaven-deceiving wood and stone dolls.'"