Chapter 2520: Xunfeng Night Banquet

At the foot of Xunfeng Mountain, the cold wave had brought frost that withered the leaves and stripped the branches of evergreen trees. Even Guangzhou Prefecture, blessed with spring-like weather year-round, now wore a mantle of bleakness. Xunfeng was called a mountain, but in truth it rose barely eighty meters above the surrounding land—little more than a hillock by any proper standard.

Shabei Village lay more than ten li northwest of Guangzhou City. The Chen clan had settled here since the Shaoxing era of the Southern Song Dynasty, when their ancestor Chen Kangyan took up an official post in Lingnan.

Within the Buddhist hall of the Chen residence, a white-haired old woman knelt chanting sutras before a Buddha statue. When she finished and made to rise, a young man standing nearby hurried forward to steady her.

Only after the old woman had settled into her seat did her two sons take theirs. The daughters-in-law, grandsons, granddaughters-in-law, and unmarried daughters remained standing in attendance at the sides.

"Mother, our Buddhist hall here is simply furnished, and there are no famous temples or eminent monks near the village. It is also quite inconvenient for you to travel to distant Buddhist assemblies." The speaker was tall, with sharp angular features, a broad mouth, and sparse eyebrows. A long goatee adorned his chin, lending him an air of mature authority. "When Father passed away, I was in the capital taking up my post and failed in my duties as a son. The turmoil in official circles caused you great distress. Thinking on it now fills me with guilt that keeps me awake at night. Now that I have returned home, I wish to give you peaceful days and long life. There are many monasteries on Baiyun Mountain north of the city. I have found a site with excellent fengshui beside Baiyun Temple and wish to build a villa there. Within it, I will construct a nunnery with sculpted statues where you may offer incense and worship Buddha. Each month I will invite virtuous monks to perform rituals—this is how I intend to fulfill my filial duties."

"Zizhuang, your filial heart brings me great joy." The old woman turned the rosary beads between her fingers. "But such a mountain villa would cost a fortune. With the family and country in upheaval and bandits usurping Lingnan, our Chen clan—having received imperial grace for generations—should spend our wealth to relieve the national crisis. To be loyal is to be filial." Though satisfied with her son's devotion, her refusal was firm.

The old woman was born of the Zhu clan of Jiujiang, a place that had borne the title "Confucian Forest Township" since the reign of Emperor Daizong. The Confucian atmosphere there ran deep. Her father, Zhu Rang, had earned his jinshi degree in the thirty-second year of Wanli and served as secretary in the Ministry of Revenue before becoming Prefect of Kuizhou. The Zhu line would later produce Kang Youwei's teacher, the renowned "Master Jiujiang" Zhu Ciqi. Lady Zhu had received Confucian education from childhood—she knew books and rites, and embodied the virtues expected of women under feudal ethics.

Her eldest son was the head of the "Three Loyalists of Lingnan," a man whose name would be honored by later generations: Chen Zizhuang.

Chen Zizhuang, courtesy name Jisheng, pseudonym Qiutao, had placed third in the Imperial Examination of Wanli's thirty-seventh year, earning the distinguished Tanhua title. Throughout his official career he remained upright, once denouncing the Eunuch Party directly before the Tianqi Emperor. Later, Wei Zhongxian seized upon phrases like "a mediocre ruler loses power, a wise ruler grasps power" from policy questions Chen had submitted while presiding over the Hangzhou provincial examination, branding them as slander. Both father and son were stripped of their posts.

When Chongzhen ascended the throne, Chen Zizhuang was reinstated and rose through the ranks—Junior Supervisor of the Household of the Heir Apparent, Academician Reader-in-Waiting of the Hanlin Academy, then Right Vice Minister of Rites. When the position of Minister fell temporarily vacant, he served as acting head of the Ministry.

Now in his forties, Chen Zizhuang had weathered the storms of court politics. He recalled when he passed the examination as Tanhua and rode through the capital in the spring breeze of success—the very fulfillment of a verse he had composed at age seven: "Wait for me to tour the Imperial Garden in another year; finding the opportunity as Tanhua to ask after Chang'e." He had served alongside his father at court, and those early days held happy memories.

But recent years had bred in him a deep sense of powerlessness.

Since the Tianqi era, the Donglin Party and the Eunuch Party had ground against each other relentlessly. In peaceful times, such factional strife might not shake the foundations of the state—but the situation in Liaodong was deteriorating. In the first year of Chongzhen, his fellow townsman and examination classmate Yuan Chonghuan was also restored by the new Emperor, promoted to Minister of War and Right Vice Censor-in-Chief, charged with supervising the army in Jiliao. Chen Zizhuang had organized a grand farewell gathering for him. The poems and paintings of nineteen attendees were compiled into a scroll titled "Picture of Farewell Banquet for Supervising Liao."

The outcome was tragedy. Yuan Chonghuan never achieved the success they had hoped for. Instead, the inscrutable Emperor sentenced him to death by slow slicing. The collector of that commemorative scroll later gouged out the signatures, leaving only the four characters "Fu Gong Ya Zou" that Chen had inscribed.

With strong enemies beyond the borders and rebellions within, what had begun as civil unrest in the northwest during the early Chongzhen years had now become a wildfire sweeping across the land. August of Chongzhen's seventh year marked the darkest period of Chen Zizhuang's life. His mentor, Right Administration Vice Commissioner Lu Menglong, had held fast at Longde City in Guyuan Prefecture, Shaanxi. When the city fell, the peasant army killed him. News of his death shocked the capital. Chongzhen posthumously honored Lu Menglong as Chief Minister of the Court of the Imperial Stud and held a personal memorial ceremony. As Right Vice Minister of Rites, Chen Zizhuang presided over the service while suppressing his grief for his lost mentor and friend.

In the eighth year of Chongzhen, the rebel armies of Gao Yingxiang and Zhang Xianzhong captured the Middle Capital at Fengyang and desecrated the Emperor's ancestral tombs. When Chongzhen learned of this, his anguish was immense. In fury, he had Yang Yipeng, the Censor-in-Chief of Grain Transport who had failed to send relief in time, beheaded in the marketplace. Then the Emperor changed into mourning garments to make offerings at the Imperial Ancestral Temple before secluding himself in Wuying Hall, refusing to emerge.

The ministers dared not speak, yet they felt such a grave matter demanded an imperial address. Thus Chen Zizhuang submitted a memorial: "When even the graves of commoners suffer damage to a single handful of earth or tree, there is none who does not endure the pain in silence." Since the matter concerned the Imperial Ancestral Mausoleum itself, one could not simply bow and rise with the rest of the court—the Emperor should issue a Penitential Edict. Chongzhen adopted this counsel. Chen Zizhuang also proposed twelve suggestions regarding current governance, ten of which the Emperor accepted. This brought him both encouragement and pride.

But fate's gifts always come with hidden prices.

In the first month of that same year, Chongzhen issued a decree: any descendants of the imperial clan who possessed civil or military talents worthy of employment could have their names submitted by the Clan Court. After examination, they might receive official positions. Chongzhen's intent clearly reflected dissatisfaction with the officials currently before him. Yet this measure violated the ancestral rule established by Zhu Yuanzhang himself—that the imperial clan "may only be titled, never given official positions."

Chen Zizhuang pondered the matter repeatedly, deliberated with friends and colleagues, and revised his draft three times before finally submitting a memorial in opposition. This proved his undoing. The Prince of Tang learned of the memorial and impeached Chen Zizhuang before Chongzhen. The Emperor imprisoned him for "acting recklessly and deceiving the sovereign regarding non-ancestral kin matters."

In the Ministry of Justice prison, sixty-six officials were imprisoned alongside him. Besides Chen Zizhuang, twenty-three were minister-level officials, including Chen Qiyu, the Governor-General of Five Provinces' Military Affairs—the man who had mistakenly believed Li Zicheng's feigned surrender at Chexiang Gorge in Shaanxi, allowing the peasant army to revive from certain death. In the end, thanks to the pleas of many colleagues and the Empress Dowager herself, Chen Zizhuang was released, stripped of office, and sent home.

Chen Zizhuang wept bitterly as he kowtowed at Qianmen, bidding farewell to his Emperor. He mounted a donkey, boarded a boat at Lu River to travel south, and composed "Lu River Reflections":

People shouted at the short donkey along the path, Were the willows at the Green Gate willing to be sparse? The crane in the opened cage enjoys riding the carriage, The fish in the dry rut rejoices deeply upon getting water.

Dreams race ahead beyond the heavens to enact a return alive, The unfinished books in the box have not yet been burned. Xing Gong does not wag his tongue lightly, How can I seek you to compose the poem of Suichu?

Yet before he even reached home, word came that the Kun thieves had already occupied Guangzhou City. Had he returned to the capital then, perhaps the Emperor—desperate for capable men—might have appointed him Governor-General of Southern Gan to mobilize troops from several provinces in aid of Xiong Wencan's campaign against the Kun thieves. But anxiety for his mother drove him to spur his horse homeward, reaching Guangzhou before the enemy could seal the passes.

This powerlessness—this sense that worldly affairs refused to bend to his will—left Chen Zizhuang deeply troubled. His desire to build the Cloud Gurgling Villa served a dual purpose: to pray for his mother's longevity, and to exhaust his own frustrated ambitions.

"The shifting of hills and valleys is not my concern; laughter, tears, and indifference follow the human stage." He still remembered clearly the insight that had come to him upon leaving the capital. He too wished to use the ancient Buddha and the blue lamp to settle his turbulent heart.

"Mother's teaching is wise. This son will never disgrace our family's honor. I vow to contend with those Kun thieves to the very end and restore our Great Ming's rivers and mountains." Chen Zizhuang's reply was respectful, but inwardly, he remained deeply conflicted.

"Elder Brother, do you still remember the extraordinary gentleman I mentioned—Mr. Yanye?" The speaker was the young man who had helped Old Lady Zhu to her feet: Chen Zisheng, Chen Zizhuang's younger brother by nineteen years.

"I remember. While I was in the capital, we corresponded. He understands the patterns of history, both ancient and modern, and harbors great strategies for governance. It is only a pity he failed the examinations repeatedly—truly a loss for the Sacred One."

Mr. Yanye was Chen Bangyan, one of the "Three Loyalists of Lingnan," courtesy name Lingbin. During Chen Zizhuang's time in the capital, Chen Zisheng had interacted frequently with Chen Bangyan, Li Suiqiu, and others, forming bonds of unusual closeness.

"A few days ago, Mr. Yanye met with me in secret," Chen Zisheng said. "He wishes to visit you, Elder Brother, to discuss important matters."

"It seems Lingnan is not entirely filled with useless men and those who forget righteousness for wealth." Chen Zizhuang stroked his beard. "Chen Lingbin is loyal to the sovereign, devoted to the country, and well-versed in Confucian studies. Shangyong, Shangyan, and Shangtu—my three sons—can study under him."

At that moment, a gate attendant came to report: "Master, First Master Li, First Master Kuang, and First Master Chen have all arrived. They wait in the front courtyard."

"Good. Invite them to the reception hall in the rear immediately. Have the maids serve our finest tea to the honored guests." Chen Zizhuang's expression grew solemn.

Though Li Suiqiu and Kuang Lu were six or seven years younger than Chen Zizhuang, they had exchanged poems with him for many years and were old friends. Both had attended Yuan Chonghuan's farewell banquet before he departed to supervise Liao. Li Suiqiu even regarded Chen Zizhuang as a mentor, and their friendship ran deep. But for Chen Bangyan, this was his first meeting with Chen Zizhuang.

After taking leave of Old Lady Zhu, the brothers walked quickly to the reception hall. Chen Zisheng approached Chen Bangyan and made the introduction: "Elder Brother, this is Mr. Yanye of Longshan, Shunde. He established a school beneath Jinyan Ridge where he gives lectures. Scholars from far and near come to study with him—hundreds each year. His influence is considerable."

Chen Bangyan cupped his hands in greeting. "Qiaosheng praises me too generously; I merely scrape together a living. I have long heard of Master Qiutao's great reputation, but while you served in the capital, we had no opportunity to meet. It is truly the fortune of three lifetimes that fate brings us together today." He turned to the others. "Meizhou, Zhanruo—I trust you have both been well."

Li Suiqiu and Kuang Lu had known Chen Bangyan for years. After the customary pleasantries, host and guests took their seats in proper order.

Chen Zizhuang understood with perfect clarity that not a single word of today's discussion could reach the ears of the Kun thieves—to be overheard would mean the extermination of his entire family. He dismissed all attendants and sent every maid and servant to the front courtyard.

Chen Zizhuang surveyed the room, steadied himself, and spoke. "Gentlemen, you have not come here today to discuss poetry and the pleasures of refined company. The current situation has rotted beyond repair. How can we restore the Great Ming's rivers and mountains and drive out the great bandits? Though I once stood in the Temple of the Son of Heaven, I am now but a farmer without three heads or six arms. Everyone present is a trusted confidant. Whatever insights you possess, speak freely."

(End of Chapter)