Chapter 154: Fanning the Flames
“This is not appropriate.” Zhao Yingong immediately raised an objection. “The Jesuits are well aware that we are the only ones who have a Chinese version of the Old and New Testaments. Many of the passages quoted in Bo Yang’s article have not even been translated in this time. The Jesuits are not stupid; they will definitely be able to see the connection.”
Zhang Yingchen threw down the cherry stem he was holding and wiped his mouth with a towel. “I’m prepared to use the Studium Biblicum version of the Bible…”
“Does that make a difference? No.” Zhao Yingong shook his head. “No matter what version you use, we are the only ones who have a Chinese version of the Bible at present. So, Bo Yang’s article cannot be used—I definitely disagree.”
Zhang Yingchen thought for a moment. “How about I rewrite it?”
Zhang Yingchen’s idea was to compile materials attacking the church based on the existing Chinese Bible stories. Of course, the effect would not be as good as Bo Yang’s essay.
“It’s a real pity,” he said, wringing his hands in regret. He then asked, “Are the pamphlets I asked you to make ready?”
“They’re ready.” Zhao Yingong untied a string of keys from his waist, unlocked a small cabinet in his study, and took out a tightly wrapped book box, which he handed to Zhang Yingchen. This was a sample of the anti-religious pamphlets printed by the Wanbi Bookstore’s printing press. There were two types in total: one to discredit Catholicism and one to discredit Buddhism, both masterpieces of the Grand Library’s Office of Truth. Zhang Yingchen planned to take advantage of this Hangzhou religious case to distribute them in large quantities locally and ruin the reputation of both religions.
“Take them back and see if there’s anything wrong. Once you’ve decided, bring them back quickly, and I’ll organize people to print them in bulk,” Zhao Yingong instructed.
“Are the printing workers reliable?”
“No problem. They can’t leave Phoenix Mountain Manor by half a step now, and their families have all been sent to Lin’gao,” Zhao Yingong said with a smile. “Unless they’re crazy and don’t want their wives and children to live. As soon as the religious case is over, I’ll send this batch of craftsmen back to Lin’gao for Zhou Dongtian to use and then recruit a new batch.”
Zhang Yingchen quietly left the city and returned to the Qingyun Temple before the city gates closed. He was now very careful every time he entered and left the Wanbi Bookstore to avoid letting people notice his unusual friendship with this Master Zhao.
Mingqing was waiting for him, with tea and food left on the table. He also told him that the master for whom he had “concocted a great medicine” had sent someone to invite him again today.
“What did you say to him?”
“I said that the Daozhang had gone on a journey and I didn’t know when he would be back. I would tell you as soon as you returned.” Mingqing was a very clever boy.
“Hehe, well said.” Zhang Yingchen gently patted the young Daoist boy on the shoulder. This little Daoist boy was quite handsome… He remembered an interesting incident that had happened a few days ago when he was invited to the home of the gentry for whom he had “concocted a great medicine,” and a smile appeared on his lips.
“You go to bed first. I still have some things to do. You don’t need to wait on me here,” the Daozhang said, gently kneading the little Daoist’s tender shoulder.
After Mingqing left, he trimmed the wick of the candlestick the little Daoist had left in the room and lit a second candle—the local wax provided very poor illumination, and it was almost impossible to read and write with just one candle.
Zhang Yingchen ate a few bites of tea and rice, pushed the plate aside, and opened the small locked box by his pillow. Inside was his codebook—the Religious Affairs Office had its own independent codebook. He did not have his own radio and had to rely on the Hangzhou station’s radio to maintain contact with the Religious Affairs Office and the headquarters of the New Daoism, the Yunjiguan.
He wrote a letter to Dai E:
Fellow Daoist Dai,
The book from the Office of Truth has been received and delivered to the intended recipient. It was interesting to see the old monk in his vajra-like fury.
The anti-religious pamphlets have been polished by the Office of Truth—according to Zhang Haogu, they were written by his naturalized citizens there. I think I underestimated the level of these degenerate scholars. With the Old Testament as a basis, the fanfiction they wrote is actually good enough for Sytron. Although it’s still far from being able to match Lanling Xiaoxiao Sheng, it can easily crush the likes of Dengcao Heshan.
Actors were considered a lowly profession by Zhu Yuanzhang, but these lovely performers are indispensable in this academic debate—if “The Four Scholars” didn’t have Song Shixiong, what would be the point of the story? Starting tomorrow, some indecent stories will be spread by word of mouth in this paradise on earth.
On a side note: I really can’t stand the effeminate tastes of those boring scholars. A few days ago, I was actually confessed to by a boy who plays the role of a young female. Hitting on a shota is a crime, and loli is even more of an evil path. Can an effeminate boy be raised into a vigorous youth? I think it’s very difficult. Otherwise, let’s just set a rule in the future that all Daoist students must participate in militia military training, plus drill practice.
…
After finishing the letter, he encoded it using his codebook—a courier from the Hangzhou station would come to collect his telegram the day after tomorrow.
Tomorrow, the storm of the religious case in Hangzhou would blow even harder. Zhang Yingchen went to bed with a satisfied smile.
The Hangzhou religious case, in the old time-space, was just a minor religious dispute. Apart from the Catholics of the Hangzhou church and the Buddhists who confronted them, it did not cause much of a stir in the city. Overall, it did not go beyond the scope of a theological debate between the two sides.
However, this time, the religious case, instigated and brought forward by the Daozhang, was heading in a different direction. The wave it created greatly exceeded the expectations of Huang Zhen and others.
Gao Xuan still went to the Wanbi Bookstore to read this day—as usual, he was reading the “Complete Collection of Ancient and Modern Books.” He had just sat down, taken a sip of hot tea, and was sitting quietly, waiting for his sweat to dry a little, when he suddenly heard a few scholars in the outer room of the Wenxi Hall talking loudly and animatedly. Gao Xuan didn’t pay much attention at first; these few people often argued there, talking about some nonsensical and incomprehensible things. Gao Xuan roughly knew they were all followers of the Yangming school.
But today, the content of their conversation was different from usual. It seemed to be about the Western Cross religion. The Cross religion had a temple in the local area, with a few big-bearded Western monks. Quite a few local gentry and scholars were followers. Gao Xuan had heard a little about it, but he didn’t know much—and didn’t really care.
This time, however, the content he heard was all “colorful”—it could be described as “very yellow and very violent.” He couldn’t help but prick up his ears. He heard people talking about all kinds of obscene acts in the Cross religion. The speaker was full of gusto, and the listeners were engrossed, with some even jeering from time to time.
Gao Xuan had originally wanted to read quietly, but their nonsense had aroused his curiosity. He couldn’t even focus on his book anymore. He couldn’t help but put down his book and walk over to the side room.
The commotion of the discussion in the side room had already attracted most of the Confucian scholars and students in the Wenxi Hall. They all gathered outside to listen to the people inside.
The most enthusiastic speaker in the side room was a man with a large, flat face and a jujube-pit-shaped head. He was tall, with a pair of bright, small eyes, a Fu Manchu mustache, a thin neck, and a large head. His complexion was ruddy. He didn’t look like a peaceful person. Although he wore a tattered robe, he didn’t look like a scholar at all.
Gao Xuan, however, knew this person—his name was Zhuang Haoren. He was originally the son of a local gentry family and had studied a lot in his youth. After his family’s decline, he had been loitering around the city and had become an “idler.” It was said that he had practiced alchemy—he hadn’t succeeded, but he had managed to burn off a patch of his beard. Later, he had worked as an assistant in brothels, teaching the “slender horses” the rules of various musical meters and even drawing erotic pictures for novels in bookstores. Of course, he was also involved in brawls and the like. In short, he was a typical “degenerate scholar.”
Although Zhuang Haoren’s conduct was improper, he was knowledgeable in many miscellaneous subjects, knew some medicine, and had a good understanding of Wang Shouren’s “study of the mind.” When he had free time, he would also engage in grand discussions with people. After the Wanbi Bookstore opened, Zhuang Haoren would occasionally come here to read and chat with people. Zhao Yingong treated all readers equally; as long as he could abide by the rules of the bookstore, he was welcome.
“…Let’s go, let’s go and see this treasure of the Cross religion!” Seeing that the atmosphere was right, Zhuang Haoren raised his arm and, with a whoosh, led the audience away. A few days ago, he had received money from someone to bring some scholars and students to Tianshui Bridge to cause trouble for the church and make a big scene.
Zhuang Haoren had no ill feelings towards the foreign monks, nor did he have any grudges against the Christian gentry and commoners. But since he had taken the money, he had to do the work. In a few moves, he had incited all the scholars in the Wanbi Bookstore—more than half of whom were just there to watch the excitement. Everyone wanted to see who was more skilled, the Zen monks or the Western missionaries.
Gao Xuan couldn’t help but follow the crowd towards Tianshui Bridge.
At Tianshui Bridge, a large crowd had already gathered. Besides the ordinary citizens and idlers, there were many who were dressed as scholars, as well as some monks and Daoists. They were all trying to squeeze their way to the front of the church to see the excitement.
From a distance, Gao Xuan could hear a commotion. From time to time, there were bursts of laughter and shouting. He couldn’t help but quicken his pace and walk towards the source of the sound.
After much squeezing, he finally reached the front and saw a group of Confucian scholars in their square scarves and Daoist robes, along with a few monks, about a dozen people in total, gathered in front of the church, shouting and pointing. On the screen wall of the church were several posters. Gao Xuan tried to get closer to read them carefully and could barely make out the titles: “Initial Discourse on Debating Heaven,” “Second Discourse on Debating Heaven,” and “Discourse on Refuting Falsehoods.”
Gao Xuan had not read these three articles, but under the secret machinations of the Daozhang, these three articles had long been printed as posters and distributed throughout the streets and alleys of the city to build momentum. Although Huang Zhen, Zhang Tian, and others did not know the details, they thought it was a case of “the righteous receiving much help” and became even more spirited. They came to the church entrance every day to challenge them to a debate.
However, the Hangzhou church, just as it had done historically, adopted a strategy of ignoring the outside clamor. No matter how much they shouted and challenged outside, they remained unshaken, as stable as Mount Tai. They simply ignored them. The masses were observed, and the ceremonies were held as usual, as if they were completely oblivious.