Chapter 18: A Gentleman Befriends, But Does Not Factionalize

Chen Kan forced a smile.

At this moment, he was uncertain whether Zhu Gaozu simply felt nostalgic and intended to recommend him for an official position, or if he was already preparing to make strategic moves in the political game to secure his own succession.

If it were the former, Chen Kan wouldn’t be so anxious.

But if it was the latter, that was truly terrifying.

A struggle for the throne—just the thought of it sent chills down one’s spine.

Throughout the entire history of feudal dynasties, no one involved in such matters ever met a good end.

The phrase “merit of the dragon” sounded honorable, but it meant staking the lives of nine generations on a gamble.

Chen Kan didn’t have such courage.

Moreover, as a time traveler, Chen Kan clearly knew that Zhu Gaozu was not the final victor.

Betting on Zhu Gaozu was a death wish; he had only just escaped with his life.

Thus, he politely declined.

“Your Highness, you jest. I have no intention of entering government service for the time being. Firstly, I am still young; secondly, my studies are far from complete. Affairs of office can wait a few years, until my teacher and I have furthered my learning.”

“Well then, as I have eaten my fill, I shall take my leave. Please, Your Highness, do as you please.”

Having said that, Chen Kan bowed to Zhu Gaozu and turned to leave.

“Stop.”

The voice of Zhu Gaozu rang out, causing Chen Kan to halt.

He turned back and asked, “Your Highness, is there something else?”

“Did I tell you to leave?” Zhu Gaozu retorted.

Chen Kan obediently shook his head. “No.”

Zhu Gaozu frowned. “Are you truly unwilling to take office?”

Chen Kan replied, “It’s not unwillingness, but a plan to delay for a few years. I have already explained this clearly to Your Highness just now. My studies are incomplete, and even if I wished to become an official, my teacher would not consent.”

Zhu Gaozu said nothing further but stared intently at Chen Kan, as if judging the truth of his words.

He remained silent, and Chen Kan dared not leave.

So there they stood—one seated, one standing.

The atmosphere in the elegant chamber fell into profound silence.

“Very well, if that is so, I shall not force you,” Zhu Gaozu finally said after a long pause, waving his hand to signal Chen Kan’s departure.

Chen Kan felt a weight lift from his shoulders and bowed once more to Zhu Gaozu.

Once outside the Júde Tower, Chen Kan quickened his pace toward Datong Street.

No sooner had he stepped through the door than Madam Zheng, his teacher’s wife, approached him.

“Yuan Sheng, your master is waiting for you in the study.”

Chen Kan nodded and lightly knocked on the study door.

“Come in,” came the voice of Fang Xiaoru.

He pushed open the door and entered.

“Master, you wished to see me?”

Fang Xiaoru was bent over a book and, without looking up, asked, “Did you go to meet the Prince of Gaoyang today?”

Chen Kan was surprised—had news of Zhu Gaozu’s visit spread so quickly?

Seemingly reading his thoughts, Fang Xiaoru continued, “What are you thinking? It wasn’t the Prince of Gaoyang who sent the news; it came through my own channels.”

Chen Kan suddenly understood. After all, Fang Xiaoru was a leader of the Ming literati, so it was only natural he had his own sources.

He cupped his hands and replied, “Yes, I was intercepted halfway by His Highness the Prince of Gaoyang. He said he was willing to recommend me for office, but I declined.”

“Hm, you did well to refuse. From now on, avoid dealings with him.”

“Yes, student will heed your advice. Master, is there anything else you wish to instruct?”

“No, you may leave.”

Chen Kan bowed deeply, about to exit.

Suddenly, Fang Xiaoru spoke again.

“By the way, in the great prison, you presented me with a poem. Though I lack your literary talent, I have composed one in return and will give you a few characters.”

With that, he took a sheet of paper from the desk, dipped his brush in ink, and began to write.

Chen Kan stepped closer beside him, watching silently as the brush danced.

In an instant, six large characters leapt onto the paper, flowing like a dragon in flight, graceful as a startled swan:

“A gentleman makes friends without forming factions.”

Fang Xiaoru’s calligraphy was priceless among the literati.

Gazing at those six characters, Chen Kan understood clearly—this was his master’s political direction.

He straightened his clothes, clasped his hands together, and performed a solemn Confucian salute.

“Student Chen Kan humbly thanks Master for your guidance.”

“Go forth,” Fang Xiaoru said, handing him the paper with great expectation.

Chen Kan accepted it respectfully and withdrew from the study.

...

The executions of Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng caused little stir among the common people.

Yet for the Ming bureaucracy, the impact was akin to a great earthquake.

The deaths of Qi and Huang struck a fierce deterrent to the lower-ranking officials who had surrendered to the Prince of Yan, filling them with a profound sense of despair.

But that was a story for later.

Among the old ministers of the Jianwen court, Qi Tai, Huang Zicheng, Lian Zining, Tie Xuan, and Fang Xiaoru were all steadfast resisters of the Prince of Yan.

Fang Xiaoru, compelled by Chen Kan’s moral persuasion, reluctantly bowed to the Prince of Yan, thus escaping death.

Lian Zining, thanks to Fang Xiaoru’s intercession, though unwilling to surrender, was spared execution and merely stripped of office and sent home.

Tie Xuan still held Jinan firmly, though Fang Xiaoru’s letter urging surrender was already en route.

Moreover, Zhu Di had promised Fang Xiaoru that even if Tie Xuan refused to surrender, his life would be spared when Jinan fell.

Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng, however, were not so fortunate.

Fang Xiaoru would not plead for them and harbored resentment that they had not died four years earlier.

The reason was simple: they had long disagreed politically with Fang Xiaoru.

Not only did they differ politically, but they had also, relying on Zhu Yunwen’s trust, issued many policies that appeared reasonable but in fact harmed the nation and its people.

Fang Xiaoru and Lian Zining both recognized the folly of these decrees, yet Zhu Yunwen placed unwavering faith in Qi and Huang, suspecting Fang and Lian of ulterior motives in opposing the policies.

So enraged were Fang and Lian that one requested demotion, while the other withdrew completely from politics.

Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng were loyal ministers, beyond doubt.

Yet they were also incompetent ones who misled the country, equally beyond doubt.

As the saying goes, a scholar’s rebellion fails in ten years, but a scholar’s misgovernance ruins a nation swiftly.

Under Qi and Huang’s devoted counsel, Zhu Yunwen’s reign lasted a mere four years before the realm changed hands.

Had Zhu Yunwen heeded Fang Xiaoru, the war would have ended long ago in his favor.

Had he listened to Lian Zining, victory would have come a little later.

Had he heeded both, victory was certain, sooner or later.

Yet he chose to follow Qi and Huang.

Not only did this cost the emperor his kingdom,

But it also forced Fang Xiaoru to accept Zhu Di’s coercion for the sake of the people, branding him a traitor ever after.

How could Fang Xiaoru not hate this?

Do not assume that great scholars lack petty grudges—Confucius himself once executed Shao Zhengmao.