Chapter Eighteen: Petition to Jinling (2)

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Liu Nian was restless and irritable when suddenly a servant arrived with news: “Second Young Master, Zhou Chang of Yixing requests an audience!”

Liu Nian’s brows knitted tightly: Zhou Chang? What is that fellow here for? I’ve never bothered with those self-righteous, bookish scholars, and now he comes seeking me out—could it be connected to Kong Sheng?

Though Liu Nian had studied for a few years himself, barely qualifying as a half-scholar, people gather with their own kind; he was, at heart, a bureaucrat’s son, a young rake rarely interacting deeply with the scholars of the city.

He knew Zhou Chang well. Zhou Chang was the direct descendant of the Zhou clan of Yixing, the eldest grandson of the family head, son of the second-generation patriarch, and a likely future heir to the family business. After studying in Jiangning, his reputation had soared, and he was now leader among the city’s young scholars.

The Zhou clan of Yixing, while not a national aristocracy, had deep roots in the south, standing alongside the Shen clan of Wuxing as the two great powers of Jiangdong. With noble birth and scholarly achievement, Zhou Chang’s standing among southern scholars was indisputable.

Yet Zhou Chang’s burgeoning fame had been ruthlessly stifled by Kong Sheng’s sudden rise at the Wangjiang Pavilion poetry gathering. Defeated by Kong Sheng in his greatest strength—poetry—Kong Sheng had stepped over him to ascend, leaving Zhou Chang with a bitter resentment he could not dispel.

Until this hatred is avenged, I refuse to be a man! After his humiliating departure from Wangjiang Pavilion, Zhou Chang had stood alone by the river, vowing in his heart.

In truth, Zhou Chang’s hatred for Kong Sheng surpassed Liu Nian’s by far.

Liu Nian had merely been beaten by Kong Sheng, losing his reputation as the top rake of the city, and found revenge his greatest delight; but in Zhou Chang’s eyes, Kong Sheng had stolen the title of foremost scholar, the prospect of marrying a Yang family beauty, and an easy path to official advancement—so much so that it rivaled the grief of losing a father or a wife.

Otherwise, he would never have come to Liu’s residence, nor deigned to associate with someone like Liu Nian.

Liu Nian pondered for a moment, then waved his hand: “Let him in. Meng Chao, you all may leave for now.”

Meng Chao and the others, somewhat dispirited, bowed and departed. Liu Nian, wanting to display the decorum of a bureaucrat’s son, deliberately straightened his posture, waiting in the hall to greet Zhou Chang.

“Zhou Chang pays his respects to Young Master Liu!” Zhou Chang called out from afar, bowing formally.

“Brother Zhou, your esteemed visit brings light to my humble home! Please come in!” Liu Nian laughed heartily, returning the bow and stepping aside to welcome his guest.

Thus, two men who would ordinarily never cross paths—a notorious young rake and a leading scholar—each harboring their own secrets and designs, exchanged polite, insincere pleasantries as they entered Liu’s hall together.

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No one knew what schemes they plotted in private, but an hour later, all at Liu’s residence saw Liu Nian, entirely out of character, warmly escort Zhou Chang to the door. The two bid each other farewell with bows, and as Liu Nian returned inside, loud, unrestrained laughter echoed through the halls, sending chills through the servants and maids. None could guess what mischief their young master was planning now.

...

Three days later, Master Sima Chengzhen and his disciple were set to leave Jiangning for Guanluo. For Kong Sheng, this was his last chance to seek guidance from Sima Chengzhen face to face, and he seized every moment, wasting none.

Sima Chengzhen was deeply gratified by Kong Sheng’s keen insight and diligence. Having lived over a century, weathered countless storms, and met innumerable people, he trusted his own judgment. Taking Kong Sheng as a lay disciple on a whim during his visit to Jiangning might well have sown a seed for the benefit of the realm and its people. Whether that seed would sprout and flourish depended on fate; there was no need to force it.

Morning.

Outside the city gates, by the main road.

“Kong Sheng, I depart Jiangning today. I have taught you the way of harnessing energy and the art of sword-dance. With diligence, you will surely master them. We part here. Whether we meet again depends on fate.” Sima Chengzhen smiled serenely and waved: “The world is plunged into chaos, times are hard, destiny moves like chess pieces—take good care of yourself.”

Kong Sheng was silent for a moment, then knelt in deep reverence.

No matter what, Sima Chengzhen was a pivotal figure in his life, gifting him the flute-sword, imparting peerless skills, and asking nothing in return. Such profound grace and virtue deserved the highest respect.

A Tai quickly helped Kong Sheng up, lowering his voice and whispering in his ear: “Brother, today we part and who knows when we will meet again. Take care of yourself. If ever... you may come to Jade Sky Peak at Tiantai; the abbot will surely protect you.”

A Tai’s words were sincere. His meaning was clear: if Kong Sheng should ever fall on hard times, with nowhere else to turn, he could seek refuge at Tiantai. If he could not achieve greatness, at least he could preserve his life in troubled times. In A Tai’s view, living quietly in the mountains, practicing the Dao and martial arts, was another kind of peaceful existence.

Though A Tai spoke softly, Sima Chengzhen’s keen hearing caught every word. He feigned ignorance, but inwardly sighed with sorrow: Kong Sheng, I am over a hundred years old, my days are numbered. Even if I wished to shelter you, it is beyond my power.

Kong Sheng cast a grateful glance at A Tai.

Then, he took a document from his robe, respectfully offering it: “I dare to present a memorial, and beg my master to deliver it to Guo Fenyang, who may in turn submit it to the throne.”

Sima Chengzhen was surprised but accepted it, opening to read. His expression turned grave: “A petition to move the capital to Jinling?”

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Sima Chengzhen read carefully, and when he finished Kong Sheng’s lengthy memorial, he could not help but smile wryly and shake his head: “Kong Sheng, your ideas are bold—startling, even. The memorial is eloquent, your concern for the nation evident, yet the proposal to move the capital to Jinling is far too fanciful, unrealistic. In my view, if this is submitted, the court and the emperor will surely treat it as a jest.”

Kong Sheng drew a deep breath and spoke resolutely: “Master, the rebels have not yet been subdued; why should the court not relocate to the south to gather strength, awaiting the chance for a resurgence? In time, the Tang dynasty will surely reclaim its glory!”

“The rise and fall of the land is the duty of every man; the fate of the state is the concern of those in power. Whether my memorial succeeds or fails, it is my contribution for the Tang realm.”

This memorial was adapted by Kong Sheng from Li Bai’s “Memorial Requesting the Capital be Moved to Jinling,” written more than a year later. After much deliberation, he decided to submit it early, in his own name, via Sima Chengzhen, urging the Emperor Suzong to temporarily move the capital to Jinling, to command the realm from the relatively unscathed south.

Kong Sheng knew well that such a notion was too idealistic and somewhat grandiose, unlikely to gain approval, with virtually no chance the court would consent to moving the capital. He was fully aware, but did it deliberately, as a stepping stone for his own advancement.

Through this memorial, he sought to leave a lasting impression on Guo Ziyi and other eminent statesmen, on the new Emperor Suzong, and on the world, preparing the ground for his eventual escape from his southern predicament and rise to prominence.

“A fine sentiment—‘the rise and fall of the land is the duty of every man; the fate of the state is the concern of those in power.’” Sima Chengzhen’s eyes brightened, gazing deeply at Kong Sheng and nodding: “Kong Sheng, for these words alone, I will submit your memorial myself. But do not hope too much; moving the capital to the south is a weighty matter, far from simple.”

“This is the last thing I can do for you. Take care of yourself!” Sima Chengzhen glanced at Kong Sheng, half-smiling, then departed like a breeze.

A Tai patted Kong Sheng’s shoulder and hurried after him.

Kong Sheng’s face flushed. He bowed deeply toward the direction his master and brother had gone. He knew Sima Chengzhen had surely discerned his true intent; his parting words were both a promise and a warning. Opportunism is not the proper path—used once, it is harmless, but repeated, it diminishes one’s character.

He slowly straightened, squared his shoulders, and gazed up at the blazing sun.

He had done all he could; now, he must hone himself further, quietly gather strength, and await opportunity. He believed that day would not be far off.