Chapter Twelve: Turning the Tide

“Amitabha, benefactor, could you spare a bowl of water for this humble monk?” A bald monk stood outside the gate, calling into the courtyard.

“Who is it?” Zhu Yang looked warily toward the entrance, while Liu Yuan and Lü Jin fetched sword and blade from inside, making their way slowly toward the gate.

This small courtyard was one of Zhu Yang’s safe havens for escape, tucked among a cluster of inconspicuous guesthouses, each as unremarkable as the next. Now, a monk had chosen this very courtyard to ask for water, unsettling Zhu Yang.

“You open it!” Zhu Yang motioned for Liu Yuan to go, while Lü Jin melted into the shadows, ready to kill the monk at the slightest sign of trouble.

“Coming!” Liu Yuan walked to the gate and opened it. A bald monk in tattered robes stood motionless at the entrance, looking every bit the disciplined ascetic.

“Benefactor, might you spare a bowl of water for this humble monk?” The monk intoned a Buddhist chant.

“No, none here, move along!” Liu Yuan waved his hand, trying to send the monk away.

“Benefactor, you might as well spare a bowl. Otherwise, your master may blame you in days to come!” The monk said with a cheerful smile. “Also, I mean no harm. The one by the gate, please put down your blade, lest you accumulate needless sin!”

“Who are you really?” Liu Yuan squinted, blocking the monk from entering and questioning sharply.

“I am but a monk.” The monk replied. “Must I speak plainly here? This is the capital, with the Embroidered Guard everywhere. Your master stands at the center of a storm. If more scandal surfaces, it could mean more than just a failed imperial exam—it might be his head!” The monk was utterly unperturbed, relying on his identity.

His name was Wei Tonghe, altar master of the White Lotus Society. He had long operated in Hubei, but due to outstanding performance, was sent to the capital. He mingled with officials under the guise of a monk, using gold or beauties to lure or threaten examinees into joining the sect.

Due to rumors involving Xu Miaojin, Zhu Yang’s fame soared in the capital. Wei Tonghe had investigated Zhu Yang and found him to possess the talent of a top scholar, and to be entangled with the Wei family—a talent destined for greatness.

Wei Tonghe calculated silently, determined to recruit Zhu Yang into the White Lotus Society. If Zhu Yang rose high, the Society could act from within, and all of Ming would become theirs.

“So you’re a fugitive?” Liu Yuan probed.

“Fugitive? Ha ha... only half true...” Wei Tonghe laughed.

“Liu Yuan, let him in!” Zhu Yang stood at the threshold, watching Wei Tonghe and giving the order. He saw through the monk’s ill intentions.

“Master, please come inside.” Zhu Yang smiled. “Liu Yuan, since our master requests water, draw some from the well, but be sure to add plenty of mud and sand. Clean water contains many creatures unseen by us. Since the master is a virtuous monk, he surely cannot bear to kill. So let the water be murky, and fewer creatures will be harmed; the master won’t break his vows!”

Zhu Yang spoke with earnest nonsense.

Wei Tonghe’s mouth twitched. Asking for water was merely an excuse to be invited in. Now he’d entered—shouldn’t he be served fine tea? And what were these ‘creatures’? Why did he know the words but not their meaning?

“All right!” Liu Yuan, knowing his young master was up to mischief, didn’t expose him—instead, he resolved to add extra sand, since the monk had threatened his master earlier.

“Master, take a seat. You don’t know how much I like monks. Just sitting in the temple, beating the wooden fish, chanting incomprehensible sutras, those unlucky souls—er, devotees—arrive of their own accord. And the devotees are strange; they not only bring money, some even offer their bodies. I wonder if Buddha’s body can withstand it. If it were me, I’d collapse if devotees visited daily. Just like you, master—haggard, pale... Eh, are you ill? I know a little medicine—shall I prescribe something for you? Deer whip, donkey whip, I specialize...” Zhu Yang rambled on, discussing seventeen recipes for deer and donkey whips with Wei Tonghe, like a true chatterbox.

You’re sick, your whole family’s sick! Wei Tonghe felt as if five hundred flies were buzzing in his ears.

Finally, when Liu Yuan served a bowl of pure mud, with no water visible, Wei Tonghe could no longer endure.

“Stop, benefactor, I apologize for my earlier rashness!” Wei Tonghe chanted and spoke apologetically.

“Two questions: who are you, what do you want, how did you find this place?” Zhu Yang’s smile vanished, his hand stroking his sword. “Don’t try to be clever; your threats mean nothing to me. If I were afraid, I wouldn’t have come to the capital!”

“Ahem... That’s three questions...” Wei Tonghe tried to correct him but, seeing Zhu Yang about to draw his sword, steadied himself. “I am Wei Tonghe, altar master of the White Lotus Society’s capital division. I followed your servant here, but don’t blame him—I’ve come bearing great fortune for you.”

“An altar master of the White Lotus Society? It seems the Embroidered Guard is failing, not having flayed you alive!” Zhu Yang shot Liu Yuan a look: wait, you’ll be skinned later!

Liu Yuan broke out in cold sweat; he had indeed forgotten to conceal his trail before coming.

Zhu Yang smiled, “The master’s disguise is impressive!”

“Just luck, nothing more!” Wei Tonghe replied modestly, though quite proud.

He’d been in the capital for five or six years, moving among noble families, never detected by the Embroidered Guard.

Outside the courtyard.

Zhu Biao clapped Jiang Huan’s shoulder. “Jiang, Zhu Yang questions your abilities!”

“Ahem... I was indeed careless before!” Jiang Huan admitted, embarrassed. Their agents in the capital were mostly embedded in noble houses, gathering evidence of treason. As for a monk appearing clean on the surface, Jiang Huan hadn’t paid him mind. If not for Zhu Yuanzhang’s recent orders for harsh measures against the White Lotus Society, Wei Tonghe would likely still be hidden in the capital.

“I’m not blaming you, but the White Lotus Society must be dealt with. They’ve even stretched their hand toward the scholars!” Zhu Biao said.

“I will investigate thoroughly upon my return!” Jiang Huan saluted Zhu Biao.

“Good, but keep Wei Tonghe for now!” Zhu Biao instructed. “I want to see how he tries to turn Zhu Yang.”

“Yes!” Jiang Huan nodded. He wasn’t worried about Zhu Yang being swayed; after all, Zhu Yang’s status spoke for itself. Others must rebel to seize the throne—Zhu Yang need only wait for Zhu Biao to die. Why bother with such trouble?

...

“Master, your water!” Zhu Yang pointed to the bowl where water was invisible.

“Uh... I’m not thirsty.” Wei Tonghe refused, embarrassed. Zhu Yang’s servant was indeed literal.

“How could you not be thirsty? You were crying for water at the gate—I thought you were dying of thirst!” Zhu Yang retorted.

“Seeing the benefactor, thirst vanished!” Wei Tonghe forced a smile. “Let’s get to business.”

“Go on, I’m listening.” Zhu Yang no longer pressed the issue.

“If you will join us, I will help you seize the top scholar’s title. We will use all our resources to support you, making you the youngest Minister. With no Grand Chancellor now, the Minister stands above all but one!” Wei Tonghe tempted.

“And what must I give?” Zhu Yang knew well there was no free lunch in this world.

“Talking to a clever man is pleasant!” Wei Tonghe flattered. “Our White Lotus Society has a history with His Majesty, even helped him seize the throne. After he ascended, he misunderstood us, so we hope you, as Minister, will advise His Majesty to restore our legitimacy!”

“Oh? Is it really that simple?” Zhu Yang questioned.

“Of course!” Wei Tonghe nodded, though inwardly thinking: Of course not—we want you to provide court intelligence, act with us from within, overthrow Zhu Yuanzhang, and let our leader become emperor. Then, I’ll be the founding national teacher!

“Why not have the censors advise for you? Why seek me? If I fail the exams, your effort is wasted!” Zhu Yang asked.

“We did ask the censors to petition, but His Majesty’s misunderstanding is deep—he killed them!” Wei Tonghe said mournfully. “Such pity for a loyal censor, dead for the nation!”

“Yes, quite pitiful!” Zhu Yang nodded: Pitiful nonsense—a brainless censor deserved no better.

“So we chose you, young master, for your potential. I learned you single-handedly bested four top scholars; the title is yours!” Wei Tonghe added, “And I will help you win a beauty.”

“A beauty? You mean to tempt me with women?” Zhu Yang questioned, but his expression was: Go ahead, send beauties, don’t pity me—I have a strong constitution.

“Hmm?” Wei Tonghe didn’t grasp Zhu Yang’s expression but understood his excitement, so he said cheerfully, “We will use every means to win Miss Xu’s heart for you, perhaps even have the Wei family marry her to you!”

“Xu Miaojin?” Zhu Yang felt a headache—weren’t they sending beauties? Where are they? Not Xu Miaojin!

If only he’d used another name—Xu Miaoyun, perhaps.

Wait, Xu Miaoyun is Zhu Di’s wife...

Zhu Yang suddenly felt lucky. If he’d used Xu Miaoyun, Zhu Di would have marched his army to kill him before the civil war even began.

Wei Tonghe saw Zhu Yang rubbing his head and assumed he was hiding a smile. “It seems, young master, you can hardly wait!”

He then handed Zhu Yang a token. “Young master, this is the Deputy Altar Master’s token of the White Lotus Society. With it, you may summon any manpower or resources in the capital.”

...