Entering through the gate, Yun Ye helped the old man down from the ox cart. Four strong women carried a sedan chair and lifted the old man up, entering the inner courtyard. The Yun family didn’t have such a thing—Xinyue had borrowed it from the Zhangsun family yesterday. They carried it very smoothly. The old man also seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. The colorfully dressed strong women moved along as if flowing clouds and water, with a rhythmic aesthetic beauty.
Grandmother stood at the second gate entrance and bowed from afar. The Yun family’s female relatives also prostrated themselves on the ground, respectfully welcoming the old man’s arrival. The old man bent forward on the sedan chair and, looking at Grandmother Yun whose hair had already turned white, said: “Zhao Shi, after the Yun family suffered great catastrophe, you raised orphaned daughters, endured hardships, made offerings to the ancestors without ceasing for a single day. Even more commendably, you performed one good deed daily. Now you devote yourself to cultivating the Dao, maintaining womanly virtue with care—your moral conduct is beyond reproach. In the Yun clan’s revival, you deserve the highest merit. You should have a place among the spirit tablets in the Yun ancestral hall.”
The old man’s words could be considered an extremely fair evaluation of Grandmother’s entire life. This evaluation was very important, even surpassing the imperial family’s assessment of Grandmother. If the imperial family’s words still carried some utilitarian factors, Yan Zhitui’s evaluation of Grandmother Yun represented the scholarly community’s fair recognition of her past hardships.
This required kowtowing. Yun Ye had to express deep gratitude with full ceremony. How many families wanted a single evaluation from Yan Zhitui? They couldn’t obtain it even offering ten thousand gold. The Yun family was fortunate to receive it. This could be written into the epitaph, and even historians would record it in the annals, because eighty percent of the Great Tang’s history was completed by his family’s brushwork.
After expressing thanks, the old man no longer sat in the sedan chair—that thing was merely ceremonial. Xinyue and Na Rimu quickly brought the two children over for the old man to see. The old man opened the swaddling and dotted Yun Baobao’s belly with a brush. Delighted Xinyue knelt and expressed endless thanks. Opening Haidai’s swaddling, seeing it was a girl, the old man paused, but immediately smiled. Setting down the brush, he reached out to take a bit of rouge from Na Rimu’s lips and dotted it on the child’s brow. Haidai, tickled, smacked her lips and continued sleeping. Huan Niang, trembling with excitement, dragged Na Rimu along as they kowtowed in gratitude with choked voices. Everyone present was happy for the mother and daughter pair—only Na Rimu was confused and at a loss.
This was excellent. From now on, absolutely no one would ever bring up Haidai’s impure bloodline again. Having received the old ancestor’s blessing ceremony, even if in the future she grew up with golden hair and blue eyes, people would point at Haidai and say: “This is a pure Han descendant.”
Yun Ye’s mind buzzed loudly. Dotting ink on Yun Baobao’s belly—that was expecting him to later have a belly full of ink and overflowing literary brilliance. This was proper and expected. But dotting rouge on Haidai—this favor was enormous. You should know that when Li Er’s daughter, little Princess Zizi, was born and he wanted to ask the old man to perform the dotting, the old man said viciously: “Han bloodline remains only three parts—it cannot be confused.”
One sentence choked Zhangsun until she nearly fainted, yet there was nothing she could do about the old man. Now Haidai had this opportunity. In the future when marrying, marrying anyone would be no problem. Marrying into the imperial family—in scholarly circles that would be called “marrying down.” Li Er’s family bloodline was savage bloodline—how could it compare to my family’s Haidai’s noble bloodline?
The old man had done this much—what more could Yun Ye say? He prepared to turn around and burn *Elementary Mathematics*—for the rest of his life he wouldn’t discuss any publication. Without this thing, so be it—after all, history didn’t have this thing either. At worst everyone could go run noses and herd sheep together. Using the method of piling stones to count sheep wasn’t bad either. A few broken numbers—how could they compare to the importance of my family’s Haidai’s bloodline?
In the great hall, Grandmother personally served tea to Yan Zhitui. Xinyue offered refreshments. Na Rimu, awakened as if from a dream after a thorough education from Huan Niang, knelt and respectfully presented the cheese she had made with her own hands.
The constantly smiling Yan Zhitui ate the refreshments, tasted the cheese, drank the tea, praised them twice, then had the female relatives withdraw. Invited by Yun Ye, he went to his study. Upon entering the study, the old man sat cross-legged in the grand chair. His thin body, contrasted against the huge chair, appeared even more diminutive. Since Grandmother and the others had gone down, the old man had been staring at Yun Ye. For someone nearly a hundred years old, those eyes actually had the gleam of an eagle, making Yun Ye uncomfortable all over.
“Is your master Xiaoyao Zi Han or Hu?”
Having thought of a thousand possibilities, he never imagined Yan Zhitui would start by asking about his master’s ethnicity. Before this person whose Great Han ideology was corroded into his very marrow, if he brought out the likes of Aristotle, Newton, and Einstein, the outcome would likely be bad. His mind quickly thought through successive Han sages throughout history, adding in the likes of Chen Jingrun, then respectfully yet resolutely said: “Old Ancestor, why do you say this? My master is naturally Han. He once said that his clan had lived in seclusion since the Jin dynasty’s southward river crossing, until only he remained. He commanded me to pass on the flame, not to let it be severed.”
One sentence made the old man’s tears flow. He slapped the chair saying: “Great catastrophe, great catastrophe! How much literary brilliance was destroyed! The Hu people’s iron hooves trampled through passes and mountains. Central Plains scholars fled in panic like homeless dogs. Twenty years soaked in brush and ink—one swing of a steel blade and it became smoke and clouds. Descendants severed, the flame extinguished. Men became dogs, women became food. Infants starved in the wilds, the elderly exhausted on the roads. Like terrified beasts howling, like wronged ghosts crying at night. How can this hatred be redressed? How can this hatred be redressed?”
Hearing the old man’s roar, Yun Ye’s heart also seemed blocked by a massive stone. Back then when the scholarly Chinese clans crossed the river en masse, the fine Central Plains became a place where foreign beasts ran rampant. Thinking about that period of history made his heart uncomfortable. Worried the old man’s excessive grief would harm his health, he quickly consoled him: “Our Chinese nation has endured three thousand years without decline, experiencing countless storms and trials. Now haven’t we again stood proudly at the world’s peak? The Turks’ lives are held in our palms. Gaochang has already been destroyed. Xueyantuo lives in daily terror. Tuyuhun is silent as winter cicadas. The Huihe people have fled far to the plateau. This is precisely when our Chinese civilization flourishes. From this publishing dispute alone one can see—years of gestation, manifesting in a single moment. This is truly a cause for celebration.”
The old man, having just been sentimental, seemed somewhat fatigued. Curled up in the chair, he asked Yun Ye: “Do you think having many books appear at once is a good thing? You should know that this way, your exclusive publishing rights will be threatened.”
“My master once said ‘worry before the world worries, rejoice after the world rejoices.’ This junior probably won’t reach that realm in this lifetime, but the respectful heart of yielding exclusive publishing so the venerable elders can go first—I still have that.”
The old man smiled again, stroking the chair’s armrest, lowering his head and saying: “Do you think this old man evaluated your grandmother and dotted your daughter’s lips just to make you yield exclusive publishing?”
“I dare not presume the elder’s intentions. This is what this young one truly thinks in his heart.”
“What I did earlier was to repay you for selflessly dedicating potatoes to all people, and also compensation for your conduct in preparing to distribute such fine crops as corn to tenant farmers for planting. Since you worry about the bellies of all people under heaven, what harm is there in this old man relieving your worries from behind? This is what you deserve—a small reward this old man gives you. Though its effect isn’t great, it’s still better than nothing.”
“Exclusive publishing is exclusive publishing, publishing books is publishing books. This old man spent a full half year carefully reading *Elementary Mathematics*’s 430,000 words. Though some parts I still can’t understand clearly, this book can be called a rare masterwork, irreplaceable in educating all people—it absolutely qualifies for exclusive publication. But why publish three editions consecutively? Why did you offend all the civil officials, causing them to treat you so viciously?”
The Yan family didn’t interfere in court politics, so they didn’t understand many things inside. Yun Ye explained the causes and consequences—from the construction of Wanmin Palace, all the way to how nationalizing Lingnan’s revenues attracted much dissatisfaction. Every detail, without additions or subtractions, he told Yan Zhitui the complete true face of the matter.
“So that’s how it is. The court is a cesspit. You, a perfectly good scholar, instead of teaching in an academy doing scholarship, why contaminate yourself with these foul airs? Is it youthful ambition and aspiration at work?”
“Not afraid of your laughter, the days this junior most enjoys are teaching books, viewing landscapes, making some fine foods, watching children grow to adulthood, passing down generation by generation the learning my honored master transmitted, living days of tranquil non-action, not entangling with so many causes and effects.” Unknowingly Yun Ye spoke his innermost thoughts. Right now he was disgusted to the extreme with the court’s power struggles.
“What’s funny about that? To pursue scholarship, one must first achieve mental tranquility. A person without desires is strong. Only this way will scholarship not be corrupted. Having such thoughts is very good. Continuing the lost learning for past sages is originally young people’s responsibility. This old man heard your *Youth Speech*—where has all that fervent passion gone? Court matters—don’t pay attention to them. There are many people smarter than you—they don’t need you running around everywhere solving troubles. If people bother you in the future, just say you’re accompanying this old man reading books—use that to decline.”
Hearing the old man’s words, Yun Ye was surrounded by immense happiness. Having such a solid shield was truly wonderful. Looking at the thin old man in the chair, he really wanted to plant a kiss on his bald head.
“Old Ancestor needn’t worry about publication matters. No matter how many books there are, you only need to give them to this junior to publish—guaranteed every one will be exclusive edition. The ones to be published now are only thirty-some volumes—really can’t be considered a major matter.” Yun Ye’s temperament of “respect me one foot, I respect others ten feet” erupted again. Seeing the old man worrying about printing those books, he volunteered to take on everything.
“It’s useless, young fellow. Even if your family wealth is vast, it’s useless. It’s not a money problem. Previously people hired others to copy books. These past years there’s been a new book printing method—that is woodblock printing. There aren’t many who understand it. Too few craftsmen—all were conscripted by the imperial family. Carving blocks takes too long. Precisely because it’s not easy, everyone is envious of you.”
Yun Ye smiled mysteriously. He took a seal from the table, dipped it in vermilion ink pad, then pressed it on the paper before the old man. Five characters appeared on the paper: “Seal of the Unspecialized Gentleman.” This was a seal personally carved by Master Yuanzhang—a gift Yun Ye received for his birthday.
The old man blinked and continued watching Yun Ye. He knew Yun Ye wouldn’t just show him one seal. Yun Ye took out another seal, put the two seals together, dipped them in ink pad, and pressed down again. Nine characters appeared on the white paper: “Plum Orchid Bamboo Chrysanthemum Seal of the Unspecialized Gentleman.” Yan Zhitui seemed to comprehend something yet was utterly confused. This time Yun Ye took out another seal from the seal box and pressed all three seals down together…