There are always shadows beneath the sunlight. Even the most noble goals will be mixed with selfish motives. Yun Ye said nothing to Gongshu Mu. Some words—known by heaven, known by earth, known by oneself—that was enough. Living like a transparent person was not something a human could endure.
Li Er had finally developed a wary attitude toward the academy’s monopolistic dominance. He prepared to divide this year’s grand examination into two parts: one part for the academy, one part for ordinary hereditary sons recommended from other regions. One examination actually had two different test papers—this truly opened a historical precedent. He called it fairness, never considering that this was the greatest unfairness to the academy.
Li Er, who always thought three steps ahead with every move, was the same this time. If the matter of Yun Ye being forbidden to enter Chang’an wasn’t deliberate on his part, it truly made no sense.
The vigorous and spirited Great Tang had finally gotten on the right track. Construction exceeded destruction. The Turks had been eliminated, Gaochang had been eliminated. Tuyuhun, the Xueyantuo, and the Uyghurs all trembled beneath Great Tang’s iron hooves. The Goguryeo people carefully retracted the claws they had extended into Great Tang’s northeast. With a favorable external environment, large-scale construction had begun. This required more specialized professionals who understood their fields to emerge. Unfortunately, the court was occupied by a bunch of utterly loyal fellows.
One person doing bad things didn’t matter. What was frightening was doing bad things with single-minded dedication. Taking ten thousand steps back, doing bad things with single-minded dedication also didn’t matter. What was terrifying was doing bad things while wearing the guise of doing good deeds, and doing so righteously, with mountain-swallowing momentum, with complete disregard for death.
They truly weren’t afraid of death. When locusts came, there was no solution, so they set fire to ripened wheat to burn a few locusts, incidentally burning themselves to death as well. Chang’an was set ablaze—there was no advance prevention, nor did they actively search for the culprit. Instead, they first burned themselves to death. When drought came, they didn’t know to lead the common people to find food, but instead locked up their entire families, preparing to starve to death together.
They acted with passionate vigor, performed earth-shaking deeds, committing wrong acts one after another, leading the common people under their governance on a mad dash down a dead-end road. Clearly there were large rocks ahead, yet they insisted on crashing into them. If one crash didn’t kill them, they’d try again, until corpses lay everywhere and flesh and blood flew about. Then they’d stand in the pile of corpses and roar at the heavens: “Today’s defeat—Heaven does not bless me! Your Majesty, this humble minister has done his utmost.” After speaking, they’d continue smashing their watermelon-like heads against the rocks…
They had no corruption, no perversion of law. They lived in poverty and observed the rules. Their character was so spotlessly white they could be sages. They risked their lives doing bad things, yet everyone praised them and spread their stories by word of mouth.
Liang Da, given name Jianpu, styled name Duoyuan, was a good friend from among Yun Ye’s circle of wastrels. Two years ago he was appointed as the Transportation Commissioner of the Baoxie Road, responsible for transporting supplies between Hanzhong and Chang’an. This was a lucrative position. If his father hadn’t been an old subordinate of Zhangsun Wuji, he couldn’t have landed this assignment. As Transportation Commissioner, you should just properly transport things from Hanzhong to Chang’an, then transport Chang’an’s things to Hanzhong—that would count as meritorious service. But he refused to do just that. He believed merely transporting things was insufficient to display his talents. He felt that building a plank road on Niubei Mountain between Hanzhong and Chang’an was what he should be doing.
At the farewell, the brothers parted with tears, mutually urging each other to take care. Only the newly arrived Yun Ye, upon hearing this fellow planned to build a plank road on Niubei Mountain, was immediately alarmed. Before he could even ask clearly, Liang Jianpu laughed heartily and said that when the plank road was completed, he would certainly name it after himself—it would be called Jianpu Road. After speaking, he was carried away by his fine horse.
The next time Yun Ye saw Liang Jianpu was before Yun Ye was kidnapped by Dou Yanshan. Upon meeting, he almost didn’t recognize this formerly robust man. His previous clothes hung loosely on him, his hands and feet were covered in thick calluses, his eyes were sunken in their sockets like ghostly flames, gleaming with a red luster. He had returned to receive punishment—four hundred sixty-three laborers had been buried beneath Niubei Mountain. Yun Ye comforted Liang Da, believing the matter would end there. Who would have thought that Liang Da only received a punishment of dismissal pending investigation with the chance to redeem himself through merit. He took leave of his elderly father, admonished his children, placated his wife, then took large amounts of money and even greater authority to go excavate his Jianpu Road again.
Just two days before Yan Zhitui arrived, tragic news came: Niubei Mountain had collapsed. Of the thirty-eight li of completed plank road, only eleven li remained after the collapse…
Yun Ye couldn’t understand why anyone would build a plank road on Danxia landforms. That area was all weathered crumbling rocks and loose red sandstone. One chisel strike would cause a large chunk to fall off. Even if you were lucky enough to complete it, after a few years when the rocks weathered again, the plank road would fall down on its own. This knowledge came from when he toured Hanzhong—the guide had introduced the arduous feats when the West Han Expressway was completed. Even in later generations, they had spent far more money than on other expressways to complete that road. Yet you, Liang Jianpu, without explosives, without shield tunneling machines, planned to undertake this unprecedented engineering project? Not one section of the Baoxie Road’s plank roads had been chosen on Niubei Mountain.
Sure enough, one chisel strike excavated such a large hole—large enough to fit a towering giant tree inside. Half the mountain collapsed. Liang Jianpu and six hundred laborers were buried beneath countless boulders. Digging them out would require the spirit of the Foolish Old Man who moved mountains.
When the tragic news arrived, his wife immediately hanged herself. Xinyue returned from paying respects, crying so hard she was a mess. Intermittently, she told Yun Ye that his three-year-old son was sprawled on his mother, whose tongue had just been pushed back into her mouth, clamoring to nurse.
The court bestowed supreme posthumous honors. As a friend and fellow wastrel, Yun Ye naturally had to attend the funeral. Great Tang’s rule by man was once again exemplified. Although the Emperor’s strict edict forbade Yun Ye from entering Chang’an city, funerals were absolutely not included in the prohibitions. At the funeral, he encountered several officials. All pretended not to know, only discussing Liang Jianpu’s posthumous affairs together, absolutely not mentioning Yun Ye’s confinement.
The elderly father remained strong, his back ramrod straight. The three-year-old child wearing mourning clothes smiled while grabbing at grandfather’s beard. He thought his mother was merely sleeping.
A new decree exploded in Yun Ye’s mind. Liang Da’s father had consecutively submitted four memorials, petitioning to replace his son in continuing the plank road’s construction. If the plank road wasn’t completed, he would not return home until death.
It was over. Little Liang was buried there, and now his father also wanted to be buried there. The previous major collapse had caused secondary geological damage. Building the plank road again would increase the danger coefficient by more than five times. What was Li Er doing? Although the Baoxie Road was important, the Ziwu Valley could also have roads built—why hang oneself on one tree?
One wrong decision had claimed one thousand lives. Now they wanted to continue this mistake. After Liang Jianpu’s death, he was promoted and ennobled—his death was worthwhile. But what wrong had those laborers committed? The court, according to convention, provided compensation—six hundred wen per person. That’s right, just six hundred wen, exactly the price of two sheep.
Several thousand sheep meant nothing to the Yun family. Yun Ye very much wanted to use those sheep to exchange for the people—tie ropes to those sheep and have them dangle in midair swinging hammers.
“Grandfather, Grandfather, I also want to go build the plank road. When I grow up, I’ll also go build Jianpu Road.”
Hearing his grandson’s childish voice, Old Liang’s tears streamed down as he nodded encouragingly: “Good, good. If Grandfather dies, you continue on. The Liang family must complete Jianpu Road.”
Alas! How dangerous and high! The difficulty of the Shu Road—more difficult than ascending to the blue heavens. Can Cong and Yu Fu—how remote their founding of the kingdom! Since then, forty-eight thousand years have passed, with no communication through the Qin frontier. To the west by Mount Taibai is a bird’s path, which can cross over the peak of Mount Emei. Earth collapsed, mountains crumbled, and brave men died; then sky-ladders and stone walkways were linked together. Above is the high standard where six dragons turn back the sun; below are the swirling waves that rush against the cliffs. Even the yellow crane’s flight cannot pass over; monkeys wishing to cross despair at the climbing. How winding is the Green Mud trail! A hundred steps make nine turns around rocky peaks. Touching the Constellation of Participation, passing the Well, one gasps for breath and sits with hand on chest, sighing long.
“Earth collapsed, mountains crumbled, and brave men died”—what fine words: “Earth collapsed, mountains crumbled, and brave men died.” Heroic enough, brave enough. But when there were choices, must one insist on building a plank road on a chaotic rock mountain? The brave man died, so his son continued—what kind of logic was this? Liang Jianpu caused the deaths of one thousand; his father would cause the deaths of another thousand. Now it was his son’s turn to prepare to harm people.
Unable to bear watching any longer, Yun Ye stood up and picked up the child. Old Liang asked, “Marquis Yun, why is this?”
“Why? Because I don’t want to see your Liang family’s line cut off. Your death doesn’t matter, but can you leave the child a way to live?”
Several wastrel friends with whom he was usually close dragged Yun Ye away. Behind him still came Old Liang’s mocking laughter—gutless coward!
Returning home, Yun Ye sat in the garden feeling miserable. Was there something wrong with just wanting to send more qualified officials to the court? Letting those who governed water know how to govern water, letting those who built houses know how to build houses, letting those who farmed know what farming was about. If possible, he also wanted to let those who fought wars know how to fight wars. What was wrong with this? A loyal minister wasn’t necessarily a good minister or capable minister. When they harmed lives, they were even more deceptive than treacherous ministers.
When his mind was racing, time passed extremely quickly. Before he knew it, daylight had brightened. In early morning, the rosy clouds already filled the sky. Yan Zishan used an ox cart to bring the old master Yan Zhitui over again. The old man hadn’t even eaten breakfast before wanting to go to the academy, saying that after viewing the printing machine, eating at the academy wouldn’t be too late.
Sitting at the workshop entrance, the old man and Yun Ye sat facing each other at a small table, drinking porridge while watching the busy students printing books. The books being printed were of only one type—the Analects.
As soon as the old man arrived, he had examined the sample book. Extremely satisfied, he thanked each student who participated in printing. Only when facing Yun Ye did he say one sentence: “Boy, this old man is hungry.”
Standard academy food—millet porridge, steamed buns, salted radish. Yan Zhitui quite liked the salted radish, but unfortunately had no teeth. He could only hold it in his mouth then spit it out, enviously watching Yun Ye chew the radish until it crunched loudly. No speaking while eating, no talking while sleeping—the old man implemented this principle well. Only after the ginseng tea brewed for him was brought over did he speak to Yun Ye.
“Boy, state whatever conditions you have. Whatever this old man can agree to, I’ll agree to. What I can’t agree to—even if you fill the entire academy with books, this old man won’t agree.”
“This youngster is acting purely out of filial piety. Seeing you, old master, worried about enlightening the world, naturally I should contribute my strength. Using conditions as threats—how could that be the conduct of a gentleman?”
“Little bastard, speak up if you have something to say. Whatever plans you have, hurry up and tell me. After this moment, this old man won’t acknowledge them later. Previously I stole corn from your family—I’ve always felt the Yun family’s things were good. If you don’t speak now, I’ll consider this printing machine stolen by this old man too.”