Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

The students took a breath.

Someone whispered, "He wants to ask those two from yesterday..." The voice quickly faded, drowned out by the gazes of those around him.

“Okay,” Zhu Biao replied.

"Punishment is not for killing, but for stopping harm."

Han Shuo slowly asked, "What should be done according to the law regarding yesterday's events?"

"Let it be as it is," Zhu Biao said calmly, "neither because I am angry nor because I am happy."

"This is Your Highness's reply."

Han Shuo chuckled, "What I'm asking is: 'How?' Who should say it?"

"By law," Zhu Biao replied.

"The law of man," Han Shuo immediately replied.

“So what has come today is a person,” Zhu Biao replied.

Some students in the crowd couldn't help but laugh, but they quickly suppressed their laughter.

Han Shuo also laughed: "Your Highness's words sound nice, but you still haven't explained things clearly."

“If you want it cleaned, I’ll clean it for you.” Zhu Biao stepped forward.
"There must be standards for everything. The standards are right in front of you, not on your tongue. You think I'll favor someone? Let me tell you—I'll 'not hurt anyone,' I'll 'not cause chaos,' and I'll 'not deceive myself.'"

"What does it mean to not deceive oneself?" Han Shuo asked.

"Clearly cowardly, yet pretending to be generous; clearly hateful, yet pretending to be fair; clearly wanting to win people's hearts, yet pretending to be aloof."

Zhu Biao said, word by word, "These are all self-deception."

The students seemed to have been pricked by an arrow; many lowered their heads, then slowly raised them again.

Han Shuo narrowed his eyes and suddenly said, "Does Your Highness dare to have anyone say a bad word about you on the spot?"

Zhu Biao nodded: "I dare."

A gruff voice rose from the back of the crowd: "Your Highness, you just said 'not biased,' but everyone is biased—you are too. What if one day you can't do those 'no's' you mentioned?"

All eyes turned to him, and it was the young craftsman from yesterday.

He was clearly startled by his own boldness, and his ears turned red as soon as he finished speaking.

Zhu Biao smiled: "I will admit it." He looked at the boy, "I will admit it in public."

"In public?" Han Shuo raised an eyebrow.

"Just like today, in public."

Zhu Biao looked back at him and said, “If I say something but do something I can’t do, come and show me. Those who come today, come tomorrow too. Three days later, I will put up a sign on these stone steps that says: ‘What Your Highness said but did not do.’ You write the first one.”

The crowd erupted in uproar. The abbot stared at him in disbelief, his beard twitching.

Han Shuo remained silent for quite a long time for the first time. He tried to find a hint of fear on Zhu Biao's face, but ultimately found none.

He suddenly chuckled softly and took half a step forward: "Your Highness, I admire you even more now."

“You don’t have to obey me,” Zhu Biao said. “You only have to obey ‘what you say yourself’.”

The night deepened, and the wind grew even clearer.

Zhu Han returned to the stone lion at the east corner of the Imperial Ancestral Temple and lightly touched the dent with his fingertip.

"Sign in."

[Check-in Location: Stone steps of the Dacheng Hall at the Imperial Academy]

[Reward: Audience Emotional Texture - Three Days (Ten steps to roughly judge emotional fluctuations during the performance)]

Zhu Han was slightly taken aback, then smiled. The system always gave exactly what was given—no more, no less. Three days—just in time for the conversation to cool down.

Ah Huai quietly approached: "Your Highness, the man in the inner prison has confessed. He is an old acquaintance of Minister Han, but Minister Han did not know that he was going to make a move on the road. There is someone else behind it."

"Who?" Zhu Han asked.

Ah Huai lowered his voice: "A name—Yu Ming."

Zhu Han read it aloud softly: "Yu Ming".

He searched through the records of people entering and leaving the capital region that the system had copied into his mind, and a smile appeared on his lips. "I'll go and take a look at the pharmacy in the North Alley tomorrow."

Ah Huai was taken aback: "A pharmacy?"

"This person has an old wound on his hand, which is covered with medicine."

Zhu Han said, "Last night in the alley where the Liu family lived, there was a medicinal scent mixed with the smell of cowhide glue. Liu Huai doesn't often use that kind of glue; he finds it sticky." He paused, then added, "Go ahead."

"Yes."

As soon as Ah Huai left, the night seemed to close again.

Zhu Han stood alone for a while before turning around and returning to his residence.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Zhu Biao sitting on the steps, hugging his knees and looking up at the sky.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Zhu Han asked.

"I can't sleep," Zhu Biao laughed. "I'm afraid I won't be able to say anything good tomorrow."

“You’ve had a good day,” Zhu Han said, sitting down beside him. “Tomorrow will be the same.”

"Uncle," Zhu Biao suddenly lowered his voice, "you said people's hearts are like water?"

Zhu Han thought for a moment and shook his head: "Human hearts are not like water. Water only flows downhill. Human hearts sometimes go uphill, and sometimes they go downhill."

"Is that like the wind?" Zhu Biao asked again.

“The wind is too gentle,” Zhu Han laughed. “It’s better to be like fire. If someone gives you some firewood, it will burn brightly; if no one pays attention to it, it will go out. What you need to do is not borrow the wind, but give the fire a suitable amount of firewood.”

Zhu Biao asked curiously, "What constitutes suitable firewood?"

"The sign you mentioned today."

Zhu Han looked into the darkness and said, “Put your words on a piece of wood and show them to people. Then the fire will have something to burn.”

The wind blew through the yard, and the shadow of the elm tree swayed on the ground.

Zhu Biao suddenly stood up: "I'll go write that sign."

"Now?" Zhu Han smiled.

"Now," Zhu Biao took two steps, then turned back, "Uncle, would you like to write something too?"

"Me?" Zhu Han raised an eyebrow.

"You write the second line," Zhu Biao said earnestly.
“I’ll write the first line: ‘What Your Highness said but did not do.’ You write the second line: ‘If it is true, I will admit my mistake.’”

Zhu Han stared at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled: "Okay."

The third day at the Imperial Academy was even hotter than the previous day.

The sign stands on the second step, its wood grain fine and its lettering clear and distinct.

The people surrounding the area craned their necks to look, as if they were watching a large drum at a temple fair.

Han Shuo arrived even earlier today. He stood in front of the sign, his fingertips lightly touching the words, and turned to look at Zhu Biao: "Your Highness, was this line of 'admitting wrongdoing' written by the Prince?"

"Yes," Zhu Biao replied.

"The prince has never been one to lag behind others in writing."

Han Shuo laughed, "I never imagined that I would be willing to write these two words today."

“I’ll write it down for you to see,” Zhu Han said, standing at the bottom of the steps. “It only counts if you see it.”

“In that case…” Han Shuo stopped laughing, “Today I will not ask about ‘punishment’ or ‘propriety’, but about ‘measure’.”

“Ask away,” Zhu Biao said.

"His Highness said that you do not seek the people's hearts to be convinced."

Han Shuo's gaze was sharp as a needle. "But if you never asked for anything, how did you get to the steps? The fact that you are standing here today is itself an act of asking for something."

“I beg,” Zhu Biao said frankly, “but I don’t beg for your ‘obedience,’ I beg for your ‘respect.’”

"What is your purpose in asking to see this?" Han Shuo pressed.

"Let me let you know that I am not in the clouds."

Zhu Biao said, “I am not always right in front of you. I may say or do the wrong thing. But you see that I admit it. If I admit it, you can believe that I will change next time.”

He looked at Han Shuo and said, "This is 'measure'."

"The degree of 'acknowledgment'?" Han Shuo raised an eyebrow.

"No. It's about the 'degree' of endurance." Zhu Biao's voice wasn't loud, but it was very steady.

“I know how much criticism I can take. I can handle it, so you don’t need to cover for me.” The crowd fell silent. Suddenly, someone patted their companion on the shoulder: “I believe him.”

"Just one sentence," his companion whispered a reminder.

"Just one sentence is enough," the man laughed.

Just then, a series of disordered footsteps came from outside the crowd, as if someone was forcibly squeezing a path through the crowd.

Ah Huai swiftly moved to Zhu Han's side and whispered, "Your Highness, the Yu Ming we found at the North Alley Pharmacy is right outside the Imperial Academy. Someone handed him a short whistle."

"A short whistle?" Zhu Han's eyes narrowed. "Who gave it to you?"

“A noodle stall owner,” Ah Huai said, “but her hands were very clean, like she’d practiced.”

"Keep an eye on it," Zhu Han said, his fingertips lightly tapping at his side.

The emotions of the audience suddenly surged up like a tide—most of the people nearby were excited, nervous, and curious, while only a ripple like ice stretched out from the shadow of the locust tree on the left side of the steps, coldly rolling toward the wooden sign.

"Left side." Zhu Han lowered his eyes and made a very small gesture to A Huai.

Ah Huai dashed away like the wind.

The next instant, a short, muffled thud came from under the locust tree, and a tiny metal fragment fell to the ground, bounced twice on the stone steps, and came to a stop.

A commotion arose in the crowd, but it was quickly suppressed by the watchful eyes all around.

Zhu Biao's gaze swept over, his voice unchanged: "Today's 'measure' has an extra layer—I was on the steps, and someone outside the steps tried to damage this sign, but failed."

He stood up straight, bowed to the crowd, and said, "I'm done."

Han Shuo took a deep breath, suddenly stepped forward, and solemnly bowed: "Your Highness, I submit to you."

"Why do you have to?" Zhu Biao said.

"Why should I?" Han Shuo smiled, almost self-deprecatingly. "If I'm not convinced, then I'm just deceiving myself."

As soon as he finished speaking, some people in the crowd applauded.

The academy head coughed forcefully, but the applause spread like wildfire.

Night fell on the veranda outside the Prince's study in the palace, where the wind blew a few leaves down the steps.

Zhu Han leaned against a pillar, listening to the rustling of ink and brushes inside. The door was half-open, letting in a beam of warm light.

"Imperial Uncle?" Zhu Biao poked his head out from inside.

"Finished writing?" Zhu Han asked.

"Hurry up," Zhu Biao laughed, "I'm writing the first sentence I'll say tomorrow."

"What is it?" Zhu Han asked.

“I am on the steps not because I stand high, but so that you may see me.”

Zhu Biao read it aloud, then laughed at himself, "Do you think it's too straightforward?"

“Just be straightforward,” Zhu Han said.

"Uncle," Zhu Biao called him again, his voice a little softer, "Are you tired?"

Zhu Han thought for a moment and said, "I'm not tired."

"I'm tired," Zhu Biao said, "but I'm very happy."

"Then let's sleep for a while," Zhu Han said. "We'll have fun again tomorrow."

He turned to leave, then suddenly stopped, turned back, and said, "Add another line of small print next to the sign."

"'Seeing it doesn't mean you have to accept it; not seeing it only leads to misunderstanding.'"

Zhu Han said slowly, "This line is for those who are still unwilling to come."

"Okay," Zhu Biao smiled. "I'll go write it now."

On the afternoon of the third day, the Imperial Academy lay idle. Three lines of neat small characters appeared under the wooden plaque.

Passersby would stop to take a look, and some would even reach out to compare the strength of the strokes.

Someone asked, "Who wrote this?" Someone else replied, "His Highness is on the second line, and the Prince is on the first line."

That day, Han Shuo stood alone outside the main gate of the academy for a long time.

He watched the people coming and going, his fan still in his hand, his face expressionless.

Only when the setting sun began to slant down did he seem to wake from a dream, and he murmured, "Never mind."

Ah Huai stood behind the side gate and quietly recorded this scene.

He turned back to his residence and saw from afar that the screen wall in front of the Prince's Mansion had been washed clean, and when the moonlight shone on it, it looked like a piece of clear jade.

As night deepened, Zhu Han spread out bamboo slips in his study and slowly wrote a few lines.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Zhu Biao came in, holding that old pen in his hand again.

“Uncle,” he said, standing on the threshold, “the three-day lecture is finally over.”

"Hmm." Zhu Han looked up. "You did very well."

"Did you see anyone write it on the sign?" Zhu Biao asked.

“I saw it.” Zhu Han smiled. “It says ‘nothing’.”

Who wrote it?

“An old man,” Zhu Han said. “When he wrote this character, his hand was very steady and his eyes were very bright.”

Zhu Biao remained silent. He suddenly smiled and said, "'Nothing' is fine too."

“‘Nothing’ doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Zhu Han put down his pen. “One day, you will know.”

"Then I'll wait." Zhu Biao bowed to him and turned to leave. Reaching the door, he suddenly turned back: "Uncle, where are you going tomorrow?"

"The North Alley Pharmacy," Zhu Han said, "there's one more small matter to be completed."

"I'll accompany you."

"it is good."

Before dawn, the sky in the North Alley turned gray earlier than elsewhere.

At the entrance of the alley hangs a faded wooden sign that reads "Jucaotang". The characters are blackened by cooking fumes. The door is half-closed, and a thin sliver of cold light shines through the crack.

Zhu Han and Zhu Biao stopped side by side at the alley entrance without disturbing those inside.

Ah Huai emerged from the shadows, cupping his hands in greeting: "Your Highness, two groups of people came last night, one coming in and one coming out. The one who came in had heavy steps, as if he carried heavy loads all year round; the one who came out was very light, with his left foot turned outwards."

"Who is lighter?" Zhu Han asked.

“Yu Ming,” Ah Huai whispered, “there’s a hidden compartment behind the door, like someone’s hiding place.”

Zhu Biao glanced at the dust on the lintel and said, "If someone were hiding there, there should be scratches on the door bolt."

"Okay." Zhu Han nodded. "Go inside."

The moment the door opened, the aroma of medicine wafted out, but it was not sweet, only astringent; not warm, only cold.

They didn't rush inside; they paused at the threshold, letting their noses adjust to the smell.

The medicine shelves were arranged in rows along the wall. The top shelf contained dried roots and stems, the middle shelf contained powders and pills, and the bottom shelf contained medicine cakes wrapped in burlap.

A door on the inside was half-open, and the wind blew in from the backyard, causing the two wind chimes to gently collide, the sound like a very low sigh.

The shopkeeper was a thin old man with a slight hunchback; he only turned around when he heard footsteps.

He sized up the newcomers, a cautious smile spreading across his face: "You two gentlemen need some medicine? Fresh peppermint has arrived; it'll soothe your throat and reduce salivation—"

“We’re looking for Yu Ming,” Zhu Han interrupted.

The shopkeeper's smile lines froze on his face, as if abruptly frozen by cold water.

His eyes darted around for a moment, then returned, his lips still forcing a smile: "Our shop is short-staffed... Which 'Yu' are you referring to, sir?"

“Ah Huai,” Zhu Han said.

Ah Huai said "Yes," and ran his finger across the top shelf of the medicine rack, bringing down a wisp of ash.

The ash settled on the shopkeeper's clothes, like a patch of moonlight.

He stopped faking a smile, placed the back of his hand on the counter, and subtly spread his ten fingers, revealing calluses on his thumb and forefinger.

"Which way did you go?" Zhu Biao asked, his voice calm and unhurried.

The shopkeeper didn't answer. Suddenly, a very soft "plop" came from the backyard, like something small had stepped in the mud.

Ah Huai flashed past the counter and went inside.

He paused lightly as soon as his foot touched the ground: "There's space in the ground." (End of Chapter)