Chapter 16: The Song of Enlightenment

The words "Imperial Order" fell with a heavy, resounding thud, as if even the copper bells hanging from the eaves had frozen mid-air. The county magistrate Zhang was so startled that his ears buzzed loudly. The Taoist Ziyun nearly fainted on the spot.

He had only intended to seize an opportunity to gain some benefit—how did it come to this, that he was about to be thrown into the death cell?!

Helpless, he looked pleadingly at Magistrate Zhang.

But Zhang did not meet his gaze; instead, he quickly regained composure and addressed Prefect Fang:

“We reside in the same government office—why was I not aware of this?”

It was not suspicion, but a genuine question.

Though Magistrate Zhang held little affection for his low-born superior, he knew the man’s character well.

Not to mention such grave matters, even jokes of this sort would never cross his lips.

Prefect Fang adjusted his official robe, causing the embroidered mandarin duck to ripple as though ready to take flight.

To Zhang’s bewilderment, Fang retrieved a crimson-lacquered official document from beneath his sleeve.

The color alone told Zhang this was a dispatch directly from the Grand Secretariat.

“This arrived early this morning. You were not yet in the office at the time, so naturally, you were unaware. I had intended to inform you both upon your return, but now seems an appropriate moment.”

“Here—this is a sealed edict from the Grand Secretariat.”

Zhang hastily accepted the document.

Upon inspection, it was exactly as expected.

“A severe drought plagues the southwest. Heretical Taoists have stirred the populace to rebellion, amassing followers by the thousands. In such turbulent times, the Emperor has naturally decreed strict vigilance to prevent such foolishness from arising again.”

“You were previously unaware, so ignorance is excusable. But now, you understand, do you not?”

Staring at the tangible evidence in his hands, Zhang’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times before he finally conceded:

“This humble servant was indeed remiss!”

Witnessing this, the clerks who had entered upon hearing the voices now seized the visibly shaken Taoist Ziyun, despite Prefect Fang’s faint displeasure.

But Ziyun was unwilling to be dragged into the death cell so easily. He struggled vehemently:

“The rebels in the southwest are heretical Taoists, but I am not one of them, Your Excellency. Zombies—there truly are zombies in Qing County, right there in Qiaoshui Town!”

The moment he spoke those words, Prefect Fang exploded in anger.

“Zombies, zombies—those heretical Taoists in the southwest claim they can conjure armies from beans! Guards, give him thirty more lashes!”

Thirty more lashes! That made sixty in total! Was that even survivable?!

Ziyun’s terror grew as he shouted:

“I swear it’s true! If you don’t believe me, go see for yourselves in Qiaoshui Town!”

“Daring to spread lies and confuse the masses! Drag him away! Beat him to death!”

---

Amid Ziyun’s desperate cries, Prefect Fang turned to Magistrate Zhang with deep frustration:

“You, you! Normally, it’s one thing, but at such a critical juncture, how could you bring such a troublemaker into the government office?”

“Are you so bored with the Censorate that you want to give them more reasons to investigate us?”

Under normal circumstances, the Censorate only conducted periodic inspections of county officials.

But these were no ordinary times. The southwest was in turmoil, and the court had appointed a special Censorate official to be dispatched to each county for strict supervision.

This was to prevent anyone from emulating the chaos of the southwest.

One must remember, the current dynasty replaced the previous one precisely because of similar unrest.

Ashamed, Zhang clasped his hands and said:

“This man is quite well-known in Qing County and we have had some contact. Moreover, his claims were so certain that I—I was only concerned for the people of Qing County.”

Prefect Fang shook his head repeatedly:

“So you could even believe such nonsense as zombies?”

He had even suspected that Zhang might be trying to exploit the situation for some scheme.

But now he thought he had overestimated the man, for anyone with sense knew that at a time when heretical Taoists were stirring rebellion in the southwest, dabbling in such supernatural nonsense was akin to lighting a lantern in a cesspit—inviting death.

Zhang’s face burned with embarrassment, but he could not help but ask:

“And what of Qiaoshui Town?”

“Why bother? Really take a squad of constables out to investigate zombies? My heavens, could you stop making trouble where there is none!”

“Well, well, better safe than sorry, isn’t it?”

Prefect Fang was utterly exasperated. His previous disputes with Zhang had likely been battles of wit against thin air.

In the end, he could only look upon his apparently simple-minded colleague with pity:

“Do you really believe those heretical Taoists can conjure soldiers from beans and command the weather?”

“Of course not!”

If that were true, the court’s taxes would have been collected a hundred years in advance! And the notion of controlling the wind and rain was even more absurd—if they truly had such power, could the southwest have suffered drought for three years?

“Then why believe in zombies? Have they come out and bitten someone?”

Blushing, Zhang bowed:

“This humble servant takes his leave.”

“Wait! Since you are a local, help me contact the county’s gentry. The court has imposed an additional tax, and I want them to raise the funds in advance. Otherwise, by year’s end, the people of Qing County will truly suffer!”

Saying so, Prefect Fang began to pull Zhang along. Before departing, he reminded the chief clerk:

“Ah, Zhang, draft several notices to post around town. State that if any licentious monks or heretical Taoists dare to show their faces again, they are to be immediately arrested and brought to the county office for judgment—no questions asked!”

---

Along the official road of Qing County, a group of men rested beneath the shade of trees.

They were either wandering traders from caravan groups or ordinary peasants on the road.

At this moment, they chatted freely beneath the canopy—one moment discussing the sale of vegetables brought into town, the next gossiping about a woman stealing another man's affections.

Amid their lively, jovial banter, they suddenly heard someone singing from afar:

“Everyone knows that immortals are good,

But only gold and silver cannot be forgotten!”

“All day long, one regrets not having more—

But when abundance comes, eyes close forever.”

The words were plain yet rich with nuance.

Because they were in the vernacular, lacking strict meter or rhyme, they bore no airs of refinement.

They were the kind of words that even unlettered roughnecks could appreciate.

Hearing this, the men quieted and looked toward the source, curious to see who was singing.

Following the voice, they saw a young man standing beneath an old locust tree by the roadside. His short hair and simple clothes swayed lightly in the mountain breeze as he clasped his hands behind his back, reciting:

“Everyone knows that immortals are good,

But only a beloved wife cannot be forgotten!”

“You speak daily of love while alive,

But when you die, you go with another.”

Finishing the first half, the young man tilted his head and smiled at them.

The setting sun slipped through the branches, casting a golden halo around him, as if a celestial being had fallen from the clouds.

This carefully crafted scene by Du Yuan naturally astonished the men, who quickly concluded the young man must be no ordinary person.

At least, he knew more than they, simple and coarse as they were.

Before long, one called out:

“Brother, there’s still time before nightfall. Why not come over for a chat?”

Du Yuan bowed in response:

“Gladly, gladly.”

Old Master Cao Xueqin’s “Song of Contentment” remained ever useful—both aspiring to the immortals and capturing the refined yet candid spirit of the common folk, perfectly fitting the era’s mood.