Chapter Four: A Person with a Story (Revised Edition)

Later, Zheng Yanqing learned that Zheng Shangguo was the son of Zheng Yi’s brother. With Zheng Yi’s connections, Zheng Shangguo had just stepped down from his position as the Prefect of Yizhou and been promoted to Gentleman of the Right of the Grand Court, a rank far above that of Zheng Dashi. Yet, in the presence of Zheng Dashi, Zheng Shangguo remained a junior. Even though he was the direct descendant of the main branch, he had to show great respect to his uncle, whose official rank was lower than his own.

The “Crown Princess” Zheng Shangguo spoke of was the principal wife of Yang Yong, the Crown Prince of Sui. In later histories, Yang Yong is portrayed sympathetically, described as mild-tempered and possessing the demeanor of a true gentleman, though also as one who indulged in luxury and was somewhat fond of women. Zheng Yanqing, however, doubted this account. Throughout history, success and failure dictated reputation: after the Li Tang clan seized power from the Yang Sui, it was only natural that the records would be embellished. As the fallen emperor, Emperor Yang of Sui was inevitably disparaged, and as his rival, Yang Yong would, of course, be cast in a more favorable light. Otherwise, how could the achievements of the Tang be highlighted? Not to mention, the Book of Sui was penned by Tang historians.

Yang Yong’s disfavor toward the Crown Princess was well known. Later, he even took Yun Zhaoxun as a concubine, completely neglecting his wife. The Crown Princess was of noble birth herself and could not bear such indifference. Coupled with frail health, she eventually died suddenly from heartbreak.

The Zheng clan of Xingyang had always supported the Crown Prince Yang Yong. Though the result of the Crown Princess’s death was unclear, the Zhengs keenly sensed impending trouble. The wife of Emperor Wen of Sui was Empress Dugu, a notoriously jealous woman. In the early days, Emperor Wen’s rise to power had been largely supported by the Dugu family, so he obeyed her in all things. Yang Yong’s fondness for women already displeased Empress Dugu. The Crown Princess had been chosen for him by Empress Dugu herself, and her death was bound to spark conflict between the Empress and the Crown Prince. What made matters worse, Yang Guang, now Prince of Jin, had just returned to Chang’an from Jiangdu, coveting the position of Crown Prince.

Thus, the Crown Princess’s death inevitably foreshadowed a storm. The Zheng family had to prepare in advance, analyze the situation, and make the right choice. At this time, Lord Guichang, Zheng Shanyuan, summoned Zheng Dashi to discuss this very matter.

Yet for Zheng Yanqing, the fate of the Zhengs was not something he could influence or participate in. Some days later, Zheng Yanqing received his household registration and was formally entered as a member of the Zheng family.

Just as Zheng Yanqing had anticipated, the death of the Crown Princess ignited the struggle between Prince Jin, Yang Guang, and the Crown Prince, Yang Yong. Within the Zheng family, this prompted a deep divide. The clan leader, Zheng Shanyuan, insisted on continuing to support Yang Yong, while Zheng Dashi and Zheng Shangguo believed that Yang Yong lacked the ability for high office and had incurred the Empress’s ire, making his prospects bleak. Most crucially, even though Yang Yong had long assisted Emperor Wen in state affairs, his prestige did not compare to Yang Guang’s. Not even the backing of influential figures like Gao Ying, He Ruobi, or Shi Wansui could make Yang Yong a match for Yang Guang.

By contrast, Yang Guang had able men such as Yang Su and Han Qihu at his side. He had earned distinction conquering Southern Chen, and during his garrison at Jiangdu, he had gathered many renowned scholars from the south. Skilled in intrigue and much favored by Empress Dugu, Yang Guang made it likely that Yang Yong would not keep his position as Crown Prince.

These differences inevitably fractured the Zheng family. Zheng Shangguo and others sought opportunities to befriend Yang Guang, while Zheng Shanyuan continued his open support for Yang Yong.

In the twentieth year of the Kaihuang era, the third year after Zheng Yanqing joined the Zheng household, Emperor Wen deposed Yang Yong and his children, stripping them of their titles. In the eleventh month, Prince Jin, Yang Guang, was established as Crown Prince. The following year, the era changed to Renshou, ending three years of strife over the succession.

The Zheng family was little affected by this turmoil. Although Zheng Shanyuan had chosen the wrong side, Emperor Wen did not blame him and instead granted his two brothers, Zheng Yuanxun and Zheng Yuancang, the titles of Duke of Chenggao and Baron of Yong’an. In the eyes of the court, the Zhengs of Xingyang seemed more favored than ever.

“To take, one must first give,” Zheng Dashi said privately to Zheng Shian. “Shanyuan’s support for the Crown Prince has already made enemies of the Empress and Prince Jin; I fear his good fortune cannot last.”

Inwardly, Zheng Yanqing agreed with Zheng Dashi’s assessment. Still, he could not afford to concern himself with such matters, as he had other things to consider. The fate of the Zhengs would be managed by their own. After all, a great clan with centuries of history would have its own ways of survival.

In the blink of an eye, Zheng Yanqing turned three. According to Sui custom, he was actually considered five years old. Thanks to Zheng Shian, though only a servant in the Zheng household, Zheng Yanqing lived quite comfortably.

Within Anyuan Hall, Zheng Dashi selected a courtyard for Zheng Shian. It was a narrow quadrangle, not large, but well appointed. Passing through the main gate, one found a central hall, a rear court, and the main chambers. On either side, two gallery rooms could house people or livestock.

Aunt Xu and her daughter lived in one of the front gallery rooms. Zheng Yanqing’s interest in them stemmed from his observation that mother and daughter harbored many secrets.

Aunt Xu had long ceased to be a wet nurse. After Zheng Yanqing was weaned, Zheng Shian kept Aunt Xu in his residence to help with sewing and cleaning, believing that the young boy still needed care.

Though Zheng Shian was, like Zheng Yanqing, of servile origin, his status in Anyuan Hall was extraordinary. Aside from Zheng Dashi and his son Zheng Renji, only Zheng Shian wielded considerable authority. Even when Zheng Renji remarried a clever woman from the Cui family of Qinghe, replacing Zheng Shian was no easy feat.

As a result, Zheng Yanqing, though of humble birth, lived at ease in Anyuan Hall. His fascination with Aunt Xu and her daughter grew as he realized they were not ordinary—they were hiding much.

One March day in the first year of the Renshou era, Zheng Yanqing, dressed in white, sat on the steps at the entrance to the central hall, watching Duoduo practice her martial forms. Now eight, perhaps because of her training, Duoduo had grown tall and elegant—already showing signs of a budding beauty.

Her boxing style was not complex. Eyes fixed on her palms, she moved slowly when striking, but her retraction was as swift as lightning. The alternation of slow and fast created a striking visual contrast. This was not the first time Zheng Yanqing had watched her practice; in fact, he had discovered her martial skills two years before, which only deepened his curiosity about her background.

“Sister Duoduo, what style are you practicing?” he asked.

Though Zheng Yanqing knew little of martial arts in his past life, he was deeply curious and yearned for such skills. Was it not said that every man harbors a dream of heroism?

Even one as reserved as Zheng Yanqing was no exception. For the past two years, he often watched Duoduo train. At first, she disliked being observed, but now she was used to it and ignored him.

“Dragon-Taming Art,” Duoduo replied casually. No longer the short-tempered girl of three years before, she held less animosity toward Zheng Yanqing, recognizing that he was an unusual child. Unlike other children, he was calm—almost adult-like. Most children would have grown bored watching martial practice, even Duoduo herself found it tedious at times. Yet Zheng Yanqing could sit for half a day, silently watching her.

If he had no other pastime, he would take a twig and draw in the sand of the rear courtyard, quietly by himself. Aunt Xu seemed to encourage this odd behavior, even asking Duoduo to practice with him. Though Duoduo felt neither fondness nor dislike for Zheng Yanqing, she found his presence calming, a feeling she could not describe.

“Dragon-Taming Art?” Zheng Yanqing asked lightly, “Where did you learn that, Sister Duoduo?”

Aunt Xu was out, and Zheng Shian was serving Zheng Dashi in the study, so Zheng Yanqing seized the chance to ask.

“I’ve known it since I was little,” Duoduo answered, her tone guarded, giving nothing away. Still, Zheng Yanqing gleaned something—Duoduo must have been born to a family of some means.

As the saying goes, ‘the poor pursue learning, the wealthy pursue martial arts.’ Families without means could only strive for advancement through study; martial training required resources, and common folk simply could not afford it. After three years in the Zheng household, Zheng Yanqing understood this well.

Duoduo wiped her face and sat beside him. She was sweating, but beneath the salty scent there lingered a faint, girlish fragrance—what people called ‘fragrant sweat.’

“Little Scholar,” she teased, “you watch me practice every day—do you want to learn?”

Because Zheng Yanqing liked to write and draw, Duoduo called him ‘Scholar.’ Originally the title meant someone of outstanding talent, but over time it became associated with academic achievement.

Duoduo continued, “I’ve heard that a true man should wield a three-foot sword in pursuit of fame. But look at you, idling about, drawing in the dirt with a stick, too weak to truss a chicken—how will you ever make your mark? You should let me teach you martial arts. It might serve you one day. But can you endure the hardship?”

Her words carried a hint of disdain. Unlike later generations, the Sui and Tang were martial in spirit. Having just emerged from the chaos of the Five Barbarians and the division of North and South, even scholarly clans valued both the pen and the sword. The Zhengs, for example, had the Hall of Classics for literature and Anyuan Hall for martial pursuits. Zheng Dashi’s ancestor, Zheng Lianshan, had risen by the sword, and later generations, Zheng Xianhu, Zheng Wei, and Zheng Ding, were all famed for their martial prowess.

Zheng Dashi himself was skilled in riding and archery; in his youth, he could tame wild horses and draw a powerful bow. Unfortunately, his son Zheng Renji was of weak constitution and turned to study military strategy—still within the realm of martial arts.

Zheng Yanqing was tempted. He knew that chaos would come after the Sui dynasty, and having a skill to defend himself would be wise. The early Tang era was an age of famous generals.

Yet he had no idea how far he could go.

“Sister Duoduo, can I really practice martial arts?” he asked.

“Why not? You’re only five—just the right age. If you can bear the hardship and persevere, you’ll succeed.”

After a moment’s thought, Zheng Yanqing feigned innocence, “Then I’ll try!”

“Little Scholar, learning martial arts isn’t easy. Besides the techniques, you’ll need all sorts of medicinal aids—that requires a lot of money. Better ask your grandfather if he’s willing to support you. If he is, I’ll make you some pills, but the cost will be considerable!” She smiled slyly, like a little fox.

Her tone was half tempting, which made Zheng Yanqing wary.

“Sister, is martial training really that expensive?”

“Of course. As the saying goes: ‘A hundred days to lay the foundation, a thousand days to refine qi, ten years to reach mastery, sixty years to return to emptiness.’ Every stage requires a great deal of money. Even just laying the foundation—if you’re lucky, it might take a hundred days; if not, even ten years might not suffice. And after that, you must reshape bone and tendon, cleanse the marrow—each step costs dearly.

When I trained, my master said that talent and perseverance are most important—together, they’re sixty percent. The rest is money and opportunity—money is thirty percent, fate is ten. All four are essential; miss one, and you’ll achieve nothing. Do you understand?”

Duoduo’s smile was bright, her tone gentle. In three years living together, Zheng Yanqing had rarely heard her speak so kindly. This was partly due to his own reserved nature, believing in the proverb ‘true friendship is as calm as water’ and rarely forming close attachments unless truly intimate. On the other hand, Aunt Xu and her daughter’s mysterious origins made him cautious, and Duoduo was not an easy girl to get along with. Though they lived under the same roof, they seldom spoke warmly.

Duoduo’s sudden change made Zheng Yanqing all the more careful. Yet, being skilled at hiding his thoughts and still a child, even adults found it hard to read him, let alone a girl of seven or eight. The more Duoduo smiled, the more vigilant Zheng Yanqing became.

“Duoduo, have you completed your foundation-building?”

She looked proud for a moment, then shook her head ruefully, “I could have finished two years ago and moved on to refining qi and reshaping the body, but—Little Scholar, I’m not stupid, just limited by circumstance.”

She was not truly eager to teach him martial arts, more likely hoping to use his resources to complete her own foundation-building.

But who was Zheng Yanqing? Though Duoduo was careful, she could not hide her intent from him. It seemed that when she entered the Zheng household, she was already at the foundation stage. She had come partly to hide, partly for livelihood, for what could a servant earn except subsistence? Yet martial training required money for medicine—how could she afford it?

“Sister Duoduo, is it very difficult to complete foundation-building without medicinal aids?”

She shook her head, “Not at all. My master said perseverance will always break through, but the earlier you finish, the better. The older you get, the harder it is. If you miss the best age for refining qi and reshaping the body, you can forget about ever becoming a grandmaster.”

This was the first Zheng Yanqing had heard of such things, so he pressed, “Then who, in today’s world, is a grandmaster?”

Such an ordinary question, yet Duoduo’s patience waned.

“Little Scholar, why do you ask so much? All you need to say is: do you want to learn the Dragon-Taming Art from me or not?”