Chapter 87 : Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Though We Meet, You Know Me Not

In ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍the Taiping Clinic's main hall, Old Man Yao wrote prescriptions at a leisurely pace, handing each one to Chen Ji to fill.

Chen Ji weighed the herbs with painstaking slowness, eyes locked on the copper scale's markings until they nearly crossed, refusing to glance anywhere else -- terrified that Prince Jing's displeasure might spill over onto him.

Baili stood beside the Heir with her head bowed, secretly nudging his ankle with her toe, urging him to apologize.

But Prince Jing had already turned away from his son. He looked at Chen Ji. "Stop weighing medicine. It's rare to meet someone with your peculiar talent for Go. Come play a few more games."

"Oh..." Chen Ji shuffled over to the counter, eyes downcast, and began gathering stones back into the bowls.

Prince Jing smiled. "No handicap this time. Two stones won't be enough against you."

Baili's eyes went wide. Her father was voluntarily dropping the handicap against a junior? That was unheard of.

She tried to inch closer to watch, but Prince Jing shot her a sideways look and she retreated obediently. She could only crane her neck on tiptoe.

Chen Ji's skill was far below Prince Jing's, but Prince Jing had never encountered such stubborn lone-stone tactics. Time and again, Chen Ji clawed back from the brink.

Prince Jing marveled. "You're clearly intelligent. Why not walk the orthodox path of Go? Why cling to this one unorthodox style? You're limiting your own game."

Chen Ji placed a stone calmly. "I can't afford to be greedy."

Prince Jing paused. "Can't afford to be greedy" was itself a Go maxim.

Chen Ji meant that this was simply his nature. The lone-stone rescue and Dragon Swallower were all he was good at. If he forced himself to play for control and grand strategy like everyone else, he'd lose.

Prince Jing turned a stone between his fingers. "With that temperament, you'll never be a player who moves the pieces. If you can only be a piece yourself -- would you accept that?"

Chen Ji didn't understand. Was this something a prince should be asking a clinic apprentice? A clinic apprentice was no more than a blade of grass in the masses -- he couldn't touch the sky.

What use was talking about players and pieces?

He thought for a moment, then asked in return, "Must one live inside the board?"

Prince Jing laughed heartily. "You could live outside it. That would be a different kind of life entirely."

Still kneeling, the Heir sneaked a glance at Baili. Both of them noticed that their father's mood was improving as he played with Chen Ji...

The Heir caught Baili's eye and she understood at once, snatching up Prince Jing's empty teacup and refilling it.

Prince Jing played and chatted with Old Man Yao simultaneously. "Physician Yao, have Baili and Yunxi gotten into any trouble lately?"

The Heir and Baili's hearts leapt into their throats. They stared pleadingly at Old Man Yao.

Old Man Yao stood at the medicine cabinet with his back to them. "Nothing catastrophic. They just sneak out almost every night. Always leaving around late evening. I couldn't tell you where in Luocheng there is to go at that hour."

Prince Jing answered evenly, "White Cloth Lane and Red Cloth Lane, naturally."

The Heir and Baili's suspended hearts finally died.

Prince Jing continued, unhurried. "Yunxi's allowance was already cut. Without money for those places, Baili must be funding him. Starting this month, Baili's allowance is cut as well."

The Heir's face fell. It was over.

Baili said in a small voice, "Father, I won't give my brother any more money. Could you please not cut mine?"

Prince Jing didn't answer. He simply picked up a stone for another game with Chen Ji.

He looked up at Chen Ji. "Was Yunxi and Baili's nighttime excursions to White Cloth Lane and Red Cloth Lane your doing as well?"

Chen Ji said earnestly, "Your Highness, I devote myself entirely to medical study and coursework. I haven't time for such places."

The Heir: What?

Baili: What?

Prince Jing glanced at the two of them. "You could both stand to learn from Chen Ji."

The Heir blurted, "He came with us!"

Chen Ji: "..."

Nobody gets to live.

Prince Jing turned back to Chen Ji with amusement. "You went too?"

Chen Ji: "..."

Prince Jing gathered the stones into the bowl and smiled. "So then -- 'If life were always as when we first met, why should the autumn wind grieve the painted fan?' And 'Withered vines, an ancient tree, crows at dusk; a small bridge, flowing water, a home' -- those were your compositions? I know Yunxi's abilities well enough. He didn't write those."

Chen Ji was startled. Prince Jing knew everything. Not only about the nighttime excursions, but about every poem the Heir had used at the Embroidery Building.

Of course. A feudal prince with real power could hardly be ignorant of what happened in his own city.

The Heir was even more startled. How was it that he got punished for going to White Cloth Lane, while Chen Ji got treated like an honored guest?

Unjust!

The games continued.

Prince Jing lost three consecutive rounds to Chen Ji's razor-sharp lone-stone tactics. His face showed no frustration or anger -- only a deepening curiosity and interest.

Game after game they played, and Chen Ji found the going harder each time, until Prince Jing systematically sealed off every unorthodox avenue, leaving him no room for his signature rescues.

He lost.

Chen Ji had only won first place in a city-level Go tournament. In the broader world of Go, that was nothing special. Losing was inevitable -- he just hadn't expected to lose this quickly.

Prince Jing smiled. "Young man, how would you rate my Go?"

Chen Ji took a deep breath. "Formidable."

"If you had to describe it in one word?"

Chen Ji thought. "Patient."

Prince Jing was truly, extraordinarily patient. He built his position step by step, as though the desire to win were an impurity to be purged. Yet looking closer, everything he did was in service of victory.

Prince Jing turned to Old Man Yao. "Physician Yao, you once saved the mother of Ma Yiming, the Provincial Judge of Jianzhou. Nine years ago, if not for your diagnosis, she would have died. Jianzhou's granaries still hold some glutinous rice. Could you write him a letter? I'd like to requisition that rice to solve the immediate crisis. Our Ning Dynasty's civilian officials prize filial piety above all -- a letter from you would carry real weight."

Old Man Yao nodded. "I can do that. I'll write it tonight. Send someone for it in the morning."

"Write it now, if you would. We can't afford to lose a single moment." Prince Jing's expression eased slightly but didn't fully relax. "That Provincial Judge has been holding onto this rice to feed his own province, which is understandable. If I take it, I'll need to find substitute crops to fill his granary, or the people there will go hungry."

Chen Ji suddenly fell deep into thought. In his world, rice mortar had been used well into the late eighteenth century, only replaced when foreign cement technology arrived. Back then, the common people called cement "foreign ash."

Was rice mortar effective? Absolutely. The Great Wall itself was bonded with it, and it had stood for millennia. In some respects, it was more durable than ordinary cement.

But the problem was that rice mortar had appeared in an era of limited productivity, where it was inherently at odds with feeding the population. Moreover, rice mortar needed three years to calcify to full strength, while cement reached standard strength in just twenty days, at a fraction of the cost.

The moment cement appeared, it would revolutionize the entire field of construction.

Chen Ji searched his memory. How was cement made again?

Just then, Anxi Street grew lively outside. Everyone looked up to see sedan chairs carrying official after official toward Prince Jing's manor -- a rough count put the number at thirty or forty.

Chen Ji looked up and saw Prince Jing acting as though the officials didn't exist, calmly placing his next stone. "Your turn. Yunxi, stop kneeling there making a fool of yourself. Get up."

"Oh!" The Heir rose with evident relief, rubbing his aching knees.

Before long, the officials returned empty-handed, apparently told the Prince was not at the manor. As their sedans passed the Taiping Clinic, one official idly lifted his curtain and froze at the sight of a familiar figure seated at the counter.

"Stop, stop." He halted his bearers and peered closer. He couldn't mistake that outfit -- Prince Jing had worn the same robe for years.

The sedans lowered. Officials in green and blue robes emerged, their chests bearing rank badges embroidered with silver pheasants, golden pheasants, and mandarin ducks, leather belts at their waists, black cloth boots on their feet.

They gathered outside the Taiping Clinic, murmuring uncertainly about whether to enter.

Then all eyes turned to two men at the front. One had a long beard and a ruddy complexion. He considered the situation. "Let's wait until the Prince finishes this game before going in."

They stood in the cold, stamping their feet and blowing on their hands, noses red.

After a moment, the bearded official murmured in surprise. "The Prince's Go is superb. Why is he bothering to play a young apprentice? What's the fun in that... Wait. Chen Liqin, that boy looks familiar. Have I seen him somewhere?"

Luocheng Deputy Prefect Chen Liqin looked up and stared. The young man playing Go with Prince Jing was his youngest son -- the one he hadn't seen in over half a year.

He'd completely forgotten that he had sent Chen Ji to the Taiping Clinic as an apprentice.

Prefect Zhang Zhuo turned to him. "Now I remember. I saw him at your residence. At the Lantern Festival banquet two years ago, he was seated at the far end of the lower right table..."

Zhang Zhuo had passed the xiucai examination at twelve, earned his jinshi degree and had his name called at the Eastern Glory Gate at fifteen, becoming the youngest zhuangyuan in the Ning Dynasty's history. He wrote a magnificent hand and possessed a flawless memory.

At nineteen his first wife had died. At twenty-two he married the niece of Chief Grand Secretary Xu Gong, and from then on his career had been a rocket -- covering in fifteen years what most men couldn't achieve in a lifetime. It was only a matter of time before he entered the Grand Secretariat.

Yet Zhang Zhuo lacked a prefect's gravitas. He nudged Chen Liqin's elbow playfully. "Your boy is playing Go with Prince Jing? You sly fox, Chen Liqin -- you found a back door into the Prince's manor and didn't tell me. No wonder you sent your son here as an apprentice."

Chen Liqin frowned but said nothing. Not because he didn't want to answer, but because he had no answer to give. Zhang Zhuo's question was his own: Why was Chen Ji playing Go with Prince Jing?

And from inside the clinic, Prince Jing's hearty laughter kept drifting out. His youngest son seemed to be getting along splendidly with the Prince...

A clatter of stones. Chen Ji swept black pieces into the bowl. The game was over.

Zhang Zhuo tugged Chen Liqin's sleeve. "Quickly, follow me."

The two stepped over the threshold. Chen Liqin only cupped his hands and bowed, but Zhang Zhuo bent nearly double with an ingratiating smile. "Your Highness, you've worked so hard on this southern expedition for grain supplies."

Prince Jing turned slowly. "You gentlemen have worked hard too. I hear you went to the river dykes in the snow to comfort the laborers. That kind of concern for the common people befits the parent-officials of this city."

Zhang Zhuo was quick with a smile. "Merely our duty. But the floods in southern Yuzhou a few months back destroyed so much farmland that refugees are streaming toward Luocheng. We need to build shelters quickly."

"You do have the people's welfare at heart," Prince Jing said slowly. "Tell me -- what's the difficulty?"

"Building houses now may already be too late..."

While Zhang Zhuo and Prince Jing spoke, Chen Liqin's gaze kept drifting to Chen Ji. But strangely, his youngest son was absorbed in tidying the Go board and never once looked his way.

When the boy finally raised his head and their eyes met, all Chen Ji offered was a polite, distant smile -- the kind you'd give a stranger.

Chen Liqin's brow furrowed. He had sent Chen Ji to the clinic in the first place because of the boy's gambling habit.

He didn't feel he'd mistreated Chen Ji. An apprenticeship at the Taiping Clinic was a good path, and he'd instructed the steward to deliver a monthly stipend.

Yet now his son treated the family home as though it didn't exist, meeting his own father like a stranger. Was this a sulk? A declaration of severance? Utterly ungrateful.

Chen Ji, for his part, was simply uncomfortable. With so many officials present, he didn't know whether to stay by the Go board or leave. And one of them kept staring at him.

Chen Ji looked down at his clothes. No holes or stains that he could see.

Old Man Yao noticed his discomfort and said lightly, "Chen Ji, pour tea for the two lords. Their hands must be cold."

"Right away." Chen Ji fetched a tray from the back, carried it to Chen Liqin, and offered it politely. "My lord, please have some tea."

Chen Liqin's square, sun-darkened face tightened. "You're calling me 'my lord'?"

Chen Ji blinked. What else was he supposed to call him?

Before he could react, Zhang Zhuo took a cup, warming his hands as he smiled. "Your Highness, this year's Yuzhou autumn examinations are drawing considerable attention. Deputy Prefect Chen's son, Chen Wenzong, was praised by the instructors at Donglin Academy as having the makings of a zhuangyuan. Several Jiangnan scholars have even vowed to challenge him at next year's palace examination."

Prince Jing glanced at Chen Ji, then smiled at Chen Liqin. "Deputy Prefect Chen, you've raised your children well. Not only the eldest -- this youngest, Chen Ji, is impressive too. He beat me several times just now."

Chen Ji's heart lurched.