Chapter 2558: Hope

When Zhang Jiayu remained silent, Lin Jian stepped forward. "I am Lin Jian, a sheng yuan of the county school. To gather here today among such righteous warriors is truly a blessing spanning three lifetimes. Regarding the Daoist's plan, I have someone to recommend—a man who loves swordsmanship and acts with chivalry, who keeps company with the heroic men of the rivers and lakes. He is quick-witted by nature and loyal to sovereign and country. He can surely bear this great responsibility."

"Oh?" Daoist Mushi leaned forward with interest.

Lin Jian pushed Zhang Jiayu from behind. "My student, Zhang Jiayu."

Zhang Jiayu had not anticipated this. Thrust suddenly into the center of everyone's attention, his fair, youthful face flushed crimson.

Someone immediately mocked him. "A shy, fair-faced scholar—this is supposed to serve as a spy unto death?"

Zhang Jiayu had only just reached adulthood, and his temperament remained unsettled. On any other day, his forthright nature might have driven him to accept on the spot. But his heart was consumed with finding medicine to save his mother. What did he care about some grand cause against the Bald Bandits? Now that his teacher had dragged him into this affair, he would have difficulty extricating himself without a clear explanation.

He forced down his embarrassment and composed his expression. "I am Zhang Jiayu. I have studied military texts under my teacher for several years. Though not born into a scholarly family, I was raised on the teachings of Confucius and Mencius and harbor a sincere desire to serve the country. Yet I am a nameless nobody, lacking in talent and learning. I fear I cannot bear such a great responsibility."

Li Zhen spoke up. "Brother, there is no need for modesty. I heard your name during my time at the county school. They called Dongguan's Zhiyuan a brilliant swordsman—chivalrous in deed, well-versed in classics and histories, broadly talented with ambitions to bring order to the world. What a pity we never had the chance to become acquainted. I understand you recently traveled to Guangzhou and were away from home for quite some time. You must have been infiltrating the tiger's den to probe the Australians' situation." He shook his head with a rueful smile. "Dingfu feels ashamed of his inferiority."

"Is this truly so?" Su Guansheng exclaimed. "Worthy indeed of being a descendant of Duke Zhang Wenxian—loyal through generations. A young hero! Zhiyuan's conduct is a model for our generation."

Su Guansheng naturally recognized the handsome young man before him as the clan brother of his teacher, Zhang Yifeng. The Zhang clan had resided in Dongguan for generations, their ancestor being Zhang Jiugao, younger brother of the famous Zhang Jiuling. Although this branch had declined by Zhang Jiayu's great-grandfather's generation—the family was poor—they remained a household that had farmed and studied for generations.

Zhang Yifeng, a juren of the thirty-fourth year of Wanli, had been appointed Registrar of Kuizhou Prefecture and later promoted to Vice Commissioner of the Left Jiang Military Defense Circuit in Guangxi. Historically, after Zhang Jiayu passed the provincial examination, Zhang Yifeng had invited him to study at the Military Defense Circuit's official residence, seeking to cultivate this promising young talent of the clan. He had even arranged a marriage for his impoverished kinsman—a testament to how highly Zhang Yifeng valued promising youth among the younger generation. It was during this period that Zhang Jiayu's military qualities were greatly tempered. In the ninth year of Chongzhen, when the Emperor ordered capital officials to each recommend capable men to pacify bandits and settle the people, Zhang Yifeng had recommended Su Guansheng as Magistrate of Wuji County. One might say Zhang Yifeng was something of a talent scout in Dongguan.

But what Su Guansheng, Zhang Jiayu, and the others did not know was that the butterfly effect brought about by the Bald Bandits' appearance had altered everything. Zhang Yifeng had been transferred to a capital position before the Bald Bandits launched their attack. At this point, Zhang Jiayu remained merely a xiu cai—and xiu cai who failed to pass the juren examinations were as common as sand on a beach. Whether Zhang Jiayu might one day become a juren or even a jinshi remained unknown. The Zhang clan was large with extensive assets, and Dongguan was a place where literary culture flourished. Throughout the Ming dynasty, over thirty academies had existed there, and xiu cai were beyond counting. Zhang Yifeng would not have given special attention to Zhang Jiayu at this stage. Now that Liangguang had fallen, Zhang Jiayu could not travel to the Military Defense Circuit to study military arts, and Su Guansheng would never become Magistrate of Wuji County.

Zhang Mu had been listening carefully to Su Guansheng's words, and now he regarded the handsome young man before him with fresh interest. Not only were they of the same clan, but here was a commoner who was loyal and righteous, who loved swordsmanship and acted with chivalry. Zhang Mu found himself deeply intrigued.

Under everyone's urging, Zhang Jiayu had no choice but to describe his experiences in Guangzhou—his participation in the Five Immortals Temple salon and his enrollment at the Shen Ao Academy run by True Hairs. His audience clicked their tongues in wonder.

"To think that among our generation there is someone who knows the Bald Bandits..."

"Even more remarkable—he actually infiltrated the Bald Bandits' academy and caught the attention of their leaders. This will make infiltration far easier. Such an important task belongs to none other than Zhiyuan." The praise flowed freely.

In truth, gaining entry to the academy was nothing extraordinary. Shen Ao Academy was an open venue; any scholar interested in Australian learning could enter with a recommendation from a formal member. No qualifications were required. Those who did not intend to formally join need not even take an oath. Formal membership required only joint recommendation by three formal members.

The distinction between formal and ordinary members meant little more than access to more advanced Australian learning texts. Beyond that, there were no other benefits.

But Zhang Jiayu's value in the eyes of the True Hairs was genuine. Many at the academy sought to curry favor with them, yet few caught Du and Cui's attention. Zhang Jiayu was one of the rare exceptions.

Listening to the torrent of praise, Zhang Jiayu felt his blood surge and his head grow light. Although the Australians had shown him appreciation, it was not enough to make him bow in submission. From the beginning, he had no solid reason to refuse this anti-Bald coalition composed of his teacher, classmates, and fellow villagers. Now, swept up in everyone's acclaim, the loyalty, filial piety, propriety, and righteousness instilled in him since childhood stirred once more. Half-pushed and half-willing, he tacitly accepted this momentous task that had fallen from the sky. Yet his heart still ached with worry for his mother's illness, and a bitter smile played at his lips.

Zhang Mu noticed and asked, "Zhiyuan seems troubled. Is something weighing on you?"

Zhang Jiayu glanced at Daoist Mushi, then turned to Zhang Mu. "Brother Tieqiao is perceptive. My elderly mother is gravely ill at home. Medicine and treatment have had no effect. We have tried Australian sulfa several times, but her condition has not improved. My teacher mentioned that an accomplished master would be visiting today—that is precisely why I came."

Daoist Mushi was a shrewd man. He had already detected unusual undertones in Zhang Jiayu's account of his Guangzhou adventures. With a wave of his whisk, he smiled. "Since Young Brother is one of us and is willing to contribute to the great cause against the Bald Bandits, this poor Daoist shall certainly assist with all his might. Since childhood, I have specialized in Qimen Dunjia, the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, and I possess some knowledge of the medical arts as well. I happen to have several excellent elixir pills that can help your mother overcome this tribulation." He produced a small white porcelain bottle from within his Daoist robes.

Zhang Jiayu grasped at the offer like a drowning man clutching at driftwood. He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud and kowtowed deeply. "The Daoist's great kindness—Jiayu will never forget it until his dying day."

"However..." The Daoist's smile faded, and his voice grew solemn. "This medicine was refined in the purple-gold elixir furnace using secret methods passed down from Laozi himself, over nine times nine—eighty-one days—and contains a thread of true qi. This medicine works only for the benevolent, the righteous, the courteous, the wise, the trustworthy. If the heart leans toward Great Ming, it works. Whether your mother overcomes this tribulation depends entirely on your sincerity."

With evident reluctance, Daoist Mushi carefully poured two yellowish-brown tablets from the porcelain bottle and handed them to Zhang Jiayu, instructing him to take them with clear water. Everyone inside the hermitage had never seen such medicine; they thought it surely an immortal treasure—something far beyond the ordinary.

Zhang Jiayu did not grasp the implications and agreed repeatedly.

Su Guansheng beamed. "Today is truly delightful. Brothers united can cut through metal. The great cause against the Bald Bandits will surely succeed."

After the group finished their discussions, they departed from Yan'an Hermitage in separate batches to avoid drawing attention. Zhang Mu, however, lingered with Zhang Jiayu, finding their conversation increasingly congenial—a great regret of having met too late.

Zhang Mu clasped Zhang Jiayu's arm. "Our ancestors came from the same line. Only the passage of years has made us distant. Another day, I shall personally deliver my name card to your door and formally acknowledge our kinship. Were we of different surnames, I would borrow Yanke's sacred ground this very moment to swear an oath of brotherhood."

Zhang Jiayu felt overwhelmed. "Brother Tieqiao comes from a noble and wealthy family. How could Jiayu presume so high?"

"Come now, Zhiyuan—say no more. We are both men of the rivers and lakes. Why twist and fuss like a woman?" Zhang Mu said with a wave of his hand.

Seeing Zhang Mu's unaffected manner, Zhang Jiayu declined no further. After exchanging family genealogies and seniority, he addressed Zhang Mu as elder brother. Zhang Mu, knowing that Zhang Jiayu was anxious about his mother's health, did not detain him further. He himself remained behind to discuss Buddhist teachings with Li Yunlong, whom he had not seen in years.

That evening, Zhang Jiayu gave the yellowish-brown tablets from Daoist Mushi to his mother. About an hour later, her condition seemed somewhat improved. Exhausted from days of worry, Zhang Jiayu finally fell asleep slumped against the edge of her bed.

"Brother... Brother..." After some indeterminate time, young Shibao shook Zhang Jiayu's shoulder. "Mother is coughing again."

Zhang Jiayu woke with a start. A full night had passed. Hearing his mother's heavy coughing, dread seized him—could it be that his loyalty to Great Ming was insufficient, bringing harm upon her?

Once he had gathered his wits, he recalled the warning his sworn brother Zhang Mu had given at their parting. "I have no dealings with Su Guansheng," Zhang Mu had said, "but I have long heard that this man has grand ambitions yet little talent, and lacks sound strategy. For a matter as great as opposing the Bald Bandits, he surely cannot manage it. The true force behind this must be that Daoist Mushi and the Stone Elder he mentioned. Yet this Daoist is an outsider with an ambiguous background. The rivers and lakes are treacherous, younger brother. Keep your wits about you."

Zhang Mu's words were well-founded. He had traveled across half of Great Ming's mountains and rivers; his worldly experience far exceeded that of Zhang Jiayu, who was young and had seldom ventured far from home. Anyone who knew the trade would recognize that Daoist Mushi's pronouncements were the same smokescreen ancient healers used to absolve themselves of blame. If treatment failed, wouldn't it tarnish the miracle doctor's reputation? Daoist Mushi was building networks across various regions; to win hearts, he inevitably displayed "miracles." But where in this world existed a panacea that cured all diseases? With those words, if the patient could not be cured, it was all due to insufficient sincerity. If she recovered, it was all thanks to the Daoist's "miracle."

Could it truly be that only penicillin can save Mother? Zhang Jiayu clutched the prescription written by the Fake-Hair doctor, recalling the physician's cryptic expression.

Moments later, he made up his mind: he would take his mother to Guangzhou.

(End of Chapter)