Chapter 87: The Mystery of Birth

Liaochen had said all there was to say; whether the Zhengde Emperor could comprehend it now depended entirely on himself.

"The highest good is like water, which benefits all things without contention," and "those who excel at swimming often drown in water"—these were not empty words. Harboring a dagger in a smile, being dark-bellied and ruthless—these were the bare minimum qualifications for a competent monarch. An emperor who acted like a refined gentleman would either end up as a puppet in the hands of his ministers or lose his entire realm.

Confucian imperial education, whether intentional or not, had never managed to produce a true wise ruler under the guise of grand righteousness. This was because the way of a gentleman was never a quality an emperor ought to possess.

Liaochen actually hoped that Zhengde would spend more time perusing the teachings of Huang-Lao and the philosophers of the Hundred Schools. At least during the Han dynasty, prior to the emperors being utterly hoodwinked by Emperor Yuan of Han, all preceding monarchs had stayed above the passing line. If Zhengde could learn from them, it would at least avert many of the tragedies that followed.

After three rounds of drinks, Zhengde and Liaochen tacitly steered the conversation away from state affairs, turning instead to the philosophy of Laozi and Zhuangzi. Zhengde disliked reading, particularly the rigid Four Books and Five Classics; instead, he dabbled extensively in the miscellaneous works and unorthodox discourses of the various philosophical schools. This was something the civil officials detested, yet it greatly pleased the Hongzhi Emperor. Otherwise, given how deeply the Hongzhi Emperor cared for Zhengde, how could he have been unaware that Liu Jin and his cohorts had smuggled so many "heterodox books" into the palace for him?

To put it bluntly, the Four Books and Five Classics were meant for officials to read—even if they were entirely useless. They were not meant for a ruler. What an emperor needed to read were historical records, the arts of sovereignty and hegemony, and the learning of statecraft. If Zhengde had genuinely grown to love the Four Books and Five Classics as his ministers hoped, the Hongzhi Emperor would have been driven to sigh the lament of Emperor Xuan of Han.

Sipping their wine lightly over cheerful conversation, Liaochen had completely revised his opinion of the Zhengde Emperor. Whoever claimed that the Zhengde Emperor was a muddle-headed and unprincipled ruler—Liaochen would make damn sure they learned what it meant to tell barefaced lies while inviting a lightning strike from the heavens.

Zhengde's statecraft as a sovereign could be considered passing grade. One could tell he was no fool simply from the way he pushed Liu Jin forward to lock horns with the civil bureaucracy while remaining quietly behind the scenes to back Liu Jin up. By the time Zhengde ascended the throne, the civil officials had already grown to threaten imperial authority, becoming a formidable faction too vast to control. Had Zhengde chosen the conventional path, he undoubtedly would have ended up nothing more than a puppet. One could easily tell how aggressively overbearing the court officials were by looking at the subsequent reigns of Jiajing and Wanli.

Yet Zhengde's strategy turned out to be the finest approach. Did not even the later Tianqi Emperor manage to barely cling to survival by mimicking Zhengde's methods? It was merely unfortunate that Zhengde suffered the calamity of drowning, while Tianqi met the misfortune of an early demise, both of them leaving behind no heirs.

A sudden chill washed over Liaochen, and a lingering shadow began to coil within his heart.

Was it the will of heaven, or the hand of man? Was it an accident, or a murder?

"Your Majesty, might this poor Daoist take your pulse for a look?" Liaochen suddenly asked.

Zhengde was immensely surprised. Why had the Daoist master opposite him suddenly asked to check his pulse? Could it be that he harbored some hidden ailment?

No emperor in the world was unafraid of death. In his sudden panic, Zhengde extended his wrist without a single question. Liaochen closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against Zhengde's pulse, only opening them a long while later.

"Your Majesty, when the Imperial Hospital checks your pulse year after year, have they said anything to you?" Liaochen asked with a long sigh.

"Ah!" Zhengde started, thinking to himself whether he had contracted some incurable disease. He hastily said, "The Imperial Hospital takes my pulse every month. They always tell me my body is robust and there is nothing of major concern. Could it be that the Master has noticed something amiss?"

No wonder Zhengde was anxious; anyone would panic upon hearing such a pronouncement from a revered master in whom they placed absolute trust.

Seeing the expression on Zhengde's face and realizing the emperor had misunderstood, Liaochen quickly reassured him, "Your Majesty, your physique is indeed robust and without fault. Rest easy."

Zhengde's physique was indeed robust, perhaps related to his fondness for martial arts, but it suffered from an imbalance of yin and yang and a deficiency of kidney essence. Because Zhengde was still young, naturally he was free of all illnesses. However, this boded ill for producing heirs; once he grew slightly older, he would burn out like exhausted firewood and collapse in an instant. Traditional Chinese medicine placed paramount importance on the harmony of yin and yang. The imperial physicians were all master healers of the realm—how could they have failed to notice that Zhengde's yang energy was excessive while his yin was deficient?

Hearing Liaochen's words, Zhengde finally breathed a long sigh of relief and said, "Master, please do not try to scare me like that!"

Liaochen smiled and said, "Your Majesty is busy with state affairs and your heart dwells constantly on the nation. You must remember not to give vent to anger, for anger harms the liver. Nor should you indulge excessively in female beauty, for lust harms the kidneys."

Zhengde nodded with a somewhat peculiar expression. Although he did not care much for the consorts within the palace, he did enjoy the pleasures of the outside. Could the Master have caught wind of some rumors?

"I know a boxing form that excels supremely at harmonizing yin and yang, prolonging life and enhancing longevity. Would Your Majesty be willing to practice it?" Thinking of Tai Chi, Liaochen remembered that in his past life he had also been a practitioner of the Daoist gates and had frequently practiced Tai Chi. Teaching it to Zhengde would serve a dual purpose: first, it would grant this most unorthodox emperor in history somewhat better health; and second, it could be propagated throughout the realm, which could also be considered a way of promoting Daoist martial arts!

Hearing this, Zhengde was overjoyed. Since the Protector of the Country Daoist Master was finally willing to teach him something, how could he possibly be unwilling? He nodded hurriedly and said, "Many thanks, Master! I wonder when the Master intends to impart it—could it be today?"

Liaochen glanced at Zhengde's ceremonial attire and smiled, "Tomorrow morning, let us meet here in the imperial garden! Your Majesty may change into a looser outfit suitable for martial arts practice."

At that moment, Zhengde was clad in his dragon robe, wearing an imperial crown and burdened with full regalia weighing no less than ten catties—how could anyone practice martial arts dressed like that?

Zhengde looked down at his own attire as well, gave an awkward chuckle, and replied, "I shall come bright and early tomorrow morning!"

Liaochen nodded and said, "This boxing form is not for waging war on the battlefield, but rather suited for self-cultivation, nurturing the mind, and harmonizing the breath. If Your Majesty is so inclined, you should practice it unceasingly, and it may also be promoted across the realm for physical conditioning."

Zhengde nodded in agreement, then glanced back. Immediately, a young eunuch hurried over holding a golden platter covered with yellow damask silk. Zhengde personally took the golden platter, placed it gently upon the stone table, lifted the silk covering, and said, "When the Master entered the capital previously, you left behind a personal jade pendant. This pendant was intricately carved from top-tier mutton-fat jade, evidently crafted by a master artisan and far from ordinary. While my Imperial Father was still alive, he sent people to investigate the origins of this jade pendant through various channels, and then recorded the findings inside a sealed envelope which must be opened by the Master personally. Neither I nor the Empress Dowager know its contents. He said that since the Master has stepped beyond the mortal dust to roam free and untethered, whether you wish to be entangled in mortal ties once more is entirely up to you to decide."

The damask silk was lifted to reveal none other than the very jade pendant Liaochen had carried with him all those years ago. Unseen for many years, it remained as warm and lustrous as ever. Resting upon the pendant was a letter, presumably written in the Hongzhi Emperor's own hand. Yet because it could never reach Liaochen's own hands, the emperor had no choice but to entrust it to his son to pass along before his death.

Liaochen slowly reached out to take the jade pendant and the envelope. The envelope was sealed with red lacquer and bore the inscription: "To be personally opened by the immortal master Liaochen, Protector of the Country." Suddenly, Liaochen felt a heavy weight in his chest; the seemingly weightless envelope felt as heavy as a thousand jun.

If this truly was a maneuver by the Hongzhi Emperor to win him over, Liaochen had to admit with a sigh that the late emperor had succeeded.

"Immeasurable Heavenly Venerate!" Liaochen made an obeisance with his hands cupped before his chest and said, "This poor Daoist still has matters to attend to and must take his leave. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness!"

The Zhengde Emperor nodded. Realizing that Liaochen's Daoist heart was likely in turmoil at this moment, he did not press him to stay. Meanwhile, seeing Liaochen's solemn expression, Yunhua hurriedly scooped up the tipsy fox, stood up, and called out, "Master!"

Liaochen nodded to Yunhua, signaling her not to worry, and then strode away.

Having lived through two lifetimes, truth be told, Liaochen felt no emotional attachment to his family in this current life; what remained was merely a debt of birth! From childhood to adulthood, his only family had been his master alone.

What on earth was written inside this envelope? What made the Hongzhi Emperor keep it a strict secret, refusing to tell even his own wife and child?

Liaochen did not know his own date and hour of birth, nor did practitioners of the Dao care about such things. What baffled Liaochen was himself: why had he possessed such a precious jade pendant since childhood, only to be abandoned in the wilderness?

A century of time would all turn to dust. No doubt his biological parents and immediate family were no longer among the living.

Yet, Liaochen still felt as though he had been snared by an invisible net, being dragged deeper and deeper back into the mortal world.