7

Chapter Seven: Pillars of the Nation

Duān Míngyù stood there, picked up a slipper, and fanned herself with it, thinking she looked quite charming and carefree. Yet the three onlookers found her antics both baffling and amusing. Yáng Zhāoniáng’s rosy cheeks betrayed her struggle to suppress laughter; it was clear she wanted to laugh but was holding back with great effort.

Secretly, Yáng Zhāoniáng vowed that if this fool couldn’t compose a fine poem tonight, she would saw off one leg of Duān Míngyù’s bed.

Unaware that her behavior was insulting to the refined, Duān Míngyù, facing their strange gazes, waved the slipper again—both endearing and exasperating—and slowly recited:

“The waters of Nanling spread far and wide,
Winds are brisk, clouds light, heralding autumn’s tide.
A traveler’s heart lonely, turning back once more,
Whose red sleeves lean against the riverside tower?”

“Excellent, excellent, excellent!” Yáng Yángguāng exclaimed, praising the poem’s dynamic tranquility and tranquil movement. “The vast waters, the fickle winds, the drifting clouds—all express endless sorrow of parting. The couplets are perfectly matched, the rhythm flawless—a truly superb masterpiece.” He looked at Duān Míngyù with newfound admiration. “Mister Duān, your literary talent is truly remarkable. May I ask, are you a student of the provincial examination hall?”

Although Xú Zǔyè could barely read any large characters, even he could tell that this poem had thoroughly won over the old man. He gave Duān Míngyù a knowing look, silently acknowledging, “You’re hiding your talents well, young man.”

Duān Míngyù shrugged. “You forced me into this.” Then, turning back to Yáng Yángguāng, she said confidently, “Sir Yang, you flatter me. I am but a humble scholar—the newly crowned top scorer, Duān Míngyù!”

Good heavens! Both Xú Zǔyè and Yáng Yángguāng’s minds went blank. To be the top scorer—that was a title denoting invincibility across the land.

“How come you never told me you were the top scorer?” Xú Zǔyè stroked his beard in astonishment.

“You never asked. Old Xú, I understand your feelings. But one must stay humble, you see? Humility is the true way,” Duān Míngyù replied, calm and composed.

Yáng Zhāoniáng blinked her curious eyes and looked utterly adorable. “Such talent and a top scorer, yet you never took an official post? You really must be thick-headed!”

Yáng Yángguāng scolded gently, “Zhāoniáng, that’s rude. Mister Duān has his own views. Mastery of literature doesn’t necessarily mean one must enter government service. Besides, after this recent examination, some complications arose, and official appointments have been delayed.”

Duān Míngyù wasn’t sure how to respond to Yáng Zhāoniáng’s remark, but Yáng Yángguāng’s explanation relieved him greatly. He found himself increasingly fond of the old man and bowed deeply. “Sir Yang, you speak wisely. As the ancients said, ‘When capable, one helps the world; when poor, one cultivates oneself.’ Many sages throughout history have chosen to retire to the mountains and forests. Everyone has different ambitions. I find this life of rising with the sun and resting at sunset quite fulfilling.”

Yáng Yángguāng said, “That may be so, but among the four classes—scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—merchants rank lowest. Doesn’t such a profession demean your status, Brother Duān?”

Duān Míngyù replied, “Sir Yang, that is mistaken. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants are all pillars of the nation—each indispensable. Scholars bring order to society; farmers fill our bellies; artisans enhance productivity; merchants balance supply and demand. They complement and depend on each other. There should be no hierarchy of status or honor.”

Yáng Yángguāng pondered for a moment. These words almost overturned his long-held beliefs. Yet Duān Míngyù spoke with such conviction and reason that he found himself unable to argue.

Silence fell. The three were lost in thought, even Yáng Zhāoniáng, who usually only thought about food, appeared troubled.

Yáng Yángguāng was the first to recover. He found Duān Míngyù’s views reasonable. However, merchants were often seen as greedy for fame and wealth, so after much inner debate, Yáng Yángguāng decided to accept both perspectives.

While Yáng Yángguāng had come to terms with it, Yáng Zhāoniáng scratched her forehead, her few strands of hair tussled. “A top scorer stooping to street vending and coming up with such grand excuses—your face must be pretty thick,” she said, then sighed as if trying to sound mature.

Xú Zǔyè wholeheartedly agreed. Before knowing Duān Míngyù’s identity, he thought doing business was natural. But once aware of the top scorer title, commerce seemed utterly incompatible. He felt pity and regret for Duān Míngyù’s choices. After all, merchants were the most looked down upon.

Duān Míngyù, frustrated, rubbed his nose. To be despised by a child—if one couldn’t serve as an official, then a top scorer was nothing but a crippled title. He sighed inwardly and grew somber, recalling another matter. His sharply defined face showed hints of worry.

From Xú Zǔyè, he had learned of a major historical upheaval—the Huang Chao Rebellion.

Huang Chao was a man known for formidable martial prowess. Once, he was a model youth: diligent in school, never skipping classes, no smoking, attentive in lessons, and generally completing his homework.

Everything changed the year Huang Chao journeyed to the capital, Chang’an, to take the military imperial examination. With his powerful physique, he overcame all challenges and was poised to become the top military scholar—a position within his grasp.

Tragically, when Emperor Li Xuan first saw this future top military graduate, he was so shocked by Huang Chao’s extraordinarily unattractive appearance that he nearly fell from his throne. “Being ugly isn’t your fault, but frightening others is. Amitabha, forgive him!”

Because of his looks, Huang Chao was stripped of his title by Emperor Li Xuan. At that time, the Tang Dynasty was already exhausted by repeated peasant uprisings.

Heartbroken and dejected, Huang Chao joined forces with fellow failed candidates to rebel against the Tang. Within a few years, he amassed an army of a million starving men and captured Chang’an, founding the Qi Kingdom.

Terrified, Emperor Li Xuan fled from Chang’an to Chengdu, becoming the second Tang Xuanzong. Bitterly regretting his mistakes, he thought, “If only I had given old Huang an official post back then. It wasn’t easy for him. Now, not only did he nearly cost me my life, but half the empire is lost.”

Despite regret, Li Xuan did not remain idle. He urgently sent pleas to regional governors, urging them to raise troops and restore order. Huang Chao, however, was no suitable ruler. Governors who had surrendered to him soon returned to the Tang fold. Through bitter struggle, the Tang forces eventually expelled Huang Chao from Chang’an.

Though Huang Chao was driven into Shandong, the chaos had spread nationwide. Desperate commoners took up arms and rebelled. Regional governors amassed forces and fought among themselves. The entire country was plunged into turmoil.