Volume Two: The Great and the Small Chapter Thirty-Three: I Suppose I Was the First to Do It?

An event of such suddenness in the imperial court had somehow formed a subtle connection between his father and himself.

For Huang Ming, it brought not only surprise and pressure, but also made him regard the many affairs of the now-booming beauty contest at the Twelve Towers with far less seriousness than before.

Everything he needed to teach them had already been taught, and matters had all gone smoothly. From here on, he needed only wait for the flowers to bloom and bear fruit; why waste any more thought on it?

So whenever the Twelve Towers, Xu Qingzhi, or Zhang Han invited him thereafter, he would decline whenever he could. Better to stay home, read more, and improve himself; that was the practical course.

Besides, since the beginning of the year Huang Ming had not merely been reading and writing on his own, but had also taken to instructing Yumo.

As his personal page, Yumo could be counted as a trusted attendant; naturally it was proper to let him widen his knowledge, so that one day he might be entrusted with greater responsibilities.

At dusk that day, master and servant were once again in the study, as they always were, learning together. Yumo was diligently copying out the Thousand Character Classic, and now and then he cast a grateful glance at his young master.

He knew how good the young master was to him. What other young masters’ attendants and pages had such fortune? Not only was he taught to read and recognize characters, he could also study with the young master’s own brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone. This was a blessing earned over several lifetimes.

"I will serve the young master loyally for my entire life... no, not just this life. Even in the next, and the next after that, even if I must become an ox or a horse, I must repay the young master’s kindness..."

His grateful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by one of Huang Ming’s words: "What are you daydreaming about? Write properly. Don’t just sit there staring!"

"Yes!" Yumo’s face reddened, and he said softly, "I was only thinking that I must repay you in the future, Young Master."

"If you study well, and later amount to something and can help me, that will be the best repayment of all," Huang Ming said. Then, with a sudden idea, he added, "All right, I still have some new things to teach you. After you finish copying the Thousand Character Classic, come take a look."

When Yumo finished copying it carefully and came to stand before Huang Ming, who was reading, Huang Ming slid another sheet of paper over to him.

"Look at this."

"What is this? Some kind of ghost writing?" Yumo stared at the crooked symbols on the page, utterly bewildered. There were bends, circles, and connected circles...

"This is a hundred numbers from zero to ninety-nine. Take a close look and see whether you can find a pattern," Huang Ming said with a smile. This was his test, and his opportunity, for the young page.

Judging by Yumo’s progress with introductory books like the Thousand Character Classic, he clearly was not cut out for the scholarly path. If he kept reading, at best he would become only an ordinary man with a little learning. As for entering the civil examinations, that was pure fantasy.

Since that was so, Huang Ming had ideas of cultivating talents in other areas, such as mathematics.

And in that regard, as a traveler from several centuries in the future, he possessed a weapon capable of crushing the entire age: Arabic numerals.

If Yumo could master these numbers quickly, it would prove he had considerable mathematical aptitude. Then Huang Ming, with all he knew, could teach him everything without reservation and let him develop at least in that field.

At once Yumo grew excited. He took the paper and, by candlelight, studied it intently.

As he looked, he also picked up brush and paper and began to copy them, muttering to himself, "From zero to ninety-nine... these few characters seem the same. These are the same too..."

Huang Ming did not disturb him. He kept reading by himself, but before long Huang Zhong came to the doorway.

"Young Master, Captain Huang is outside asking for an audience."

Huang Ming raised an eyebrow slightly. Huang Bingkun had come at this hour; had something major happened again?

Not daring to delay, Huang Ming told Yumo to continue pondering there, then went to the front hall and received Huang Bingkun, whose expression was grave.

After seeing Huang Ming, Huang Bingkun offered little small talk and went straight to the point.

"Young Master Huang, I have two important matters to report."

"Please speak." Huang Ming straightened and said solemnly.

"First, I bring a message from the palace. The grand secretaries and many officials have already memorialized the emperor, requesting that on his sixteenth birthday this year he pay homage in the ancestral temple to Emperor Xiaozong as his father, thereby establishing the proper legitimacy of his succession."

As he said this, Huang Bingkun’s breathing quickened, and he shifted uncomfortably.

This matter was not exactly a great secret in court, but it was certainly not something to be casually spread about either, especially not by someone of his rank in the Brocade Guard.

Yet now he had been ordered to deliver such an important piece of state news to a student of the National Academy, a seventeen-year-old boy with no office and no rank. It was truly rather strange.

If word of this got out, he too might well be punished.

Huang Ming’s expression changed as well. After a moment, he let out a breath and said, "So it has finally come to this."

"Ah?"

"Nothing." Huang Ming shook his head and gave no explanation.

Clearly, this was the message the emperor had asked him to pass along, and everything had truly unfolded just as he had predicted.

The emperor’s earlier rash attempt to place his father in the Imperial Ancestral Temple had instead backfired, giving those ministers reason to seize the moment and settle once and for all the question of his relationship to Emperor Xiaozong.

If the emperor yielded even slightly on this matter, everything would be decided beyond recovery.

At the same time, it would mean ministerial power had completely eclipsed imperial authority. So long as Yang Tinghe remained the Chief Grand Secretary, the emperor could forget any hope of turning the tables.

Even knowing how it would ultimately end, Huang Ming still felt a pang of worry for the man of his own age. The emperor’s days ahead were likely to be hard indeed.

Of course, this did not really concern him. So he asked again, "And the second matter? Has there been any progress on Liao Kui’s side?"

He still held a deep grudge against the man who had once tried to silence him forever.

Huang Bingkun looked somewhat ashamed. "Our people have been watching him in secret all along, but during this period he has been very restrained. Aside from performing his duties, he has not committed a single misdeed. I have already sent men to investigate everything from his past. I heard that several years ago a colleague and friend of his suddenly suffered total ruin, and it seems there may have been some connection afterward... But since it was all several years ago, it will take time."

Huang Ming nodded. "Then keep investigating. Tell me when you have results. What else did you wish to say?"

"This matter is indeed closely related to you, Young Master Huang. It is said that within these few days, many officials from the Ministry of Rites and the Censorate are coordinating to submit a memorial jointly impeaching you for corrupting literary propriety and bringing decline upon the morals of the capital..."

"What did you say?" Huang Ming looked astonished. "The censors in the Censorate are going to impeach me? Did I hear that right?"

"That is exactly it. It seems connected to the newly notorious beauty contest at the Twelve Towers that has been the talk of the city lately. Could it be that this too was promoted from behind the scenes by you, Young Master Huang?" Huang Bingkun said with unmistakable awe.

And Huang Ming, too, wore a look of bewilderment. What sort of racket was this? Were those remonstrating officials and censors really so idle that they would set their sights on someone like him, with no office or rank and at most merely a student of the National Academy?

Had he, perhaps, become a pioneer in the field?