Chapter 16: Whose Spirited Son?

That afternoon, in the construction bureau of the Ministry of Works, Wei Mingde prepared for a task of some importance.

The bureau oversaw the building of palaces and government offices. It sounded important, but Mingde’s duties as principal secretary consisted of construction paperwork and odd jobs—a comfortable post. Ordinarily he arrived in the morning, brewed tea and glanced through documents. Lunch came from home; afterward he drank more tea and chatted or boasted with his colleagues. If nothing needed doing, he went home early.

Today was different. His eldest son Shouzheng’s apprenticeship banquet was tomorrow, and he needed to invite each colleague while they were all present. Qin Yan, vice director of the Imperial Academy and a leading scholar of moral philosophy, had personally agreed to take his son as a pupil. It was a tremendous honor, one that would let Mingde hold his head higher at the ministry.

He took pastries Lady Cui had specially prepared from a food box and arranged them on a tray. When his colleagues returned, he would offer them tea and cakes along with their invitations.

Just as he finished, a clamor rose outside: footsteps and overlapping laughter. Zhou Yan, an assistant director at the ministry, came in first, followed by Liu He, another principal secretary, and a group of subordinate officials.

Mingde hurried forward. “Lord Zhou, you’re back.”

Before he could continue, Zhou seized his hand, beaming. “Mingde! Congratulations! Your Wei family is remarkable!”

Mingde blinked. “My lord, what is this about?”

Liu He came up and clapped his shoulder. “Brother Mingde, you’ve kept this quiet! Such a momentous thing happened in your family, and you didn’t tell us!”

The other officials crowded around.

“Principal Secretary Wei, your son is extraordinary!”

“Worthy of Lord Wenduan’s grandson! The Wei family’s reputation for integrity is well deserved!”

Mingde was thoroughly bewildered. Were they talking about Shouzheng? But he would be studying at this hour. Then another thought occurred: had Master Qin spread word of Shouzheng’s apprenticeship? That must be why his colleagues knew and had come to congratulate him early. Great scholars often liked to build such anticipation.

“Mingde, who at court didn’t respect your father, Lord Wenduan?” Zhou said. “I’d worried about your branch of the family… ahem. Evidently I worried for nothing. The Weis haven’t disgraced his name!”

Mingde smiled awkwardly, more confused than ever, but did not contradict him. They were praising his family, his son and his father’s name, after all. “Lord Zhou, you flatter us. The boy deserves the credit himself…”

An official leaned forward. “How old is your son?”

“Ten,” Mingde replied without thinking.

“Only ten?” The man slapped his thigh. “He’ll achieve great things!”

The others praised the boy again. Mingde smiled along, his heart increasingly unsettled.

Then a powerful voice called from the ministry entrance: “Wei Mingde! What fine principles your family has! A spirited son indeed!”

Everyone turned. An energetic man in his sixties entered, white-haired and bearded, his face ruddy. He wore a scholar’s robe rather than official dress, with a silver fish pouch at his waist, and walked briskly. It was Qin Yan himself.

The room bowed. “Master Qin!”

Qin waved the greetings aside and strode straight to Mingde. Overwhelmed, Mingde bowed. “M-Master Qin, what brings you here?”

Qin grasped his hand and shook it hard, visibly excited. “Mingde! You haven’t let your father down! Wei Wenduan would be gratified in the next world!”

Mingde’s head buzzed. Assuming Qin meant the apprenticeship, he answered, “You flatter us. Shouzheng worked hard himself. It’s his good fortune to have earned your regard…”

“Shouzheng?” Qin paused, then smiled. “You mean your eldest son, who is about to enter my school? I’ve met him. His learning and abilities are adequate, but as for ‘spirited’…” He shook his head, then smiled again. “It seems I misjudged him.”

Mingde was truly lost. If Qin had been promoting Shouzheng’s apprenticeship, why that reaction?

Qin paid no further attention to his confusion. Holding Mingde’s hand, he looked as excited as a child who had found treasure. “Your son killed a wicked slave who insulted his master, defending his honor and the Wei family’s principles! The whole capital is talking about it!

“At morning court today, even His Majesty asked about it. He personally praised the boy: ‘A child of ten drew his sword to kill a slave and uphold the dignity of a legitimate son and his household’s rules. He is a blessing to Great Zhou!’”

The room erupted. Zhou Yan, Liu He and the other officials stared at Mingde in shock. Mingde’s face changed, his mind blank.

A ten-year-old who drew his sword to kill a slave and defend his standing. That wasn’t Shouzheng. It was the wretch Wei Nisheng!

It had happened only yesterday. How had word spread in half a day? Mingde had forgotten that this was the capital of Great Zhou. Any interesting news could reach every street in a day, and the story of a ten-year-old drawing a sword to kill a wicked servant was explosive enough to travel frighteningly fast. Half a day was ample time.

……

Mingde stood like a block of wood. Zhou was the first to recover, laughing as he patted his shoulder. “Mingde, why are you speechless? You’re always praising Shouzheng to us. Is it so ordinary for a respectable Wei family to produce a spirited son? Ha!”

The others laughed along. Mingde couldn’t. Everyone was praising the Weis, praising him for raising his son well and saying his father would be pleased in heaven. What if he told them the truth? That this was no spirited son but a wretch who had held a sword against his father, defying his superior in gross disloyalty? That the boy had acted because Mingde himself had believed servants and told him to kill himself?

He glanced at Qin Yan. A great scholar of moral philosophy, Qin valued rites and proper standing above all. Defending social order, protecting honor and upholding family rules were exactly the things he prized. A ten-year-old drawing a sword to defend the dignity of a legitimate son fit his ideals perfectly. If Qin learned that the boy’s father had been forcing him to kill himself just yesterday…

Mingde dared think no further. He cupped his hands. “Everyone… there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” They looked at him.

“The one who drew his sword to defend his standing and uphold our family rules…” Mingde paused and forced a smile. “It wasn’t my eldest, Shouzheng. It was… my second son.”

“Your second son?” Zhou stared. “You have a second son?”

One of the officials explained quietly, “The one from the verse… ‘The younger drinks leftover broth and sleeps on a bed of ice.’”

The room became awkward. The poem had spread widely years ago:

The elder holds jade books in halls on high,
The younger drinks leftover broth and sleeps on a bed of ice.

Many in the capital knew how differently the two Wei brothers were treated. Now the second son who lived on scraps had suddenly become the spirited boy who drew a sword against a slave. What, then, of the eldest, whom Mingde praised to the skies?

They looked at Mingde with complicated expressions. He wished the ground would open and swallow him.

Qin paid no attention. He had returned to the capital less than three years earlier and knew little of the Wei family’s old affairs. Mingde’s explanation made him happier still.

“The second son? Good! Good! If the younger is so fine, Shouzheng must be better still. An elder brother teaches his younger, after all! Mingde, you’ve raised your sons well!”

He announced enthusiastically, “Everyone, come to the Wei apprenticeship banquet tomorrow! I want to see this spirited ten-year-old for myself!”

Qin left laughing, leaving Mingde surrounded by his colleagues’ complicated looks. Before Zhou Yan went, he patted Mingde’s shoulder. “Mingde… your second son will be at tomorrow’s banquet, won’t he?”

“Master Qin wants to see him. How could he not come?”

“Good.” Zhou smiled and left.

When everyone was gone, Mingde sat alone in the duty room. The pastries he had meant to offer lay untouched before him: jujube cakes, osmanthus cakes and walnut crisps, all neatly arranged.

His mind was in turmoil. The wretch he had abandoned in the side courtyard for ten years, the son he had told to kill himself yesterday, had become a spirited young gentleman praised by the emperor himself, the ten-year-old Qin Yan was eager to meet. Tomorrow Qin would see him. Mingde’s colleagues would see him. The whole capital knew the Weis had a spirited child who had killed a slave with a sword.

And his father had been trying to force him to die only yesterday.

Mingde suddenly remembered Nisheng’s words: “If someone uses this against me later, Father must testify for me.” He hadn’t understood then. Now he did. But what could he do? The whole capital knew about the boy; the emperor had praised him, and Qin Yan wanted to see him.

“That wretch… that wretch… He did it deliberately!”