Chapter 183: The Ancestors Give Us a Meal

People always learned lessons through mistakes. This time, Zhu Houzhao silently warned himself in his heart not to do anything foolish anymore. Being beaten by his father hurt.

But for Fang Jifan, Zhu Houzhao was a crucial part of his plan. How could the Crown Prince be missing?

Hearing Fang Jifan’s words, Zhu Houzhao’s first reaction was to widen his eyes and then look at Fang Jifan with suspicion.

He slightly raised the corner of his mouth, as if finding it hard to believe. After swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t that Taoist your disciple-nephew?”

Old Fang’s idea was to find someone to take the blame for them, but…

Old Fang, you’re really dishonest! Even your own disciple-nephew you’d trick!

Fang Jifan, however, very seriously began counting on his fingers. After calculating, he said, “My disciple-nephews and disciple-grandsons… hmm, let me count. Including this one, there are two hundred and sixty-seven in total. Even if we killed one every day, we wouldn’t finish them all before the New Year.”

Zhu Houzhao suddenly shivered all over and immediately understood. He abruptly looked up at the sky. Though the scorching sun was about to set, the heat it brought still made him sweat profusely.

At that moment, he suddenly gritted his teeth, looking as if he had made up his mind, and said, “Alright, I’ll listen to Old Fang in everything. When is the rain prayer?”

Fang Jifan smiled. He knew Zhu Houzhao couldn’t resist the temptation. He hurriedly said, “June seventeenth.”

June seventeenth was recorded in the annals of Shuntian Prefecture.

The farmers relied on the heavens to give them a meal.

But Fang Jifan relied entirely on the ancestors to give him a meal.

Who told the ancestors to always be so meticulous, recording everything from history to county annals, prefecture records, clan genealogies, and clan chronicles? The ancestors naturally loved to document all sorts of things.

In ancient times, agriculture was highly valued as the foundation of everything. Thus, the Records of the Grand Historian began with records of calendars and farming seasons, narrating history based on seasonal and celestial changes.

A major drought was enough to be extensively recorded in local prefecture annals, and a timely rain after a great drought naturally also became a subject of detailed record.

Of course, Fang Jifan only remembered the approximate date. That is to say, the error rate was as high as fifty percent, meaning the mortality rate for his disciple-nephew Li Chaowen was also fifty percent.

But it didn’t matter. Better the disciple die than the master. After all, Fang Jifan was now a certified religious figure with a daoist register.

Thinking that Li Chaowen’s life or death was tied to the well-being of countless common people, Fang Jifan couldn’t help but feel moved to tears. Sacrificing one person to save tens of thousands—his disciple-nephew was truly remarkable.

Similarly, how great he himself was! To save the people, he did not hesitate to push his disciple-nephew into the fire. As the Buddha said, if not my disciple-nephew, then who should enter hell? Those who achieve great things inevitably must make sacrifices. If he didn’t sacrifice his own disciple-nephew, he would have to sacrifice thousands of common people. No matter how others criticized him, Fang Jifan believed his values were extraordinarily righteous. Taking the world as his responsibility, how could he abandon the people? If he did that… would he even be human?

…

That day, when he returned home, the Fang Residence was already brightly lit and bustling with activity.

Although the Imperial Decree of enfeoffment had not yet been issued, quite a few people had already heard the news.

This was incredible.

Although the Great Ming had numerous Hereditary Commanders of a Thousand Households and Hereditary Commanders of a Hundred Households enfeoffed for military merits, there had been no enfeoffments for dukes, marquises, or counts for many years.

This time, His Majesty had truly spared no expense, firmly attributing the chief merit for the great victory in Guizhou to Fang Jifan.

When Fang Jifan arrived home, Fang Jinglong, who was preparing to go to Guizhou, had already invited many old comrades.

Tonight, the Fang Residence was exceptionally lively, filled with joyful laughter and conversation.

Fang Jifan only recognized the Duke of Ying, Zhang Mao.

A large table of people clinked glasses and drank noisily.

Fang Jifan also saw Zhang Xin, who stood obediently behind Zhang Mao, not daring to join the table.

“Son, you’re back.”

As soon as Fang Jinglong saw Fang Jifan, his eyes lit up. A loving smile spread across his face as he excitedly waved Fang Jifan over.

“My good son, come, call them Uncle, call them Uncle.”

He introduced them while laughing happily.

“Haha, don’t force him if he doesn’t want to. These are all my own brothers; we don’t stand on ceremony.”

Fang Jinglong looked radiant and spirited. As his son, Fang Jifan could well imagine how much he had been bragging.

Zhang Mao also stared intently at Fang Jifan. The look in his eyes was clearly different from before. By now, even he had to view Fang Jifan in a new light.

He remembered how he used to boast about his own son in front of Fang Jinglong every day. But now, looking back at his own son, he couldn’t help but grimace—still looking half-dead. Yet Fang Jifan had made something of himself. His own son was simply worlds apart.

Ah, it was truly shameful.

If he had known it would come to this, he shouldn’t have bragged back then. Now, he was being proven wrong right before his eyes.

He took a sip of wine, wiped the drops from his beard, and couldn’t help but sigh.

“Ah, the Fang boy has really made something of himself. Old Fang, I, your old brother, truly admire you for raising such a fine son. The Fang Family rose to prominence through military merits, and now it’s great—Jifan has also earned military merit.”

At this point, he grew angry. He slammed the table in disappointment and said, “Look at my good-for-nothing son! While others earn military merits, you go digging in the dirt for food! You disgrace our ancestors!”

With a roar, he raised an arm as thick as a small leg, ready to hit Zhang Xin.

Fang Jinglong, quick-eyed and deft-handed, grabbed Zhang Mao and hurriedly tried to calm him.

“Old Zhang, listen to me. Don’t hit him. Beating your son is useless—I have experience in this. These things can only be taken slowly. Hey, hey, don’t hit him! Nephew Zhang Xin, you go outside. Jifan, go take a walk with your brother Zhang Xin.”

Fang Jifan had long been unable to stand this scene. He pulled Zhang Xin and left.

Behind them, Fang Jinglong’s comforting words followed: “When it comes to teaching sons, I, Old Fang, am not bragging. If I say I’m second, no one dares claim first. Old Zhang, calm down. Sons are taught, not beaten into shape. Teaching a son is a skill; what use is beating?”

“Ah, that useless scoundrel.”

Meanwhile, Fang Jifan pulled Zhang Xin outside. Walking in the dim courtyard, the long-sun-tanned Zhang Xin was almost invisible; only his eyes could be seen moving.

Zhang Xin remained silent, standing dazedly at the opening of the courtyard’s central skylight.

Fang Jifan actually didn’t really want to bother with him, but seeing the skylight, he was afraid Zhang Xin might jump. So he stayed nearby, leisurely trying to console him.

“Brother Zhang, don’t take your father’s words to heart. He’s just drunk and acting crazy.”

Zhang Xin, however, was unusually calm, showing no emotional fluctuation. Instead, he shrugged indifferently and said plainly, “I’m used to it.”

Fang Jifan felt a bit of sympathy for him.

Zhang Xin turned back, met Fang Jifan’s gaze, and actually smiled.

“I’ve been beaten by my father since I was little. Countless horsewhips have been broken at home. He always wanted me to become accomplished, so I practiced horseback riding, studied—in short, my life has been about being beaten, riding horses, and studying. Nothing else.”

“Thank you, Bai Hu Fang.”

Hearing Zhang Xin suddenly say thank you, Fang Jifan was reminded of Fan Wei’s line in “Selling Crutches.”

He instantly felt his scalp tingle. Was this sarcasm? Sending you to the Tuntian Hundred-Household Office was originally just a joke. You’re not holding a grudge, are you?

But Zhang Xin spoke very earnestly.

“No, I truly thank you. It wasn’t until I went to the Western Hills that I realized life isn’t just about horseback riding and studying. There, I discovered I could do what I love freely. I finally understood that I’m naturally not cut out for riding and studying—I excel at farming.”

He grew more enthusiastic as he spoke, his face showing a look of yearning, a smile playing on his lips.

“When I built the greenhouse, I was unusually happy. Every time I placed a piece of glass, I wondered if covering it this way would provide enough light, and how to increase the light exposure. When setting up the flue, I naturally pondered how to arrange it to minimize its length, use the least charcoal, and still heat the ground.”

“I love cutting old ginseng vines for transplanting. I enjoy slicing old ginseng into small pieces to let them take root and sprout. I like thinking about how to make watermelons bigger and sweeter. I think I’ll never be suited for studying and horseback riding. What I should do is what I love. So thank you, Bai Hu Fang. You made me finally understand that the meaning of life isn’t just what my father said.”

“…” Fang Jifan looked into Zhang Xin’s eyes. When he talked about farming, his eyes sparkled. In the dim light, he even saw a beautiful color in those eyes, and the face possessing them radiated a relaxed and natural expression.

This was a farming prodigy held back by studying and archery and horsemanship.

Still, Fang Jifan looked at Zhang Xin, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and was momentarily at a loss for words.

…

Meanwhile, at the Wang Family Residence, Wang Shouren had not eaten for two days.

He had sat listlessly in his study for two full days, his eyes dull. He only took a sip when tea was brought to him.

He still couldn’t grasp what deeper meaning lay behind Unity of Knowledge and Action.

He even less understood why Ouyang Zhi and the others, whose understanding of statecraft was far inferior to his, could nonetheless rank above him.

Previously saying the Emperor was foolish was actually just a joke.

Because the Imperial Edict had been issued: the great victory in Guizhou, and the victory in Guizhou was purely due to the Mountain Brigade.

But why hadn’t he thought of the Mountain Brigade?

Why, after practicing archery and horsemanship since childhood, strengthening his body, learning martial arts and geography from masters, reading countless Military Manuals, and traveling to border regions—why hadn’t he thought of this?

Fang Jifan… was too powerful.

The shadow Fang Jifan cast over him had completely shattered what little confidence he had left.

Where did the problem lie…

He was lost in thought, but in his heart, he clung to one stubborn idea… he must figure it out.