The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 40: The Adorably Grumpy Bao Heitan

Bao Zheng was the only high-ranking official to meet with Chen Shu at that time, but Bao Zheng had extremely low emotional intelligence. Without so much as a word of courtesy upon meeting, he immediately began grilling Chen Shu on the details of the battle at Kunlun Pass—including how military rations were allocated, whether the army was at full strength, and whether weapon supplies were adequate—acting as if he were an anti-corruption investigator summoning someone for questioning. This left Chen Shu at a complete loss for words. Damn it, isn’t this obvious? How could the Great Song’s army possibly be at full strength? How come those officers aren’t pocketing their salaries? Why don’t you, Bao Zheng, take a guess as to who’s responsible for this? The quality of our weapons was an order of magnitude better than the barbarians’, yet it certainly didn’t meet the Song Dynasty’s own standards. Don’t you, Bao Zheng, just want to hear me—a broken man—expose these widespread problems? You know this full well; you just need a pitiful, defeated man to shift the blame for the defeat and rat out the others. Chen Shu still has some backbone. A loss is a loss—he doesn’t want to be Old Bao’s tool. These problems aren’t the fault of any one person; they stem from the Great Song’s system. Aside from Fan Zhongyan, no one dared to tackle these issues head-on. That’s why Fan Zhongyan ended up getting the boot. The problem is that Di Qing still managed to win despite these cancerous elements. Yet here I am, Chen Shu, being exploited by you, Old Bao—using these issues to shift the blame—how much further are you going to drag my dignity and integrity through the mud? I can do without this official position, but I have no intention of playing along with your pretentious act, you “Black Charcoal.” So, while wrestling with these thoughts, Chen Shu collapsed in a fit of rage—right there in Bao Zheng’s “office.” Chen Shu’s collapse was effectively the final blow dealt by Bao Zheng… On the eleventh day of the eleventh month, heavy snow fell in Bianjing. On this day, Bao Zheng proved himself a true maverick, appearing before the throne to impeach Chen Shu on three major charges: First, withholding soldiers’ rations and military equipment. Second, condoning officers’ embezzlement of salaries. Third, acting arrogantly and defying military orders. Bao Zheng argued that these three points directly led to the defeat at Kunlun Pass and recommended that Chen Shu, the official at fault, be dealt with severely. Zhao Zhen could not help but fly into a rage. Everyone knew that the reasons for Chen Shu’s defeat were extremely complex—the result of dozens of factors—yet Bao Zheng had reached such a simplistic and harsh conclusion. This immediately put Zhao Zhen in an awkward position. Wen Yanbo also stepped forward and angrily confronted Bao Zheng: “Chen Shu is already in such a state—how much further do you intend to destroy him? Are you not satisfied until you drive him to his death? That was a military failure, but the primary culprit was Nong Zhigao’s rebellion!” Bao Zheng pondered for a moment, then exclaimed in astonishment, “But Nong Zhigao isn’t under my jurisdiction. Oh, so Chen Shu isn’t at fault—it’s my fault?” “You…” “Um…” “What, am I, Bao Zheng, a censor, not even allowed to speak?” Bao Zheng said, his expression still peculiar. “Of course you can, Magistrate Bao. Of course you can.” Just like that, the imperial court turned into a chaotic marketplace. Uncertain whether they might come to blows, Emperor Zhao Zhen simply threw in the towel and left the session early. The emperor was quite shrewd—out of sight, out of mind. If these ministers were to start fighting in the court, it would be a blow to the emperor’s prestige. It would suggest that even he, the emperor, could no longer keep this bunch of old scholars in check. In the past, though they argued, they never actually came to blows; now, who knows? It was all because that bastard Wang Anshi had set a bad precedent, corrupting the atmosphere of the bureaucracy. After the emperor stormed off in a huff, Pang Ji thought for a moment and realized that if things continued this way, Chen Shu would be driven to his death. So, with a sly look on his face, he said, “Magistrate Bao, you sure do wield a lot of authority! Of course Chen Shu was defeated, but isn’t Han Qi—who was defeated at Haoshui River all those years ago—still causing quite a stir in Hedong? Doesn’t this seem a bit unfair, Magistrate Bao?” Bao Zheng clasped his fists and declared in a clear, measured tone, “So, Grand Tutor Pang, are you planning to expose Han Qi’s dirty secrets?” It was unclear whether he was genuinely naive or just playing along—even though Pang Ji was clearly taking a dig at him—he actually began asking about Han Qi’s scandals. So Pang Ji, no longer wanting to stay there, flicked his sleeve and stormed off. “Bao Zheng, speak sensibly. Hasn’t Han Qi suffered enough? Ever since the Hao Shui River incident, he’s spent over a decade tormented by guilt—his hair has turned quite gray. What more do you want from him? You won’t rest until you’ve exhausted the Emperor’s last shred of patience, will you?” Since they were all veteran ministers of the Qingli era, Wen Yanbo lashed out at Bao Zheng once more. “So, you’re saying that Han Qi’s gray hair is actually my fault, Bao Zheng’s fault?” Bao Zheng asked, blinking. “You…” “Me!” “Uh.” Everyone scattered like birds and beasts… Shuzhou。 They say a doctor’s heart is like that of a parent, and Wang Anshi was a doctor. When Xiao Suanbang was summoned to his father’s study by the “Demon King,” he saw him frowning over a dispatch from the Capital City. Wang Bang knew immediately that the “Great Sage” Wang Anshi was letting his sentimental side get the better of him. Even Sima Guang wasn’t saying a word—Dad, who are you frowning at? Sure enough, Wang Anshi sighed immediately afterward: “Chen Shu is being driven to his death. As for me…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I’m not trying to sympathize with Chen Shu, but I think Wen Yanbo has a point. The sacrifice of eight thousand soldiers was primarily due to Nong Zhigao’s rebellion—it was a fault of the war.” Wang Bang said, “Father, that line of reasoning shows you do feel sympathy for him.” “I suppose so,” Wang Anshi said, setting down the documents and changing the subject. “Does he really deserve to die?” “No one’s said anything about killing him,” Wang Bang said, spreading his hands. Wang Anshi snapped, “Come here. Hold out your hand!” Wang Bang, in tears, had no choice but to walk over and hold out his hand, whereupon he received several lashes across the palm. “Now speak clearly—do you have any other conclusions?” Wang Anshi asked, stroking his mustache. Wang Bang, his eyes brimming with tears, said, “I know I was wrong, Father. As the saying goes, we may not have done anything wrong, but this sort of thing isn’t honorable. It’s not worth making a spectacle of, and we can’t be so callous as to take it for granted.” “You’re a smart one—you’ve taken my teachings to heart.” Only then did Wang Anshi pat his little hand with satisfaction. Wang Bang seized the opportunity to curry favor, scrambling up into his stern father’s lap. He wriggled a bit from side to side until he found the most comfortable position. Wang Anshi couldn’t help but give in. Since they rarely had opportunities to bond, it wasn’t unreasonable for the child to seize this moment to act spoiled. So, feigning a playful scolding, he tapped the boy lightly on the head: “Well then, my son, now that the matter with Di Qing is settled, do you have any ideas on how to help Old Chen? His current situation is partly my fault—I struck him with my own hand back then, and I’ve always felt a bit uneasy about it.” “I have a plan to break this deadlock,” Wang Bang said, biting his finger. “Father, write two letters: one—a public confession of guilt; the other—a letter of apology to Old Chen. That will do the trick.” Wang Anshi hesitated briefly; this approach was acceptable, so he asked, “How should I write them?” Wang Bang replied, “Father, a confession of guilt must be sincere. You are a literary giant of your generation. Now that you feel remorse, no one in the Song Dynasty can write an apology better than you. Just write from the heart. Old Chen will surely see your sincerity; though it won’t solve the problem, it will at least be a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Combined with your public confession of guilt, in which you engage in self-criticism, the pressure on Old Chen will ease, allowing him to continue serving as a scapegoat without being driven to his death by frustration. Your mistake isn’t that serious, and your attitude is sincere. After apologizing and taking responsibility, this will not only eliminate future risks but also boost your reputation for having the courage to own up to your mistakes. Since you haven’t committed a major offense, you shouldn’t pass up this opportunity to build your reputation by owning up to your errors. Furthermore, by coming to Chen Shu’s rescue at this moment, the Emperor will take notice of you—he’ll come to appreciate you.” Wang Anshi couldn’t help but chuckle. “My son, you sure have a way with words. Well, all right—you’re a bit of a huckster, but you’re not wrong.” “Dad, you’re not Bao Zheng—why are you always looking for faults in me?” Wang Bang asked indignantly. He was met with a slap on the back of the head. Wang Anshi said, “I just love finding fault with you. You don’t like it, do you?” After leaving the Great Demon King’s presence, Wang Bang hid in the donkey stable, muttering to himself, “Old Chen, I’ve helped you out this time. Whether you can hold on depends on your own luck. My Great Demon King will offer a very sincere apology, so if by some chance you don’t die because of this, you can take it out on Bao Zheng, Pang Ji, and Ouyang Xiu later. After all, who can blame them for not knowing how to use that divine skill called ‘self-criticism’?” The little donkey, Xiaobao, had no idea what the magistrate was talking about. It walked over, circled him a couple of times, and began to bray, “Ooh-woo, ooh-woo.” Wang Bang knew what the creature meant—it was bellowing, “Where’s the booze? Where’s the booze? If there’s no booze, tell me about Cai Guoqing.” So he slapped the donkey on the head: “In my Wang family, we hate it when people make demands.” “Ooh-woo.” The donkey let out another adorably cute bray. Wang Bang said, “I know you’re Xiaobao the donkey.” “Ooh-woo.” The donkey brayed again. “What? You won’t go to sleep without booze?” Wang Bang’s face instantly darkened. “Brrr.” The donkey brayed again. Wang Bang nearly stumbled. “Stop repeating yourself—I know you’re ‘Wangjia.’ But drinking too much isn’t ‘Wangjia’; it’s ‘ruining the family.’ ” “Bray, bray.” “I know you’re ‘Gray-Headed Xiaobao,’ but ‘ruining the family’ is just a figure of speech—it doesn’t actually refer to your name.” Wang Bang was at a loss for words. “Brrr-ooh, brrr-ooh.” The donkey brayed twice. Wang Bang raised his hands in surrender: “All right, I was wrong. I take back the words ‘ruin the family.’ You are ‘Wangjia.’ ” With that, the donkey settled down and began to sleep standing up. Old Liao, who was following close behind, was on the verge of a breakdown. He didn’t know if the young master had gone mad—could he really understand what a donkey was saying…?