Chapter 254: Filial Piety (3)

Chapter 254: Filial Piety (3)

Xiang Zheng had not expected to hear the same case twice in a single day.

Regarding the case of Tian Xiucai of Zhangde Prefecture, what Xiang Zhiyun valued most was the “filial piety” it embodied.

Xiang Zhijie’s focus, however, was quite different: “Tian Xiucai’s mother fell gravely ill, and many renowned physicians were summoned—all utterly baffled. Yet a mere handful of incense ash from the Medicine King Temple revived her from the brink of death—truly extraordinary. I wish to investigate this matter. If the incense ash is genuinely so efficacious, I would like to obtain some for Mother as well.”

Xiang Zheng tossed the memorial onto the table, his expression stern. “Nonsense. You now serve in the Ministry of Revenue—do you intend to simply depart the capital? I suppose you no longer wish to retain your post.”

Had Xiang Zhiyun heard such a rebuke, he would likely have broken into a cold sweat, prostrated himself on the ground, and kowtowed in apology.

Yet Xiang Zhijie’s expression remained unchanged as he said, “Then allow me to speak to Your Majesty about matters that are *not* nonsense. Would you care to hear them?”

“Speak.”

“I do not believe incense ash can resurrect the dead. What is termed ‘divine intervention’ often soothes the spirit—but cannot defy fate.”

Xiang Zhijie continued: “Tian Xiucai’s mother recovered only after taking a folk remedy mixed with incense ash. Reviewing her medical records, I noted alternating chills and fever occurring once daily—exactly matching the description of malarial fever in the *Treatise on Pestilence*. Yet this illness is notoriously difficult to cure. Even among the Dayu imperial clan, several members contracted malaria from mosquito bites—and died from it. Thus, I wish to investigate: if this wandering physician’s remedy holds any secret, I will have the prescription copied and delivered to the Imperial Medical Institute for study.”

“Nowadays, when commoners fall ill, they often pawn their clothing to buy medicine. A single serious illness can obliterate a family’s entire livelihood in an instant. Malaria is among the most prevalent ailments—those who work in rice paddies, harvest water chestnuts, or engage in other water-related labor are highly susceptible to mosquito bites and thus prone to infection.”

“The Ministry of Revenue oversees the Benevolent Medicine Bureau. Should this prescription prove effective in clinical trials—and with Your Majesty’s special decree authorizing nationwide implementation—it would constitute a truly benevolent policy benefiting all living beings.”

“With this in mind, I dared not act unilaterally. I await Your Majesty’s decision.”

Xiang Zheng gazed silently at Xiang Zhijie.

Xiaoliu’s words and conduct were flawless.

As he had stated, this was indeed a matter that would benefit all living beings—and would not be difficult to implement.

He could have proceeded quietly, awaited results, then submitted a public memorial to earn acclaim among officials as a benefactor of state and people.

But Xiang Zhijie had not done so.

Instead, he had come honestly to seek his father’s counsel—and his words carried a clear implication: offering this merit to the Emperor himself.

Realizing this, Xiang Zheng’s gaze upon Xiang Zhijie softened further with approval: “Xiaoliu truly thinks outside the box.”

Xiao Wu’s filial piety was pure and appeared genuine—but he simply could not compare.

Side by side, the difference was immediately apparent.

That child Xiao Wu knew only how to speak of loyalty—devoting all his energy to smooth talk. His mind seemed rusted shut—he moved only one step at a time, constantly looking ahead and behind, weak and irresolute.

When it came to true filial piety—benefiting the Emperor, handling affairs with sincerity, and easing the sovereign’s burdens—Xiaoliu stood alone.

As Xiang Zhijie lowered his head bashfully at the praise, Xiang Zheng posed a question laced with subtle edge: “But how did you learn of this case?”

Xiang Zhijie replied calmly, “I heard that Censor Wenren had fallen ill, so I visited him at home. Seeing him still sorting through case files despite his condition, I asked casually what matter demanded such exertion.”

Xiang Zheng had already heard of Xiang Zhijie’s visit to Wenren Yue’s residence the previous day—so this came as no surprise.

“No wonder,” Xiang Zheng murmured, lowering his eyelids. “I hear Minister Wenren keeps a dog. Is it well-behaved?”

At this, Xiang Zhijie faintly furrowed his brow.

He glanced down—and spotted two barely visible black dog hairs beside his boot.

Lifting his face, he answered with perfect composure: “Extremely gentle.”

Xiang Zheng gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “What prompted you to befriend him?”

This was the first time Xiang Zheng had raised this topic with Xiang Zhijie since Wenren Yue’s public appearance at court.

His tone was relaxed, his demeanor calm. Having just praised Xiang Zhijie, a smile still lingered on his lips—but beneath that genial exterior lay thoughts as deep and unfathomable as the sea.

Xiang Zhijie’s eyes crinkled into a warm smile: “Because he resembles Teacher Yue.”

Xiang Zheng: “…………”

How had he raised such a blunt-spoken son?

Xiang Zhijie’s directness left Xiang Zheng momentarily speechless.

“Absurd.” He finally found his voice. “Do you not know the grave crimes of that rebel Yue?”

“I do. But once a teacher, always a teacher—that cannot be undone. All my riding and archery skills were taught by Teacher Yue. Unless I were to mutilate myself and cripple my martial abilities, I would never forget my teacher.” Xiang Zhijie spoke earnestly, “Xiaoliu refuses to forget his origins or betray his benefactor. I beg Your Majesty’s understanding.”

His honesty admitted of only one description: candor.

Xiang Zheng laughed despite himself. “Very well—have it your way. But never again compare my Minister Wenren with that criminal. Wenren Mingke is a capable official whom I personally promoted. To liken him to a criminal—how could he bear it?”

Xiang Zhijie smiled warmly. “Yes—I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You may go. If you have ideas, act on them. Do not feel compelled to consult me on every detail.” With that, Xiang Zheng picked up the memorial again. After reading for a moment, a playful notion struck him—and he asked, “Just now you said you wished to obtain incense ash for the Noble Consort—why did you not think to procure some for me?”

Xiang Zhijie blinked, looking slightly surprised: “Mother has long adhered to vegetarianism and is frail; she requires divine protection. But Your Majesty is in the prime of life—naturally blessed with good fortune.”

“Lantai…”

At the mention of Noble Consort Zhuang, Xiang Zheng’s expression darkened: “She was not like this in her youth—she loved hunting deer and roasting them… Enough. Let us not dwell on the past. I’ve had some new *su nai hua* pastries prepared. Before you leave the palace, stop by Qingxi Palace and deliver them to her.”

Xiang Zhijie replied: “Yes.”

After Xiang Zhijie withdrew, Xiang Zheng shook his head slightly as he watched him depart.

Xiaoliu had been raised by Lantai and had loved stargazing since childhood. He had assumed the boy possessed an otherworldly temperament—yet in handling affairs, he proved thoroughly pragmatic.

Would such a person place faith in the dead rising again?

Come to think of it, it was also telling that Zhijie could say, “Wenren Yue resembles Le Wuya.”

He spoke so warmly—and treated Wenren Yue with such genuine affection—was it not all to win over his father emotionally, to retreat in order to advance, and to harness Wenren Yue’s talents?

Sentimental yet seemingly heartless, truthful yet ambiguous—in the end, what he pursued was the most practical gain, while keeping everyone placated and content.

On this point alone, Xiaoliu was indeed better suited than Xiao Wu to…

At this thought, Xiang Zheng deliberately halted his train of reasoning—unwilling to continue.

He hated contemplating succession.

It made him feel as though he were growing old—and nearing death.

Having heard two sons mention the Tian Xiucai case in succession, Xiang Zheng could not help but take notice.

A filial son should be praised.

The people's livelihood should also be given due attention.

However, these two matters don't exactly go hand in hand.

—If heaven truly took pity, and Scholar Tian's heartfelt sincerity moved heaven and earth, leading to his mother's recovery, then it would indeed be a heartwarming story. Yet the way he chose to fulfill his vow is a bit extreme. A little praise and reward wouldn't hurt.

But if it was a traveling doctor who cured Scholar Tian's mother of her malaria, and Scholar Tian wrongly took it for a divine miracle, then publicly killing his own young son as a sacrifice would make him come off as a real fool and a simpleton.

...

Meanwhile, on the other side, Zhi Jie was tossed out of Qingxi Palace along with the pastries he'd brought.

The vermilion-painted gate of Qingxi Palace slammed shut behind him with a bang.

Zhi Jie, clutching the pastry box, lurched forward a couple of steps and almost stepped on a tabby cat napping in the palace wall's shadow.

The cat, startled, let out a yowl and shot up onto the wall, then scrambled up into a tree in the courtyard, shaking off a few leaves that happened to land on his shoulders and in his hair.

"Your Highness..." Dan Qiong, lifting her skirt, emerged from the east corner gate. Seeing this, she couldn't help but chuckle, then quickly composed herself. "Forgive my boldness, but you know full well what Her Ladyship doesn't like, so just drop it from now on."

Zhi Jie, holding the pastry box, said, "I don't want to either. Father ordered me to bring this."

Dan Qiong: "...You know I'm not talking about that, right?"

Zhi Jie: "But yesterday, he really did touch me right here."

He raised his hand to stroke his slightly bobbing Adam's apple, a smile in his eyes. "He said my Adam's apple has grown much larger than before."

Dan Qiong: "..." She was starting to wonder if the Sixth Prince had a hankering for that willow switch dipped in charm water.

Since when does getting beaten become addictive?

Zhi Jie, with a smile at the corner of his mouth, calmly said something that made Dan Qiong's scalp tingle. "There's a long road ahead. Her Ladyship would do well to get used to it sooner."

With that, he raised the box in his hand. "Sister Dan Qiong, help me swap this pastry box. Just say Her Ladyship accepted Father's pastries and gifted me a box of Qingxi Palace's own. That way, I can report back properly."

Dan Qiong thought that made sense and had just reached out to take the box when she heard the second half of his sentence: "...And I can bring these to Lord Wenren. He's very fond of Father's pastry chef."

Dan Qiong: "..."

This wasn't some evil spirit.

This was a living, breathing ancestor.