Zhang Zhanchun’s coffin rested in the Hall of Many Treasures at Guangji Temple.
On this day, rain began at the Chen hour (7-9 AM) and had not yet ceased. The ancient trees in the temple, washed by the rain, appeared even more lush and verdant against the white mourning clothes, their branches strong and leaves abundant, dripping with emerald moisture.
The officials who came to pay their respects all held plain white umbrellas. Though numerous, they maintained solemn expressions, with no voices to be heard.
Yang Lun stood beneath the cloud pine in front of the hall, speaking quietly with Qi Huaiyang.
Qi Huaiyang, arms folded, watched the helpless ants in the muddy rain. “These creatures look quite pitiful when it rains heavily.”
Yang Lun asked, “Did you come to find me about something?”
Qi Huaiyang looked at him.
“I heard His Majesty rejected the joint memorial from the Six Offices of Scrutiny.”
“Yes.”
“How many rounds of rejection now?”
“Four.”
Qi Huaiyang said, “What are you all thinking?”
Yang Lun laughed softly, reaching out to touch the rough branches of the cloud pine. “You’re usually the one who never asks about anything. Why so talkative today?”
Qi Huaiyang dropped his arms and spoke more openly: “That servant from the Directorate of Ceremonial came to see me.”
Yang Lun quickly turned around. “Deng Ying?”
“Yes. I originally didn’t want to interact with him, but some of what he said made sense, so I thought to relay it to you.”
“Go on.”
Qi Huaiyang said, “These joint memorials can’t continue. I heard that the previous night, His Majesty nearly killed Zheng Yuejia from the Directorate of Ceremonial.”
Yang Lun said coldly, “Isn’t that good?”
Qi Huaiyang gave a short laugh. “That’s exactly what I asked him.”
Yang Lun asked, “What did he say?”
Instead of answering directly, Qi Huaiyang asked, “Can your Grand Secretariat currently control those people from the Six Offices and the Censorate?”
Hearing this question, Yang Lun walked forward a few steps in silence, then finally shook his head after a while. “I don’t know now if it’s that the Teacher is unwilling to suppress them, or unable to.”
Qi Huaiyang shook his head and said, “If Zheng Yuejia is truly beaten to death by His Majesty, and if it could quell these people, that would be fine. But if it instead emboldens the Donglin Party, you and Grand Secretary Bai should consider how this matter will end.”
Yang Lun lowered his head and asked, “You think Deng Ying’s view is correct?”
“Not entirely. After all, he’s now with the Directorate of Ceremonial.”
Qi Huaiyang paused, then continued, “But I think his words weren’t meant to protect the Directorate.”
Yang Lun nodded, “I know that.”
Qi Huaiyang continued, “Actually, I’ve been wondering why he came to find me instead of speaking directly with you.”
“Heh…”
Yang Lun shook his head with a laugh, patted the tree trunk behind him, and said wistfully:
“Master Zhang is dead. He must hate me and the Teacher very much.”
Qi Huaiyang didn’t respond to this, instead turning to look at the row of side halls to the west, where candlelight flickered, vaguely showing the shadows of two or three people.
“Have all the Grand Secretaries come today?”
Yang Lun followed his gaze and glanced over. “Zhang Cong hasn’t arrived yet.”
Qi Huaiyang smiled and said, “Without him here, that Youdu Official won’t come either. That’s probably for the best.”
Just as these words were spoken, the crowd before the hall suddenly fell silent.
Yang Lun turned around to see Zhang Cong getting out of his sedan chair at the temple gate.
Qi Huaiyang walked to Yang Lun’s side. “Heh, speak of the devil.”
Yang Lun turned back and said, “You should go first.”
With that, he walked alone toward the temple gate.
Zhang Cong was sixty-seven this year, his hair and beard white, but he still appeared vigorous and didn’t look as severe as Zhang Luo.
He stood by his sedan chair, waiting for Yang Lun to bow in greeting, then smiled and returned the courtesy.
“I hear it was Vice Minister Yang who took care of Master Zhang’s funeral arrangements.”
Yang Lun replied evenly, “Master Zhang’s son is still on his way back from Hainan and should arrive today. This official merely acted on their behalf.”
Zhang Cong smiled, “No small task, indeed. By the way, where is Grand Secretary Bai?”
Yang Lun stepped aside, “The Teacher is in the western side hall.”
“Good.”
Zhang Cong said nothing more and walked toward the western side hall with his hands behind his back.
Yang Lun was about to leave when Zhang Luo suddenly called out, “Vice Minister Yang.”