It was rather strange.
The early spring of the twelfth year had been consistently dry and windy, but when the second month arrived, the rains suddenly increased.
Such weather was not conducive to healing flesh wounds.
Deng Ying also didn’t want to move about much, spending almost every day in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.
The reconstruction materials for the Hall of Supreme Harmony had taken four years just to prepare. The original engineering drawings were overseen by Zhang Zhanchun. Since the main structure was wooden, once struck by lightning or fire, the spread would be nearly unstoppable. Before rebuilding the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Deng Ying had worked with the craftsmen to modify the drawings multiple times. Now the plans piled in the felt tent stood half a person tall.
With continuous heavy rain, the documents were at risk of damage, and the work requiring large timber couldn’t be completed.
The craftsmen, having idle time, mostly sat in the felt tent chatting while sheltering from the rain.
The table and chair legs were growing moldy, but this brought out the fragrance of the old wood.
Someone brewed boiling tea, keeping it warm over a small stove. After a hot sip, the dampness in their bodies didn’t feel quite so uncomfortable.
Deng Ying stood among the crowd holding a teacup, talking with the craftsmen.
Most of these artisans were from Zhang Zhanchun’s Xiangshan Guild. Many had known Deng Ying for over a decade. They were people who lived by their craft, with few ties to the palace and court, so they had fewer reservations about speaking freely. But lacking a broader perspective, when they wanted to express something to Deng Ying, they couldn’t quite find the words. This made them rather cautious in his presence.
However, Deng Ying knew these people cared more about his inner peace than he did himself.
But he also understood that “peace” was a long journey, both for himself and these people.
So besides discussing the construction work, he would occasionally talk with them about his daily life in the inner court.
“A few days ago, I was thinking of waiting until after the Awakening of Insects to drink the tea Master Song sent. But since we’re all trapped here by the rain today, I might as well bring it out.”
The craftsman who had sent the tea was delighted to hear this and hurriedly said:
“I’m so glad you like it. This year’s new crop has come in, but my wife was sick at the start of the year, so we couldn’t pick it up in time. I rushed back a few days ago and got people from the village to help. We finally harvested half of it. When my wife feels better, I’ll have her send more to you, sir.”
He called Deng Ying “sir,” but as soon as he said it, someone pulled his arm.
A flurry of stern glances swept his way, and he froze.
Regretting his words, he lowered his head, not daring to look at Deng Ying.
Deng Ying casually picked up the thread of conversation: “I was worried that once you came to work here, you wouldn’t care about your fields at home anymore.”
Seeing that Deng Ying took no offense, the man felt even more regretful. Speaking softly with his head down, he muttered: “Yes, however small, it’s still the ancestral legacy, we dare not neglect it…”
The atmosphere grew somewhat heavy, and the tent flaps creaked in the wind.
The rain outside was intense, with the wood fragrance and earth smell carrying the spring chill. Deng Ying’s health had never been very good, especially his legs, which were sensitive to cold morning and night. Standing for long periods made him uncomfortable.
Yet he still preferred to stand among these craftsmen.
This had been Zhang Zhanchun’s insistence for decades.
He had once told Deng Ying: “Building palace cities is like leading troops in the field – there aren’t such complex human calculations. Everyone’s goal is the same. As long as you can put them at ease, they can focus entirely on their work. The stability of great buildings comes from the steadiness of human hearts. But to achieve this, merely advancing yourself is useless. You need the determination to ‘remain a scholar for life, never extinguishing the literary heart.’ With such determination, you can have the responsibility you should bear. Only then will the palaces and cities you lead them to build be more than just piles of nanmu wood and white bones.”
When Zhang Zhanchun said this, Deng Ying was still very young.
He couldn’t help but ask, “Then how does one preserve the ‘literary heart’?”
Zhang Zhanchun told him, “No matter where you are, never forget that you emerged from ten years of arduous study in the book chamber. Although you dislike the people and affairs of officialdom and have taken a different path from Yang Lun and the others, you must remember that your true teacher will always be Grand Secretary Bai Huan. Like Yang Lun, you live in this world and must live up to your scholarly achievements and status.”
Only after reaching adulthood did Deng Ying slowly understand the deeper meaning of these words.
Generations of master-disciple inheritance and scholarly friendships constantly debated and expounded their desire to “cultivate oneself, govern the state, and bring peace to the world.” These desires formed the backbone of scholars, making them both pillars of the dynasty and founders of most social and civilian enterprises.
In her early research on the early Ming period, Yang Wan also provided a general interpretation of the so-called Ming Dynasty “literary heart.”
With the introduction of dialectics, she had to examine its pedantic aspects, but in her later research on Deng Ying, she believed the concept of “literary heart” had always been the supporting point of Deng Ying’s conduct and even the fundamental cause of his tragic end.
He simply refused to think from the perspective of the eunuch faction, insisting on doing things unsuited to his status.
But how to put it?
When Yang Wan got carried away, she occasionally had dramatic thoughts.
“Eunuch’s skin, scholar’s bones” was as taboo and compelling as “courtesan’s body, Guanyin’s heart.” With a bit of imagination, one could write tens of thousands of words of online literature about it.
She loved such fractured things – compared to listing historical materials, this better highlighted the “humanity” within the liberal arts.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the chance to discuss this with Deng Ying.
Deng Ying internalized his era’s deep, quiet currents through his personality.
Thus, his sense of propriety was completely different from Yang Wan’s.
Just as Zhang Luo disliked Yang Wan because he felt her sense of propriety transcended all other women of the time, making him extremely uneasy.
But those around Deng Ying never felt any deliberate cultivation in his character.
“During my months in prison, I missed this tea. If I could get new tea, that would be even better, though I don’t know if it would trouble your family.”
Deng Ying voluntarily brought up what had happened to him.
Hearing this, the speaking craftsman immediately understood that Deng Ying wanted to put him at ease.
Already feeling guilty, he hurriedly stood and cupped his hands: “How could it be trouble? I’m just loose-tongued, can’t say what should be said properly. From now on, I’ll just work with my hands following you and bring you things.”
Everyone laughed at this.
Deng Ying also shook his head with a smile.