Chapter Forty-Two: The Final Lesson

Chapter Forty-Two: The Last Lesson

Within the Hall of Literary Glory, the atmosphere seemed no different from usual.

Li Shimian stood before Zhu Qizhen, patiently explaining the essence of Mencius, point by point. He did not shy away from passages even the founding emperor had excised. It was as if he hoped to move Zhu Qizhen with subtle words and profound meanings.

Zhu Qizhen listened intently, not daring to let his mind wander for even a moment. Firstly, Li Shimian was a stern man, but his teaching was skillful enough that Zhu Qizhen could absorb it. He was far from the pedantic, dogmatic figure imagined by later generations. Quite the contrary, those who truly mastered Confucian scholarship and possessed their own insights were not dogmatic at all. It was always the mediocre who elevated dogma to sacred law and dared not step beyond its bounds.

This was true in every field.

Secondly, with one-on-one instruction, there was no room for Zhu Qizhen to lose focus. The ruler's rod bestowed by the Grand Empress Dowager in Li Shimian's hand was not merely for show.

Most importantly, this was Li Shimian's final lesson.

Tomorrow, Wang Zhi would come to teach the Spring and Autumn Annals.

Zhu Qizhen felt a pang of guilt for having maneuvered behind Li Shimian's back. Unsettled, he watched time slip away until morning was nearly over. The sunlight streaming through the window grew shorter, retreating beyond the pane.

The ancients possessed a skill: they could estimate the hour by observing the daylight. Li Shimian glanced at the window and said, "Time is up, Your Majesty. That will be all for today."

Zhu Qizhen quickly rose and said, "Thank you, teacher."

Li Shimian replied, "Your Majesty, today is my last time instructing you. I have a word of advice and hope Your Majesty will heed it."

"Please speak, teacher," Zhu Qizhen said.

"Your Majesty's brilliance is God-given. I have taught students for decades and never seen one so precocious. Yet, with every gift comes a loss."

"I wish Your Majesty would value not being clever above all."

"Not being clever?" Zhu Qizhen was puzzled.

Li Shimian explained, "The difficulty of sustaining a legacy lies not in cunning, but in the heart. Your Majesty holds the benevolence and righteousness of the sages. Even if you make a mistake and your ministers exploit it, you will not lose your great cause. But if you become light-minded toward the world, believing it all revolves around calculation, even a hundred successes will eventually turn against you. Please discern this wisely."

Zhu Qizhen blushed slightly.

He suspected Li Shimian knew of his hidden manipulations. Yet as he pondered the teacher’s words, he realized Li Shimian’s advice was not so simple.

He hastily replied, "I understand."

Li Shimian stepped back a few paces and bowed. The sight of his head full of white hair suddenly struck Zhu Qizhen, stirring his heart. He hurried forward to steady Li Shimian and said, "I made a few little calculations, please don’t blame me, Teacher Li."

Li Shimian said, "Your Majesty is still young; I was impatient. But the way of the ruler is best served openly and uprightly."

"I understand," Zhu Qizhen replied.

Li Shimian bowed again. "Your old servant takes his leave."

Zhu Qizhen watched Li Shimian depart, unsure what to say.

It was because people like Li Shimian were never seen in later generations.

Li Shimian was a true disciple of Confucius; every word and deed followed the teachings of the sages. Being with such a man, Zhu Qizhen felt a sense of shame and inferiority.

He truly understood what it meant to use others as a mirror.

Though he would not claim Li Shimian was a perfect moralist, he could not find such a person in later times. Fearless before power, he had repeatedly admonished the Emperor Taizong and Emperor Renzong, risking his life.

His words and actions were always in harmony, forthright and honest. He seemed able to see straight through the heart with a single sentence, and never broke his word.

Zhu Qizhen knew that Li Shimian harbored no private motives.

His insistence on rigorous study was merely because he believed that, at this moment, Zhu Qizhen’s most important task was learning.

Later generations looked down on those who firmly believed in moral standards, thinking them fools. But only when such a person stood before you did you realize the impact.

Yet Zhu Qizhen believed there must be many like Li Shimian in the Ming Dynasty.

The next day, the lecturer replacing Li Shimian arrived.

It was Wang Zhi.

The first thing Zhu Qizhen noticed was Wang Zhi’s impressive beard.

No, in this era it would be called a beautiful beard.

Wang Zhi was different from Li Shimian; his manner was like a spring breeze. If Li Shimian’s first impression was one of solemnity—

It seemed any lapse in decorum in Li Shimian’s presence would be immediately corrected.

But in Wang Zhi’s company, one could not help but relax and feel kinship.

He taught the Spring and Autumn Annals.

But it was not merely the Annals; each story he told was accompanied by references, drawing out similar events from history and interpreting them through the judgments of the sages.

He analyzed what would result from one course of action, and what from another, examining the deeper meanings in detail.

At first, Zhu Qizhen tried to restrain himself.

He worried that if he performed too well in Wang Zhi’s class, Wang Zhi would rush the pace as Li Shimian had done.

But soon, Zhu Qizhen set such thoughts aside.

He realized that Wang Zhi, rather than simply lecturing on the Annals, was actually telling history. Every subtle point would lead him to a dozen analogous stories with differing approaches and outcomes.

These stories were not childish tales, but real events from history, at least those formally recorded.

Zhu Qizhen listened with rapt interest.

Truthfully, though Zhu Qizhen possessed the mindset of later generations, he was not versed in Chinese history.

Compared to the literati of this era, he was far from proficient.

Except for students of history in later times, most people who had only studied a few textbooks possessed only general knowledge. Sometimes, due to differences in perspective, one could almost say they had learned a false history.

At first, Zhu Qizhen could restrain himself, but as he became absorbed, he couldn’t help asking questions about historical details and differing viewpoints.

Wang Zhi answered with a smile.

Without realizing it, the morning passed and it was time for class to end.

After seeing Zhu Qizhen off, Wang Zhi’s lips curled into a wry smile.

“What is this situation?” he mused.

Wang Zhi was as renowned as Wang Ying. Both were successful candidates in the second year of Yongle, and close friends. Wang Ying impeached Li Shimian; to avoid suspicion, he did not take the lecturer’s post himself, but recommended Wang Zhi.

Wang Zhi was both surprised and delighted.

To teach the emperor was a tremendous temptation. Not to mention anything else, all the political heavyweights now had served Emperor Renzong during his years as crown prince.

But Yang Shiqi, fearing Wang Zhi might repeat Li Shimian’s mistakes, summoned Wang Zhi when he submitted his teaching plan, making things clear.

The emperor was still young; he should be moved by virtue, and made to feel the charm of sage learning, not forced. The lessons should not be too strict; it sufficed for the emperor to grasp the greater principles.

He even set regulations for the emperor’s learning pace: the Spring and Autumn Annals must be studied for at least a year.

At the time, Wang Zhi saw no problem.

But once he began teaching, he discovered the issue.

The emperor was truly extraordinary.

Most topics required little explanation; the emperor grasped them instantly. The planned curriculum was finished in less than half an hour.

So Wang Zhi improvised, shifting the lessons towards history.

Only then did he manage to fill the remaining time.

Now, he understood why Li Shimian had taught so quickly.

It was not disregard for the young emperor’s health, but rather a response to his capacity.

He began to suspect there was more behind Li Shimian’s dismissal. Yet, as a frequent presence in the Ministry of Personnel, he knew well the various intrigues within the court.

In any case, he had gained the greatest benefit—establishing a teacher-student bond with the emperor. As for other matters, he would not probe too deeply.

Still, he was not without suspicion.

His suspect was Wang Zhen.

Thus, unlike Li Shimian, he never put on airs before Wang Zhen and always showed him extra respect.

Wang Zhen, though only a scholar, recognized Wang Zhi and responded kindly, both surprised and pleased. The two got along very harmoniously.

But Wang Zhen, seeing Zhu Qizhen’s respect for Li Shimian and with the Grand Empress Dowager still alive, kept his resentment against Li Shimian hidden in his heart, waiting for the day when he could settle the score.