Before Li Shanchang had even calmed down, Chen Biao was already surrounded by two great scholars.
The two scholars introduced themselves, and Chen Biao froze.
Song Lian? The legendary figure whose essay made it into Chinese language textbooks?!
I may not know which early Ming official was named Song Lian, but I memorized an essay written by an ancient man named Song Lian in school.
Ye Zheng? A descendant of Master Shuixin?!
I know Master Shuixin!
The “Chen Biao” whose memories had merged with his own in this life had grown up in a merchant family.
Modern Chinese merchants were different from merchants in many other countries. Commerce in China had always possessed its own ideological guidance and historical roots. On every Chinese businessman’s bookshelf were philosophical works handed down from antiquity.
The greatest characteristic was the ideal of the “Confucian merchant.”
When ordinary people in later generations heard “Wenzhou,” the first thing that probably came to mind was the internet meme about the “Wenzhou shoe boss.” But when Chinese businessmen heard it, what they thought of was “Zhejiang merchants.”
Zhejiang merchants were the quintessential Confucian merchants, and their origins lay in the Eastern Zhejiang School.
During China’s century of calamity, some people abandoned the brush for the battlefield, while others abandoned the brush for commerce.
Even amid the flames of war, ordinary people still needed food, clothing, shelter, and transportation. Armies needed logistical support. Buying weapons from abroad required enormous sums of money.
Some great capitalists took advantage of the chaos, colluded with foreign and domestic enemies, exploited the people, and sided with corrupt regimes and Japanese invaders. But others upheld the Eastern Zhejiang School’s original ideal of applying knowledge to practical governance, becoming true patriotic national entrepreneurs.
As the child of an entrepreneur, whether his own family was virtuous or not was another matter, but books about the Eastern Zhejiang School had been required reading.
As a result, today’s little prodigy Chen Biao couldn’t remember the name of Zhu Yuanzhang’s eldest son, the Crown Prince who died young, but he knew the doctrines of the Eastern Zhejiang School inside and out.
Chen Biao desperately wanted to keep playing dumb.
But standing before him was a direct descendant of Master Shuixin’s lineage.
He knew that what he ought to do now was find an excuse to leave and ask Uncle Li how he should deal with these two overly enthusiastic great scholars.
But these men possessed firsthand knowledge of the Eastern Zhejiang School—not the heavily filtered, countless-times-reinterpreted books from centuries later with titles like The Eastern Zhejiang School Will Make You Rich.
It was like someone who constantly saw distorted interpretations of Confucianism suddenly meeting Confucius and his three thousand disciples in person. Who could resist asking for gossip?
“Hey, Sage Confucius, do you know what your descendants—the Dukes Yansheng—will get up to in the future?”
After all, gossip was an instinct engraved into the souls and bloodlines of Chinese people by their ancestors.
Chen Biao hesitated for only a moment because of that irresistible urge for gossip.
By then, Ye Zheng and Song Lian had already surrounded him.
Looking up, Chen Biao couldn’t shake the feeling that these two great scholars looked suspiciously like child traffickers about to kidnap someone.
It wasn’t an illusion.
They really were trying to “steal the child.”
Any great scholar who had become famous in his own era—or even earned a place in later generations’ school textbooks—had been a child prodigy.
Three years old and possessing a photographic memory. Four years old and writing poetry. Five years old and composing essays…
That was the standard.
And damn it all, those ages were counted in traditional East Asian reckoning.
If Chen Biao hadn’t revealed his talent for business or voiced ideas originating from later generations, his current level of genius was actually far behind Song Lian and the others.
At the very least, he couldn’t compose poetry or write polished essays.
But what Chen Biao had said to Chang Yuchun on the street had revealed a maturity far beyond that of ordinary child prodigies.
Scholars all wanted exceptional disciples.
If their disciples left their names in history, their own reputations as teachers would shine even brighter.
At such a young age, Chen Biao already possessed a heart that cared about the people and the world. Even if he were somewhat dull, such a child would still be treasured by great sages. Not to mention that, judging from Li Shanchang and the others’ intention to let Chen Biao teach other children, his talent was obviously outstanding as well.
How could such a student not inspire competition?
Of course, proud scholars like Ye Zheng and Song Lian would never openly fight over a disciple.
They merely wanted to chat with Chen Biao first, test his learning, and then casually demonstrate a little of their own abilities.
Like Jiang Ziya fishing—the willing would bite.
They only had to show that they thought highly of Chen Biao, reveal their own identities and accomplishments, and given that Zhu Yuanzhang’s generals couldn’t even find elementary teachers for their sons, wouldn’t the head of the Chen family come kneeling to entrust Chen Biao to them?
There was only one problem…
Ye Zheng and Song Lian exchanged glances.
Song Lian felt he held the advantage.
Ye Zheng couldn’t help sighing inwardly.
Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Chen Biao asked, “Master Ye, are you truly a descendant of Master Shuixin?”
Song Lian’s heart skipped a beat.
Ye Zheng’s eyes lit up.
Ye Chen proudly shot Wang Hui a glance.
See? The Ye family still has the edge.
Wang Hui rolled his eyes.
Traitor.
Watching the scene unfold, cold sweat trickled down Li Shanchang’s forehead.
If Chen Biao had been his own son, he would have pressed the boy’s head down on the spot and made him kowtow to whichever master he chose.
With scholars of this caliber, there was no losing no matter whom he apprenticed under.
But this was Zhu Yuanzhang’s immortal child!
Being an immortal child was one thing—we still have to keep his identity hidden!
The Grand Marshal isn’t even in Yingtian right now. What am I supposed to do?
R-right! Go find Madam Ma!
Li Shanchang hurriedly shot Li Bao’er a meaningful look.
Li Bao’er stared blankly.
Li Shanchang gave a soft cough.
Li Bao’er continued staring blankly.
Li Shanchang: “…”
Wasn’t this boy usually quick-witted? What’s wrong with him today?
Li Bao’er had become so engrossed listening to Chen Biao and Ye Zheng that he’d forgotten everything else.
He had always been especially interested in economics and infrastructure. But at present he was still studying the Four Books and Five Classics and hadn’t yet had the chance to systematically learn those subjects. He could only struggle through books on his own.
The Yongjia School, to which Ye Zheng belonged, excelled precisely in these fields.
As Ye Zheng and Chen Biao conversed, question after question that had long puzzled Li Bao’er during his self-study was answered.
He became utterly absorbed, wishing he could pull out a notebook and start taking notes immediately.
Chen Biao deliberately held back, asking questions far more often than he answered them.
Ye Zheng, however, wanted both to beat Song Lian in taking on a disciple and to display his scholarship before Li Shanchang. He taught almost without reservation.
Moreover, Ye Zheng had spent years teaching ignorant village children in remote mountain settlements. His lessons were simple and easy to understand—even complete beginners could listen with great interest.
Song Lian sighed inwardly.
Feeling that the disciple was slipping away, he quietly sat back down, invited both Ye Zheng and Chen Biao to take seats as well, and silently sighed to himself.
Wang Hui glared at his senior brother in disappointment.
He immediately joined the discussion.
Scholars were naturally proud, and famous, talented scholars were proud to the heavens.
Wang Hui no longer cared that much about taking Chen Biao as a disciple.
He simply refused to lose face before the Ye brothers.
At the very least, he intended to steal half a disciple.
Song Lian rubbed his nose.
With no choice, he began displaying his own brilliance as well.
Otherwise, given his junior brother’s temperament, Wang Hui would probably tease him about this for the rest of his life.
Li Shanchang first shot a fierce glare at Li Bao’er, who had completely missed his signals, then found an excuse to leave temporarily. He went behind the main hall to instruct someone to report today’s events to Madam Ma before personally returning with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.
Zhu Wenzhong, what are you standing there for?!
Help me record what they’re saying!
Li Bao’er nodded frantically.
“Right! Right! Notes! Notes!”
The eight scholars present smiled faintly.
Compared with empty flattery, Li Shanchang and the young man’s silent act of grinding ink and taking notes made them feel far more respected.
Ye Zheng’s three disciples asked, “May we borrow some writing materials?”
Li Bao’er nodded vigorously, then shook his head just as hard.
“Not borrow—use them, use them freely… Ah, was that impolite? What’s the proper way scholars say it?”
The three young scholars couldn’t help laughing.
“Brother, there’s no need to be nervous. The three of us make our living farming, trading, and mediating disputes, respectively. None of us are what you’d call proper scholars.”
Only then did Li Bao’er’s stutter ease.
Embarrassed, he scratched his head, distributed brushes and paper to the three young scholars, and joined them in taking notes.
Meanwhile, Madam Ma received the news.
She set down the little rattle she had been using to amuse her third son, thought for a moment, and smiled.
“I understand. Tell Master Li not to worry. Biao’er is terribly proud. He won’t take a master so easily.”
As long as Biao’er didn’t accept a master on the spot, everything afterward would be easy enough to resolve.
After the messenger departed, Madam Ma sighed softly.
Her expression held both pride and worry.
She was proud that Chen Biao’s brilliance had earned the recognition of such eminent scholars.
She was worried about the prophecy that he could only reclaim his rightful place upon reaching adulthood.
There were still more than ten years to go.
Biao’er was so clever.
Could they really keep his identity hidden that long?
Madam Ma shook her head, suppressed her worries, rose, and went to the study to write Zhu Yuanzhang a letter.
Madam Ma knew Chen Biao very well.
By the time the messenger quietly relayed Madam Ma’s words to Li Shanchang, Ye Zheng and the others had paused for tea to moisten their throats.
They also took the opportunity to ask whether Chen Biao already had a teacher.
Though Chen Biao mostly asked questions and revealed only a fraction of his learning, every question struck at the heart of the matter.
The great scholars present admired him even more.
At the same time, they couldn’t help worrying that the child might already have been taught by some hidden sage.
It was perfectly normal for elders to ask younger people about their teachers and lineage.
They weren’t impatient.
They certainly weren’t eagerly trying to recruit him.
Absolutely not.
Chen Biao hesitated for a moment, bit his tiny baby teeth, jumped down from his chair, cupped his hands, and said,
“This junior has no teacher, nor do I intend to have one in the future.”
Song Lian and the others were astonished.
Li Shanchang was so startled that he dropped his brush.
Song Lian frowned.
“Why?”
Chen Biao carefully considered his wording.
He decided it would be better to sound a little arrogant.
After observing them, he had already realized that both Master Shuixin’s descendant and the great scholar from the language textbooks intended to take him as a disciple.
Revealing himself as a child prodigy rather than an immortal child wasn’t actually a big problem.
Truly gifted children were rare around ordinary people.
But viewed across the entire nation—or across all of Chinese history—there had been countless child prodigies.
Just look through the history books.
Three years old and composing poems. Four years old and writing essays. Five years old and debating the classics. Six or seven years old and ascending the throne to become a great ruler. Eight or nine years old and rising to the highest offices. By eleven or twelve, some were already commanding armies and serving as chief ministers.
Even the so-called “photographic memory” cheat ability in later web novels was practically standard equipment for top imperial examination graduates throughout history.
Without perfect recall, how could anyone possibly take first place?
Chen Biao’s father, Chen Guorui, had said that as long as Chen Biao didn’t let anything slip, no matter how brilliant he appeared, the Grand Marshal would never fear him.
At most, Zhu Yuanzhang would train him to become the right-hand man of the Grand Marshal’s eldest legitimate son.
(Chen Biao: And when the Crown Prince dies young, my whole family gets buried with him, right?)
Although Chen Biao constantly complained that Chen Guorui was too honest and a little naive, his father undoubtedly understood the rules of feudal society far better than he did.
Chen Biao trusted Chen Guorui.
But his intermittent paranoia chose that very moment to flare up.
He felt that if these great scholars accepted him as a disciple, Zhu Yuanzhang might not tolerate it.
Zhu Yuanzhang had no famous scholars under his command.
Now that several had finally arrived, he would surely assign them to teach the hidden eldest legitimate son of the Zhu family.
That was also part of building the future Crown Prince’s prestige.
The prince’s identity could remain secret for now.
His reputation, however, had to be established in advance. Otherwise, he would struggle to command obedience in the future.
Yet the moment these scholars arrived, they rushed to accept the son of one of Zhu Yuanzhang’s subordinates as a disciple.
What kind of situation was that?
Even if they later also accepted the Crown Prince, was Chen Biao supposed to become the Crown Prince’s senior apprentice-brother?
Like hell he was.
Future high officials often deliberately stained their own reputations as a means of self-preservation.
Chen Biao knew that, thanks to his father’s big mouth, his reputation as a genius would be impossible to hide forever.
So he decided to create a different kind of stain in advance—something that would seem serious to everyone else, but might not matter much to Zhu Yuanzhang.
For example:
Arrogance.
Disrespect toward the sages.
Self-exile from orthodox scholarly circles.
Hands still cupped respectfully, Chen Biao wore a humble expression while speaking in an outrageously arrogant tone.
“I have observed the Hundred Schools of Thought during the pre-Qin era. Confucians and Mohists argued every day. Mohists and Daoists fought whenever they met. Daoists and Legalists could hardly stand the sight of each other…”
“Even within Confucianism itself, those who followed different paths called one another ‘base Confucians.'”
“But despite all their arguing and fighting, they never sought to eradicate each other’s traditions. They sought only to persuade one another—even if persuasion came by way of fists.”
Chen Biao let out a cold laugh before continuing with deliberate arrogance.
“Confucius said, ‘When three walk together, one can always be my teacher.’ Confucius himself debated great thinkers of different traditions and absorbed the strengths of other schools.”
“This junior lacks talent, but I have studied the Hundred Schools. The Mohists valued the worthy. The Daoists nourished the people. The Legalists governed through law. There were also the Agricultural School, the Military School, the School of Diplomacy…”
“Every school has something worth learning.”
“And every school also has its dross.”
“Had I lived in the pre-Qin era, I could have traveled among all the schools, learning from each and taking their strengths.”
“But that age of flourishing philosophies has long since passed.”
“Today, scholarly lineages have become like powerful aristocratic clans. To accept a master is to join a faction.”
“One must revere only one’s master’s doctrines.”
“If one dares acknowledge that a rival school’s teachings are also correct, one becomes a traitor to one’s own lineage—someone everyone believes deserves to be destroyed.”
“I merely wish to seek knowledge.”
“I do not wish to join a faction.”
“Nor do I wish to abandon my own thinking simply because someone is my teacher or elder.”
“So I would rather study on my own.”
“Even if I end up reinventing the wheel behind closed doors and achieve nothing in the future, I will at least live freely.”
“And I will have no regrets.”
Expressions around the room varied wildly.
Li Shanchang had already clutched his chest, swaying as though he might collapse.
As expected of our immortal young master.
What overwhelming arrogance!
Swallowing a mouthful of metaphorical blood, Li Shanchang forced an unspeakably ugly smile onto his face.
He prepared to stop the furious scholars and tell Biao’er to run.
Just as expected of Young Master Biao.
He was exactly like the Grand Marshal.
Li Shanchang had already resigned himself to losing yet another group of scholars.
Chen Biao looked up with sparkling eyes.
Go ahead.
Scold me.
Scold me!
I’m completely prepared to be pointed at and cursed.
Song Lian remained stunned for a moment.
Then he slowly sighed, slammed his palm heavily onto the table, and declared,
“Excellent!”
The arrogant expression Chen Biao had painstakingly put on instantly froze.
“…Huh?!”