Chapter 42: Zi and Zeng Dian Share Their Aspirations

“I am ashamed and do not wish to be your friend!”

Yuan Zai spoke these words righteously, and suddenly a thunderous sound seemed to echo in everyone’s ears—the resounding clamor of reputation.

Though the Tang Dynasty recruited scholars through the imperial examination, the system was not yet perfected, and reputation played a crucial role in determining who might pass as a jinshi. Thus, nearly every scholar entering the capital sought ways to curry favor at the gates of the powerful. If that path failed, they would find other ways to build their name and create momentum for themselves.

Chen Zi’ang, for example, smashed a thousand-gold zither to publicize his poetry, and soon his fame soared throughout Chang’an, allowing him to become a jinshi at twenty-four.

Yuan Zai’s criticism of Ye Chang was, in truth, a means of raising his own reputation; and since Ye Chang was recommended to Li Shizhi by He Zhizhang, though Ye himself was a nobody, He’s renown was known throughout the land. In this way, Yuan Zai trod upon He’s reputation without making a deadly enemy.

As for Ye Chang… who cares about the feelings of a stepping stone?

Lu Qi, eyes narrowed, watched Yuan Zai with resentment. This opponent, weak in talent but strong in reputation, should have been used to bolster Lu’s own standing!

Yet Lu was still young—not yet the Lu Qi whom even Guo Ziyi feared. Moreover, he had cited Ye Chang’s brother, but doing so could easily backfire: his own father was an official, and he had not followed him to his post to fulfill filial duty, choosing instead to remain in Chang’an.

Thus, he could only hope that Ye Chang, favored by He Zhizhang, possessed enough talent to defend himself, lest Yuan Zai claim all the glory alone.

Yan Zhenqing was somewhat helpless; he’d wanted to speak with Ye Chang beforehand precisely to avoid this sort of verbal conflict, fearing Ye would suffer a great loss if unprepared.

He glanced at Ye Chang, who still wore a look of astonishment, clearly caught off guard by Yuan Zai’s sudden attack. Yuan Zai, meanwhile, showed no overt pride, but his eyes were bright and penetrating.

Yan judged that Yuan Zai was not yet finished.

Indeed, Yuan Zai paused, then continued, “To punish without teaching is not the way of sages. Ye Chang, what have you to say in your defense?”

He was ready to press further, revealing himself as one who would leave no quarter, determined to make Ye Chang the foundation of his own reputation.

At this moment, Ye Chang recovered his composure, his brows slightly furrowed, his eyes closing a bit.

“I heard in the introduction that you, Yuan Gongfu, hail from Qishan in Fengxiang. What have you studied, and why have you come to the capital?” Ye Chang asked calmly.

“I am proficient in the Daoist teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi. Hearing that the emperor wishes to open the examination to Daoist scholars, I have come to Chang’an—not to frivolously enjoy the city under the pretense of welcoming my brother’s coffin!” Seizing the opportunity, Yuan Zai continued his attack, “A father’s kindness, a son’s filial piety, a brother’s friendship, a younger’s respect—”

“Hold,” Ye Chang interrupted, waving his hand, “You say you are skilled in Daoist teachings and have come to Chang’an to sit the exam? Then perhaps you ought to return home and study harder.”

“Madman! Are you cursing me?” Yuan Zai was furious.

“I am not cursing you—merely stating the truth.” Ye Chang recalled organizing debates among children while teaching in the countryside, and a gentle smile appeared on his lips. To others, he seemed utterly composed, as if discussing something entirely ordinary. “Hui Shi rebuked the Master of Nanhua, ‘Is it not excessive?’ That’s your situation now. One who does not understand fate cannot pass the examination.”

At these words, Lu Qi was still puzzled, but those familiar with the reference were shocked before bursting into laughter—except, perhaps, Yuan Zai himself.

Yuan Zai’s face turned a striking shade of purple, more vivid than Lu Qi’s blue, for Ye Chang had delivered a stinging blow in Yuan’s field of expertise.

Ye Chang’s reference to the Master of Nanhua was to Zhuangzi, whom the emperor had just conferred the title “Master of Nanhua” that February. When Zhuangzi’s wife died, he sang and struck the drum, prompting Hui Shi to chide him for his excess. Zhuangzi replied that birth, aging, sickness, and death were natural, and to grieve endlessly was “not understanding fate.”

Had Yuan Zai not claimed expertise in Daoist teachings, it would have been fine. But he had asserted his mastery, and now, in his strongest domain, Ye Chang had thoroughly humiliated him.

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Now, the thunderous sound of reputation still echoed in everyone’s ears, but whereas they had thought Ye Chang the target, it was Yuan Zai who was being used to build reputation.

Yuan Zai remained silent, shrinking back in hopes no one would notice him. As he withdrew, Lu Qi felt an opportunity arise.

“Ye Langjun, I’ve heard that in the countryside you organized the people to dig canals and channel water—surely you are skilled in mathematics…”

“Fifth Brother, Xiao Bai-lang!” Ye Chang, discerning his intent, called Xiao Bai-lang over.

Xiao Bai-lang’s admiration for Ye Chang was now boundless; any lingering vengefulness had vanished. Earlier that morning, Ye Chang had bested him at several coin games, then revealed the secrets behind them, leaving Xiao Bai-lang stunned and finally understanding why he always lost.

“Eleventh Brother, is there something you wish?” he asked.

Ye Chang smiled at Lu Qi, “Today I taught Xiao Fifth Brother a calculation technique; you two might try it yourselves.”

A cold gleam flashed in Lu Qi’s eyes. “Ye Langjun, do you look down on me?”

“Not at all. Your talents are limitless, but at this moment, in the art of calculation, you are far behind me.” Ye Chang reassured him, “Try it with Xiao Fifth Brother. If you win, you’ll be qualified to challenge me.”

Xiao Bai-lang grinned at the prospect of competing for coins with Lu Qi, his eyes full of mischief—having been thrashed by Ye Chang, he now welcomed a challenger seeking defeat. Before Lu Qi could protest, Xiao Bai-lang dragged him aside and explained the rules.

Lu Qi, however, was poor; his clothes were patched and worn, and after searching himself for a long while, he found only a few coins. It was Li Zhi’s servant who pulled out a handful of coins, allowing them to play.

Ye Chang addressed the group, sitting upright, “What brings you all here today, and what guidance do you have for me?”

Only now did the others recall they had come to befriend Ye Chang, but it seemed they were challenging him instead. Yuan Zai’s swift humiliation left them embarrassed, especially Li Zhi, who looked upon Ye Chang with thinly veiled displeasure.

When no one spoke, Li Zhi coughed and stepped forward, “He Zhizhang has sung your praises, Ye Langjun. Today, seeing you, I find his words true. But what are your ambitions? Is it merely cockfighting, dog-racing, and ball games—or do you use these as a stepping-stone to seek favor as a court jester?”

This was the flourishing Tang; any man of talent sought to serve, build achievements, and secure a legacy. Each had his own means: some studied hard for the examinations, others sought fame in seclusion, still others feigned madness to draw attention.

But none respected Jia Chang, the street child who gained the emperor’s favor through cockfighting—he was seen only as a jester.

Li Zhi’s words were a dig at Ye Chang.

Ye Chang smiled and replied, “The ambition of Zeng Dian is mine as well—have you not heard: ‘I am with Dian!’”

This was a classic Confucian allusion. When Confucius asked his disciples about their aspirations, Zeng Dian replied that he wished to wear new clothes in spring, join friends old and young in play by the Yi River, singing and dancing, and return home in high spirits. Confucius sighed in approval, “I am with Dian.”

Li Zhi was left speechless; if Confucius’s ambition was no more than this, then Ye Chang playing ball with friends was nothing extraordinary.

Though he knew Ye Chang was distorting the meaning, one could still associate playing ball with swimming and singing. As a scion of a noble family and a court official, Li Zhi was not eager for fame like Yuan Zai or Lu Qi. Seeing Ye Chang offer no opening, he would not debate and risk embarrassment. So he laughed, “Ye Langjun, truly a noble gentleman!”

His words eased the atmosphere, and the group came forward to exchange pleasantries with Ye Chang. When met with goodwill, Ye Chang was sociable, responding to each, occasionally joking or making light of himself, and everyone found themselves at ease and cheerful.

The only one left out was Yuan Zai.

Yuan Zai now shrank among the crowd, his gaze filled with jealousy and vexation. He had sought to build his reputation on Ye Chang, but instead was used himself. Naturally, he would not step forward. Ye Chang, sensing his gaze, looked over with a mischievous smile, “Yuan Gongfu, weren’t you ashamed to befriend me? Why linger here?”

With these words, everyone’s view of Ye Chang shifted again: he was not someone to offend—he bore grudges!

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“You!”

“I am unlike you. No matter who they are—ignorant or scheming—I am willing to befriend them all,” Ye Chang replied leisurely.

Yuan Zai, unable to bear the humiliation, covered his face with his sleeve and left. Yan Zhenqing pulled Ye Chang aside, “Was that necessary?”

“If others do not offend me, I do not offend them. If they do, I must respond in kind.”

This made the others more cautious, not wanting to suffer Yuan Zai’s fate. With so many witnesses, Ye Chang’s retort would surely spread, and Yuan Zai’s hopes of passing the imperial exams were dashed—no examiner would dare admit such a student without risking censure from the court.

“Earlier, I saw Ye Eleven playing ball—what kind of game was that?” After a moment’s awkwardness, someone asked.

Ye Chang took the opportunity to introduce football, concluding, “City folk cannot afford polo, and cuju is too complicated; football is much more straightforward. Both sides compete to score in each other’s goal, with forwards, midfielders, and defenders—mirroring military tactics in formation.”

“Haha, the world is at peace; war strategy has no place, except in games like this.” Someone laughed.

Though there was a hint of mockery, Ye Chang let it pass, and the speaker dared not press further, as Ye Chang had shown himself to be both sharp and subtle.

The time for one stick of incense had passed. Ye Chang rose and excused himself, “I must serve as referee—please forgive me. If you are interested in football, watch these young men play a half.”

Xiao Bai-lang remained off the field, still playing coins with Lu Qi, so Ye Chang reorganized the teams, reiterated the rules, and let both sides take their positions. Watching them form up as forward, center, and rear, Yan Zhenqing and the others recalled Ye Chang’s claim that the game mirrored military formations—it was no idle boast.

The match began quickly. Since Ye Chang had explained the rules, the spectators understood better. The players, all recruited by Xiao Bai-lang and experienced in cuju, demonstrated good ball sense and skills: trapping, dribbling, passing, intercepting, and tackling—all performed with competence. The teams attacked and defended swiftly, and Ye Chang refrained from interrupting, allowing the practice game to flow smoothly.

Thus, football’s high competitiveness became evident. The spectators, initially merely curious, soon found themselves entertained, cheering for skillful dribbles or clean tackles. Others nearby gathered to watch, over a hundred on the sidelines, and if not for Ye Chang’s arrangements, many might have rushed onto the field themselves.

Soon, two sticks of incense had burned, and nine goals had been scored, as was typical in the early days of football. Even with their cuju skills, they could not instantly master football tactics.

But the abundance of goals brought joy to all, and as Ye Chang, sweat-soaked, returned, Yan Zhenqing greeted him, “We should invite Master Zhang. He once observed Lady Gongsun’s sword dance and gained insight into calligraphy. Watching today’s match, he too might find inspiration!”

“Brother Qingchen, with your skill in calligraphy, your future achievements will certainly rival Master Zhang. In time, as your fame spreads, I’ll sell a piece each year and make my living from it,” Ye Chang joked.

Yan Zhenqing took no offense—on the contrary, he laughed, his inner reservations dissolved and replaced by secret guilt. He had thought Ye Chang devoid of feeling, but realized Ye Chang was not unmoved by his brother’s death; he had simply seen through life and death, reaching a state far beyond the comprehension of ordinary men.

No wonder he could encounter immortals—his state of mind was nearly immortal itself.

“Shall we try as well?” Yan, feeling Ye Chang’s sincerity, wished to support him. Ye Chang sought to promote football, and Yan would help; Li Zhi’s status would be invaluable in spreading the game.

With Yan’s lead, the youths who accompanied Li Zhi eagerly joined in, and even Li Zhi, confident in his cuju skills, took to the field to try his hand.