Chapter 393: Heroes of the World
There is no wall in the world that truly keeps the wind out. While Zhu Ping’an led a gaggle of beauties and unruly children through the bustling streets, the mystery surrounding Shen Lian’s sudden twist of fate had already been unraveled by many keen observers.
It all began with a single remark: “I heard that before this man submitted his memorial, he had already purchased a coffin and placed it in his home.”
Just because of this one sentence, Shen Lian’s destiny shifted from death to exile. As for Zhu Ping’an, the one who spoke it, he left a deep impression on countless people.
Of course, those with a sharp eye had also picked up on Zhu Ping’an’s earlier, merciless critique of Shen Lian’s memorial as being all show and no substance.
For a while, Zhu Ping’an’s stance left many guessing.
He had admirers among both the Reformists and the Strict Faction, yet he also had detractors in both camps. Some Reformists lumped him in with the Strict Faction, secretly scorning him; some Strict Faction members placed him with the Reformists, eager to eliminate him.
This ambiguity was on full display during a banquet at the Yan residence. After word spread about Zhu Ping’an’s conversation in the Western Gardens with Emperor Jiajing, some were pleased by his ruthless critique of Shen Lian’s empty memorial, seeing him as someone who could be courted—worth the effort—after all, he was the youngest top scholar of the Ming Dynasty, with a future full of limitless potential.
Yet more voices at the banquet branded Zhu Ping’an as a petty trickster. His earlier remarks, they argued, were merely a setup for that final line about Shen Lian’s coffin, which was why he deserved a lesson.
“This boy looks as simple-minded as a pig, but his mind is as cunning as a demon’s. He is no gentle soul. I am certain that today’s actions were solely to save that lunatic Shen. Mark my words, this child will become a great calamity one day. He cannot be left alive,” Luo Longwen said, sneering as he looked at those at the banquet who believed Zhu Ping’an was savvy, his tone full of certainty.
“Heh, you might say he just happened to save Shen by chance, but calling him ‘demonic in intellect’ or claiming he will become a great threat is giving him far too much credit. Top scholar or not, so what? For centuries, top scholars have come and gone. One every three years, countless in number. And yet? All of them paraded as brilliant, producing formulaic official documents, writing a poem here, painting a picture there. How many truly govern the nation or achieve great deeds?”
Beside Luo Longwen, Yan Maoqing shook his head with disdain. On one hand, he thought Luo Longwen was overreacting; Zhu Ping’an was just an inexperienced boy who barely understood the ways of the world—what great achievement could he possibly have? On the other hand, as Zhu Ping’an’s teacher, even though he often disapproved of the boy, when Luo Longwen said he must be eliminated, Yan Maoqing instinctively felt compelled to defend him. A disobedient student could be scolded or punished, but “cannot be left alive”? That was too much!
“Jingqing, do not underestimate this child. A single word from him changed the Emperor’s mind. How could he be just a superficial figure?” Yan Song said calmly, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the ministrations of a servant behind him.
“You speak truly, Elder. Maoqing has indeed underestimated the heroes of the realm,” Yan Song added. Yan Maoqing dared not respond further.
“Heroes? He does not yet qualify. At best, he is a talented individual. If we are to speak of heroes in this world today, there are only three…”
Yan Shifan leaned back in his chair, belly prominent, picking a fishbone with satisfaction. He spat it out calmly, then extended three pudgy fingers and drew out his words with confidence.
“Oh…” Everyone’s attention shifted to him immediately.
“The first hero is Yang Bo, Right Assistant Censor of the Censorate,” Yan Shifan said, adjusting his posture to better display his belly, pointing with a single finger as if surveying the realm. “Censor Yang possesses a photographic memory. Courageous as iron, spirit unyielding; even amidst floods, he walks with ease. Skilled in both letters and martial arts, he can stabilize the state and secure the nation. If this man is not a hero, who dares claim the title?”
At the mention of Yang Bo, everyone nodded. They knew his history well. Despite poor results in the imperial exams—placing in the third tier at the palace examination—he had been assigned to a remote county called Ao Fei, practically politically exiled. Even if his ancestors blessed him, his career would have peaked at the level of a local fifth-rank official. Yet this man, seemingly doomed to obscurity, proved his exceptional talent upon arriving at Ao Fei. Not only did he govern efficiently, but he also demonstrated extraordinary martial skill, soon earning recognition from the higher-ups. Through rapid promotion, he rose to Right Assistant Censor of the Censorate.
“The second hero is Lu Bing, Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard,” Yan Shifan continued, raising his second finger.
No one objected. As Commander, Lu Bing had commanded fear and respect for over a decade. He was connected to the Emperor, courageous enough to rush into burning buildings to save the Emperor, skilled without relying on connections, and a true martial champion. Deep, calculating, and formidable—such a combination made him a hero indeed.
Pausing for effect, Yan Shifan raised his fat hand to drink three generous swigs of wine, burping afterward.
“And the third hero?” someone asked, flattering Yan Song.
Yan Shifan shook his head, confessing to his father with a mock apology: “If my father were ten years younger—no, even five years younger—this title of hero would belong to him alone. Everyone else would step aside. But heroes cannot defy age. My father has grown old.”
“So, who is the third?”
The assembled guests offered suggestions, but Yan Shifan shook his head at each, smiling.
Finally, he revealed his answer.
“The third hero… is me, Yan Shifan!” He pointed confidently at himself.
Yan Shifan’s confidence was not arrogance but self-awareness—and everyone accepted it. Though physically unimpressive, with a large head, big ears, and blindness in one eye, he was exceptionally intelligent. Much of Yan Song’s success as Grand Secretary could be attributed to him. The court often referred to him as the “Little Secretary,” not out of respect for his father, but because of genuine trust in his abilities. When imperial instructions or secret signals confused everyone, consulting Yan Shifan invariably yielded the correct course of action.
After this discussion on heroes of the realm, Zhu Ping’an’s fate was left unresolved. Regardless, the fact that he could describe Shen Lian’s memorial as empty and hollow showed restraint; no severe punishment was necessary.
Young men often have sharp edges; a little discipline would suffice.