Chapter Eight: Zhu Zhanhe’s Neo-Confucian Tutor

"Your Highness, should we have the people from Chaotian Palace come out to welcome you?" The captain of the guard was a sturdy man named Liu Erniu, a soldier under the command of the Prince. He looked at Zhu Zhanhe with a serious and earnest expression, his tone stiff and cautious, as if he were somewhat afraid of the young prince.

"No need. After all, this is a sacred residence; it is not appropriate to cause such a stir. You may wait for me at the gate; I will go in alone. You all can take turns getting some food—don't go hungry." Zhu Zhanhe dismissed Liu Erniu's suggestion and fished a gold bean from his pocket, tossing it to him so he could treat his brothers to a meal. It was already past noon, and the soldiers had likely not eaten since the morning. Besides, as the son of the Prince of Han, it was only natural for him to carry a few gold beans.

"Thank you, Your Highness!" Liu Erniu beamed, expressing his gratitude loudly. The money given by his master was more than enough to buy a lavish meal for all the men.

In truth, Liu Erniu was genuinely intimidated by Zhu Zhanhe. Having served as the Prince of Han’s personal guard for years, he had witnessed the young prince charge into battle, a lone force of nature, brandishing a heavy blade and cutting down sixteen enemies in a single engagement. In the army, that was the mark of a top-tier warrior. Moreover, the young prince possessed a natural, imposing majesty; though he was usually courteous, everyone in the ranks held him in deep awe.

Zhu Zhanhe entered Chaotian Palace alone. Although it was past midday, the palace grounds remained bustling with pilgrims moving to and fro. The air was thick with the scent of incense, which was surprisingly pleasant.

"Junior Uncle Yanhie, you’ve returned! No wonder Master said a distinguished guest would arrive today—it turns out it was you back from the campaign. I shall go inform him at once!" As soon as Zhu Zhanhe reached the main hall dedicated to the Four Heavenly Kings, a young acolyte at the entrance spotted him and hurried over with a joyful expression.

"Yanhie" was the Taoist name given to Zhu Zhanhe when he was taken in as a student by Zhang Zhengheng. According to the old Taoist, "Yan" was the generation name, and "Hie" was the personal Taoist name. "Yan" suggested a long, flowing stream or water passing beneath, while "Hie" represented an abyss or a gully; together, it signified a heart as still as calm water and a quietude as deep as an abyss. What the old man didn't tell him was that, given Zhu Zhanhe’s identity, the combination implied a "Hidden Dragon in the Abyss."

Of course, it was not a formal apprenticeship in the strict sense, as Zhu Zhanhe had not officially entered the Taoist registry; he merely studied Taoist health-cultivation techniques under Zhang Zhengheng. If he had truly become a monk, his parents would likely have arrived with swords drawn, and the Prince of Han might well have razed Chaotian Palace to the ground.

"It’s your turn on duty today, Nephew Jindou? Hard work. I’ll go find Master myself; you don't need to report it. I'll have someone buy you some candied hawthorns later," Zhu Zhanhe said, looking at the little boy before him. Jindou was a ten-year-old orphan taken in by the palace; he had grown up there, and the Taoist priests had given him both the name and title "Jindou." He was a greedy little fellow.

"Thank you, Junior Uncle! You're the best! Master is practicing in the backyard. Please go ahead—he said a guest was coming, and I suppose he meant you!" Upon hearing about the candied hawthorns, Jindou’s face lit up, his mouth nearly watering. He hopped around Zhu Zhanhe excitedly but did not forget to point the way to the old Taoist.

"Alright, thank you, Nephew Jindou. I'm heading in." After bidding farewell, Zhu Zhanhe walked straight toward the backyard, greeting the fellow disciples he passed along the way.

In the quiet backyard, a figure dressed in plain white Taoist robes, with a rosy complexion and a vigorous posture, was practicing. It looked like martial arts, yet his arms moved like the wings of a great bird. Upon closer inspection, it truly resembled a crane gracefully dancing.

Zhu Zhanhe watched the old man for a moment and, knowing the routine would take a while, walked up behind him and began to practice in tandem.

In the tranquil courtyard, the elder and the younger moved in unison, their arms sweeping like the wings of great birds—the flight, the landing, and the foraging of two ethereal cranes.

"Hoo—" After a long while, they finished. The old man let out a long breath and withdrew his posture.

Zhu Zhanhe observed his teacher, whom he hadn't seen in nearly a year. Despite being seventy-six, Zhang Zhengheng looked no older than forty or fifty, with jet-black hair, a rosy complexion, and skin as smooth as a baby's. Only his eyes, filled with the weight of ages, betrayed his true years.

"Back, are you?" Zhang Zhengheng, the elder martial brother of the current Celestial Master, Zhang Zhengchang, only glanced briefly at the person behind him before turning and walking toward his room without a word.

Zhu Zhanhe hurried to follow him inside.

"Student Yanhie pays his respects to Teacher!" Once inside, Zhu Zhanhe bowed respectfully.

*Smack.* The old Taoist set his teacup down with such force that tea splashed across the table, and he leaped aside as if avoiding a plague, successfully dodging the bow.

"Away with you, you rascal! How many times must I tell you? Do not bow to me! Do you have a grudge against me? Are you trying to send me to my grave early?" The old man stood to the side, huffing and puffing with a disgruntled expression.

"Teacher, why be so difficult? I am your student; what is wrong with showing respect?" Zhu Zhanhe was confused. He had never understood why his teacher had only required a single cup of tea during the initiation—no kowtowing, no elaborate rites. Even more strangely, none of the other senior Taoists had ever objected. It was truly bizarre.

"Speak. What brings you here this time?" Zhang Zhengheng eyed his student with deep suspicion, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Teacher, I just returned from the campaign against Alu-tai and came straight here to see you," Zhu Zhanhe replied truthfully.

"I am not blind! I can see you’ve just come from the battlefield. You’re reeking of slaughter and bloodlust. You must have killed quite a few Tatars," Zhang Zhengheng said, looking at his student with undisguised disdain. He knew his student had likely taken at least ten lives.

"Teacher, I only joined the charge once, but I was lucky—I took down sixteen. And I didn't get a single scratch!" Zhu Zhanhe boasted, his eyebrows arching with pride.

"Sixteen? Not bad. But why were you charging in the vanguard with your father instead of staying back with your grandfather?" Zhang Zhengheng asked, his eyes flickering with a curious, lingering interest.