Chapter 88: The Honest Genius

“Keeping company with a king is like keeping company with a tiger.” Zhang Yue had not truly understood this saying before, but now he experienced it firsthand. Just moments ago, Zhu Di had been laughing heartily like an ordinary elder, but suddenly his smile vanished as he asked such a harsh question. If it were someone with weaker nerves, even if not terrified, they would likely be at a loss for words. Even though Zhang Yue was calm, he was still shocked by these words. Fortunately, his quick wits allowed him to come up with a response in an instant.
“Your Majesty, as a child, I was weak. I watched my two elder brothers practice martial arts and longed to be as strong as them, hoping to one day join the battlefield and earn honors. As I grew stronger, the Duke of Ying sent some soldiers to teach me at home. Though I practiced hard, my skills remained mediocre. At that time, Master Du advised me that rather than becoming a laughingstock on the battlefield with half-baked skills, it was better to study diligently, which could also earn my parents honors.”
If Zhang Yue had mentioned serving the country or caring about the world, Zhu Di, who was tired of such rhetoric, might have merely smiled. But this time, Zhang Yue offered the simplest, most straightforward, and yet most believable reason, which made Zhu Di smile. After sizing Zhang Yue up, he asked, “Since you’ve practiced martial arts, can you draw a bow?”
“Your Majesty, I can draw a strong bow weighing one dan, but my accuracy is limited.” As he spoke, Zhang Yue glanced at Zhu Di and saw a smile on his lips, so he added, “But my elder brother can not only draw a bow weighing two dan but also shoot arrows through targets from a hundred paces away. In terms of martial arts, I’m far behind him.”
“Your elder brother… is he the eldest son of General Zhang You of Jiaozhi?”
Zhang Yue was surprised that the emperor knew so much about his family. After a brief pause, he nodded.
At that moment, many of the scholars present lost their previous hostility. Some even sighed for Zhang Yue—what a rare opportunity! It would be better for him to showcase his literary talents rather than talk about martial arts. Yang Shiqi and Yang Rong exchanged a look in appreciation of Zhang Yue’s composure. Even the usually lazy and unrestrained Wan Shijie was slightly surprised, his gaze toward Zhang Yue filled with admiration—how many people could think of their own brothers in such a situation?

“Good. If there’s a chance another day, I must have Zhang Fu take that young man with excellent martial skills and show it to me!”
Zhu Di had originally intended to test Zhang Yue. After this exchange, seeing that he was neither overbearing nor humble, and more impressively, sincere in heart, he developed quite a bit of goodwill toward him. He had always been lenient toward military heroes and meritorious officials. In the past, he had been deeply saddened by the death of the great general Zhang Yu, which was why he later treated Zhang Yu’s three sons well. Fortunately, Zhang Fu, a young and talented man, lived up to his expectations and had now become another renowned general.
At this moment, he felt a hint of regret—this young man had good judgment and character. If he were also brave, it would be fitting to adopt him as Zhang Fu’s successor as the Duke of Ying. Zhang Fu, as a high-ranking duke and a key military official, was over forty and had no children, which inevitably raised concerns.
While Zhu Di was lost in thought, Zhang Yue quietly observed this emperor with both merits and demerits. In terms of merits, he had repeatedly defeated the Mongols, pacified Jiaozhi, and brought peace to Tibet. He had also sponsored Zheng He’s voyages to the Western Seas and compiled the Yongle Encyclopedia—achievements that no other emperor could match. As for demerits, after the Jingnan Campaign, he executed Fang Xiaoru and his entire family, and later relied heavily on the Jinyiwei to hunt down dissidents, his cruel methods almost on par with those of his father, Zhu Yuanzhang. Just standing in front of him now, one could sense his intimidating presence.
This was the true Emperor Yongle, not some actor pretending to be him on TV!
Having come to Yang Shiqi’s house in high spirits and encountering such an interesting young man, Zhu Di’s mood improved even further. Hearing that the literary gathering had just begun, he signaled everyone to continue and ordered Zhang Yue to sit down and keep transcribing.
Since no one else had seats, not even Zhu Zhanji, Yang Shiqi, or Yang Rong, who stood nearby, Zhang Yue felt extremely uncomfortable sitting there. Once the ink was ready, he focused and picked up his pen to write, gradually calming his restless thoughts.
Zhu Zhanji, who was constantly watched by many people in the palace and had to maintain a royal demeanor in every move, seized this rare opportunity and refused to stay quietly beside Zhu Di listening to others recite poems and show off. Instead, he sneaked behind Zhang Yue. Seeing him concentrate intently, writing neat and round characters as if unaware of him, Zhu Zhanji thoughtfully stroked his chin.
“Grandson of the Emperor.”
“Ah, it’s Lord Yang.” Zhu Zhanji turned to see Yang Shiqi and nodded smilingly. “It’s rare to see Grandpa so happy. Today’s visit really wasn’t in vain.”

As he spoke, he pointed at Zhang Yue, who was ignoring everything around him and focused on copying texts. Taking a step forward, he whispered to Yang Shiqi, “That day I went to the Imperial Academy and happened to encounter the Yuan Festival. I found his behavior quite to my liking. After all, these days few people speak without restraint. Since His Majesty greatly appreciates him, could Lord Yang find an opportunity to introduce him to the Eastern Palace?”
Though these words seemed ordinary, Yang Shiqi was by no means an ordinary person. Glancing at Zhu Zhanji, who was smiling carefreely, his mind became as clear as a mirror—he knew that the Prince of Han was now imprisoned and would soon face his fate. But as long as he didn’t die, his ambitions might not end there, not to mention there was also the Prince of Zhao. No matter what, Zhang Yue was a nephew of Duke Zhang Fu of Yingguo. Bringing him to the Eastern Palace would undoubtedly set a precedent.
Yang Shiqi himself was a staunch supporter of the crown prince, yet he was unusually cautious at this moment. Seeing that Yang Rong was chatting and commenting on poems with Zhu Di and not paying attention to what was happening here, he shook his head slightly. “Your Imperial Grandson, if His Majesty truly had such an intention, he would have summoned Yuan Jie as your study companion long ago. This matter needs careful consideration; there’s no need to rush. He is also my junior now. If there’s an opportunity, I will naturally explain things to him gradually.”
“That’s good,” Zhu Zhanji smiled slightly, the serious expression on his face disappearing. Suddenly, he glanced back at Zhang Yue again, a hint of regret in his eyes. “My study companions are either rigid and lifeless, or deeply scheming, or simply arrogant and fragile. If I had someone as honest and wonderful as him, things wouldn’t be so boring.”
Neither Zhu Zhanji nor Yang Shiqi noticed that after these words were spoken, Zhang Yue, who should have been concentrating on writing, had a slight shake in his shoulders. With his excellent hearing, Zhang Yue never expected that he would one day be described as an “honest and wonderful person.” It seemed he really needed to keep being honest.