Chapter 57: Dalang, it's time to take your medicine

The next day.

Gu Zhengchen awoke from a heavy exhaustion, feeling a dull ache in his sore arms, and could not help but offer a wry smile.

This physique of his was truly pathetic.

In his early years, amidst the chaos of war, he had fled into the mountains and suffered from malnutrition. When he finally settled down in Teng County, he spent his days entirely reading books, maintaining his poverty with strict integrity, neither harvesting crops nor chopping firewood, which left him frail and delicate beyond measure.

He really needed to work out.

Just in case a simple fever or cold should someday alarm Meng Po and force her to feed him a bowl of her soup—what on earth would he do then?

***

At the Baoyuan Inn.

The innkeeper was turning the pages of his ledger, clicking the abacus beads from time to time, while a waiter was wiping down the tables and chairs. Hearing a commotion at the entrance, the waiter looked over and saw two burly soldiers standing at the door. Clad in armor, with long sabers hanging at their waists and stern expressions on their faces, they strode forward.

"Innkeeper, is there a guest named Gu Zhengchen staying here?"

"Officers?"

The innkeeper's expression changed. He hurriedly stepped forward and said, "If the officers are looking for someone, please take a seat and wait a moment. Let me check the records and send a waiter to fetch him."

"Hurry up!"

The soldier spoke in a booming voice.

In the innkeeper's memory, there indeed was a guest with the surname Gu, who had even haggled over the room rate with him. Having checked the room number, he instructed the waiter to go and invite him.

The waiter dared not delay.

Liang Jiajun walked out alongside Gu Zhengchen. Seeing that the visitors were fully armed soldiers, his eyes widened in surprise as he looked at Gu Zhengchen and asked, "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

Gu Zhengchen smiled calmly, stepped forward, and cupped his fists. "I am Gu Zhengchen."

The lead soldier sized Gu Zhengchen up, cupped his fists in return, and spoke in a gruff voice, "My subordinate Wu Rong, chief guard to the Right Vice Commander Mu Ying, has been ordered to invite Divine Doctor Gu to the residence for a grand fish banquet."

"Right Vice Commander? Divine Doctor Gu?"

Liang Jiajun was somewhat bewildered, and the look he gave Gu Zhengchen was filled with awe.

The Liang family had some connections, but they amounted to no more than finding a few scholars to discuss the weather or send regards to elders. Yet, you actually have ties with the military officers of the Grand Military Commission.

Well, well, you certainly hid your depths well!

No wonder his father, Liang Heng, had repeatedly warned him to stick close and follow this man. As it turned out, the waters of the Gu family ran far deeper than the Liang family could ever have imagined.

And what was this about a "Divine Doctor Gu"?

He didn't know any medical arts! Did these people make a mistake?

Gu Zhengchen looked at the bewildered Liang Jiajun. "Brother Liang, would you like to come with me to the fish banquet?"

"N-no, I won't go."

Liang Jiajun nervously declined.

He was no military man; his stomping ground was the Imperial Academy. What business did he have hanging around with military commanders? Besides, the invitation was meant for him, and his name wasn't mentioned at all. If he went along, how embarrassing would it be to get kicked out with a heavy boot?

The Right Vice Commander—a figure of real, tangible power in the Grand Military Commission. It was better not to meet such people unless necessary.

Gu Zhengchen left Gu Cheng and Sun Shibiao behind, followed Wu Rong out of the inn, and boarded a carriage that had already been prepared. At Wu Rong's command, the driver flicked the reins, and the wooden wheels began to roll.

The Mu Residence was located in the Central City, east of Guyi Alley and west of Xiangpuying Street, with Chicken and Goose Lane to the north. It could be considered a bustling and lively neighborhood.

When the carriage came to a stop, the gates of the Mu Residence were already wide open, flanked by two imposing soldiers. The Mu family steward, Xie Fang, stood just inside the threshold. Seeing the carriage come to a halt, he stepped across the doorsill to welcome them, exchanging the obligatory polite pleasantries.

The Mu Residence was neat and spacious, with winding pathways running straight and true. The trees were planted symmetrically, like soldiers standing in formation.

***

There were no artificial rockeries encircling ponds, nor any intricately carved beams and painted pillars; the entire estate exuded an unadorned simplicity and orderly precision.

"Divine Doctor Gu, His Lordship is waiting for you in the backyard martial training ground."

Xie Fang led the way.

Gu Zhengchen caught sight of a one-armed man carrying water buckets on a shoulder pole and could not help frowning.

Xie Fang seemed to see through Gu Zhengchen's confusion and explained, "To not deceive Divine Doctor Gu, most of the servants in the estate are wounded, disabled, or elderly veterans picked from the battlefield. The Right Vice Commander is kind-hearted and pities the soldiers, which is why he recruited them into the estate to give them a livelihood."

Gu Zhengchen looked at Xie Fang and only then noticed that the man's left hand consisted of nothing more than half a palm. A deep sense of respect welled up within him. "Vice Commander Mu possesses great righteousness."

Xie Fang said solemnly, "To be able to follow the Right Vice Commander is our greatest fortune."

Gu Zhengchen grew to admire Mu Ying. One had to realize that the founding of the Great Ming dynasty was forged through one war after another, and at the end of each conflict, there were always disabled soldiers left behind.

History books focused exclusively on emperors, generals, and statesmen; none recorded where these disabled veterans went or how they survived.

One could easily imagine: a disabled soldier returning home with a few bolts of cloth, a few hundred catties of grain, and a few strings of copper coins as a reward, only to become a burden from that day onward. Lacking both the means and the capability to make a living, waiting day after day for death to claim them—what kind of agonizing torture was that!

They, too, had once been courageous and fearless soldiers, fierce warriors who shed blood for their country. In the end, they could only die a desolate, freezing death in some neglected corner where no one cared.

Mu Ying had seen these men. He had reached out his hand and pulled some of them out of that bitter isolation, granting them a chance at rebirth.

Seen in this light, Lan Yu, who in the future would adopt thousands of able-bodied foster sons capable of wielding sabers and staves, fell far short of Mu Ying in terms of character and virtue.

Gu Zhengchen walked along the covered corridor of the backyard, gazing at the martial training ground not far away.

To the south of the training ground stood more than a dozen straw dummy targets. The ground bore the indentations left by horse hooves, flanked by shadow walls to the east and west. To the north stood an arms rack, though it did not hold eighteen different kinds of traditional weapons—only sabers, spears, swords, and axes, alongside three bows and a quiver hanging nearby.

At the end of the corridor stood a hexagonal pavilion.

Mu Ying was currently reading the *Six Secret Teachings*. Hearing the commotion and seeing that Gu Zhengchen had arrived, he hurriedly laid the book down on the stone table, stood up, and cupped his fists. "Divine Doctor Gu."

Gu Zhengchen returned the gesture. "Right Vice Commander Mu."

"Go and arrange the morning meal."

Mu Ying instructed steward Xie Fang, then pulled Gu Zhengchen down to sit with him, a hint of apology on his face. "Inviting you here at the break of dawn is truly because we met so late in life that it feels as though we are old friends..."

Gu Zhengchen said bluntly, "Are you sure it's not because you were afraid I would go back on my word and refuse to teach you?"

Mu Ying felt a brief sense of frustration. You really are too direct.

Aren't scholars supposed to have winding, complicated minds, beating around the bush all over the city of Nanjing before finally getting down to business? Are you even a scholar, kid? Why don't you follow the script?

Gu Zhengchen picked up the copy of the *Six Secret Teachings* on the table, flipped through it casually, and read aloud: "'In the army, those possessing great valor, who dare to die and delight in battle wounds, shall be gathered into a single unit named the "Audacious Troops"; those with fiery breath, fierce valor, and unyielding strength shall be gathered into a single unit named the "Assault Troops"; those trained in the strange and orthodox arts, long swords, and dense shields, stepping in unison in neat ranks, shall be gathered into a single unit named the "Sharp Cavalry"…'"

Mu Ying listened, nodding repeatedly, and looked at the contemplative Gu Zhengchen. "You understand military strategy as well?"

"No, I don't."

Gu Zhengchen answered crisply and decisively.

Mu Ying felt rather deflated. If you don't understand it, why did you read aloud the section on "training the twelve kinds of soldiers," making me think I had encountered a rare genius?

Gu Zhengchen put down the *Six Secret Teachings*, frowned, and said, "Though I do not understand military strategy, I feel that the path to a powerful army cannot rely solely on these twelve types of trained soldiers. This book, the *Six Secret Teachings*, falls far short."

Mu Ying's eyes lit up. He stood up and bowed deeply. "I beg the先生 to instruct me."

Refusing to be ashamed to ask those of lower status and being skilled at learning—this was perhaps Mu Ying's most extraordinary asset.

Gu Zhengchen dared not accept the bow. Stepping aside to avoid it, he walked toward the martial training ground, pointed at the straw dummies in the distance, and said, "The powerful army in my mind is like a bow and crossbow—it can strike from afar and annihilate all invading enemies! If bows and crossbows cannot shoulder this heavy responsibility, then one should use fire lances and cannons."

Hearing this, a look of disappointment flashed across Mu Ying's eyes. "Cannons are heavy and cumbersome, unsuited for rapid marches. Fire lances reload slowly, and after a single discharge, the enemy is already upon you, leaving you defenseless."

Gu Zhengchen walked up to a bow, reached out, and took it down. It felt slightly heavy in his hand. The bow was three feet long, with a string measuring two feet and three inches. He pulled out three arrows, nocked them all onto the string at once, and aimed at a straw dummy to the south. "Cannons are heavy, but couldn't you design smaller cannons that a single person can carry on their shoulder? Fire lances load slowly, but have you never considered that a bow can shoot a single arrow, or it can shoot three arrows at once, just like this—"

"Hm?"

"Oh, damn it!"

Gu Zhengchen took a deep breath and pulled the bowstring again. The string barely twitched, lacking even the faintest trace of a proper arc...

Mu Ying watched Gu Zhengchen, whose face had turned red from exertion, and said cautiously, "Um... the bow you're holding is a two-stone-and-five-bucket bow. Perhaps you should try this one-stone one instead..."

Wu Rong tactfully handed over another bow.

Gu Zhengchen nocked the arrows anew. "A bow can shoot three arrows at once... I... damn it!"

Damnation!

Ancient bows required far too much brute strength! For heaven's sake, can we still be friends after this?

Mu Ying looked at Wu Rong. "Get him a fifty-bucket bow."

Wu Rong pulled a wry face. "Our estate doesn't have any fifty-bucket grand bows. Should I go fetch the little young master's one-bucket toy bow instead?"

Mu Ying thought about it and realized that given Gu Zhengchen's physique, he was indeed suited only for his son's child's bow.

A short while later, not-yet-six-year-old Mu Sheng was wailing miserably: *Mother, someone is stealing my bow...*

Gu Zhengchen finally managed to draw the bow and loose three arrows at once. As a result, not a single arrow flew ten paces; two of them simply dropped right in front of his feet. The sight left Mu Ying and Wu Rong utterly dumbfounded. Your archery skills—even if we wanted to praise them, we wouldn't be able to find a single flattering word in the dictionary.

Mu Ying's mind raced. He stepped forward and offered praise, "The posture Divine Doctor Gu adopts when loosing an arrow is truly extraordinary..."

Gu Zhengchen gritted his teeth.

Ancient military commanders were truly not ordinary mortals. Without one or two hundred catties of strength in both arms, one couldn't even draw a bow. With his physique, he was only fit to play with a toy bow meant for a six-year-old child...

Mu Ying gazed at the three scattered arrows on the ground, and a flash of lightning crossed his mind. Understanding dawned on him instantly. He excitedly reached out, grabbed Gu Zhengchen's shoulders, shook him, and cried out, "Y-you mean to say that fire lances can be manufactured with three barrels, firing iron pellets from all three barrels simultaneously? Yes! Why didn't I think of that? If this is truly feasible, warfare using fire lances will have boundless prospects!"

"It hurts, it hurts..."

Gu Zhengchen felt as though his shoulders had been clamped in a pair of iron vices, leaving him entirely powerless to resist. If this shaking continued, his arms were going to be crippled.

"Stop at once!"

A clear, ringing voice cut through the air.

Mu Ying turned his head, his eyes widening in shock. He hurriedly stepped forward to bow. Gu Zhengchen sucked in a sharp breath of cold pain; his arms hurt intensely, and he suspected they had already been bruised black and blue from the gripping.

The newcomer strode forward, stopped close to Mu Ying, and lowered his voice. "There is no need for such formalities between us. Today I came here on His Majesty's orders; do not leak my identity."

Mu Ying nodded repeatedly. It seemed the Emperor still attached great importance to the miraculous art of bringing the dead back to life, or else he wouldn't have sent the Crown Prince himself.

"So you are Gu Zhengchen?"

Zhu Biao stepped forward, looking him up and down.

Gu Zhengchen was in too much pain to care about anything else. The words spilled straight out of his mouth: "And who on earth are you?"

Just as Mu Ying was about to reprimand him for his lack of manners, Zhu Biao smiled without a trace of offense. "My name is Zhu Dalang."

"Dalang?"

Gu Zhengchen's mind instantly conjured the image of a bedridden man surnamed Wu, accompanied by a beautiful young woman holding a bowl of herbal medicine, speaking in soft, gentle tones: *It's time to take your medicine...*