“I know almost nothing about the distant lands across the sea,” Shi-Rong remarked.
“Nobody does,” his father said. “It wasn’t always so,” he added. “About four centuries ago, in the days of the Ming dynasty, we had a great fleet of ships that traded with many western lands. But it became unprofitable. Now the ships come to us. And the empire is so huge…There is nothing we cannot produce ourselves. The barbarians need what we have, not the reverse.”
“They certainly want our tea,” Shi-Rong agreed. “And I have heard that if they cannot obtain enough of our rhubarb herb, they die.”
“It may be so,” his father said. “But I see your aunt has food for us.”
Soup; dumplings stuffed with pork; noodles, with mutton and vegetables, sprinkled with coriander. Only now, as the rich aromas greeted him, did Shi-Rong realize how hungry he was. To his aunt’s obvious joy, his father took a little food also, to keep him company.
As they ate, he ventured to ask his father about his health.
“I am growing old, my son,” his father responded. “It is to be expected. But even if I died tomorrow—which I shall not—I should be happy to know that our family estate is to pass to a worthy son.”
“I beg you, live many years,” Shi-Rong replied. “Let me show you my success and give you grandchildren.” He saw his aunt nod approvingly at this.
“I shall do my best,” his father promised with a smile.
“He must eat more,” his aunt said. And Shi-Rong affectionately put a dumpling in his father’s bowl.
At the end of the meal, seeing his father looked tired, Shi-Rong asked him if he wanted to rest.
“When do you leave tomorrow?” his father asked. “At dawn?”
“In the morning. But not at dawn.”
“I am not ready to sleep yet. Say goodnight to your aunt. She wants to go to bed. Then we’ll talk a little. I have things to say to you.”
When his aunt had bidden him goodnight, the two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Jiang began to speak.
“Your aunt worries too much. But none of us knows when we shall die, so it is time to give you my final commandments.” He looked at his son gravely, and Shi-Rong bowed his head. “The first is simple enough. In all your actions, Confucius must be your guide. Honor your family, the emperor, and tradition. Failure to do so will lead only to disorder.”
“I always try to do so, Father. And I always shall.”
“I never doubted it. But when you are older, especially if you are successful in your career, a great temptation will be placed in your path. You will be tempted to take bribes. Almost all officials do. That is how they retire with great fortunes. Lin does not take bribes. He is a great exception, and I am glad you are to work for him. But when the temptation does arise, you must not fall into it. If you are honest and successful, you will receive sufficient riches. Do you promise me this?”
“Certainly, Father. I promise.”
“There remains one more thing. It concerns the emperor.” His father paused. “You must always remember that the emperor of China sits at the center of the world, and he rules by the Mandate of Heaven. It is true that down thousands of years, from time to time, the ruling dynasty has changed. When it is time for a change, the gods have always sent us many signs. By the time that the last Ming emperor hanged himself in despair two centuries ago, it was clear to everyone that the Manchu dynasty from the north was the answer to our needs.”
“Not quite everyone,” his son could not resist inserting.
“Some residual supporters of the Ming who fled to Taiwan. Some rebels like the White Lotus bandits…” His father made a dismissive gesture. “When you serve the emperor, my son, you must always remember that you are obeying the Mandate of Heaven. And this brings me to my last command. You must promise me never to lie to the emperor.”
“Of course not, Father. Why would I do such a thing?”
“Because so many people do. Officials are given instructions to do this thing or that. They have to report. They wish to please the emperor, to get promoted—or at least to stay out of trouble. So they tell the emperor what he wants to hear. Something goes wrong, they fail to meet a quota…They send a false report. This is against Confucian principle, and if they are caught, the emperor may be more angry than if they had told him the truth in the first place. But they do it. All over the empire.” He sighed. “It is our besetting sin.”
“I will not do this.”
“Be truthful for its own sake. Then you will have a good conscience. But it will help you also. If you gain a reputation for reporting truthfully, the emperor will know he can trust you and will promote you.”
“I promise, Father.”
“Then that is all.”
Shi-Rong looked at his father. No wonder the old man approved of Lin. They were both upright men, of the same mold. If the mission had filled him with secret dread at all the enemies he was likely to make, it was no use hoping for any advice from his father as to how to negotiate the dangerous bureaucratic maze. His father was with Lin all the way.
Well, he would just have to hope for success and the emperor’s approval.
His father was tired now. It made him look suddenly frail. Was this to be the last time he saw him alive? Shi-Rong was overcome with feelings of gratitude and affection for the old man. And also a feeling of guilt. There must be so many things he could have asked him when he had the chance.
“We shall talk once more in the morning,” the old man promised. “I have something to show you,” he added, “before you go upon your way.”
—
Shi-Rong woke early. His
