Chapter 71: The Ding Family of Shanyin

So it turned out that all of this had been within Prince Sima Daozi of Kuaiji’s calculations from the very start. Zhang Chi thought it through from beginning to end; the more he pondered, the more astonished he became. Yet now, he was even more startled by the old man before him. This elderly gentleman appeared to be a commoner, but he saw through every plot and scheme with such clarity—there must be more to his background.

“Young master, are you wondering now about my origins?” The old man seemed to see straight into Zhang Chi’s thoughts.

“Your insight truly humbles me. Compared to you, I am but a frog at the bottom of a well, seeing only a patch of sky. Naturally, I am curious about your identity,” Zhang Chi said frankly.

The old man chuckled and replied, “If we look into it closely, there is a certain connection between us.”

“A connection? What sort?” Zhang Chi was puzzled. No matter how he thought about it, he could not recall any acquaintance with this man. After all, he was someone who had crossed over from another world—what connection could he possibly have with someone of this era?

“Young master, you and I are in fact relatives.”

Zhang Chi laughed. How could that be? He, a man from another time, having a relative here a thousand years ago? That would be truly bizarre, he thought to himself. Of course, Zhang Chi would never reveal his origins, so he asked evenly, “Then what kind of relative might you be to me?”

“We are cousins, through your father’s sister.”

“What kind of cousin is that?” Zhang Chi felt his head spinning—this old man kept speaking in riddles and wouldn’t give a straight answer.

Seeing Zhang Chi still at a loss, the old man offered a hint: “My surname is Ding.”

Ding. Cousins through the father’s sister. Zhang Chi carefully thought it over, and suddenly his mouth formed an ‘O’. The only person he knew with the surname Ding was his “found” cousin, Ding Yizhi. Ding Yizhi claimed to be his cousin, and now Zhang Chi remembered—Ding Yizhi was indeed a native of Shanyin, Kuaiji.

Shocked, Zhang Chi asked, “My cousin Ding Yizhi—what connection is there between him and you?”

The old man saw that Zhang Chi had finally guessed and smiled slightly. “You are correct—Ding Yizhi is my young master, and I am the steward of the Ding family of Shanyin.”

Zhang Chi and Ding Yizhi were, at best, only pretend cousins. It appeared this foundling cousin was far from simple, and now Zhang Chi wondered why Ding Yizhi had chosen to acknowledge him as a cousin in the first place.

Zhang Chi still couldn’t quite figure it out. But after all the things he’d been through recently, he had grown more sophisticated; instead of asking directly, he changed his tone. “Now that war has come to Shanyin, where has my cousin’s family gone? And why have we taken refuge in the former residence of Du Zigong?”

This question came out sounding concerned, which also gave him a chance to probe for more inside information.

“Would you care to hear me recount some past events, young master?” the old man asked.

Zhang Chi was eager. “I am all ears.”

“Well, to explain, we must begin over a decade ago.” The old man sat at the table, sipping his tea slowly.

It seemed this would be quite a long story, so Zhang Chi also sat down to listen carefully.

“More than ten years ago, there was a remarkable figure in the southeast, a master of Daoist arts, who could perform miracles and heal the gravely ill. This man was Du Zigong. In his day, his fame spread throughout all Jiangdong; the great aristocratic clans and leading families all sent their sons to him as disciples. Even illustrious houses like the Wang family of Langya and the Xie clan of Chenjun were counted among them.”

Zhang Chi had heard something of this before; Miss Ruoshui had told him a bit at the beginning. Nonetheless, he listened intently.

“In truth, the Ding family of Shanyin was once also an ancient and venerable clan. My late master—Ding Shuju, who was the head of the family at that time—held high office at court and was much admired. But because he revered Du Zigong, he joined the Way of the Celestial Master, and he and Du Zigong became sworn brothers.”

So Ding Yizhi’s father had also been a follower of the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice, and had deep ties to Du Zigong. “And then?” Zhang Chi asked.

“Du Zigong gathered many disciples. Among them, Sun Tai of the Sun family of Langya was the most outstanding. But to call Sun Tai his disciple is hardly accurate—they were more like brothers, for Sun Tai was already a man in his prime when he joined the sect, and he was not much younger than Du Zigong himself. Though from an aristocratic family, Sun Tai had none of their vices, and Du Zigong often called him brother. Yet no one foresaw Sun Tai’s boundless ambition. Through intrigue, he murdered his master, usurped the title of ‘Master’, and set himself up as leader—thus the Way of the Celestial Master was utterly transformed.”

“The hunger of men’s hearts is an eternal thing,” Zhang Chi could not help but sigh.

“Indeed, what a fitting observation,” the old man lamented. “Once Sun Tai seized power, he began purging rivals. The old friends of Du Zigong fell one by one. My master saw that Sun Tai would not spare him, so he resigned from office and retired to the countryside. But, alas, even that did not save him from Sun Tai’s poison in the end.”

So Ding Yizhi, too, had a blood feud with the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice! Zhang Chi was stunned.

“After my master’s death, only the young master and his mother remained, living in hardship. Fortunately, the young master was clever from childhood, well-versed in both Buddhist and Daoist texts, and vowed to avenge his father by killing Sun Tai.”

By now, Zhang Chi understood a great deal more. He recalled that a few days ago, Miss Ruoshui had told him in the Immortal’s Tavern that before Du Zigong’s death, he had proclaimed that the ‘Heavenly Opportunity’ would kill Sun Tai. Perhaps Ding Yizhi had acknowledged Zhang Chi as his cousin for the same reason as Miss Ruoshui—because he believed Zhang Chi was the one foretold by the prophecy.

But the more Zhang Chi thought about it, the less sense it made. Miss Ruoshui knew he was the ‘Heavenly Opportunity’ because Du Zigong had revealed the Daoist riddle “East, South, West, North, Center, White” to her as he was dying. But Ding Yizhi had never asked Zhang Chi any such thing—how, then, could he know?

Still, whatever the reason, Ding Yizhi harbored no ill will in claiming Zhang Chi as his cousin. Soothed by this realization, Zhang Chi asked obliquely, “When Sun Tai killed Du Zigong, did any of Du Zigong’s children survive?”

The old man shook his head. “Du Zigong had only one daughter, who was made the ‘Holy Maiden’ of the Celestial Master sect. But at the time of his murder, she was still a girl in her early teens and vanished without a trace. When the nest is overturned, how can any eggs remain unbroken? After all these years, she’s likely no longer in this world.”

The old man seemed genuinely unaware of Miss Ruoshui’s existence, so Zhang Chi let the matter drop and asked instead, “Then why did you save me today? We’ve never met before—how did you even recognize me?”

The old man rose to his feet. “If you wish to know the answer, young master, one letter will make everything clear.”

Zhang Chi assumed it must be a letter from Ding Yizhi, which was how the old man had recognized him. But when the steward placed the letter before him, Zhang Chi was absolutely certain it was not Ding Yizhi’s hand.

The reason was simple: the letter was written in simplified characters!