228: Chapter 228 The courtesy name of the Ming Taizu (Emperor Hongwu)

Zhu Wenhao's gaze wandered over the furnishings in the living room.

There was no scent of the ostentation of the nouveau riche in this small building; everywhere, it revealed the owner's cautious self-restraint, a desire to avoid giving others grounds for criticism.

The nanny, Zhang Ma, walked out of the kitchen with a plate of fruit, placed it in the center of the coffee table, and then stepped aside to pour fresh tea.

"Thank you for your trouble."

Zhu Wenhao nodded slightly at Zhang Ma, thanked her, and then leaned back against the sofa.

Secretary Cao Xue had not yet come down from upstairs. Study Committee Member Cao Rui looked left and right, then sat down next to Zhu Wenhao.

"Secretary, don't be fooled by the simplicity of this house. The furnishings in my uncle's home haven't been changed for many years," Study Committee Member Cao Rui said, picking up a grape. "When he was Executive Vice Mayor, the room looked exactly like this."

Study Committee Member Cao Rui lowered his voice.

"In the early years, my uncle worked under the former Executive Vice Governor Gao He. Vice Governor Gao was a man of action, though he had a fiery temper. Within the Provincial Government, Gao He and the old patriarch Liu always clashed."

Study Committee Member Cao Rui popped the grape into his mouth: "For the second-in-command of the government to try and seize the right to speak from the top leader is a taboo. You can guess the result: Gao He met his defeat and was transferred to a neighboring province to serve as the Deputy Secretary of the Provincial Party Committee."

Zhu Wenhao listened quietly, without saying a word.

"Before Vice Governor Gao left, he wanted to take my uncle with him to the neighboring province. After all, my uncle started out as Vice Governor Gao's secretary." Study Committee Member Cao Rui sighed. "But my uncle didn't agree. Gao He was a stranger in a strange land over there and had to rebuild his own foundation; taking an old subordinate would not only be conspicuous but also make it difficult to find a position with real power. After weighing the pros and cons, Gao He used the last of his connections in Jiangnan Province to force my uncle into the position of Deputy Secretary of the Jingjiang Municipal Party Committee."

Ultimately, this was the last remnant of their bond.

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang remained in Jingjiang City; although he sat in the third-in-command chair, he became an isolated figure who had lost his strong support.

Secretary Gao Zhiyuan and Executive Vice Mayor Wang Jianming had formed an ironclad alliance, making every step difficult for Deputy Secretary Cao Hang within the Municipal Party Committee compound.

Seeing that Zhu Wenhao only listened without commenting, Study Committee Member Cao Rui tactfully changed the subject.

"Secretary, let's not talk about that old history anymore." Study Committee Member Cao Rui leaned forward. "You've been in Heishi Town for several months now. In that backwater, apart from handling cases and arresting people, have there been any interesting stories?"

"I wouldn't call them interesting stories, but I have had some realizations."

Zhu Wenhao reached out to pick up the teacup and brushed the tea leaves from the surface of the water.

"Only when you reach the grassroots do you realize that the demands of the common people at the bottom are actually extremely low." Zhu Wenhao took a sip of clear tea. "As long as you give them a glimmer of hope and a way to make a living, they will remember your kindness for a lifetime."

Study Committee Member Cao Rui listened intently.

"A few days ago, I recovered the compensation funds that had been embezzled from Heishui Village." Zhu Wenhao continued. "When the money was distributed, those old farmers held the thick envelopes, their hands shaking so much they couldn't hold them steady. They didn't care about how many corrupt officials you had taken down, nor did they care about how the Town Government's power was restructured. What they cared about was real money."

Zhu Wenhao continued without pausing: "Later, several elderly people in the village over the age of sixty went door-to-door to collect various scraps of old cloth. With failing eyesight, they stitched it together crookedly to make a wanmin umbrella, covered in red fingerprints, and carried it all the way to the lobby of the Town Government."

Study Committee Member Cao Rui heard the words "wanmin umbrella," and his eyes were filled with shock.

Nowadays, it is rare enough to receive a silk banner from the common people; a wanmin umbrella, a carrier of public opinion from ancient times, is simply the greatest medal a local official can receive.

"Political maneuvering and infighting are the arts of self-preservation. But ensuring the common people are well-fed is the fundamental path," Zhu Wenhao concluded.

"I returned the wasteland that had been seized by village bullies to them. As long as you keep the villagers in your heart, they will always remember your kindness in their ledger."

These words were not filled with the hollowness of empty slogans; every word was about practical governance.

Study Committee Member Cao Rui was captivated, feeling that his own days spent calculating spreadsheets in the Municipal Government compound were, in the end, inferior.

Just then, a voice drifted down from the corner of the mahogany staircase.

"Zhu Wenhao, well said."

The voice continued: "As long as you have the people in your heart, the people will naturally support you. Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it; this is an eternal truth."

Zhu Wenhao looked toward the source of the voice.

A man in his fifties, wearing a gray casual sweater, was slowly descending the stairs.

Secretary Cao Xue followed half a step behind.

The man was burly, his temples slightly frosted with white, his facial features deep and defined, and his brows carried the inherent air of pressure that comes from long-term authority.

He was dignified without needing to be angry.

This was the Deputy Secretary of the Jingjiang Municipal Party Committee, Deputy Secretary Cao Hang.

Zhu Wenhao did not hesitate; he immediately stood up from the sofa and turned toward the stairs.

"Hello, Deputy Secretary Cao Hang."

When Deputy Secretary Cao Hang approached, Zhu Wenhao extended his right hand, neither servile nor overbearing.

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang glanced at him and reached out to shake his hand.

As they shook hands, Deputy Secretary Cao Hang's grip was extremely heavy and firm; it was by no means a soft touch.

"Xiao Rui, you and Secretary Cao Xue wait in the living room for a while." Deputy Secretary Cao Hang let go and spoke to the two juniors, then turned his gaze to Zhu Wenhao.

"Zhu Wenhao, let's go upstairs and sit."

After speaking, Deputy Secretary Cao Hang turned and walked toward the stairs.

Zhu Wenhao followed half a step behind Deputy Secretary Cao Hang as he walked up to the second floor.

Pushing open the wooden door of the study, the layout was minimalist.

A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf was packed with various monographs on Party history and economics, and behind the large mahogany desk, there were no jade carvings or strange stones to display status.

The whole room exuded the austerity of a place for quiet cultivation.

On the four walls hung one or two paintings and calligraphy pieces.

Just as Zhu Wenhao stepped over the threshold, his gaze precisely locked onto the horizontal scroll of wild cursive calligraphy hanging in the center of the west wall.

It was a copy.

A manuscript by Emperor Taizu of Ming, Zhu Yuanzhang, titled "Dajun Tie" (The Army Scroll).

It was from the Hongwu era, when the Ming Dynasty was first established. It was a handwritten order from Emperor Taizu to the generals on the front line.

Although Emperor Taizu came from humble beginnings and had little formal education, his calligraphy benefited from his battles on horseback; his brushwork was vigorous, unrestrained by convention, and carried the imperial aura of one who could swallow the eight directions.

Seeing that Zhu Wenhao's gaze lingered on the calligraphy and did not move for a long time, Deputy Secretary Cao Hang did not rush to sit in the main seat.

"Zhu Wenhao, do you recognize the origin of this calligraphy?" Deputy Secretary Cao Hang asked, standing by the table.

Zhu Wenhao took two steps forward and stood under the scroll.

"This is a shop-bought copy of the manuscript 'Dajun Tie' by Emperor Taizu of Ming, Zhu Yuanzhang," Zhu Wenhao said clearly.

"In the early years of the Hongwu era, during the Northern Expedition to the Central Plains, this order was the specific instruction written by Emperor Taizu to the front-line generals while he was coordinating the war from the rear. The content covered how to reward generals who defeated the enemy, how to arrange the defense of newly occupied territories, and how to deal with surrendered Yuan troops."

Zhu Wenhao looked at the wild ink marks.

"Between the lines, there are military and national commands of life and death. Calligraphy reflects the person; when Emperor Taizu swept away Chen Youliang and Zhang Shicheng, this ink itself was an extension of power. At that time, the world was just beginning to stabilize, and the Northern Yuan had not yet been completely wiped out. In Emperor Taizu's calligraphy, that domineering aura of wanting to overturn the heavens was already fully revealed through the brushwork."

Listening to this analysis, a flash of admiration passed through Deputy Secretary Cao Hang's eyes.

For a young person today, being able to recognize Zhu Yuanzhang's calligraphy is already difficult; being able to combine the historical background with the emperor's state of mind so thoroughly is definitely not a one-day achievement.

"I didn't expect, Zhu Wenhao, that at such a young age, you would have such attainments in calligraphy and ancient books." Deputy Secretary Cao Hang did not stint on his praise.

Zhu Wenhao did not accept the compliment.

"However, although this copy resembles the original in form, it lacks the spirit in its inner essence."

As soon as these words were spoken, the air in the study grew a bit colder.

Zhu Wenhao continued his critique: "At the beginning, the ink is very heavy, and the brushwork is sharp. It shows that the person who copied it has ambition and aspirations. They wanted to capture the overwhelming pressure of Emperor Taizu that could swallow mountains and rivers."

"However," Zhu Wenhao extended his index finger and traced the air in the lower half of the horizontal scroll.

"When writing to the middle and later stages, the brush strength could not be sustained to the end. The transitions are weak, and the finishing strokes are scattered. It lacks the natural, overwhelming dominance of Emperor Taizu."

He gave his final conclusion: "This piece of calligraphy has the desire to control the overall situation, but lacks the stamina. It shows the predicament of running out of strength halfway and being constrained by others."

Silence.

The silence in the study lasted for a full ten seconds.

Calligraphy is like the person; painting is like the heart.

Zhu Wenhao's unsparing critique was not about the calligraphy; it was clearly about the person.

"Running out of strength halfway, constrained by others."

These eight words accurately pierced through Deputy Secretary Cao Hang's situation under the pincer attack of Secretary Gao Zhiyuan and Executive Vice Mayor Wang Jianming at the Jingjiang Municipal Party Committee.

The grand ambitions from the beginning had been gradually worn away by long-term exclusion and marginalization.

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang looked at the sharp-eyed young man in front of him and suddenly burst into laughter.

"This calligraphy was written by me."

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang walked to the wall and looked at the ink he had copied.

"My hometown is the same as Emperor Taizu of Ming's. When I have nothing to do, I like to copy these ancient scrolls."

He turned his head, no longer hiding his curiosity about Zhu Wenhao.

"Your eyes are extremely sharp. When I wrote the second half, I was indeed in a bad state of mind, and my strength could not be lifted. You saw right through me."

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang frankly admitted his predicament.

Sometimes, when facing someone who can see through your cards, concealment is the worst form of social interaction.

"Zhu Wenhao, come over and have some tea." Deputy Secretary Cao Hang pointed to a root-carved tea table by the window. "Let's chat while we drink."

The two moved to the tea table.

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang lit the fire himself; the water in the small red clay stove boiled, bubbling like fish eyes.

In the cold winter, it is best to drink black tea.

Deputy Secretary Cao Hang took some high-quality Lapsang Souchong and put it into the purple clay teapot.

He poured the boiling water from a height, and the tea leaves tumbled in the pot; the rich aroma of pine smoke instantly filled the entire study.

Rinsing the tea, pouring the cups—his movements were familiar and smooth.

A cup of orange-red, clear tea soup was placed steadily in front of Zhu Wenhao by Deputy Secretary Cao Hang.

"Try it. It's wild mountain black tea sent from Wuyi Mountain." Deputy Secretary Cao Hang picked up a cup for himself.

Zhu Wenhao picked up the tasting cup, brought the tea to his lips, and took a light sip.

The tea was mellow, with a hint of longan sweetness and the crispness of pine and cypress; it went down his throat, dispelling the winter chill completely.

"Good tea."

The two drank the first cup of tea with great tacit understanding.

This tea-tasting process was the process of breaking the ice.

Once the tea was finished, the probing and measuring were all complete.