Rise of the Poor

Chapter 429: Though Young in Years, He Already Bears the Air of a Formidable Overlord

Zhu Ping’an had never known that Li Mo had come to conduct an inspection. It was only after the sun had fully broken through the clouds, flooding the day with bright, gentle light, that Zhu Ping’an returned the volume of the Yongle Encyclopedia he had just finished reading to its original place. Cradling a teacup in his hands, he went downstairs at an unhurried pace.On the ground floor, he happened to run into Old Li, who was sweeping the floor. Only then did Zhu Ping’an learn that Li Mo had come by earlier to check on things—and that he had even glanced upstairs, in Zhu Ping’an’s direction.

A straight body casts no crooked shadow. If Li Mo wanted to inspect, then let him inspect.

After coming downstairs, Zhu Ping’an poured himself a cup of hot tea and set it on the table, then turned his attention to organizing the books on the first floor. He worked while reading: when a title caught his interest, he would flip through it for a bit; otherwise, he placed the volumes back according to established categories such as Hongwu Zhengyun, aligning them neatly where they belonged.

When Zhu Ping’an had just finished organizing an entire bookshelf, Zhang Siwei walked in, carrying a box of premium Maojian tea and a small cloth bag of cured dried mutton.

“The tea the Hanlin Academy distributes isn’t bad,” Zhang Siwei said, “but it’s old stock after all. This here is this year’s new tea. Don’t say your brothers forgot about you.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and this—Wensheng had someone bring it over. Dried mutton from the Tatars’ side. One bag for you, one for me. I already tasted it—really good stuff. Paired with hot tea, it’s truly a delicacy fit for immortals.”

As Zhang Siwei spoke, he glanced at the pale tea in Zhu Ping’an’s cup and shook his head in mild disapproval. Then he lifted the box of fine Maojian and the bag of mutton, gave them a little shake in front of Zhu Ping’an, and set them down on the inner side of the desk.

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony,” Zhu Ping’an said with a laugh. “I’ve got nothing to give you today, though. Another day—once I go back home and return from the river lands—I’ll bring you some local specialties.”

“Ha! Zihou really knows the way of the world,” Zhang Siwei said, winking mischievously. “I was just wondering how to remind you myself.” After laughing, he rolled up his sleeves, clearly intending to help Zhu Ping’an organize the shelves.

Remove Ads“Ziwe, take a look at the two pages on my desk first,” Zhu Ping’an said, pointing at the papers he had written. “Read them before you start.” The pages detailed a method for arranging the Hanlin Academy’s collection, as well as a system for managing the library itself.

“Oh?” Curiosity piqued, Zhang Siwei stepped over and picked up the few sheets Zhu Ping’an had weighed down beneath a paperweight.

At first, he didn’t think much of them.

But after reading for a short while, Zhang Siwei was utterly astonished by the system Zhu Ping’an had devised—the logic behind the arrangement of the texts and the management of the collection dazzled him. With his sharp mind, he immediately grasped the brilliance of the system.

What Zhu Ping’an had done was seamlessly integrate methods of book classification and library management that were centuries ahead of the Great Ming’s time—principles from modern libraries, adapted with remarkable flexibility.

If the Ming dynasty’s existing system of organizing and managing books could be compared to outdated pagers or old Nokia phones, then Zhu Ping’an’s system was nothing less than an iPhone 6s Plus. This was not a matter of upgrading one or two versions—it was a transformation so drastic it overturned the heavens and the earth.

This epoch-making approach to cataloging and library management seemed at once wildly imaginative and effortlessly natural. It didn’t merely convince Zhang Siwei—it crushed him completely. After bowing in submission, he might as well have rubbed his forehead on the ground dozens of times; every cell in his body, every pore of his skin, was convinced beyond doubt.

“Zihou—what towering talent!” Zhang Siwei exclaimed after finishing the few thin pages. He took a deep breath, admiration overflowing. His eyes sparkled as though charged with electricity, tiny flashes of light dancing within them.

“Huh?” Zhu Ping’an, who had been flipping through a book, froze when he heard this, utterly unable to keep up with Zhang Siwei’s sudden shift in tone.

“If the library were managed according to Zihou’s methods,” Zhang Siwei said fervently, “then from this day forward—without exaggeration—the library could rule by doing nothing at all. The arrangement of the texts would be clear at a glance; finding a book would be as easy as reaching into one’s pocket. Management would be lucid and orderly—ten thousand people could come and go, and there would still be no chaos. This system would work anywhere under heaven.”

Zhang Siwei praised those few pages to the skies. An ordinary person would have been blushing furiously under such acclaim.

But Zhu Ping’an was clearly no ordinary person.

“Ah, that felt good,” Zhu Ping’an said lazily, stretching his arms. “Your flattery really makes the whole body feel refreshed…” He wore a roguish grin, utterly unashamed.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” Zhang Siwei shook his head and shot back.

“No, I’m clearly praising your skill at flattering people,” Zhu Ping’an laughed.

“Say one more word,” Zhang Siwei raised an eyebrow confidently, “and I’m leaving.”

Remove Ads“Alright, alright. My fault,” Zhu Ping’an conceded instantly.

“‘Alright’?” Zhang Siwei raised his eyebrow again, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

“I was joking. It was my fault from the start,” Zhu Ping’an retreated once more without hesitation, speaking with perfect composure, not the slightest hint of embarrassment—there was even a faint smile on his lips.

It’s just a soft word for now, Zhu Ping’an thought as he looked at Zhang Siwei, smiling brilliantly. In a moment, someone’s going to be working like an ox and a horse for me anyway.

“Fine. You win,” Zhang Siwei said, shaking his head as he rolled up his sleeves again. He laughed and scolded, “Young as you are, you already show the makings of a true overlord.”

“What ‘overlord’?” Zhu Ping’an pouted.

“Better to succeed than to have any shame!” Zhang Siwei burst out laughing as he spoke.

“You’re mistaken, Ziwei,” Zhu Ping’an replied calmly as he continued sorting books. “This isn’t shamelessness—it’s thickness and blackness.”

“Thickness and blackness?” Zhang Siwei repeated, hearing the term for the first time. Though he didn’t quite understand it, the pairing of those two words hinted at boundless profundity, and his interest was immediately stirred.

“Organize one bookshelf first,” Zhu Ping’an said lazily, pointing to an untouched shelf beside him, a distinctly infuriating smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re ruthless,” Zhang Siwei muttered through clenched teeth. Rolling up his sleeves, he began arranging the books according to Zhu Ping’an’s system.

As a pampered young gentleman, Zhang Siwei likely had little experience with physical labor. Eager to hear the explanation of “thickness and blackness” as soon as possible, he worked at speed. By the time he finished one shelf, he was already bent over, hands on his waist, gasping for breath.

“Now you can explain it, right?” Zhang Siwei panted.

“Since I learned to read,” Zhu Ping’an recited solemnly, “I have often wondered at those of the ancients who achieved great fame and enduring success. Seeking the reason, I could not find it: I searched the Six Classics and the histories, and found nothing; I searched the teachings of the various schools, and found nothing. I believed the ancients must have possessed some secret that was never passed down, and that we later generations were simply too dull to perceive it. I searched exhaustively, forgetting sleep and food, year after year. Then, upon reading the Records of the Three Kingdoms, I was suddenly enlightened: those who accomplished great things in ancient times relied on nothing more than thickness and blackness!”

Zhu Ping’an had just recited the opening preface of The Study of Thickness and Blackness by Li Zongwu, the master of that school during the Republican era.

Remove AdsOf course, Zhu Ping’an had deliberately altered the most crucial line—“those who accomplished great things relied on nothing more than thick skin and a black heart”—by removing the words “skin” and “heart.” He concealed the true core on purpose, intending to lure Zhang Siwei into organizing a few more shelves before revealing the final secret.

Those who accomplished great things relied on nothing more than thickness and blackness.

Zhu Ping’an delivered it with flourish: years of fruitless searching through the classics, untold hardship, and then sudden enlightenment upon reading the Records of the Three Kingdoms, where he supposedly discovered the true reason behind the ancients’ success—thickness and blackness.

And yet—utter nonsense.

What exactly is “thickness and blackness”? You still haven’t explained it!

Zhang Siwei shot Zhu Ping’an a fierce glare, then resigned himself to fate, rolling up his sleeves once more and plunging back into the grand enterprise of organizing the library.

After a while, he finished again. Gasping heavily, he looked at Zhu Ping’an and asked, “This time, you can explain it, right?”

“In the Records of the Three Kingdoms, Liu Bei, Sun Quan, and Cao Cao divided the realm among themselves. What did each rely on?” Zhu Ping’an said, placing the last book onto the shelf in its proper order. He poured Zhang Siwei a cup of tea, then looked at him meaningfully.

“Liu Bei relied on thickness. Cao the bandit relied on blackness. And Sun Quan relied on both thickness and blackness.”