Volume Two: The Noble and the Petty Chapter One: Huang Ming, Courtesy Name Mozhi

According to custom, on the first day of the Lunar New Year, all officials in the capital must go to the palace to pay their respects to the emperor, before proceeding to their own ancestral rites.

On the second day, it is time for officials to visit each other, to call on friends and relatives, to welcome and send off guests—a whirl of social engagements that only quiets down after the sixth or seventh day.

Of course, all this had little to do with Huang Ming. Since Huang Jin was still in the palace, Huang Ming simply offered a modest tribute in the small shrine of his residence on the first day, honoring his ancestors.

When the second day arrived and it was time to visit friends and relatives, his circle was limited—mostly a few classmates and teachers from the Imperial Academy. Yet these people were themselves occupied with obligations; families like the Xus and the Zhangs, aristocratic and influential, were bound by endless formalities. It was difficult for Huang Ming to even catch a glimpse of Xu Qingzhi or Zhang Han. In the end, he could only leave a calling card and depart.

The only exception was Zhang Bi, the esteemed Hanlin scholar, who remained at leisure after the New Year. He welcomed Huang Ming’s visit with delight, inviting him to dine at his home, and the two—teacher and student—engaged in a deep conversation after the meal.

“Huang Ming, I have witnessed your diligence these days. Truly, you are the finest student I have seen in the Imperial Academy over many years,” Zhang Bi praised.

Huang Ming smiled modestly, “You flatter me, sir. I am only moved by curiosity, striving to master what I once did not understand.”

Zhang Bi looked upon him with approval, nodding repeatedly. “The sea of learning has no bounds. Your resolve greatly pleases me as your teacher.”

Hearing this, Huang Ming’s heart stirred, and he ventured, “Sir, I am now seventeen, and barely considered of age. I wish to have a courtesy name, so as to appear more like a true scholar. Would you kindly bestow one upon me?”

Zhang Bi regarded him deeply, then laughed, “Indeed, at your age, it is proper to have a courtesy name for social dealings. Let me think…”

He stroked his beard and pondered. Seeing this, Huang Ming sat more upright, not daring to interrupt—well aware that the choosing of a courtesy name was a solemn and significant matter for any scholar.

For it not only marked one’s maturity, but also symbolized the expectations and blessings of one’s teacher. The courtesy name would accompany him all his life, and among peers and superiors, it would be used far more often than his given name. For, unless between mortal enemies, men addressed each other by their courtesy names, rarely by their personal names.

It was for this reason that only those recognized by the scholarly circle could receive a courtesy name, and only from mentors—especially one’s instructor.

Huang Ming’s request held two intentions. First, he hoped to truly enter the ranks of scholars; after all, the imperial court was ruled by scholars, and he could not always bear the stigma of being a eunuch’s son. Second, he sought to draw closer to Zhang Bi. Of all his teachers at the Imperial Academy, he had grown closest to Zhang Bi, but a certain barrier remained between them. Even in his address, Huang Ming still called him “sir,” not the more intimate “teacher.”

If Zhang Bi bestowed him a courtesy name, their relationship would be formally that of teacher and student, binding them together as per the customs of the Ming dynasty’s literary and official circles.

Huang Ming expected Zhang Bi might hesitate, for his status as a eunuch’s son would cause any prudent scholar to pause. Yet Zhang Bi proved more open-minded than he had anticipated.

After a long silence, Zhang Bi finally spoke, “I had thought to find a courtesy name for you within the Analects, which you have thoroughly read. Yet your given name ‘Ming’ appears rarely in the text.

“I recall only two lines: one from ‘Tai Bo’: ‘A bird about to die sings sorrowfully; a man about to die speaks kindly.’ And another from ‘Xian Jin’: ‘The Master said: He is not one of us; young men, beat the drums and attack him.’

“But neither is quite suitable for your courtesy name. I cannot name you ‘Drum Attack,’ so I must look elsewhere.”

Huang Ming listened quietly. It was clear that choosing a courtesy name was no simple matter—it required matching the given name and reference to classical sources. With his own meager erudition, the only connection he could make was the proverb, “Three years without a sound, and then a cry that startles the world.”

“There is a line in the Book of Songs: ‘The gentle deer calls, eating the wild celery.’ How about adapting this, and naming you ‘Pingzhi’?”

Zhang Bi soon proposed, feeling it a suitable choice.

Huang Ming, however, smiled wryly. “Sir, perhaps another name would be better…”

Good heavens, ‘Pingzhi’? Was I meant to practice the Evil-Repelling Sword Technique? It was oddly fitting for the family—son of a eunuch wielding a blade. Truly hereditary.

Zhang Bi was not offended; after all, a courtesy name concerned a student’s whole life, and it was right to consult him.

“In fact, I don’t think it must come from a classical source,” Huang Ming added, fearing the trouble might make Zhang Bi abandon the task. “As long as it matches my name and is easy to remember. For example, Zhuge Liang’s courtesy name, Kongming, has no particular classical origin…”

“You make quite a choice,” Zhang Bi chuckled, shaking his head, but quickly offered another suggestion.

“Your name ‘Ming’ suggests debate, and your temperament is combative and argumentative, as on that day in the imperial lecture…”

He grew serious. “But it is one thing for a youth to strive and compete, quite another for a grown man. Since you mentioned the courtesy names of the ancients, let me do likewise, and offer you an expectation.

“The great Tang scholar Han Yu’s courtesy name was ‘Tuizhi.’ Today, I give you a courtesy name: ‘Mozhi.’ I hope that, when you find yourself in competition, you will remember my words; retreat when you can, be silent when you can, do not be too eager to win.”

“Mozhi…” Huang Ming softly repeated the name for a while, finding it pleasing, though it sounded much like the Xu family’s names.

“It is said that of ten thousand words, none is as apt as a silent one. May you understand your teacher’s intention.”

Huang Ming nodded. “Henceforth, my courtesy name shall be Mozhi. Thank you, teacher, for bestowing it!” With that, he rose and bowed deeply.

“Why do you still call me sir?” Zhang Bi asked with a cheerful smile.

Huang Ming responded swiftly, lifting his robe, kneeling, and performing the formal obeisance. “Student Huang Ming greets his teacher!”