Chapter Thirty-Two: Surrounded by Unusual Blessings

“The way that can be spoken of is not the eternal way. The name that can be named is not the eternal name... Always without desire, one can see its subtlety; always with desire, one can see its boundary...”

Li Sanjian felt an uncanny familiarity with these lines from the Dao De Jing. They rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he recited them, and he strained to recall where he might have heard them before—perhaps in a song. Yet, though the words seemed familiar, his understanding of them was only superficial.

He could just barely grasp the meaning of "Dao," thinking of it as the way of all things, or perhaps the principle by which everything grows and is governed. As for "the way that can be spoken of is not the eternal way," Li Sanjian interpreted this to mean that any way that could be described was not the true Way referred to by Laozi in the Dao De Jing. The same applied to names: every thing had a name, but any name that could be uttered was not the true name Laozi meant.

But why? Li Sanjian wondered silently. Why is the way or the name of all things unspeakable? He puzzled over it endlessly, wishing he could drag Laozi, dead for over a thousand years, out of his tomb to ask him in detail...

He struggled with the very first line, and the subsequent ones only left him more confused. Fortunately, Wang Anshi had written extensive commentaries on these passages, so Li Sanjian gently turned the pages, striving to comprehend Wang Anshi’s interpretation.

“The Dao is one, yet when explained, it becomes two. What are these two? Being and non-being. Non-being is the root of the Dao—the subtlety spoken of. Being is the end of the Dao—the boundary spoken of. Thus, the root of the Dao emerges from the depths of emptiness and mystery, while its end disperses among shapes, names, and measurements. These two are fundamentally one in the Dao...” Wang Anshi’s commentary read.

“Well? Can you grasp Master Jinggong’s meaning?” Huang Huan, seeing Li Sanjian’s troubled expression, asked with a smile.

Li Sanjian looked at Huang Huan and shook his head with a bitter smile.

“The essence is unmoving primal energy; the function is the active vital energy running through heaven and earth,” Huang Huan explained. “The Dao has root and end. The root is that by which all things are born, the end is that by which all things are formed.”

“Teacher, what is primal energy? What is vital energy?” a student named Zeng Gongming asked.

“Primal energy is the harmony of yin and yang; vital energy is the balanced interaction of yin and yang. Both are manifestations of one thing’s transformation,” replied Huang Huan.

Hearing this, Li Sanjian suddenly understood: wasn’t this just saying that a thing takes on different forms under different conditions? Like water—when heated, it becomes steam, when cooled, steam condenses back into water.

These basic facts were clear enough to him.

“The Book of Documents says: The five elements are, first, water; second, fire; third, wood; fourth, metal; fifth, earth. Water flows downward, fire rises upward, wood bends and straightens, metal changes, earth nurtures crops. Flowing water is salty, rising fire is bitter, bending wood is sour, changing metal is pungent, nurturing earth is sweet. Water generates wood, wood generates fire, fire generates earth, earth generates metal, metal generates water...” Huang Huan continued.

He went on to explain Wang Anshi’s view: Wang believed that heaven and earth and all things are composed of the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth. These five elements are running forces, each with its own property. The Dao is above the five elements, the principle by which they operate.

“Li, do you have a different opinion?” Huang Huan noticed the uncertainty on Li Sanjian’s face and asked.

“I am slow-witted, Teacher; how could I have a different opinion?” Li Sanjian immediately rose and bowed.

He did indeed hold a different view, but what could he say? Say that all things are made up of elements? Such a statement would be shocking, overturning everyone’s understanding of the world. He would be branded a monster, and even if his words were proven true years later, his fate now would be grim—he’d be punished and executed in the worst ways imaginable. Laozi lived his life untouched by women; Li Sanjian couldn’t bear to die so soon, he thought silently.

So it was best for him to keep his head down and focus on making his fortune. Wang Anshi’s view that all things are made of material substances—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—was remarkable enough.

Was this rudimentary materialism? Li Sanjian mused.

His current priority was to master the content and rules of the imperial examinations, to infiltrate officialdom and seek wealth and glory, to bring honor to his ancestors, to win fine wives and concubines, to secure noble titles for generations—not to seek truth or verify right and wrong.

He must not misstep at this crucial moment, Li Sanjian finally resolved.

...

“Brother, you haven’t played with me lately,” Little Sprout complained, sitting on Li Sanjian’s lap after helping him wash and dress.

The longer Li Sanjian spent studying at the county school, the more Little Sprout grew—not just taller, but also more clever and adorable. Her face was charming and fresh, still childlike, with long curved brows, cherry lips, and a delicate nose.

Since they’d become physically close, and given Li Sanjian’s humble origins and lack of pretension, their relationship only grew more familiar. In front of him, Little Sprout had no reservations; she did and said whatever she pleased.

She wriggled in his lap, tormenting Li Sanjian...

He was nearly fifteen now, and ever since his first experience—and with maturity—he sometimes found his thoughts wandering.

“Sprout, brother has to study! How can I find time to play?” Li Sanjian, embarrassed, moved her to the side of his leg and smiled.

No matter his urges, he wouldn’t act on them with a child as young as Little Sprout, even if it left him feeling terribly frustrated.

“Oh, always studying and writing—what’s the point?” Little Sprout replied, unconcerned, finding a comfortable spot in his lap.

“There’s a mansion of gold in books, and beauties as fair as jade,” Li Sanjian replied, shaking his head.

“Really? There’s gold in books?” Her eyes gleamed green as she grabbed a book and flipped through it messily, shaking it for good measure.

“Where’s the gold?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Well...” Li Sanjian said, laughing and crying at once, “it’s just a metaphor.”

“Brother, what does metaphor mean? And what is ‘beauties as fair as jade’?” Little Sprout pressed.

“A metaphor is a figure of speech, meaning that not only is there a mansion of gold in books, but also beautiful women,” he explained.

“Oh...” she muttered, playing with the book. “You’re tricking me again. There’s no gold, and no beautiful women.”

“There really are,” Li Sanjian laughed.

“Brother, are the beauties... prettier than me?” she asked.

“No,” he replied firmly. “Our Little Sprout is the prettiest and cutest in the world.”

“Really?” She turned to look at him, her large eyes sparkling.

“Really,” Li Sanjian nodded emphatically.

“Brother...” Little Sprout hugged his neck tightly, saying, “You’re the best brother in the world. I like you so much. Brother, I’m sleepy. Will you carry me to bed? And... mm, tell me the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs again.”

“It’s not even dark yet and you want to sleep?” Li Sanjian laughed. “I bet you don’t really want to sleep—you just want me to tell you stories, right?”

“Hehe,” Little Sprout giggled. “The bed is so comfy. I love lying there listening to your stories.”

“You little sprite,” Li Sanjian tapped her delicate nose and smiled. “All right, but tonight I’ll tell you the story of Monkey King’s three battles with the White Bone Demon.”

“Yes, yes!” Little Sprout clapped with delight, clinging to him and refusing to let go.

Smiling, Li Sanjian picked her up and walked toward the bed.

“Well, Brother Hanren, you’re in fine spirits—such good fortune!” Just then, a gentle laugh came from outside the window.

It was an ordinary thatched cottage, quite dilapidated. The window paper had a large hole, and since the weather was mild, Li Sanjian hadn’t bothered to patch it. Hearing the teasing voice, he quickly set Little Sprout down on the bed and asked, “Who’s there?”

He stepped outside to find three people at the door, all fellow students from the county school.

“Haha, Brother Hanren, I dropped by unannounced and spoiled your fun. Forgive me, forgive me!” Zeng Gongming, just fourteen, stood at the door with a bow and a smile.

Zeng Gongming, courtesy name Donglin, was from Hengzhou in Guangnan West Circuit. His father was a minor official, from a humble family. He was short and stout, with a face often flushed with a ruddy glow.

“Haha, Brother Donglin, who’d have thought Brother Hanren had such skills?” Wang Zhihui, another student, gave a thumbs-up.

Ran Yunbiao, courtesy name Mingshi, was from Yongzhou in Guangnan West Circuit. Rumor had it his mother was from Dali. He was thirteen this year.

The last was Sima Hedu, courtesy name Feiyuan, aged fifteen, said to be heading to the prefectural school soon.

Sima simply shook his head in silence.

“You... Brother Donglin, Brother Mingwen, what are you implying? She’s my sister,” Li Sanjian hastily explained. “Please, mind your words.”

“Haha, your sister?” Zeng Gongming patted his shoulder. “No need to be so defensive, Brother Hanren; we’re not making fun.”

Zeng Gongming would never believe Little Sprout was his sister; he assumed she was kept in the house.

In Song times, scholars consorting with courtesans, singers, and dancers was nothing unusual. Some famous poets and writers even frequented brothels and took pride in it, competing to see who kept the most and the best, who gained their favor most.

But wasn’t Li Sanjian a bit too desperate? Though Little Sprout was undeniably cute, she was only about six. Could he really act on that?

Everyone thought so.

“So, what brings you here, brothers?” Li Sanjian decided not to explain further—the more he said, the less clear it would become.

“With such fine weather, how about a small drink together?” Ran Yunbiao suggested.