Questions about the Way of Heaven
Consciousness seemed to sink to the bottom of a cold, murky abyss. Each arduous struggle to rise was violently dragged back by the searing pain of the branding iron on the shoulder, the sharp pain of bamboo skewers piercing the fingertips, and the dull pain of the whip tearing the back. The smell of blood, the stench of rust, and the stench of burnt flesh mingled with the cold, burning heat of the court's hall, intertwining and churning in the chaotic senses, forming an endless scene of purgatory.
"...stop the fighting...a way out..."
"…justice…"
Broken murmurs rolled in his throat, but no sound came out. The look Bai Yu gave him as he committed suicide, Jing Zhi's desperate screams at the sluice gate in the rainy night, Sheng Guo's mother's swaying figure hanging from the locust tree, the ripples as Zhao Lao Si's grandson sank to the bottom of the well, and the blood-stained "Go Home" cloth that A Wang handed over as he fell... Countless faces flashed, shattered, and wailed in the vortex of darkness and excruciating pain, ultimately transforming into Yan Song's resentful pleasure in the courtroom, Zhao He's deep, cold eyes, and the blood-stained whip raised high by the bailiffs of the Court of Justice!
"Ugh... Ouch..." A suppressed groan of pain finally escaped from his parched lips. Xiao Yuxuan abruptly opened his eyes!
There was no charcoal fire in the courtroom, no imposing bailiffs, no cold chains. The blinding sunlight made him squint instantly. A violent dizziness washed over him, his stomach churning. He found himself lying face down on a cold, hard rocky outcrop, half his body submerged in a shallow, fast-flowing, icy stream. The biting cold seeped through his soaked, tattered clothes, piercing his very bones like needles, yet strangely, it slightly suppressed the burning pain in his wounds.
Where is this?
Memories are like broken pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The torture in the courtroom… the roars of comrades… the mutiny… chaos… the clash of swords… blood… Sheng Guo’s roar like a wounded beast… It felt as if someone was dragging me along, desperately fleeing through chaos and pursuit… disappearing into some secret passage… and then… endless darkness and agonizing oblivion…
He struggled to sit up, but a sharp, tearing pain shot through the wound on his left shoulder where the branding iron had burned, making his vision go black. He groaned and fell heavily back into the icy stream, splashing up a cloud of muddy water. The cold water choked his mouth and nose, causing a violent cough that aggravated his wounds, making him convulse in pain.
In this suffocating agony, a voice, like a glimmer of light piercing through thick clouds, carrying a strange, comforting power, gently rang out:
“When anger and resentment accumulate, they damage the lungs and internal organs. Do not struggle against it; let it flow naturally.”
The voice was peaceful and gentle, like a mountain spring flowing through a crevice in a rock, without any trace of worldly malice.
Xiao Yuxuan turned his head with difficulty and, through his vision blurred by blood and stream water, saw the source of the sound.
On a flat, blue stone beside the stream, a figure sat cross-legged. He wore a faded, patched, coarse cloth Taoist robe, its wide sleeves fluttering slightly in the mountain breeze. He was thin, with a gaunt face, his white hair and beard meticulously combed, and an air of calm and clarity born of experience. Most striking were his eyes, clear as newly melted snow and deep as the ancient starry sky, now gently gazing at Xiao Yuxuan, who was struggling in the stream. It was Yun Youzi.
In front of him lay an open burlap bundle containing several dried herbs, a few pieces of minerals of various colors, and a rough earthenware jar filled with water. He did not get up to help him up, but simply watched quietly.
Xiao Yuxuan gasped for breath, the icy stream water clearing his muddled mind somewhat. He recognized Yun Youzi—the figure who had stood atop the ruins of the beacon towers, observing the landscape during the fierce siege of Anyi City. A surge of immense grief and a sense of absurdity instantly overwhelmed him. He had fought valiantly, his loved ones had perished, he was unjustly accused, framed and hunted by cruel officials, wandering like a stray dog in the desolate mountains, wounded and on the verge of death… and this Taoist priest, here, under the mountain breeze and bright moon, quietly observing the flowing water? An indescribable sorrow and an almost accusatory urge overcame the sharp pain in his throat:
"...Mr. Yun...Yunyou...what a leisurely life...look at me, this...stray dog...struggling in my death throes...is it also...also part of the workings of Heaven?" The voice was hoarse and broken, carrying a heavy smell of blood and self-mockery.
Yun Youzi's expression remained unchanged, his gaze still calm, as if the grief and sarcasm in Xiao Yuxuan's words were merely a gentle breeze brushing against the rocks. He did not answer directly, but instead turned his gaze to the lower reaches of the stream, where, beside the broken roots of a withered locust tree, half-buried in the silt by the upstream flood, a very thin seedling stubbornly poked its head out from the gaps between the dead wood and the rocks. Its tender green leaves trembled slightly under the rushing water, yet stubbornly stretched upwards, catching a sliver of thin sunlight filtering through the gaps in the forest.
“General, please look at this locust tree.” Yun Youzi’s voice flowed like a stream, naturally guiding Xiao Yuxuan’s gaze. “Its roots are all severed, its trunk broken, withered and decaying among the mud and rocks. This is a state of ‘death’ and also a state of ‘despair’.”
Xiao Yuxuan's gaze fell on the frail sapling, and the image of the locust tree that had stubbornly survived in the blood-soaked soil by the Wei River instantly overlapped with it. His breath hitched slightly.
"However, the way of Heaven operates, and Yin and Yang give rise to each other." Yun Youzi continued, his fingertips gently brushing over a few plump locust tree seeds on the bluestone. "The seeds of the withered locust trees of the past were scattered by the wind, carried by the water, or carried by birds and beasts, and buried here. They endured the cold and heat, withstood the desolation, received rain and dew, and felt the earth's energy. When the opportunity came, the last bit of life force was not extinguished, and they broke through the stone and split the soil to emerge. This is not the rebirth of a withered tree, but the 'life' contained within 'death,' and the 'opportunity' found in 'extinction.' This is 'the movement of the Way through reversal.'"
His words were calm, yet they struck Xiao Yuxuan's heart, which was clouded by pain and resentment. Life within death? Opportunity in despair? Could his wounded body, his desperate exile, his state like a withered tree stump... also hold some kind of life? The image of the thriving locust tree by the Wei River overlapped with the sapling in the crack of the rock before him, and a faint warmth, unnoticed even by himself, quietly flowed through his cold, despairing heart.
“However…” Xiao Yuxuan struggled to raise his head, his gaze fixed intently on Yun Youzi. His voice was still hoarse, but now held a sharp, probing edge. “Does the master know… that my ‘absolute’ fate is not a natural disaster, but a man-made one! The court framed me, cruel officials slaughtered me, my comrades were scattered, and my loved ones died tragically! Is this kind of ‘violence’ also the way of heaven? How can this… this seedling grow in such filthy and bloody ‘mud’?!” He pointed to the numerous wounds on his body, and to the void that seemed to still retain the bloody aura of the court.
Yun Youzi nodded slightly, his gaze turning to the ceaselessly flowing stream: "A general's anger is like this stream encountering a boulder. It crashes violently, splashing water everywhere, its force astonishing, yet it easily breaks itself and cannot move the boulder an inch, leaving only scars and clamor." He lightly touched the water's surface with his finger, and the water, encountering the obstruction at his fingertip, naturally split and seeped to both sides, bypassing the obstruction and continuing its journey, slow yet resilient, silently nourishing every inch of land along its path.
"The virtue of water is that it benefits all things without striving, dwelling in places that others disdain, thus it is close to the Way." Yun Youzi's voice carried a wisdom that understood the ways of the world. "General, your intention to 'stop the fighting' is commendable. However, extreme rigidity is easily broken. The court is like a mountain, the law is like a stone, the barbarians are like tigers, and hatred is like an abyss. If you only know how to confront them head-on, not only will you be unable to shake them in the slightest, but you will also be crushed to pieces, and the resentment will only intensify, and the division will only deepen. This is not 'stopping the fighting,' but using the fighting to stop the fighting, which only increases the bloodshed."
He withdrew his finger, his gaze returning to Xiao Yuxuan. His clear eyes reflected the blood and unyielding spirit on the other's face: "The key to 'stopping war' lies not in brute force, but in penetration, inclusiveness, and persistence. It should be like the resilience of water, finding its way in, flowing around stones, seeping into sand, storing up in drought, and filling ravines. It should mend the divisions in people's hearts, dissolve the root of hostility, irrigate parched earth, and nourish the vitality of all things. This is the way of 'the highest good is like water.' General, your rigidity is too great, like a raging torrent of water. Though it may surge for a time, it is difficult to sustain and cannot nourish things silently."
"The highest good is like water…seeking its way through gaps…bridging divides…" Xiao Yuxuan pondered these words. He recalled his journey: the silent sowing after the tragedy of the Wei River, the blood-soaked defense of Anyi City, the tearful words spoken in the courtroom…all were acts of unwavering resolve, like a torrent crashing against a boulder. And the result? Blood stained his battle robes, friends and family perished, his faith nearly shattered. A profound weariness and bewilderment surged into his heart once more. Had he truly been wrong?
“What you say, sir… seems to make sense…” Xiao Yuxuan’s voice was filled with deep confusion and helplessness. “However… the court is corrupt, the Legalists are cruel, and the Di and Rong are brutal! This division is deeply rooted! Even if I, Xiao, could find a ‘gap’ in the water, how can I fill that ‘chasm’? Is the path to ‘stopping war’ ultimately just an illusion?” His gaze fell on the distant, layered mountains, as if he could see the solemnity of the court, the devastation of Hexi, and the smoke signals of the Di and Rong. The glimmer of light that had risen in his heart because of the locust saplings became uncertain again under the heavy shadow of reality.
Yun Youzi remained silent for a moment, his gaze distant, as if piercing through the mountains and rivers before him, landing on the vast and boundless天地 (heaven and earth). His voice became like an echo from ancient times:
“In the general’s eyes, Qin soldiers, Di and Rong tribes, artisans, refugees, legal officials, and powerful families... are all fortified and divided into opposing groups. However, in the eyes of the ‘Dao,’ these are all appearances.” He slowly raised his withered hand, pointing to the lone eagle circling in the sky, to the wild deer drinking by the stream, to the grass and trees swaying in the wind in the mountains, and finally to Xiao Yuxuan and himself.
"Eagles soar through the sky, deer drink from streams, grasses wither and flourish, generals bathe in blood, and I, a humble Taoist, observe the mountains… all these are manifestations of the flow of the Qi of Heaven and Earth, and the unity of all things." Yun Youzi's voice carried a profound insight that pierced through appearances. "The so-called Qin soldiers and Di Rong are merely born in this land and of this kind; the so-called artisans and displaced people are merely trapped in this time and place; the so-called legal officials and powerful figures are merely confined by fame, position, and power. Their birth, old age, sickness, and death, their joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, their desire for survival and fear of death, their greed, anger, ignorance, and resentment… how are they fundamentally different from those eagles, deer, grasses, trees, generals, and this humble Taoist?"
He withdrew his gaze and stared at Xiao Yuxuan again, his eyes clear and compassionate: "The true 'division' lies not in nationality, social status, or friend or foe. It lies in the 'heart'—in viewing all things as external, others as enemies, and heaven and earth as resources to be taken at will. This division of the heart is the source of resentment and the root of war! If the 'cessation of war' that the general seeks only focuses on quelling the current fighting and bridging the gap between nations and enemies, without touching the root of this 'division of the heart' and understanding the ultimate principle of 'all things being one,' it is like trying to stop boiling water by adding more fuel to the fire—the fire will not be extinguished as long as the fuel is used. This is the 'great system that cannot be divided'!"
All things are one… People’s hearts are divided… The great system is not divided!
Every word, like a thunderclap, exploded in Xiao Yuxuan's mind! All his past anger, hatred, obsession, and even his belief in "stopping war" were now being re-examined from an unprecedentedly grand perspective. He seemed to be standing on a cloud, overlooking this land that had endured so much. The white bones by the Wei River, the artisans of Black Stone Fortress, the wronged souls in the Luo River flood, the heroic spirit of Ghost Sorrow, the withered bones on the walls of Anyi City, the lingering figure of Sheng Guo's mother, Zhao Laosi's grandson drowned in the well… even Yan Song's resentment, Zhao He's coldness, Huyan Zhuo's greed… at this moment, all seemed to shed their hard shells of friend versus foe, good versus evil, noble versus lowly, revealing the same struggling, fearful, painful, and lost essence of life beneath. An unprecedented, grand realization, mixed with compassion and desolation, like the dawn's light, painlessly pierced through the heavy haze of hatred and despair.
"Then...then what should I, Xiao Yuxuan, do?" Xiao Yuxuan's voice trembled, no longer a question, but a plea from the depths of his soul. The confusion in his eyes deepened, yet a glimmer of genuine longing to be illuminated also shone through. "This path of 'stopping war,' if it requires bridging the divisions in people's hearts and understanding the ultimate truth of the unity of all things...this path is long and arduous! I, Xiao...fear that I may not live to see it accomplished..." A tremendous sense of powerlessness washed over him once more.
For the first time, a faint, almost compassionate smile appeared on Yun Youzi's face. He gently shook his head, his gaze seeming to traverse an endless river of time:
"General, do you know that I, a humble Taoist priest, observed the plague and its malevolent energy from the city walls of Anyi? I saw not only the suffering of the sick, but also the burning of mountains by war, the rivers filled with corpses, the withering of vegetation, and the severing of the earth's veins. This is the result of 'human malevolence' causing 'earth malevolence,' and 'earth malevolence' turning back to devour 'living beings.' Heaven and earth will cleanse themselves; the pain is deep, the force is slow, and the principle is just. It is not something that can be forced by human power, nor can it be reversed overnight."
He paused, his voice like heavenly music, carrying a serene power that seemed to understand the underlying principles:
"The way of 'stopping war' aligns with the way of Heaven that nurtures all things, and follows the ultimate principle of harmony with nature. Even amidst hardships and obstacles, and with thorns everywhere, the path will eventually lead forward, and the will will eventually resonate. Like the spring sun melting snow, though slow, it cannot be stopped; like rivers flowing to the sea, though winding, they have their destination. This is not a delusion, but the constant order of Heaven and Earth. General, you only need to keep this in mind and follow this path, like a young locust tree in a crack in the rock, receiving a ray of sunlight and absorbing a drop of dew, taking root downwards and growing upwards. As for when it will provide shade, and where it will provide shelter... this is the natural process of Heaven, which cannot be forced by human power, nor is it the responsibility of the general alone."
Yun Youzi gazed at the violently churning storm in Xiao Yuxuan's eyes, which eventually settled into a deep, calm still carrying the embers of a star, and slowly uttered his final words of wisdom:
"Heaven has no favorites, but it always favors the virtuous. If the 'cessation of war' that the general seeks truly aligns with the way of life and the well-being of all things, then even if the journey is arduous and the fate is full of twists and turns, the path will not be lonely, and the will will not be extinguished. For there is a vast and righteous energy between heaven and earth, which is overwhelming and unstoppable. It is not because it favors any one person, but because the nurturing of all things is the very way of heaven."
Heaven shows no favoritism, but always sides with the virtuous!
The way of Heaven is to give birth to and nurture all things!
These eight words, like a resounding bell, carried an ultimate power that transcended personal honor and disgrace, national hatred, and crashed into the depths of Xiao Yuxuan's soul! The anger, grief, despair, and confusion churning in his chest... before this magnificent heavenly sound, subsided abruptly, like boiling water poured onto snow!
He stared blankly at Yun Youzi, at those eyes as clear as the starry sky, at the few plump locust seeds on the bluestone, at the seedling stubbornly swaying amidst the turbulent rocks and rapids in the stream… He seemed to see the locust tree that had grown into a shady tree by the Wei River, and at the seeds he had quietly sown in countless dark nights, in the ruins of despair, and in the numb hands of the refugees…
An indescribable, vast, and profound warmth, like a river thawing in early spring, brimming with vitality, instantly shattered the ice that imprisoned his heart and cleansed the dust from his soul. He was no longer the general burdened by the blood debt of the Wei River, fixated on immediate grievances, struggling between the power struggles of the court and the cruel executioners. His vision was infinitely elevated, his heart completely broadened. He saw the immense life force behind that locust tree, connecting the past and the future, suffering and hope, the individual and the universe! He saw that what he had sown and protected along his journey was precisely the most primal, inexhaustible power of this world!
This power transcended the boundaries of Qin soldiers and Di and Rong tribes, pierced through the net of Legalist courts, and ignored the shadow of assassination. It was deeply rooted in every inch of scorched earth yearning for peace, and hidden in the heart of every struggling life. Like a seedling in a crack in the rock, it seemed weak, yet contained the great power to penetrate the stubborn stone and eventually become a pillar!
Xiao Yuxuan took a slow, deep breath. The cool mountain air filled his lungs, carrying the subtle fragrance of grass and trees and the sweetness of the stream. The excruciating pain throughout his body still lingered, yet it seemed no longer to truly touch his soul. The molten golden flames in his eyes had long since extinguished, replaced by a calm and profound stillness, like a deep pool after all the storms had subsided. Beneath that calm lay a conviction hotter than molten lava and more resilient than steel.
Struggling, he used every last bit of strength to support his wounded body and, facing the Taoist priest sitting quietly on the blue stone by the stream, facing the silent mountains and rivers, and facing his own transformed soul, performed an ancient ritual with extreme slowness but with unparalleled clarity. The movement aggravated his wounds, bringing tearing pain, but he seemed oblivious to it.
"Thank you... sir... for your guidance." The voice was still hoarse, but there was no longer any anger or confusion, only a clarity and determination as if one had seen through the fog and seen the starry sky.
Yun Youzi nodded slightly, his face expressionless, as if he had merely completed a routine astronomical observation. He fell silent, his gaze fixed on the depths of the mist-shrouded, rugged mountains at the end of the stream. The mountain breeze ruffled his worn Taoist robe, and in the soft morning light, his figure gradually merged with the ancient landscape.
Xiao Yuxuan stopped looking at the departing figure. He bent down with difficulty, and with his hands covered in blood and mud, he gently and carefully lifted the locust sapling that had stubbornly survived amidst the turbulent rapids and rocks from the cold stream.
The delicate roots twined between my fingers, carrying the coolness of the stream and the faint yet incredibly real warmth from deep within the earth.
He carefully held it in his palm, as if he were holding the weight of the entire world, and also holding the boundless, shady locust tree that would surely come at the end of this thorny path.
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