Chapter 50: Chunyu Yue's Martyrdom
It had just snowed lightly.
Shusun Tong had just finished his shift and was still wearing his court robes. He alighted from his carriage and slowly walked toward the imperial prison in Xianyang where prisoners were held.
The weather was freezing cold, the air thick and heavy, mixed with the stench of moldy straw and the stench of blood and rust. Frost covered the cold stone walls, and torches stuck in the walls of the passageway were the only source of light, their flickering flames casting long shadows.
The bone-chilling cold didn't come from the wind and snow outside, but from seeping out from every inch of the stone's texture, piercing to the core.
Here, one cannot hear any of the hustle and bustle of Xianyang's streets; only the occasional sound of chains being dragged or suppressed groans coming from other cells, making this place seem like a tomb.
Chunyu Yue was held in solitary confinement in a small cell. He had just been roughly removed from his heavy wooden shackles by the jailers and dressed in the blue robe he had worn before entering prison.
He sat leaning against the cold corner of the wall, his disheveled gray hair partially obscuring his face, revealing purplish-blue frostbite and bruises on his exposed skin. His hands and feet trembled slightly uncontrollably from the cold and the brief relaxation after the removal of his restraints, but his back struggled to straighten despite the excruciating pain and cold.
Shusun Tong entered, led by a prison warden. He was dressed in a thick, dark lambskin coat, the edges of which revealed a luxurious brocade lining, a stark contrast to the filthy surroundings.
He carefully lifted the hem of his fur robe to avoid getting it stained with the filth on the ground, his brows instinctively furrowing at the pungent stench. His eyes were sharp and complex as he quickly scanned the cell and Chunyu Yue's condition before regaining his usual thoughtful calm.
Shusun Tong waved for the prison warden to step back and wait at a distance, then took two steps forward and stopped in a relatively clean spot.
"Dr. Chunyu, how have you been? ... Why are you in this situation?"
His voice was calm, with a hint of deliberate regret.
Shusun Tong and Chunyu Yue were both learned Confucian scholars and held the official position of Doctor.
However, the two men had fundamentally different ideologies. Chunyu Yue was a retrogressive idealist who believed that one could not last long without emulating the ancients. He was outspoken, principled, and even risked offending the First Emperor.
Shusun Tong, on the other hand, was a pragmatic realist. He knew that the First Emperor was powerful, and to put it nicely, he was adept at adapting to changing circumstances and reading people's expressions. To put it bluntly, he lacked integrity and catered to the needs of those in power.
Although both were prominent figures of Confucianism in their time, they often engaged in heated debates.
Chunyu Yue slowly raised his head, his cloudy gaze focusing through his hair on Shusun Tong's luxurious fur robe. A slight, sarcastic sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth: "Well?... Doctor Shusun, dressed in a lambskin coat, stands in this prison, asking a dying man... if he is well? Is he here to show off his well-being, or to appreciate my ailment?"
Shusun Tong shook his head, not angry, but sighed: "Brother, why do you say such things? We are both ministers in the same court and studied the books of the sages together. Seeing you in distress, I am truly saddened. I have come here today, even at the risk of criticism, just to... deliver some news to an old friend."
Chunyu Yue coughed violently, his whole body curled up from the cough, and it took him a long time to calm down: "I'm afraid it's not to deliver a message to me, but to send me on my way. Is it on His Majesty's orders or Prime Minister Li's orders? To persuade me to admit to the crimes of 'using the past to criticize the present' and 'colluding with the prince to plot a rebellion'? I thought it was someone else, but it turns out to be you, this flexible fellow."
Chunyu Yue scoffed.
Shusun Tong remained silent for a moment, the firelight casting shadows on his face, making his expression complex.
"His Majesty is not a benevolent man. You dare to call on your disciples to promote the virtues of Prince Fusu while promoting winter wheat. Do you think Confucianism is already at a low point? Or are you confident that you can deceive His Majesty's eyes and ears? This is Guanzhong, this is Xianyang. Prince Fusu may be inclined towards Confucianism, but His Majesty still holds the reins of power."
“Brother Chunyu, you are too stubborn. The laws of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were indeed good in antiquity, but times have changed. Today, the world is unified, and His Majesty is a man of great talent and ambition, creating an unprecedented situation. What we have learned should be used to assist a wise ruler and bring peace to the world, rather than... engaging in empty talk about Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang, which would offend the emperor.”
Chunyu Yue's eyes suddenly flashed with intense light. Though his voice was weak, every word was as firm as iron: "Empty talk? Teaching the people to be benevolent and advising the ruler to act righteously—is that empty talk? Prince Fusu is benevolent. If he were to succeed to the throne, he would surely implement benevolent policies, end wars, and nurture the people's strength. This is truly a blessing for all people! Is it the behavior of a Confucian scholar to try to guess the emperor's intentions, flatter and curry favor, and follow the prevailing trend?! Confucius said to achieve benevolence, Mencius said to uphold righteousness. Where is your 'righteousness'?! Where is your 'way'?!"
Shusun Tong burst into laughter. If it were before today, he might have felt a little ashamed because of Chunyu Yue's words, but today, it was today.
Chunyu Yue frowned. Had Shusun Tong gone mad?
Shusun Tong composed himself and said loudly, “Benevolence? Righteousness? May I ask Brother Chunyu, can your benevolence and righteousness save you now? Can they save the lives of your three clans? The Way can only be passed on if one is alive! If you are like a rock blocking the way and do not know how to detour, the only way is to be crushed to pieces! If you die and your Way perishes, what good will your benevolence and righteousness do in this world?!”
Shusun Tong stepped forward and lowered his voice: "Can't you see? His Majesty's heart is as vast as the heavens; those who follow it prosper, and those who oppose it perish. If Confucianism wants to survive, it must first live! Like a seed buried under frozen soil, waiting for spring! Not like you, insisting on testing the axe and being uprooted!"
Upon hearing these words, Chunyu Yue strangely calmed down. The anger in his eyes subsided, replaced by an extreme weariness yet incredibly clear resolve: "Live on? Like you, be a... dog that can survive?"
Shusun Tong stiffened, the smile on his face slowly fading. He half-squatted down and took out a small booklet from his robes. The booklet was neatly trimmed and made of yellowed sheets of paper. The cover of the booklet was inscribed with the four characters "Complete Canon of Agricultural Administration" in small seal script.
Shusun Tong turned the pages of the book one by one in front of Chunyu Yue, displaying the text and illustrations before him: "Do you see this? Today at court, His Majesty gave each of the court officials a copy. Does it look familiar?"
When promoting winter wheat, Chunyu Yue had seen paper. This material, lighter than bamboo slips, undoubtedly made the work of persuading farmers progress more smoothly. The disciples of the farming family treasured it greatly and were even willing to distribute it to the common people.
They said paper is hard-earned and should be used wisely.
The winter wheat planting techniques, which were originally passed down orally and slowly copied, were rapidly replicated and spread across the Guanzhong Plain.
Chunyu Yue only thought it was convenient at the time and did not think much about it. But now that Shusun Tong has placed this "Complete Canon of Agricultural Administration" in front of him, he realized something, and a chill suddenly crept up his spine.
Bamboo slips are bulky, expensive, and time-consuming to produce. What a stark contrast it would be if the contents of such a lightweight, portable book were made into bamboo slips.
Undoubtedly, for all schools of thought, its existence meant a complete overturning of the old models of survival and dissemination. And this terrifying thing was in the hands of the First Emperor.
After a long silence, Chunyu Yue finally found his voice and asked in a hoarse voice, "Is it a divine messenger?"
Shusun Tong said, “Yes. The craftsmen under the Divine Envoy have improved the formula, and paper can now be mass-produced. His Majesty therefore wishes to emulate the Jixia Academy by establishing the Xianyang Academy, inviting great scholars from all schools of thought to Xianyang. If His Majesty grants permission, the relevant classics can be sent throughout the country for students to read and study. Oh, by the way, His Majesty announced today that Great Qin will use Guanzhong as a pilot area to try a new method of selecting officials.”
Chunyu Yue recalled the girl in sacrificial robes he had seen on the banks of the Xiang River. He admired her love for the people, but could not agree with her views on women.
He closed his eyes; times had changed.
Heaven was so kind to the First Emperor that it sent such a remarkable person to his side.
He suddenly asked a completely unrelated question: "Can both men and women enter the Xianyang Academy?"
How can a woman serve as an official?
He still couldn't forget the argument that took place on her ancestral land. So after returning to Xianyang, he personally collected a batch of hens to verify her claim that hens could turn into roosters.
Unexpectedly, not long after he went to prison, a message came from home that the hens he was raising were indeed showing the characteristics of roosters.
It even cries out in the morning.
Shusun Tong was surprised by Chunyu Yue's question: "Yes, His Majesty has also granted special permission for the children of officials to attend school. Around August next year, an examination will be held to select officials, and both men and women can become officials."
Chunyu Yue was unsure of his own feelings, and numbly asked him, "Besides that? His Majesty hasn't dealt with me these past few days, but he sent you here today, so I suppose he already has a result."
"The Baiyue battlefield is progressing smoothly. Zhang Han has taken the new technology developed by the Mohists to the battlefield. We expect more good news soon. The divine envoy and Prince Fusu have pleaded for your life. Would you be willing to go to Baiyue to educate the common people and win their hearts over to the court? This could save your life. Your disciples have already agreed, and you will set off tomorrow."
The Baiyue region was home to numerous ethnic groups with complex languages, making communication with the standard language of the Central Plains extremely difficult. Even the first step of education—communication—was challenging. The Baiyue people had unique customs such as short hair and tattoos, beliefs in spirits and deities, and daily life. The Confucian system of "rites and music," based on the agricultural civilization of the Central Plains, might have seemed absurd and incomprehensible to them.
Furthermore, the local climate was hot and humid, and filled with miasma and swamps, which the people of the Central Plains found extremely difficult to adapt to, leading to widespread epidemics. Even with the prescription offered by Guan Yue, it was difficult to avoid the epidemics, and most of the Confucian disciples were frail scholars, making survival a huge challenge.
Moreover, Chunyu Yue is already quite old; whether he can even survive is another matter entirely.
In the eyes of the court officials, the so-called education of the border people was actually a form of exile.
However, having the chance to live is more important than anything else.
The First Emperor was ultimately willing to give Lin Fengzhi some face.
Shusun Tong also felt that this was a rare concession from the First Emperor. Confucianism also has a part about education, and educating the border people can also be considered education.
Chunyu Yue felt deeply humiliated. He had dedicated his life to educating civilized rulers and people with Confucianism, yet he was to be exiled to educate the border people, whom the Qin Dynasty regarded as barbarians. His ideals had been trampled on. His perseverance had been discarded as a tool.
He could not let his death be meaningless, nor could he let Confucianism disappear forever.
He spoke slowly, almost uttering each word slowly: "Shusun Tong, remember this. The Way is not something to be passed down like incense. The Way is the backbone that makes us human. If the backbone is broken, even if we live, we are nothing more than walking corpses. I, Chunyu Yue, am not afraid of death. Even if I die today, tomorrow, the day after, and thousands of years from now, when people talk about the Qin Dynasty, they will know that there was a Confucian scholar who was willing to shed his blood to protect the Way in his heart. They should also know that not all Confucian scholars in the world are sycophants like you."
Shusun Tong simply couldn't understand Chunyu Yue's thought process. It was clearly not a situation where death was inevitable, yet he insisted on becoming a so-called martyr.
The cell remained silent for a long time, with only the crackling of the burning torches.
Chunyu Yue's face was pale, as if he had exhausted all his strength. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes: "Go. I have nothing to say to you. I will stay here and wait for my end. This is my way."
Shusun Tong stood rooted to the spot, his face ashen. He stared at the gaunt old man before him, who seemed to possess an indestructible spiritual strength. He opened his mouth, knowing he couldn't change the old man's mind, and ultimately said nothing more.
Confucianism certainly cannot be limited to people like him.
The saying goes, "To sacrifice oneself for righteousness" and "To give up one's life for justice." Chunyu Yue wanted to fulfill the righteousness in his heart. He was also a Confucian disciple. What reason did he have to stop him?
He both admired and felt helpless.
He turned abruptly, his fur robe whipping up a gust of cold wind, and strode towards the prison door, never looking back.
The heavy prison door slammed shut behind him.
A new order and a new storm are forming. Chunyu Yue is determined to die. He will not stop him. He will fight for a place for Confucianism in the Xianyang Academy.
The First Emperor hid or deleted content he disliked. The Legalists had already published "The Book of Lord Shang" and "Han Feizi". It was heard that Prime Minister Li was gathering Legalists to prepare a new book for teaching in the Xianyang Academy.
Even great sages from Taoism, the School of Diplomacy, the School of Names, and the School of Medicine were on their way to Xianyang.
The agriculturalists and Mohists were not to be outdone, and the Confucianists could not lag behind.
At the end of the passageway, a bright light shimmered.
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