Chapter Twenty: Surpassing All the World

The story had come to an end, and the wine was ample, yet He Ru felt not the slightest trace of inebriation. The brief catharsis he had just experienced faded, and he soon returned to his original state of serene composure, once again becoming that somewhat acerbic, somewhat ethereal figure. With his head bowed, he said, “Seventh Young Master, doesn’t this story of mine seem rather dull to you?”

Xu You drained the last remnants of wine from his cup and smiled. “No story is dull when told to the right person. It becomes captivating, irresistible. You truly found the right person in me to hear your tale.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered at the corner of He Ru’s lips. The more time he spent with Xu You, the more he found himself drawn in by his charisma. “But I wonder, Seventh Young Master, do you think the man in the story—can he ever fulfill his heart’s desire?”

Xu You fell silent. In truth, he had considered many possibilities at first, but never had he imagined that this passing acquaintance, whom he expected never to meet again, was actually the son of He Fangming. If one counted the ties between the He and Xu families, He Fangming and Xu Zhan were of the same generation, which meant Xu You should address He Ru as uncle.

Of course, that was assuming his story was true, with not a single detail embellished.

Xu You pondered whether he ought to part He Ru’s hair to check for the telltale scars of monkhood, but quickly realized that he had been misled by theatrical clichés. This was not a later age; Buddhist monks did not need to bear the ordination scars on their scalps. The ritual of burning incense on the crown, said to have originated in either the Song or the Yuan dynasty, was not practiced in Chu. In this land, there was no such ignorant custom of self-mutilation.

“Fenghu, what do you think? Can this man realize his wish?” Xu You finally spoke, tossing the question to Zuo Wen.

Zuo Wen was still reeling from He Ru’s seditious words, words that could have condemned three generations. Only when Xu You addressed him did he snap back to himself. After careful thought, he shook his head. “Though success lies in human effort, knowing what is right is hard; doing it is harder still. What he wishes to do, what he is preparing to do, is truly daunting.”

He Ru’s face remained expressionless, neither agreeing nor refuting, clearly unimpressed by Zuo Wen’s judgment, but refrained from retorting out of deference to Xu You.

“Difficult to know, harder to act… Fenghu, you are indeed a student of the Book of Documents,” Xu You praised, before lapsing into another brief silence.

He Ru’s downcast eyes seemed indifferent, but in truth, his focus had long since shifted from the wine flask on the table. In that instant, his breath halted completely; years of Zen practice and an unshakable heart now faltered, and his pulse began to race uncontrollably. Quietly, he waited for Xu You’s answer.

He longed to hear the words he hoped for, for to him, they were of utmost, utmost importance.

“But… are there truly difficult or easy things in this world? If you set yourself to the task, even what is hard becomes easy; if you do not, even what is easy becomes hard. In the past, in Yizhou, there were two monks, one poor and one rich. The poor monk said to the rich, ‘I wish to travel to the South Sea. What do you think?’ The rich monk asked, ‘How will you go?’ The poor monk raised his alms bowl and said, ‘With this, I have enough.’ The rich monk laughed, ‘I prepared for years, bought a boat, yet still have not gone. How could you hope to get there?’ Yet a year later, the poor monk returned from the South Sea, and the rich monk, learning of it, was deeply ashamed. Thus, we see that as long as one acts, even the hardest things become easier.”

He Ru looked up, his gaze as deep as the star-strewn sea, shining with astonished joy and a hint of disbelief. He was elated that Xu You had offered tacit support for his quest for vengeance, and incredulous, for with his learning, how could he not discern the profound philosophy and wisdom contained within such seemingly simple words?

“Seventh Young Master, your words, though plain at first hearing, reveal endless meaning upon reflection. Compared to Xunzi’s clever saying in the ‘Encouragement to Learning’—‘I have spent all day pondering, but it is not as good as a moment’s learning; I have stood on tiptoe to look afar, but it is not as good as climbing high to see broadly’—your words are equally resounding, equally enlightening! The parable of the monks, beginning with analogy and deepening to metaphor, concise yet complete, attains the same heights as Mencius’ maxim: ‘Use what you know to explain what you do not, and thus enable others to understand.’”

Such praise verged on comparing him to the sages, but Xu You would not take it seriously. With He Ru’s character, he was not one for flattery or sycophancy, but he did tend toward extremes—when something pleased him, he would overlook its flaws and extol its virtues from the heart; if not, he would ignore its merits and spare no effort in denigration.

This was why, despite twenty-five years as a monk, he spoke of Buddhism without the slightest reverence. Such a character flaw sometimes enabled him to overcome countless obstacles, but at times, it became a fatal snare, threatening to consume him entirely.

Xu You laughed. “I am known far and wide as an uncouth man of war, a boor whose family has been illiterate for three generations. I am not fit to learn at Master Xun’s side, let alone compare with Master Meng.”

He Ru scoffed. “The world is full of mediocrity—what do they know? But, to return to the point, Seventh Young Master, you have hidden your talents so well that you have deceived all under heaven. Had I not by chance witnessed your brilliance in Yixing, I too would have missed the opportunity, repenting too late.”

“Oh?” Xu You replied. “After all this time, you have yet to tell me, Master He, what drove you to insist on meeting me.”

He Ru rose, walked to the center of the room, raised both hands above his head, then knelt and bowed to the ground. “I know you remain unconvinced, and that is only natural. Let me then state my lineage anew. I am He Ru, unworthy son of the late Duke He, Grand General of the North for Chu. I pay my respects to you, Seventh Young Master!”

Xu You did not reach to help him up, but gazed down at his bowed form and sighed. “There’s no need for such ceremony. Please, rise.”

He Ru straightened and said resolutely, “Now that I have declared my identity, all I have said can serve as leverage against my life and death. If you report to the governor’s office that I am He, son of the General of the North, returned to Jiangdong with ill intent—even if I deny it, once inside the Yellowsand Prison, they will have ways to make me confess.”

Thus, he had placed his life in Xu You’s hands, and there could be no greater gesture of trust. Only now did Xu You hasten to his feet and take He Ru by the arm. “I had not imagined you truly were the General’s descendant. If I have offended you before, please do not take it to heart.”

The two sat across from each other again, but this time, their hearts were wholly changed. He Ru concealed nothing, recounting in detail how he had endured countless trials to escape from Northern Wei and return to Jiangdong, how in these five years he had experienced all manner of hardships, withholding nothing.

It turned out that, after returning to Jiangdong, He Ru parted ways with his mentor and moved alone, treading carefully in the shadows—from the halls of power to the martial world, from the capital to the provinces, from imperial princes and nobles to governors and commanders. With bloodshot eyes, he watched this empire in secret, seeking among the tangled webs for a single thread that could shake the very foundation of the An dynasty.

But how easy was that?

The emperor yet lived, his prestige shaking the world; all was at peace within and without, ruler and ministers united in purpose; the great clans held society firmly in their grasp. Alone, even if he mastered every secret of the strategists of old, what could he truly achieve?

Yet he refused to yield, ceaselessly traveling the land, openly and covertly seeking those he thought might be that “hidden one.” Through humiliation and hardship, hope and despair wove tightly through his life. Each step brought adversity, danger, and utter peril. His mission, his ambition, his bitter vendetta—all seemed to slip ever further from his grasp.

Until one day, after yet another fruitless visit to Prince Wanling in Xuancheng, he passed through Yixing. Standing at the prow of his boat, he gazed at the distant ruins of the Xu estate, burned to ashes by fire. Something stirred within him as he remembered the old friendship between the He and Xu families. Thirty years a cycle, and the Xu had come to the same end as the He. On a whim, he disembarked and came to the gate of a shabby little courtyard, watching as Xu You, his hair loose, body weak but unyielding, emerged to face the haughty retainers of the Shen family—like a mountain, like a lake.

The mountain unshaken, the water ever flowing; an uncut gem revealing a glint of brilliance amid the landscape. And so, at the very moment when he was most lost, He Ru felt the dying lamp in his heart flicker to life once more.