Wang Xizhi slapped the table in indignant frustration. "What is to be done? What can possibly be done?"
Beside him, Xi Yin was at a loss for words, unsure how to comfort him. Below them, several older sons of the Wang household were equally at a loss, doing nothing but exchanging helpless glances. Xi Chao turned his back on his uncle by marriage and his father, glancing sidelong toward the courtyard outside as if deaf to it all.
Liu Cheng, however, looked remarkably dutiful. Stepping forward with hands clasped in salute, he said, "Why must Your Excellency torment yourself over the overall situation? As the saying goes, 'High in the halls of court, one worries for the people; far in the wilds of rivers and lakes, one worries for the sovereign.' Your Excellency currently resides in Kuaiji without holding any official post. It is not that you cannot feel sorrow and indignation—indeed, if one showed no concern at all, indulging solely in pure talk while turning a blind eye to the suffering of millions of souls, that would be self-abandonment, no different from rotten wood and decaying grass. Yet to agonize over matters beyond your power is utterly futile. In my humble view, if Your Excellency truly wishes to do something, do not fret over the success or failure of the Northern Expedition—such affairs are truly out of reach. But in upholding solidarity—in those four words—you can still exert yourself to the utmost."
Upon hearing this, Wang Xizhi was visibly shaken, a flicker of hope rising within him. Yet his reaction was rather strange: he did not look at Liu Cheng, who had spoken to him repeatedly, but instead turned his head to ask Xi Yin, "Far away in Kuaiji, can we truly uphold solidarity in the imperial court?"
Xi Yin started to speak, then hesitated, finally raising a hand toward Liu Cheng. "A-Cheng, you tell him."
"Of course we can." Liu Cheng showed no offense at Wang Xizhi's peculiar manner of responding, assuming the man simply prided himself on his noble lineage and disdained speaking directly to someone of his station. But then, the primary reason he had come to Kuaiji was to overcome just such contempt, so he remained perfectly composed. "Here in Kuaiji, reclusive men of renown gather in numbers. And the famed gentlemen of our dynasty, especially since the southward crossing, have always differed from those of past eras: first, they all hail from prestigious clans; second, they move freely between private life and official careers. Since Your Excellency is the leader of Kuaiji's literati, why not gather the prominent scholars around Kuaiji in the coming year, when spring warms and flowers bloom at the Shangsi Festival, to perform a lustration ritual?
"When the time comes, young and old will gather, all worthy men assembling together. Beyond looking up to contemplate the universe and looking down to examine the myriad categories of things, everyone can pray for blessings for the state. Once the gathering concludes, you can have eloquent gentlemen pen several letters to General Huan the Western Campaigner, Governor Yin of Yangzhou, and even the Prince of Kuaiji, urging them to unite as one—signed jointly by all the assembled luminaries to demonstrate the will of the people."
Wang Xizhi stroked his beard in silence, clearly swayed.
Just as Xi Chao was about to speak, his father sitting behind him grew impatient. "A-Cheng, what forms did the lustration rituals take in the north? Does northern Daoism have corresponding Jiao rituals for them?"
"Of course," Liu Cheng replied with an air of dignified confidence, oblivious to Xi Jiabin's slightly appalled gaze. "As far as I know, spring lustrations are divided into private and public rites. Private lustrations focus mainly on floating wine cups along winding waters, composing poetry, and painting..."
"That is correct," Wang Xizhi finally chimed in, directly addressing the youth. "That is the tradition passed down from the Golden Valley Garden of old—floating wine cups down winding waters to compile an anthology of poems. Even without this, I have long wanted to host such an occasion."
"And what of public lustrations?" Xi Yin pressed on.
"Public lustrations take place by great rivers and lakes, with people perfuming themselves and bathing, while Daoist masters perform grand Jiao rituals to pray for heaven's blessings. Afterward, the common folk race dragon boats, and I recall there is even a ceremony where garlands of flowers are bestowed upon gentry and commoners alike... For this, we must have Preceptor Lu arrive as soon as possible." Liu Cheng rattled off the fabrication without missing a beat.
In truth, he had already inquired in the kitchen: lustration rituals were a customary routine, consisting of bathing on the third day of the third lunar month during the Shangsi Festival to dispel illness, pray for children, and the like. But that legendary gathering where "all worthy men assembled, young and old gathered together, floating cups along winding streams, seated in orderly ranks"—Wang Xizhi had never actually done that up to this point.
It was currently the fifth year of Yonghe, soon to be the sixth. There were still three or four years before that glorious occasion that Wang Xizhi would record with such profound emotion!
Liu Cheng did not care about butterfly effects or ruining history. Every waking moment he burned to climb higher. He could not afford to wait—he still had fortified manors to build, high offices to attain, and a Northern Expedition to launch! Compared to his peers, he did not even have a wife yet!
"If that is the case, A-Cheng, let me ask you," Xi Yin continued to question relentlessly, seeming like an entirely different person compared to when they were discussing the strategic landscape of the Northern Expedition. "In a public lustration, does performing a grand Jiao ritual to pray for the state truly work?"
"It is bound to work," Liu Cheng said with a dry chuckle, continuing his bold fabrication. "Though the effects may not immediately manifest. Duke Xi, think about it: when ordinary people pray for blessings for their own households using every ritual available, heaven weighs their everyday virtues and vices and the completeness of the rites. How much more so when praying for an entire state? If the whole nation were of one mind, joining together in the ceremony, it would certainly succeed. But for us, the people of a single commandery, or even just one city, what can our best efforts achieve on their own? Not to mention that northern refugees harbor resentment against the state. The waxing of one force and the waning of another—that is precisely the essence of the lustration ritual."
Xi Yin looked visibly perplexed, likely wondering why they should bother with a grand Jiao ritual if it yielded no obvious results.
"Stated in this way, it is precisely having an effect," Wang Xizhi suddenly interjected. "What is a lustration ritual? Is it not the expelling of accumulated illness and misfortune from the human body? And conducting a public lustration for the state is precisely to eliminate the ill omens accumulated by popular resentment. As the sages of old said, 'The great affairs of state are warfare and sacrifice.' This shows the vital importance of sacrificial rites, so a public lustration is entirely correct! And consider how cruel and tyrannical the Jie barbarians were in the north, yet they did not collapse completely until Shi Hu died—was that not because they took warfare and sacrifice quite seriously in daily life?"
Liu Cheng kept his mouth shut.
"Is that so?" Xi Yin asked, palpably surprised, turning his gaze back to Liu Cheng.
"Indeed it is," Liu Cheng answered, standing tall and unperturbed. "Not only that, but even if the public benefits of a public lustration are not immediately apparent, the private benefits are quite pronounced. Praying for the state and bestowing charity upon the people, conveyed to heaven through the Daoist grand Jiao ritual, will naturally bring down karmic blessings upon one's descendants. As the Daoist saying goes, 'Those who inherit precede; those who bear the burden follow,' and the Buddhist doctrine of the 'three retributions' holds the same principle."
Xi Yin and Wang Xizhi both tilted their heads back on the couch, deeply stirred yet seemingly somewhat puzzled.
Liu Cheng felt not the slightest pang of guilt about this. Having been here for several days, how could he not know how these people operated? Take Xi Yin, for instance: while in office, he had amassed vast wealth, accumulating more money at home than he could ever spend. If a public sacrificial gathering could coax him into parting with some of it, then frankly, it was an act of great charity.
And it was not just Xi Yin. Famed gentlemen large and small—the likes of Wang Shu and Sun Chuo—amassed wealth whenever they could, openly plundering public granaries and seizing land. Corruption on a scale that would be considered appalling two hundred years earlier, two hundred years later, or in future generations was treated as natural and commonplace in this era.
Was tricking money out of these people not doing good?
Even if Wang Xizhi's household joined in, at the very least the bondservants below would get an extra meal of goose meat, wouldn't they?
"I know the Daoist doctrine of 'inheriting from the past and bearing burdens for the future,' but what is the Buddhist 'Treatise on the Three Types of Retribution'?" Xi Chao's focus, as always, was peculiar.
"Can it be that Jiabin does not know?" Liu Cheng replied earnestly. "Just like 'emptiness is form, and form is emptiness,' it is the most basic tenet of Buddhism. The three types of retribution explain that good, evil, fortune, and misfortune are not limited to retribution in this present life—there is retribution in the next life, and retribution in subsequent rebirths. Surely you are familiar with the Buddhist doctrine of reincarnation?"
Xi Chao froze in shock, while Xi Yin and Wang Xizhi were equally astonished before a look of understanding dawned on them.
In truth, Liu Cheng was oblivious to the historical context.
What he did not know was that the systematic formulation of the *Treatise on the Three Types of Retribution* in history was actually connected to this very fellow, Xi Chao. Xi Chao harbored an obvious rebellious streak against his father: his father was stingy, so he was lavish. Later in life, he frequently built grand houses in Shan County for renowned scholars free of charge. Among them was Dai Kui, a gentleman rooted in Confucian learning who was exceptionally skilled in painting, architecture, and sculpture; sponsored by Xi Chao, he resided in Shan County and had extensive dealings with Buddhist circles through building Buddhist statues and temples.
In the process, because Dai Kui's foundation was Confucian learning, he grew disdainful of Buddhist karmic retribution. He felt it was a fine notion for encouraging virtue, but hardly true in reality, as everyday life saw far too many wicked men go unpunished while good men suffered misfortune.
Consequently, Monk Huiyuan, the first patriarch of the Pure Land school who had recently crossed south, penned the *Treatise on the Three Types of Retribution* specifically to perfect the Buddhist theory of karmic retribution in response.
In other words, the doctrinal foundation for the three retributions was already well established by this period, and similar notions abounded among the common folk and in Buddhist and Daoist teachings, but it had not yet been systematically articulated.
Liu Cheng's words had hit the beat perfectly. These southern gentlemen had no reason to doubt him; they merely assumed that many teachings from the north had not yet spread south.
"What a pity!" Xi Yin sighed. "If so, a public lustration could indeed be performed... But the Shangsi Festival lasts only a single day. If we perform a public lustration, it will interfere with the private one; if we perform a private one, it will interfere with the public one."
"Indeed," Wang Xizhi lamented. "To be frank with you, Fanghui, your elder brother wants to do both."
"Has Preceptor Lu still not arrived?" Xi Yin asked, growing visibly anxious once again.
"If he is willing to come, he certainly will not miss the Shangsi Festival," Liu Cheng could only reply. "Besides, we have already sent for him."
Xi Yin could only sigh in frustration.
At this point, Xi Chao could bear it no longer. Grabbing Liu Cheng, he pulled him outside toward the courtyard where the geese were kept. Only under the cover of the honking geese did he demand, "Out of everything you said, what was true and what was false?"
"The rituals of public and private lustrations were fake, but the authorities cited are real... and the hopes are real too," Liu Cheng answered candidly. "If the state can achieve even a fraction of solidarity, allowing a few more people in the Central Plains to survive, that is always a good thing. Of course, beyond that, my first goal is to elevate Lu Song, and my second is that I wish to participate in such an event to make a name for myself. Well, Jiabin, which part bothers you?"
"None of it," Xi Chao said honestly. "If it bothered me, I would have had you beaten to death back at Master Shen's temple... What I want to ask is, is the doctrine of the three retributions truly common knowledge among Buddhists in the north?"
"Naturally." Liu Cheng was baffled. In his view, the three retributions were basic Buddhist knowledge. Even if the southern realm lacked the term for now, once he uttered it, monks would surely step forward to defend it, so he had nothing to fear. "Is there something improper about the three retributions?"
"It is not improper—it is too proper," Xi Chao said solemnly. "Yet among the eminent monks I normally meet in Kuaiji, not one has ever mentioned it to me. If they knew, there is no reason they would withhold it. Look, even my uncle and my father clearly knew nothing of it."
*So you really believe in this stuff?* Liu Cheng was rendered speechless for a moment, though he could hardly say it aloud.
"Let me ask you another thing," Xi Chao pressed, his expression growing even graver. "'Emptiness is form, and form is emptiness'—is that also common knowledge in the north?"
"That is the very cornerstone of Buddhism," Liu Cheng replied, completely exasperated now.
In reality, ignorant of technical details as he might be, he knew that this was not merely a Buddhist foundation, but the single most prominent philosophical contribution of medieval South Asia. How could Buddhism lack it? Even if it had not spread south yet, the theoretical groundwork was there, and no one would deny it.
Besides, the first time they met, hadn't Xi Jiabin himself used it as a defense?
"As I recall, when we first met, didn't you mention that form is emptiness?" Thinking of this, Liu Cheng finally frowned and countered.
"No, no, no," Xi Chao slowly shook his head. "What I said that day was... form is emptiness, yet not an annihilating emptiness!"
"What does that mean? What do you mean by 'not an annihilating emptiness'?" Liu Cheng was momentarily bewildered.
"It means that form is essentially emptiness, but one cannot blindly pursue emptiness or completely deny form... form has its own reason," Xi Chao explained earnestly. "One need not destroy form to realize emptiness."
Liu Cheng suddenly chuckled.
"What are you laughing at?" Xi Chao broke into goosebumps.
"Jiabin, I have no intention of questioning your faith. Take me, for instance: if you ask whether I believe in the Daoist Patriarch or the Buddha, or whether there is something unseen in the void, I would hardly dare debate it," Liu Cheng said seriously. "However, regarding this idea of demonstrating that form is emptiness without relinquishing form—with your intelligence, do you truly not understand the reasoning behind it?"
Xi Chao stared at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to continue.
"Back when I was at Master Xie of East Mountain's estate, because I hailed from Qiao Commandery, he had me speak on the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove..." Liu Cheng recounted the earlier episode. "At the time, I merely passed the test by being cautious. Only after arriving at your household and taking the opportunity to read did I realize what was going on. Was it not because Ji Kang stood head and shoulders above the others among the Seven Sages, yet in the end it was Wang Rong who triumphed? Today, every famed gentleman imitates Wang Rong: they want fame, they want profit, they want to enjoy luxury, they want to dominate public opinion, they want leisure and ease, and at the same time they want high office—where mysterious learning must not interfere with Confucian learning. In other words, today's great clans want everything."
Xi Chao parted his lips, but made no sound.
Seeing this, Liu Cheng did not dwell on emptiness and form, but turned instead to Daoism, which Xi Chao despised: "Think about the historical records: back during the Han dynasties, cultivating the Dao meant living in seclusion in mountains and forests, separated from the mortal world, having nothing to do with official service. But after the southward crossing, who knows who started it, the Daoists themselves here in Jiangzuo amended their doctrine: holding office did not hinder Daoist cultivation, and one could achieve immortality while serving in government. Thus Daoism won the favor of the great families and flourished across the land... Am I right?"
Astute as Xi Jiabin was, he merely waved his hand to stop Liu Cheng from speaking further.
Liu Cheng stopped there, having no intention of pressing the matter. Clearly, no matter how much Xi Chao was likened to "an ancient legacy of love," he could hardly remain detached when forced to confront doubts about his own beliefs.
On the contrary, with Xi Jiabin's sharp mind, he must have realized the possibility immediately, perhaps even while still in the hall: this notion of "realizing emptiness without destroying form" was nothing more than an adjusted theory crafted by monks who had fled south to pander to these aristocratic clans who wanted everything. Yet at the same time, with the youth's pride, he was loath to admit that he had fallen into a religious trap designed to flatter men like him.
It was just as foolish as his father's superstitious devotion to Daoism!
Indeed, over the past few days, Liu Cheng had more or less figured it out.
Or rather, few people in the world could escape a similar destiny: a person's behavioral traits are often shaped in youth through imitation of and rebellion against their fathers.
Xi Chao was human after all. Brilliant though he was, his personality was painfully straightforward: his father was so foolish, yet his father also genuinely loved him. Caught between an inescapable bond, intense dissatisfaction, and genuine affection, what else could he do?
And so: you fawn over Daoism, so I study Buddhism.
You hoard wealth, so I spend lavishly.
You harbor thoughts of retiring to end your days, so I fix my gaze on state affairs and northern developments.
You deal in vague abstractions and muddled thoughts, so I remain practical and sharp.
Even more: your generation was looked down upon by your brother-in-law's family, so I will look down on my cousins.
And what's more, everything I do is for your own good. I can make our clan flourish far better than you can; I will prove to you that I am in the right!
It was as simple as that.
Thus, Liu Cheng had no desire to debate Buddhist tricks with him any further. Let him figure it out for himself.
Even young Werther had his sorrows—did Xi Jiabin think his teenage years of "unsurpassed virtue" were exempt?
This gathering at the end of the twelfth lunar month was nothing out of the ordinary, merely a routine family visit. For these two families, they were each other's only respectable relatives in Kuaiji, so it would have been stranger if they hadn't visited.
After gathering for two or three days, before the New Year festival, the Xi family returned to their estate in Shan County.
There, Liu Cheng was astonished to discover that Lu Song and Tall Liu had already arrived the day before.
Such speed... There was no need for Xi Yin to press him at all; clearly, certain people were impatient on their own accord.
"Brother A-Cheng, great kindness needs no words of thanks," Lu Song said in the guest quarters, dressed in a crimson cloak, bowing deeply to the floor. "This benevolence will be engraved on my heart."
"Brother Song," Liu Cheng said, having rushed over the moment he heard the news, feeling completely exasperated. "Haste makes waste. At this speed, did you visit Master Du in Qiantang? Did you visit Preceptor Xu and the others in Shanyin? When I went to Shanyin this time, even I knew to carve out half a day to take fragrant tea with Preceptor Xu... How could you be in such a hurry and come straight here?"
"Indeed," Lu Song said, startled into realization. "What should I do then? Xi Linhai surely knows I arrived first. Will he look down on me...?"
"It is not too late to mend the fold after sheep are lost," Liu Cheng quickly advised. "When you see Duke Xi shortly, tell him only that you were moved by his warm invitation and worried that his body had not yet recovered from ingesting talismans, so you came first to check on him and draw a talisman for him. Then take your leave immediately without lingering, heading straight to Master Du's residence in Qiantang. Master Du's sons are good-for-nothings; I will speak to Xi Jiabin shortly to have him provide you with gifts and money so you can bribe Master Du's sons. As long as you have Master Du's backing, things here will be settled. As for Shanyin, the matters among those preceptors are things you understand better than I do, so I won't get involved."
Lu Song bowed repeatedly with clasped hands, just about to speak, when footsteps mingled with the clatter of wooden clogs sounded outside.
Then a voice called from afar: "Is Preceptor Lu from the north present?! Xi Yin, a junior in the Daoist fold, is here!"
It turned out Xi Yin had heard of his arrival and come to the guest quarters in person to greet him.
"That is Duke Xi. Remember: do not linger, and do not demean yourself. Simply express concern for his health, worrying that his Daoist techniques are not refined enough, thereby harming his foundation and obstructing his path of cultivation." With that, Liu Cheng pushed him out the door. "Whatever he asks, you know it all, but you must leave now to pay respects to Master Du."
Once the clamor rose outside, Liu Cheng stepped out with head bowed, standing with hands tucked in his sleeves with a smile in a corner of the corridor beneath Xi Jiabin's strange gaze, looking for all the world as if he had just heard news of his northern friend Lu Song and merely followed along to arrive here.
***
The monk Master Zhu, a native of Kuaiji, had very close ties with Wang Tanzhi, Leader of the Court Gentlemen of the Northern Army of the Jin dynasty. Often discussing the mysteries of life, death, sin, blessing, and karmic retribution, they made a pact that whichever of them died first should return to inform the other.
Years later, Wang suddenly saw the Dharma Master appear in a temple, saying, "This poor monk passed away on such-and-such day of such-and-such month. Retribution for sin and blessing is by no means empty, answering as shadow follows form and echo follows sound. Benefactor, you should diligently cultivate virtue so as to ascend to the divine. Having made a pact with you to inform whoever survived, I have come to tell you." Having spoken, he vanished into thin air.
Wang Tanzhi died soon after.
—*Soushen Houji*, expanded and revised by Tao Qian of the Qi dynasty.
Chapter 44