Chapter 72: The Weapon of Criticism (Seeking First Subscription!)

I'm ashamed to say that, over the past year, Diwu Lun hadn't once opened the works Yang Xiong valued most — the *Model Sayings* and the *Supreme Mystery* — because he focused on practical learning and simply couldn't muster any interest in abstruse theory.

It was only after Yang Xiong's funeral rites were mostly settled, when the three fellow disciples took turns keeping vigil, that Diwu Lun, during his rest, tossed and turned unable to sleep, so he simply lit a lamp, untied the cords binding the bamboo slips, and began trying to read them.

The *Model Sayings* was written by Yang Xiong in imitation of the *Analects*, similar in form to a collection of sayings, one entry after another. Diwu Lun had no idea beforehand what it contained; he had only heard Hou Ba mention that the book covered a wide range of subjects, intended as a standard for judging error and right and wrong.

Diwu Lun discovered that the very first chapter was called "On Learning and Conduct," which discussed the way of pursuing learning and being a teacher.

"The teacher! The teacher! He is the destiny of the unenlightened child. Devotion to learning is not as good as devotion to seeking a teacher. The teacher is the mold and model for men."

The teacher is the foundation that enables the still-unformed person to expel evil, turn toward goodness, and establish himself securely in life. Striving with all one's might to learn is not as good as striving with all one's might to seek a teacher, because the teacher is the model for all people.

The language was somewhat obscure, nothing like the colloquial ease and witty liveliness of the *Analects* — even though it was writing from the Spring and Autumn period, reading it two thousand years later, one could still vaguely grasp its meaning. Even if the author's name were concealed, the difference in quality would be immediately apparent. It seems the *Analects* spread far and wide while the *Model Sayings* remains little known, and not without reason.

Diwu Lun still persevered and finished reading it, and he saw how Yang Xiong stressed that a teacher must never hide anything from his disciples but should pour out all he knows. Thinking of himself, he could only sigh with emotion: "In this life I am fortunate — to have been a disciple of Master Yang."

He could see that Yang Xiong's ideals were all crystallized in the book, yet the weapon of criticism, in the end, was still far too feeble.

Reading one chapter a day was about right, but Diwu Lun still could not sleep. He had been worrying all along: what if his plan fell through — what was he to do then?

And so he drifted half-asleep, half-awake until daybreak, when the door was suddenly pounded loudly. It was Wang Long, who had come looking for him somewhat angrily and roughly shook Diwu Lun awake.

"Boyu, what is the meaning of this?"

"What has happened?"

Wang Long swept his sleeve and said: "Don't play innocent — the matter has already spread everywhere. You submitted a memorial through the State Preceptor to His Majesty, saying you wished to make up for our master's failure to complete a fu-poem, and requested to join the Boar-Rush Braves on the campaign against the Xiongnu. The Son of Heaven has already circulated the memorial among the assembled ministers — everyone knows!"

"It's been made public?" The great stone hanging in Diwu Lun's heart finally dropped. It seemed the matter was halfway to success; for the time being, they, the second and third sons born of crows, need not worry about being struck dead at any moment by pellets flying from the dark.

But Wang Long, whose mind knew only ci and fu poetry, did not grasp Diwu Lun's painstaking intentions. He merely raged: "You knew full well that our master, to his dying day, opposed the northern campaign against the Xiongnu — he even wrote a fu-essay to satirize the matter, attacking the act of exhausting the military and recklessly waging war, and only burned it afterward to avoid implicating us. How could you go against our master's dying wish and do something so disloyal to his teachings? Now everyone outside is saying, Diwu Lun is truly worthy of being Yang Xiong's disciple — just like his master, feigning purity, filial piety, and fraternal duty while in truth craving rank and merit."

"Wenshan! Hold your tongue!"

Before Diwu Lun could answer, Hou Ba walked in and silenced Wang Long, who had not slept for two days and two nights, was still sunk in grief, and had grown far too agitated.

Hou Ba, the eldest of them, already past thirty, understood better the hardships of the world: "Wenshan, the reason Boyu stepped forward was precisely to protect our master's posthumous legacy and to shield us from harm!"

Wang Long stared blankly at Diwu Lun, who only then rose and sat upright: "When I was in the commandery residence prison, I heard my brother Diba Jiao speak of how the Marquis Who Unifies Harmony, Chen Chong, hunted through the residence of the Duke Who Exalts Achievement — even a passage of prayer for blessings became, in his mouth, high treason."

"Even though our master did not hand over a single word, given the venomous methods of the Office of the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties, they could still fabricate charges at will. Our master is gone, and we are men of no rank whose words carry no weight — where could we go to cry out our grievance? The State Preceptor has little real power; he can shield us for a time, but he cannot shield us for a lifetime."

Wang Long was all right — he had his good uncle the Marquis of Qiongcheng behind him who could put in a word — but Diwu Lun and Hou Ba came from purely humble backgrounds, with no patron whatsoever. If they did not wish to be inexplicably entrapped again, they had no choice but to save themselves.

The slow-witted Wang Long still did not quite understand. Hou Ba took over: "Wenshan, do you know of Yun Chang?"

"Yun Youru of Pingling — he is a famous man in the neighboring commandery, of course I know of him!"

In his youth, this Yun Chang had studied under a man of his own county, the Erudite Wu Zhang, learning the *Book of Documents*. And Wu Zhang had taken another disciple: Wang Mang's eldest son, Wang Yu.

At the beginning of Emperor Ping of Han's reign, Wang Mang monopolized power. Wang Yu and Wu Zhang, wishing to persuade him to return governance to Emperor Ping and the outer kinsmen, splashed dog's blood before Wang Mang's gate — an act that touched Wang Mang's reverse scale. Wang Yu took his own life; Wu Zhang was executed, and his corpse was abandoned at the Eastern Market gate.

"Wu Zhang's more than a thousand disciples all changed their names and switched to studying under other masters. At the time, Yun Chang was serving as a clerk to the Grand Chancellor. He declared himself a disciple of Wu Zhang, stating that although Wu Zhang was guilty, as his disciple he could not abandon him and walk away. He then encoffined and buried Wu Zhang's corpse. At the time, the General of Chariots and Cavalry Wang Shun admired his integrity and recommended him as a Gentleman Remonstrant and Grand Master of Remonstrance."

"After the Emperor accepted the abdication and established the new dynasty, he rather admired Yun Chang's reverence for his teacher and his devotion to the Way, and promoted him again to be Grand Governor of Lu Commandery."

Hou Ba said: "In my view, Boyu's action is precisely an imitation of Yun Chang — advancing in order to retreat."

He put it somewhat strainedly, but "advancing in order to retreat" was exactly right. Diwu Lun nodded: "Correct. I did it to make a show of my stance to the Emperor. Although the State Preceptor has been unwilling to stir up trouble lately, submitting a memorial through him can reach the ears of Heaven directly."

Before the other side could smear them, he would first declare his stance on behalf of the deceased Yang Xiong and himself.

As for whether it would succeed or not, Diwu Lun had had no certainty beforehand; fortunately, as things now stood, his gamble had paid off.

"Now that the Son of Heaven has made this memorial public, on the one hand he is pleased that someone has volunteered, and on the other, he is also warning the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties that this matter ends here. Wenshan, Gongfu — you are safe now. And our master, at least, need not have charges fabricated against him after his death."

"As for the idle gossip of outsiders, let them talk." Diwu Lun shook his head. The persona he had crafted and the reputation he had courted would not collapse because of this one matter. Besides, what the people of Chang'an — ever forgetful and smooth, always siding with whoever won — thought truly did not matter. Holding the turf of Liewei was enough.

Moreover, Diwu Lun's aim went beyond merely seeking safety.

Wang Long suddenly saw the light. Ashamed, he prostrated himself and knocked his head on the ground: "In my dullness, I misunderstood Boyu. I am guilty."

Diwu Lun helped him up: "Our master is no longer here. From now on, the three of us must unite heart and mind to get through these hard times together."

He added jokingly: "For instance, the enormous sum needed to return him for burial in Shu Commandery — we'll still have to rely on Wenshan for that."

In that age, people placed great store on returning fallen leaves to the root. Back when Yang Xiong's two sons had died of illness one after the other, in order to send them back to the ancestral graves in their home of Shu Commandery for burial, he had exhausted the fifty bolts of silk and ten jin of gold bestowed by Emperor Ai of Han — which shows how ruinously expensive it was.

Diwu Lun's household was small and modest, and he had also shouldered a round of property taxes for his fellow villagers; he had no surplus left. Hou Ba, a man from elsewhere who had come to Chang'an to study, also had little in the way of savings — even if you emptied him out, he could not produce that much coin and silk.

Fortunately, Wang Long's family was filthy rich. Though he was no good at devising plans, he was exceedingly open-handed and generous with his own people. He had long since pounded his chest and guaranteed that he would cover the entire expense of sending Yang Xiong home for burial!

Diwu Lun took over from the long-sleepless Wang Long and returned once more to the mourning hall. Today was the last day of the vigil; tomorrow they could carry out the coffin and begin the journey south into Shu. Everyone who was going to come pay condolences had already come and gone; today, at least, they would not have to keep wailing and leaping until the tips of their toes ached fiercely.

In the hall, curtains and drapes were set out, and dried meat, meat paste, and sweet wine were offered in sacrifice to Yang Xiong; the offerings were placed to the east of the coffin. Under the eaves on the western steps hung black mourning banners — unlike the plain white of later ages, these were joined together in alternating black and red.

Bowing again toward Yang Xiong's spirit tablet, Diwu Lun said softly: "Is it to cast aside some of one's original intentions, to keep climbing upward, and to seek power in order to protect oneself?"

"Or is it to remain silently in place, guarding 'purity and stillness,' trampled underfoot by others, never knowing if one will last from dawn to dusk?"

"Master, do you still remember when you once asked me, between the State Preceptor's path and your own, which I would choose?"

Diwu Lun had once put himself in Wang Mang's shoes, trying to view this inexplicable war from his perspective.

"This is a Hua-Xia supremacist."

"And even more, a paranoid obsessive."

"Things he has planned must be accomplished, regardless of whether they are realistic or not. He will even deceive himself: the reason the realm has not yet achieved Great Peace is because this one thing I have not yet completed; once it is done, everything will be restored to how it was at the beginning."

Starting a decade ago, Wang Mang's reforms had been interlocked ring by ring: restoring the Three Harmony Halls, making royal fields private property, planning the well-field system, currency reform, the Five Equalizations and Six Monopolies, subduing the four barbarian quarters... The ultimate goal was to attain a perfect age of Great Peace, where the barbarians and distant peoples would advance to receive noble titles, and all under Heaven, far and near, great and small, would be as one.

Beneath the veneer of restoring antiquity lay a burning ambition to surpass the House of Han in both civil governance and martial achievement, to prove that he himself was the true Son of Heaven, the sage who emerges once every five hundred years after Confucius!

But the problem was, he was far too impatient. He paid no heed to whether the previous undertaking had succeeded or not; the moment its appointed time arrived, the next matter had to be mounted immediately. Thus, the more policies there were, the more chaotic the world became — and so they had arrived at the present state of affairs.

In Diwu Lun's view, on the matter of the punitive expedition against the Xiongnu, Wang Mang was in fact deeply conflicted. The situation of troubles within and without was plain for all to see; apart from himself, no one truly wished to go to war with the Xiongnu.

After all, this was a case where, just when the other side was seeking peace, he suddenly installed the Xiongnu envoy as a new Chanyu and brazenly commenced hostilities. It was akin to a foreign ambassador arriving on a visit, and you detaining him outright and declaring that you were setting up a rival government for his neighboring country — apart from Wang Mang, truly few people could pull such a thing off.

A decade ago, twelve route armies, three hundred thousand men, had mobilized for the front, only to end in nothing without even leaving the border fortresses — the lesson was still before their eyes. So this time, apart from a minority like the Grand Minister of Works Wang Yi who advocated war, most ministers, even if they dared not oppose it, maintained their silence. As for voices from the middle and lower ranks, they were utterly absent.

Diwu Lun thus pondered: "If I were Wang Mang, having obstinately gone through with this matter, I would surely wish to hear some sounds of praise, to prove that I am in the right."

That was why Wang Mang, heeding Chen Chong's words, had ordered Yang Xiong to compose a fu-poem.

What he wanted was not a fu-poem, but sounds of support and approval from someone other than his trusted sycophants.

Yang Xiong died without ever handing over his writings. If at this moment someone were to volunteer for the campaign — and a young scholar of considerable renown among the common people at that — would Wang Mang be pleased or angered?

And so Diwu Lun decided to gamble.

There was precedent for such things. Several years earlier, a great famine struck the northern border regions; people ate one another, yet a large army remained stationed at the frontier. A court grandee, sent to inspect, reported back: "The troops have long endured the hardship of garrison duty on the frontier, and the border commanderies have nothing with which to support them. Now that the Chanyu has newly made peace, it would be fitting to take this opportunity to withdraw the troops."

When the whole court favored a ceasefire, one Colonel, Han Wei, went against the tide and submitted a memorial to Wang Mang: "For the majesty of the Xin to swallow the barbarian caitiffs is no different from swallowing a flea in one's mouth. Your servant desires five thousand brave men. We shall carry no provisions; when hungry we will eat the caitiffs' flesh, when thirsty we will drink their blood, and we shall sweep all before us!"

This was, of course, wild boasting, but Wang Mang, impressed by the boldness of his words, promoted Han Wei to General.

If Han Wei could do a thing like that, why could Diwu Lun not?

As it happened, Diwu Lun's development back in his home region had also hit a bottleneck. The clan had been consolidated, enterprises set in motion, hearts won over, grain steadily stockpiled — but the most crucial matter, drilling troops, had long shown no sign of progress.

Drilling the family's young men in arms right in the environs of the capital — did he take the Emperor and the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties for blind men? Even preparing against bandits hardly required organizing a force of over a thousand.

In the past he had always advanced by retreating — resigning from office whenever a matter hung in the balance — but this time he could not simply sit and wait for death. Better to take the initiative and step forward.

Diwu Lun did not aspire to win a general's rank as Han Wei had; even a minor post as Company Commander, leading two hundred men, he would accept.

If he could rise through the ranks, he would gain control of an armed force.

If he could not rise, that would be fine too.

After all, with a great famine along the border, the people's hearts estranged, the troops lacking any will to fight, rewards and punishments meted out unfairly, and even money and grain having to be squeezed from the common folk — with what were they supposed to go fight the Xiongnu? This expedition would most likely be a mere show of force, nothing more than trudging to the frontier to garrison and endure bitter hardship.

"Two hundred years ago, Chen Sheng and Wu Guang raised their banner at Daze Village, and Han Gao, Liu Bang, cut down the serpent at Mangdang Mountain. With how many men did they first rise up? Their status and station were mere commoner-folk, petty Platoon Commanders, Precinct Chiefs — were they any higher than I am now?"

Give Diwu Lun but one chance, and when the moment was right, he would repay Wang Mang and Chen Chong with a garrison soldier's cry, a rising at Hangu!

He would show them what a goddamn surprise really meant!

"Master, this is the path I have chosen."

Diwu Lun fixed his gaze on Yang Xiong's coffin and swore a silent oath in his heart.

What he had witnessed this past year had made it clear: the Xin Dynasty was a rotten hulk, decayed to the very bone, liable to sink any day. In the course of climbing upward, even if by luck one evaded political purges and stood atop the flagpole, if one bound oneself too tightly to it, in the end one would only capsize along with it. Therefore, the path of Liu Xin — Diwu Lun would not take it.

Yet doing nothing, hiding away in the mountains and forests as a recluse, or, like Yang Xiong, burying oneself among the marketplace to seek quiet — that would not do either. The wheel of the age rolls inexorably on; no one can stand apart from it. Therefore, the way of Yang Xiong — Diwu Lun would not repeat it.

"If I wish to avenge you, if I wish to overturn heaven and change the earth, can it be done by relying on the *Model Sayings* and the *Supreme Mystery* alone?"

"Passing those on is the task of Hou Ba and Wang Long. As for me — I will use a language that Chen Chong understands to hold discourse with him!"

The weapon of criticism, of course, can never replace criticism by weapons.

Material force can only be destroyed by material force!

Just then, a loud call rang out from beyond the gate.

"By the Son of Heaven's command, the Grandee of Music, Huan Tan, comes to offer condolences for the late Grandee Ziyun!"

…

According to ritual propriety, when the sovereign sends an envoy to offer condolences, the mourning-hall curtains must be drawn aside. Diwu Lun, Wang Long, Hou Ba, and the others bustled about to set everything in order, then went out to the funeral-chamber gate to receive him. Sure enough, there stood Huan Tan, his face solemn, conveying the sovereign's command to them.

The content of the edict was that the Emperor, pitying Yang Xiong's long service in old age, had decided to restore Yang Xiong to the post of "Palace Attendant Grandee," and had dispatched Huan Tan to offer condolences on the Emperor's behalf, bestowing one set of burial garments and coverlets, sacrificing with the middle lao offering, and granting one hundred thousand cash for funeral expenses.

The three disciples wept, prostrated themselves, knocked their heads, and leapt in ritual grief, but Diwu Lun was somewhat baffled. What was Wang Mang's meaning, suddenly pulling a move like this?

When he rose and looked toward Huan Tan, Huan Tan was also staring at Diwu Lun with a puzzled expression.

Diwu Lun understood in a flash.

This was most likely the result of Huan Tan, in his own way, trying to safeguard Yang Xiong and his three disciples by petitioning Wang Mang. Who knew what Huan Tan had said? That the Son of Heaven sent an envoy to offer condolences essentially meant that the earlier matter would not be pursued further.

But even if Wang Mang did not pursue the matter with Yang Xiong, Diwu Lun would still pursue it with Wang Mang!

In sum, this was a case where, without Huan Tan and Diwu Lun communicating, each had made his own effort, and the two actions collided — a bit of wasted effort, one might say.

Incidentally, it also disrupted Diwu Lun's wish to submit his memorial to join the army and quickly gain some military authority.

Then they heard Huan Tan change to another sheet of silk and read aloud: "Ritual has three foundations: Heaven and Earth are the foundation of life; ancestors are the foundation of kindred; the sovereign and the teacher are the foundation of order."

"We know that Diwu Lun's heart is fervent to serve the state, yet the duty to one's teacher is paramount. You are permitted first to escort your teacher's coffin back to Shu for burial. It will not be too late to report for military duty by the first month of the first year of Dihuang."

Diwu Lun still did not understand, until Huan Tan entered the chamber, paid his respects once more before Yang Xiong, and said in a low voice: "When His Majesty saw the memorial, he was greatly comforted. He had it circulated in the palace, and even sent a copy to the office of the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties. Yet he still wishes you to fulfill a disciple's filial duty. Go quickly and return quickly — let neither matter be delayed."

Seeing that Diwu Lun still wore a look of astonishment, Huan Tan sighed and said, "Do you find it strange?"

Diwu Lun nodded. It was quite strange. Was this Wang Mang's way of doing things?

Huan Tan said with feeling, "His Majesty is that sort of man. Boyu, whether you believe it or not, in certain matters, he truly is a 'good man.'"

A good man who killed his own sons and grandsons and reduced the realm to utter misery? Diwu Lun neither agreed nor disagreed; he merely felt it was the cat weeping over the mouse — sham compassion. He lowered his head and said, "It sounds as though Grandee Huan understands the present Son of Heaven very well."

"Naturally," Huan Tan said, lost in melancholy. "After all, I lived through the reigns of Cheng and Ai, and I know the degradation of the Han's final age. I also witnessed how he, with the bearing of a sage, ascended to the imperial throne."

Huan Tan, in truth, was also full of questions. He very much wanted to ask Diwu Lun properly: why, without any apparent reason, did he want to join the army and leap into that deep pit of the northern expedition? But there was no hurry. Over the next two months, he would have ample time to spend with this young man — despite the fact that they had never quite gotten along.

"On this journey into Shu, I shall go with you all."

Without even asking Diwu Lun whether he was willing or not, Huan Tan clapped him on the shoulder and declared shamelessly:

"Don't stand on ceremony. Ziyun's disciples are my disciples!"

…

PS: Chapter 2 coming shortly.