Chapter 516: Parting the Clouds to See the Sun

The small traveling palace on the summit of Mount Tai could only accommodate the emperor, the Chancellor, and the Nine Ministers; everyone else had to wait outside, huddled around the bonfires.

Heifu, carrying a wineskin, searched for a while before finding Zhang Cang huddled and shivering behind the traveling palace. Zhang Cang's words today had been a deafening wake-up call, yet the assembled ministers treated them like floods and savage beasts. Even his senior fellow disciple Li Si had rebuked him, and in the end the emperor had impatiently driven him away. Though no crime was fixed and no punishment meted out, the cold disdain was already plain. Now he sat watching the rain, brows furrowed in thought.

"It's cold on the mountain. Have some wine to warm yourself."

Heifu handed him the wine and added with a smile, "What you're thinking now — could it be, 'All the world is muddy, I alone am clear; the multitude are drunk, I alone am sober'?"

"I wouldn't dare."

Wrapped in a woolen blanket, Zhang Cang took a sip of wine and looked up at Heifu. "Do you also believe this rain is Heaven's will?"

Heifu said, "I don't think so. I also believe that sunrise and sunset, wind and rain arriving without fixed schedule, are in themselves natural laws. They do not exist for a Yao nor perish for a Jie — what connection do they have to Heaven–man resonance?"

Unlike his earlier agreement with the alchemists in front of Qin Shi Huang, Heifu had not wasted all those years of political lessons. He believed in materialism from the bottom of his heart; even the matter of his transmigration, he held, could be explained by science.

"You mean — what I said was not wrong?" Zhang Cang was somewhat moved; Heifu was the first person to stand up and endorse him.

"Of course I believe it. Zihu, do you still remember how the last section of Xunzi's 'Discourse on Heaven' goes?"

"I remember — it's my favorite chapter. I can recite every word!"

Though the disciples of the Xun school all came from the same master, each had a different emphasis. Li Si stressed the arts of the sovereign; Han Fei stressed Laozi and forms-and-names; Fu Qiubo inherited the more Confucian-leaning part of Xunzi. Zhang Cang, for his part, studied a great miscellany, but what he loved most were still mathematics and calendrical science. Correspondingly, he had delved deeply into the "Discourse on Heaven," which explores the laws by which the world operates.

Zhang Cang wiped the water from his face. He wanted to recite aloud, but fearing it would draw others, he could only chant in a suppressed, low voice:

"To exalt Heaven and ponder it — how does that compare with treating it as a thing and mastering it! To obey Heaven and sing hymns to it — how does that compare with seizing Heaven's mandate and using it! To gaze at the seasons and wait for them — how does that compare with responding to the seasons and employing them! To let things multiply on their own — how does that compare with unleashing one's ability and transforming them!"

Heifu struck the rhythm in admiration. "Well said! Human effort decides all. To abandon the striving of human effort and instead pin one's hopes on blessings bestowed by Heaven — that goes against the very principles of the myriad things!"

This line of thought from Xunzi was no longer merely primitive, plain materialism; it had risen to the level of dialectics! He was not simply criticizing prayer and superstitious customs, but constantly stressing human subjective initiative. Translated, wasn't this exactly "understanding the world" and "transforming the world"?

In this age of benighted superstition, Xunzi's thought blazed as dazzlingly as a lightning bolt tearing through the night sky! He truly deserved to be called the great synthesizer of the Hundred Schools of Thought!

After his praise, Heifu sighed and said, "Zihu, I truly envy you for having met such an excellent teacher. It's a pity that Xunzi has already passed away; I can never go to Lanling to hear his lectures, nor have the chance to enter his school…"

"Though the Master has passed, the learning he left behind is not extinguished."

Encouraged, Zhang Cang clenched his teeth and said, "I know that speaking these words today on the summit of Mount Tai spoiled His Majesty's mood for the feng and shan sacrifices and the quest for immortality — it was truly ill-timed. But even if these principles are not understood by His Majesty and the various lords, and even if Chancellor Li no longer brings them up, I, Zhang Cang, will not cast them aside! I am determined to carry them forward and make them flourish!"

"How difficult that will be."

Heifu, however, shook his head. "Though Xunzi's words are true insight, in this world, those who believe them are few and far between."

The common people went without saying; the thinking of ordinary folk in society still lagged far behind the heights reached by the elite. Every member of Heifu's own household was thoroughly convinced of gods and spirits; his mother had even endowed a shrine to the Lesser Master of Fate by the shores of the Cloud Dream Marshes. A flip through the Day Book was enough to glimpse the countless taboos people observed and the profusion of spells to ward off evil and exorcise ghosts.

In ancient times, the Chinese, though exceedingly pragmatic and willing to believe in any god, simply did not believe in the absence of gods.

If materialism had no foundation among the lower strata, what about the upper strata?

First, the emperor, vested with the "Mandate of Heaven," would absolutely never acknowledge it. The moment he did, immortality and the quest for immortals would all turn to bubbles — something absolutely unacceptable to Qin Shi Huang.

Looking next at the middle strata of society, among the intellectuals of the Nine Schools and Ten Houses: the Mohists revered ghosts and spirits; the Confucians stressed Heaven–man resonance; the Daoist Huang–Lao school was also quite partial to mysticism; and as for the alchemized Yin–Yang school, they need hardly be mentioned — they made their living from the arts of ghosts, gods, and immortals.

Legalist theory spoke very little of Heaven, Earth, and the gods, and it too esteemed human strength. But under the Qin dynasty, Legalists were mostly officials and clerks; beyond strictly obeying the statutes and ordinances, they rarely exercised their minds to ponder deeper things.

After much thought, the only ones who might possibly accept this theory were the Agriculturalists, who buried themselves in hard tillage, hoping to increase grain yields through human power rather than the favor of the Old Lord in the Sky…

From the Heaven–man debate that shook the Jixia Academy decades ago, it was already decided: Xunzi's theory that "Heaven and man are separate, and man is certain to conquer Heaven" would be firmly believed by only a small minority. And this group was treated as heretics by every other school…

The ideal that Zhang Cang carried in his bosom was exactly like a single candle-flame lit in the dark night — faint yet dazzling — but any random gust of wind or rain could snuff it out. It might not be lit again until far, far in the future.

Heifu did not want people two thousand years later to dig out Xunzi's words from a pile of old papers and exclaim in astonishment, "Our forebears reached such heights of thought so early on!"

And so he put forward his own suggestion.

"In my humble view, if you want people to believe a thing, merely explaining the reasoning is useless. You must also prove it!"

Zhang Cang was taken aback. "Prove it?"

Heifu gave him a hint. "Let me give an example. In the years when I was a village chief, the people back home often said that fireflies are born from rotting grass and decaying bamboo roots. Everyone believed it without doubt — but I did not."

"So in my spare time, I searched through the mud by the shores of the Cloud Dream Marshes and discovered that fireflies are in fact also oviparous. In autumn and winter, fireflies lay eggs on the grass roots at the water's edge, letting them lie hidden in the soil. The following year, in the last month of summer, the pupae transform into adult insects and burrow out of the earth. To an onlooker, that is the so-called 'rotting grass turning into fireflies'!"

"So that's how it is!" Zhang Cang was also surprised; having never observed it himself, he too had thought fireflies truly came from rotting grass.

"You see."

Heifu spread his hands. "Even you thought so — what of others? People do not understand the process by which things change and see only the result. Because they do not know the how or why, they call it 'divine.' But if you can discover this process of change, let people know the how and why, and strip away that veil of mystery — that is what I mean by proof: establishing truth or falsehood by the facts!"

"I understand!"

Zhang Cang was a clever man; he grasped it at once. Overjoyed, he said, "I say that the multitude of stars revolve, the sun and moon alternate, the four seasons have their times, and wind and rain spread their bounty — that all these happen naturally and are not Heaven's will. But no one believes me, because they do not understand the changes within them and can only ascribe them to the fixed course of Heaven. Unless I go and prove it — discover this process of change!"

Dialectics, dialectics — what use is dialectical argument alone, without proof? Seeing that Zhang Cang had been guided by him onto a new path, Heifu inwardly rejoiced and also struck the rhythm. "Exactly!"

Zhang Cang grew excited. He took a fierce swig of wine, cast off the sheepskin cloak, and walked out into the now much-lightened rain. Tilting his head back, he laughed and recited an ancient, mysterious poem.

"In the beginning of remote antiquity, who passed down the Word?

Before the Above and Below took shape, by what was it examined?

To what are the sun and moon tethered? In what array are the ranked stars displayed?

From dawn to darkness, how many miles do they travel?"

Zhang Cang turned his head and said to Heifu, "This is the 'Questions of Heaven' that Qu Yuan left behind when he visited the Jixia Academy! Back then, the Master would often gaze at it and murmur over these one hundred seventy-odd questions, calling it the strangest work through all the ages, past and eternal."

Heifu nodded. This was exactly like the questions an ignorant human child might pose to the unknown cosmos!

Zhang Cang sighed. "In those years I did not understand. But now I do! What I must do is solve these questions one by one — the laws by which the sun and moon move, why there is a division between day and night, why the four seasons rotate. And I must also let people know why Heaven sends rain, and when it will rain!"

He sighed again. "But it is so difficult. I, Zhang Cang, am forty years old. Merely compiling half of the Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art has already consumed over ten years. To seek answers to these questions, I fear I would have to stake the entire second half of my life on it. And yet…"

Zhang Cang abruptly raised his head; the fat man's eyes were full of resolve.

"Long, long is the road, and far the journey; I shall search high and low!"

"Well said!" Heifu applauded, while inwardly grumbling, "Brother, your 'second half of life' is still a very long one…"

Heifu was brimming with confidence in Zhang Cang. How did that saying go? Mathematics is the foundation of all science! A great mathematician like Zhang Cang was born to do science.

He believed that, with his own help, this two-hundred-plus-jin fat man could become the founder of natural science in Huaxia!

Heifu stepped forward, clapped Zhang Cang on the shoulder, and cheered him on. "Though now the multitude are drunk and you alone are sober, the whole world dark and you alone bright — just like these black clouds shrouding heaven and earth so tightly that not a sliver of light can be seen — as long as you persevere without giving up, you will surely be able to wait until the clouds part and see the sun emerge!"

"No." Zhang Cang, however, smiled. "Sometimes, no matter how long you wait, the clouds will not disperse on their own. You must reach out and push the clouds aside — only then can you see the sun!"

Heifu was startled, then he and Zhang Cang looked at each other and laughed.

Amid the laughter, the rain that had fallen half the night — stopped!

……

The next morning, at the fifth watch, the downpour had ceased, and the clouds showed signs of parting.

Qin Shi Huang was already seated in the hilltop pavilion, accompanied by his assembled ministers, waiting for the sunrise.

At this moment, east of the pavilion, stretching downward from the foot of the peak, a vast sea of cloud and mist spread out like a boundless ocean. Within that cloud sea, over a dozen islets were faintly visible, wreathed in drifting vapor — the other peaks of Mount Tai.

Gazing into the distance, the clouds at the horizon were like a thread, originally interwoven gray and white, but soon they transformed into a riot of colors. The sun was rising — its hue pure and true, red as cinnabar, with a crimson glow beneath it, wavering as if bearing it up. Looking back at the peaks west of Sun Viewing Peak, some caught the sunlight while others did not, now red, now white, their colors jumbled together, all of them seeming to bow and bend over like figures stooping in salute.

Seeing this, Qin Shi Huang recalled how yesterday he had humbly reported his accomplishments to Heaven, only to be met with a sudden downpour. That night, he had adopted a stance neither servile nor arrogant, gambling against Heaven — and the result was the clouds parting, the mists clearing, and the morning sun rising in the east. A cold sneer crept onto his face:

"So Heaven, too, bullies the weak and fears the strong?"

He believed that this cloud and rain had been parted by the sheer force of his own majesty!

That day, atop Mount Tai as the weather cleared, Qin Shi Huang ordered the soldiers to erect a stone. Li Si personally composed the text, and craftsmen carved it into the stone — this became the Mount Tai Stone Inscription, extolling the virtue of the First Emperor of Qin and proclaiming his attainment of the feng rite.

"The Emperor ascends the throne, institutes regulations and clarifies the law; his ministers are disciplined and orderly."

"He personally tours the distant regions and the common people, ascends this Mount Tai, and surveys all around to the eastern extremity."

"His great righteousness is splendid and bright, handed down to posterity; obey and inherit it, do not alter it!"

Qin Shi Huang slightly revised the original stone inscription text, no longer venerating the so-called seventy-two ancient kings, but instead regarding himself as "unprecedented since high antiquity, surpassing even the Five Sovereigns."

Before Qin unified the realm, it was dim, lightless, benighted, and chaotic; from this point onward, the realm entered a brand-new, radiant, enlightened new phase! In this way, the legitimacy of the Qin Empire was proven.

Do not model after the ancient kings — model after the king of today!

By dusk, all the rites were complete. Qin Shi Huang sat in his palanquin and descended Mount Tai by its shaded northern slope. As he neared the foot of the mountain, the Emperor turned his head once more to look at this great mountain that had left such a deep impression on him.

When he first began the ascent, it had seemed a mountain one could only gaze up at in awe, impossibly difficult to climb — after all, it was the foremost mountain under Heaven, worshipped and endlessly imbued with meaning by the scholars of Qi and Lu.

At the summit, when wind and rain threatened, Qin Shi Huang had only felt that the heights were not so very cold — just like governing his empire, where one misstep meant fathomless abysses on every side.

But now, having descended, Qin Shi Huang felt that this was merely one ordinary mountain among the countless perilous obstacles he had surmounted in the thirty-one years since his enthronement.

Turning his head once more, leaving Mount Tai behind him, Qin Shi Huang also left a brief appraisal.

"This mountain…"

He said contemptuously, "is truly short!"

(End of chapter)