Chapter 586: Cloud Wandering the World

Zhuangzi·Heavenly Transport:

"Kongzi, at fifty-one years old and still not having heard the Dao, went south to Pei and met Lao Dan."

By the banks of Pei Ze, that tiny village remained quiet.

Cooking smoke curled, chickens and dogs could be heard, unchanged from over a decade ago.

But a few figures had appeared before the gate.

"Sir, this is PeiDi."

"Hmm."

Kongzi listened to his disciples' words, nodded slightly, then smoothed his robes and strode in.

The courtyard gate hung ajar.

Kongzi stood at the doorway and did not knock immediately.

He heard someone speaking inside, voices low, with occasional laughs.

The laughter was casual, as casual as if the host were merely chatting with an old friend.

He raised his hand and gently knocked the door.

The door opened.

It was not Laozi who opened the door.

It was a young man.

No, not a young man.

Kongzi had seen that man's face before.

Over a decade ago, at the LuGuo city gate, this very man stood there with Laozi, smiling at him.

After those years, the face had not changed at all.

But he had become old and frail.

Kongzi was stunned for a moment, then bowed deeply and saluted.

"Junior Kong Qiu, pleased to meet you, sir."

Yu Lin looked at him and grinned.

"Yo, are you here? Come in."

He stepped aside and gestured toward the courtyard.

"Someone is inside."

Kongzi saluted again and stepped into the courtyard.

……

In the courtyard.

Under the tree stood a low table, with two Bamboo Slip rolls on it.

Laozi sat beside the low table, holding a roll and looking down.

Hearing footsteps, he lifted his head.

Kongzi stopped before him and bowed deeply.

"Kong Qiu, pleased to meet you, sir."

Laozi looked at him, his gaze calm.

He did not stand, only set down the Bamboo Slip and pointed to the opposite seat.

"Sit."

Kongzi sat as instructed.

The two sat like that, silent for a while.

Laozi spoke first.

"You have come? I heard you have become a sage of BeiFang now."

"Have you attained the Dao?"

Kongzi shook his head.

"Not yet."

Laozi asked, "How did you seek it?"

Kongzi said, "I sought it through measures, systems, statutes, the metrics of LiYue, studying for five years without gain."

Laozi nodded and asked, "How did you seek it later?"

Kongzi said, "I sought it in yin and yang, the changes of heaven and earth, the order of the four seasons, the theory of yin‑yang flux, researching for twelve years still without success."

He finished, lowered his head, and remained silent.

Twelve years.

He studied these things for a full twelve years.

Yet he still did not find it.

Laozi looked at him, his gaze carrying a hint of profundity.

"The Dao, if it could truly be offered to people, would be presented by all under heaven to their own ruler."

"If it could truly be given to others, everyone would give it to their parents."

"If it could truly be told to others, everyone would tell their brothers."

"If it could truly be left to posterity, everyone would leave it to their descendants."

He paused.

"But it cannot be, why?"

Kongzi raised his head and looked at him.

Laozi said: "Because there is no master within, the Dao will not stay; without external verification, the Dao will not prevail; things that arise from within, if not accepted externally, even a Holy person will not force them; things that come from outside, if there is no master within, even a Holy person will not retain them."

He looked at Kongzi and said, word by word:

"Name is a tool shared by all under heaven; it cannot be taken excessively. Benevolence and righteousness are the temporary inns where ancient kings lodged; one may stay only one night, not linger. To linger invites blame."

Kongzi listened, entranced.

Laozi continued:

"The supreme people of antiquity merely borrowed the Dao through benevolence, lodged in righteousness, and then roamed in the realm of carefree ease;"

"They foraged in simple fields and took their stand in gardens without loans."

"Carefree ease is non-action; simplicity makes livelihood easy; being unencumbered entails no exertion; the ancients called this 'the tour of picking the true.'"

He paused.

"Those who take wealth as their goal will not relinquish profit and emolument; those who take prominence as their goal will not relinquish fame; those obsessed with power and influence will not relinquish authority."

"When they hold it, they tremble with fear; once lost, they fall into endless grief. Such people see nothing of worldly affairs, only knowing to fixate on what they relentlessly pursue—this is heaven's slaughter of the people."

Kongzi fell silent.

He recalled those people he had seen over the years.

The feudal lords who desperately chased fame, profit, power, and status; the nobles locked in life‑or‑death power struggles; those who, when they gained, were overjoyed, and when they lost, were devastated.

They were all seeking.

But what they sought, and what he sought—was it the same thing?

Laozi looked at him, and his gaze softened somewhat.

"Resentment, gratitude, taking, giving, admonition, teaching, birth, and killing—these eight are tools for rectifying the human heart; only those who follow the changes of the Great Dao and are not obstructed by external things can truly wield them."

He paused.

"Therefore, correctness is correctness; those who in their hearts do not accept this principle will find the Heavenly Gate not opened for them."

Having said that, he spoke no more.

The courtyard grew quiet.

Only the sound of wind rustling the treetops and the occasional birdcall from afar could be heard.

Kongzi sat there, motionless.

He lowered his head, brows slightly furrowed, as if chewing on something.

After a long while, he raised his head.

"Sir," he said, "I, the disciple, have understood."

Laozi looked at him.

"Understood what?"

Kongzi said:

"The disciple formerly sought the Dao by looking with his eyes, listening with his ears, and thinking with his mind—but the Dao is not something seen, heard, or thought of."

"The Dao is walked out."

Laozi laughed.

That smile was faint, yet carried a sense of relief.

Kongzi continued:

"These years, the disciple has traveled many places, met many people, done many things; sometimes he felt close to the Dao, sometimes far from it."

"But today, hearing the Master's words, the disciple suddenly understood——"

"The Dao has never been far away."

"It is right here within me."

Laozi nodded.

"To be able to say that shows you have gained something."

Kongzi looked at him, his eyes full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Master."

Laozi waved his hand.

"No need to thank me; as you said, it is you who have walked it out."

Kongzi fell silent for a moment, then spoke again:

"Master, the disciple still has one question."

Laozi gestured for him to speak.

Kongzi asked:

"Master, can your Dao be transmitted?"

Laozi shook his head.

"It cannot be transmitted."

Kongzi asked: "Then how can the disciple obtain it?"

Laozi said: "Have you not already obtained it?"

Kongzi froze.

Laozi looked at him.

"What you just said—is that not what you have obtained?"

"Kong Qiu, your fortune is no worse than mine."

"You are also my teacher."

He looked at Laozi's aged face, those calm eyes, and suddenly realized something.

This teacher never regarded himself as a disciple.

Between them, it had always been a different kind of relationship.

Also a teacher.

Also a friend.

The two sat a while longer, chatting about other things.

They talked about LuGuo's politics, the feuds among the states, the people they had seen these years, and the events they had experienced.

Before they knew it, the sun had already tilted westward.

Kongzi stood up.

"Teacher, I should take my leave."

Laozi also rose to his feet, looking at him.

"Next time, you need not come see me."

Kongzi was stunned.

"Teacher, this is—"

Laozi said, "I am leaving this place."

Kongzi asked, "Teacher, where are you going?"

Laozi did not answer.

He merely gazed into the distance, his eyes distant.

"Wandering the world."

Kongzi fell silent.

He bowed deeply.

"Teacher, take care on your journey."

Laozi nodded.

"You too."

Kongzi straightened up, looked at him, and suddenly smiled.

In that smile lay relief, gratitude, and a hint of reluctance hard to put into words.

"Teacher," he said, "these years I have also come to understand something."

Laozi looked at him.

Kongzi said:

"I believe that when the world has the Way, the LiYueZhengFa comes from the Son of Heaven; when the world lacks the Way, the LiYueZhengFa comes from the feudal lords."

"From the feudal lords, it is rarely lost after ten generations; from the officials, after five generations; from the ministers who hold the state's mandate, after three generations."

"When the world has the Way, governance does not rest with the officials; when the world has the Way, the common people do not debate."

He paused.

"This is my view of the world."

Laozi listened, then nodded.

"Your path differs from mine."

Kongzi said, "Yes, the teacher's Way lies in heaven; my Way lies in humanity."

Laozi looked at him and performed a salute:

"Each follows his own Way, each finds his proper place."

"There is only one Li Er in the world, and only one Kong Qiu."

"From now on, take good care, my friend."

Kongzi performed a deep bow.

"Take care."

Laozi nodded.

Kongzi turned and strode toward the courtyard gate.

The courtyard fell silent.

Yu Lin appeared beside Li Er at some point, gazing at that retreating figure.

"Just let him go like that?"

Li Er did not speak.

Yu Lin asked again, "You won't tell him?"

Li Er shook his head.

"No need."

Yu Lin looked at him and grinned.

"Shall we leave tomorrow?"

"Hmm."