CH 48

Wang Wen, as a man of refined tastes, was no dull party host. He chose a venue by the water, freshened with incense and decorated with drapes. The lotus flowers in the pond were just in full bloom. From afar, the pavilion, ensconced within a sea of flowers, had an almost otherworldly air.

In the early hours of the morning, a person arrived blithely in an ox-drawn carriage. 

Wang Wen welcomed the guest, somewhat befuddled, “You came, Zhongpu?”

“I’ll finally have a chance to meet that Master Liang you’ve spoken of, of course I came,” the arrival smiled as he waved his feathered fan. He was called Pei Zhu, of the Hedong Pei Clan, a family no less prominent than the Jinyang Wang Clan. And since their families were connected by marriage, coming by uninvited on a fleeting fancy wasn’t considered rude.

Wang Wen was somewhat bemused. He knew that Pei Zhongpu was obsessed with his uncle’s “Reverence of Existence” and dismissive of the Buddhist theories that he was so fond of. The recent happenings in Jinyang had likely put him in a huff, as the “theory of existence” was diametrically opposed to the meaning of the Diamond Sutra. Wasn’t he here to be obnoxious then?

But since he’d already come, he could hardly drive him away. All Wang Wen could do was smile and lead Pei Zhu to the pavilion. 

Afterward, the other guests began trickling in as well, people from the Zhongdu Sun Family, the Yangqu Guo Family, and the Waihuang Yu Family amongst them. They were all esteemed families of the Taiyuan Commandery and they all had close ties with Wang Wen. Before long, the seats were filled with distinguished friends.

“Why isn’t Liang Zixi here yet?” Pei Zhu asked after most of the guests had arrived.

Wang Wen answered genially, “Zixi’s health is rather fragile. I’m afraid he can’t travel too quickly… oh? Look who’s arrived.”

Everyone followed Wang Wen’s gaze and looked out the pavilion where a lone figure, passing by the bamboo forest by the bank, leisurely approached.

At first glance, he was too thin. Thin yet tall; there was not a single superfluous adornment on his wide robes, making him seem graceful and free as a solitary crane.

At second glance, he was remarkably beautiful. Even without powder, his skin was pale as white frost, his eyes dark as ink – their starlike luster further enhanced his already magnificent mien.

Only at a third glance would one notice his sickness. Though his posture was upright and his gaze was bright, there were faint shadows beneath his eyes. His exceptional looks contrasted by his pallid air evoked pity and sympathy, the kind that remained unspoken for fear of tarnishing his jade-like disposition.

Pei Zhu, shocked, turned to Wang Wen, “Maoshen, you never mentioned he was possessed of such handsomeness!” 

Wang Wen chuckled, “After you get to know him, his character leaves a deeper impression than his appearance.”

As they spoke, Liang Feng had already entered the pavilion. He cupped his hands in salute, “Greetings, Controller Wang.”

“Zixi, come over,” Wang Wen affably waved him over, “This is Senior Official Pei Zhongpu. Zhongpu, this is Liang Zixi.”

“Greetings, Pei Zhongpu.” 

Wang Wen introduced Liang Feng to the banquet guests. Though he didn’t have a position in the officialdom, he was still a marquess. Therefore, in their eyes, he was still a proper nobleman. After a round of courtesies, everyone took their seats.

Wang Wen lightly clasped his hands, “Though we are here to welcome Zixi, who’s traveled from afar, we are also celebrating the end of the plague in Jinyang. So please, drink to your heart’s content.”

At his clap, a flock of servant girls, their airy robes dancing lightly with their movements, brought plates of exquisite delicacies to the table. Since this was a casual banquet amongst friends, there weren’t too many formalities. People picked up their chopsticks and began tasting the food. Though the dishes weren’t as luxurious as those in Shi Chong’s estate, they were elaborate and delicious. A poorer person would surely swallow their tongue if they tasted it.

Ufl Ite mbivis kjamtfv atf uefra bo tbcbg, yea Oljcu Ilzl’r mbwqbgawfca kjr meiaegfv jcv ecgeooifv. Jbeiv atf Oljcu Srajaf joobgv ab rjnbg remt vfilmjmlfr? Olxfis cba. Pa kjr bynlber ogbw tlr mibatfr jcv jmmfrrbglfr atja tlr tberftbiv kjrc’a fzagjnjujca ja jii. Jbeiv rbwfbcf ktb ibbxfv ilxf atja gfjiis gfwjlc ecwbnfv ys kbgivis qifjregfr? Ktja rabgs bo gfmflnlcu j vgfjw ogbw Devvtj kjr wfgfis j ojirf qgfafcrf. 

Pei Zhu set down his ivory chopsticks and said, “I’ve heard much about you, Zixi. The healers did much to cure the plague in Jinyang. If their methods could be known far and wide, it would be to the benefit of all.”

Now that he was being addressed, Liang Zixi didn’t have to keep eating those tasteless, flavorless “delicacies” anymore. He put his utensils down and replied, “You’re absolutely right, Senior Official Pei.”

Pei Zhu choked a little, not expecting his lack of reaction to his purposeful exclusion of the prophetic dream. But he wasn’t dissuaded in the least, “Although, their methods don’t align at all with the Diamond Sutra that you wrote, Zixi. It states that ‘all that has a form is illusory and unreal,’ and that ‘all conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, like dew, or like lightning.’ But if that’s so, doesn’t it mean that all existence is nothing? Then what of Confucianism, and of ethics? What need is there for mercy and charity?”

“Zhongpu….” 

Knowing that Pei Zhu was looking for an argument, Wang Wen tried to stop him as he felt a headache coming on. But instead, it was Sun Tai who spoke, “All things that exist in nature came from nonexistence. If there is no nonexistence, from whence comes existence? Confucianism arose from nature and is expressed from oneself, it belongs, of course, to nonexistence.”

Now, it became awkward for Wang Wen to speak up. Sun Tai, who believed in the teachings of He Yan, had always been dismissive of Pei Wei’s “Reverence of Existence.” Of course he couldn’t help rebutting Pei Zhu, who always nattered on about Confucian morality. There wasn’t any room for others to intrude into their religious debate.

Not expecting that someone would suddenly criticize his uncle’s theories, Pei Zhu became agitated, “Is there or is there not a Creator? If not, from whence comes existence? If there is, then it is incapable of bringing all existence into form! All existence is born from itself, thus does ‘nature’ exist.”

His words, which seemed both contradictory and complementary to the “theory of existence,” gave Sun Tai pause, for they were difficult to argue against. He gave it some thought, then responded, “Water flows in streams upon the earth, rains from the heavens, and hardens into ice. They are all one, yet ever-changing and inconstant. That which is nameless is the beginning of existence; that which is named is the mother of all creation. All existence begins from the imperceivable until it comes into form, all creation begins from until it is born, this is the Dao.” 

“From nothing, whence comes the soul? The Dao is intangible, yet nature is possessed of it. The laws of nature arise from it, thus it is known by the false name of Dao,” Pei Zhu sneered as he swayed his feathered fan.

Was Confucianism born from the natural, or greater than it? That was one of the most popular subjects of debate amongst Wei-Jin scholars, representative of the theological struggle between Confucianists and Daoists. Both He Yan and the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove” tended towards the natural and the “theory of non-existence.” On the other hand, Pei Wei and Guo Xiang, foremost of those who believed in the “theory of existence,” favored Confucianism. They believed that the lack of social mores was eating away at civilization. Without the moral constraints of Confucianism, society would collapse.

Thus, the two factions would have wildly different reactions upon reading the Diamond Sutra. It was only a pity that Sun Tai’s skill in debate was inferior to Pei Zhu’s. In just a few exchanges, he’d been seized by the tail. The first line of Laozi’s “Way of Virtue” stated that “the Way that can be followed is not the true Way; the name that can be named is not the true name.” The interpretation that “the named Dao is false” struck upon a crucial point. Pei Zhu’s argument was extremely merciless and acute.

Seeing that Sun Tai was temporarily speechless, he haughtily turned to Liang Feng and said, “Zixi, what do you make of the Diamond Sutra?” 

Liang Feng smiled faintly, “The ‘illusion’ spoken of in the sutra is ‘falsity’, not ‘existence’ or ‘non-existence.’”

Just what did that mean? Now, everyone’s interest was piqued. After all, it was told that Buddha had bequeathed the Diamond Sutra to him through a dream. He was the only one to have any written record of it – that meant that his interpretation had a uniquely significant impact on the sutra’s philosophical implications.

“As there is a moon in the sky, so too are there upon thousands of rivers. May I ask, is there a moon upon the river?” Liang Feng asked.

“Well…” Pei Zhu hesitated for a moment, “There is no moon upon the river, only its image.” 

“The flower in the mirror, the moon upon the water can be perceived by all. It is all illusion.” Liang Feng continued, “That is falsity. You only recognize the moon upon the water as an illusion, but how can you know that the moon within the sky is true? Has anyone ever touched it? Existence is born of non-existence; is non-existence false or true? If non-existence is formless, how can it be distinguished into falsity or truth?”

His method of debate was simple and unadorned. Pei Zhu pondered for a moment then shook his head, “Those who live taste the five flavors, see the five colors, hear the five notes. Of course it is true.”

“The blind see no color, the deaf hear no sound, there are too those unable to taste. What they understand and experience exist only in their hearts.”

He was questioning “nature” itself. Faced with the argument of idealism, even Sun Tai couldn’t help but say, “Though the blind cannot see rain, he can stand beneath it. Rain exists in nature, it is not false.” 

“I have heard of those who’ve lost their legs in battle, yet wake in the night from pain in their legs. Having lost their legs, from whence comes the pain?”

That was more a question of neurology and the study of the relationship between the mind and the body. The paradox of self-consciousness, a common topic in science fiction novels involving A.I., was still unsolved in the modern-day era. Liang Feng didn’t think any of these people could come up with an answer.

As expected, everyone fell silent.

Liang Feng sighed, “That is why the sutra does not neglect to include the five words: ‘thus they should be perceived.’” 

Five words difference, a contrast between night and day.

Both the “theory of existence” and the “theory of non-existence” held that noumenon and phenomenon were one and the same, two sides of a coin. They didn’t distinguish between philosophical idealism or materialism. Liang Feng’s explanation placed the basis of the Diamond Sutra on one’s own spiritual self. Since all things were ever-changing, then only true self was ever-constant. That turned the theological debate into a question of personal conduct. And if people acted according to their true self, then what did it matter if it was the “moral code” of the “theory of existence,” or the “natural behavior” of the “theory of non-existence?”

Pei Zhu still disagreed, “If Buddha teaches that all phenomena is illusion, then what’s the purpose of curing the plague? Is that not an acknowledgment of physical reality? ”

“All the different types of beings, whether they be born from egg, womb, water, or spontaneously; whether they have perceptions or do not have perceptions; or whether it cannot be said of them that they have perceptions or that they do not have perceptions, we must lead all these beings to nirvana so that they can be liberated,” Liang Feng recited. “Budda is willing to bring salvation to all.” 

During this time, Hinayana Buddhism was the dominant branch, while Mahayana Buddhism leaned towards Daoism and Confucianism. It directed its followers to cultivate themselves and had nothing to do with the ordinary masses. Moreover, many of the “all phenomena are illusory” sects were founded upon the Diamond Sutra. But Liang Feng’s interpretation led it in a different direction, that is, Buddha is merciful. In the modern era, everyone knew of the story of Kṣitigarbha, who vowed not to achieve Buddahood until all hells were emptied. His benevolence was one of the reasons he was so widely esteemed. The mercy of Buddha, which relieves all people of their sufferings, also formed a bridge between Buddhism and Confucianism, giving it a foothold in the Middle Kingdom. And this interpretation explained why Buddha would, through a dream, teach the people a way to wipe out the plague.

Liang Feng had only recently come up with this answer. The meaning of a text becomes self-apparent after many readings. It wasn’t too difficult to use parts of the Diamond Sutra to justify his actions. If he had to rely upon Buddhism, he wasn’t opposed to fostering the spread of Mahayana Buddhism early. As long as it benefited the people, it didn’t matter whether it was Buddhism, Daoism, or Confucianism. Any asylum in an unrestful world could save more innocents.

It came as a surprise to everyone that that long scripture could be interpreted in such a way, but they could all tell that he was deadly earnest! Did he truly believe in Buddhism? Perhaps not entirely. Without the spirit of Confucianism, how could he have come to this understanding?

Pei Zhu let out a long sigh and raised his cup, “Such ideas are deserving of being known far and wide.” 

Liang Feng smiled and raised his teacup as well, “As I am too unwell to drink, let tea take the place of wine.”

To use tea instead of wine in response to a toast from a senior official was supposed to be a major faux pas, yet his manner was debonair and refreshing as a breath of spring air. Pei Zhu chuckled and downed his wine in one draft, “Maoshen, you’ve got a good eye, you simply must drink as well!”

Wang Wen, who was ecstatic at that moment, was more than happy to do so. Everyone at the banquet merrily drank and made conversation.

Pei Zhu’s doubt had disappeared without a trace; he said eagerly, “With such fine wine, delightful company, and beautiful lotuses, there is no better subject to compose upon! Zixi, if you would take the lead?” 

Drinking games and impromptu poetry. They made an appearance at every highbrow banquet.

Liang Feng shook his head, “I lack the talent for poetry. Please excuse me, Senior Official Pei.”

It was already rude to imbibe tea in place of wine, but claiming to be bad at poetry was being an utter spoilsport. The only people who’d say that at a banquet were either dull-witted or stodgy. But from his earlier remarks, he didn’t seem like a dull-witted person.

Pei Zhu frowned, “Do you never write poetry then, Zixi?” 

“Ever since awaking from my illness, I have never again written any poems,” Liang Feng replied impassively. “Poetry is the voice of the heart. Now, the voice in my heart asks only: can this save lives?”

Pei Zhu opened his mouth several times, yet fell silent in the end. Pei Wei, who’d penned the “Reverence of Existence” was one of Western Jin’s few competent officials. Or rather, every Confucian scholar who placed importance on Confucian ethics held themselves responsible for guaranteeing the welfare of the people. Since Pei Zhu believed in the “theory of existence,” it meant he wasn’t a selfish wanton. That question of “can this save lives?” was heavier than a thousand lines of poetry!

Pei Zhu sighed, “Everyone says that that son of the Wei family is like jade. But only after meeting you, Zixi, have I truly seen a person worthy of the comparison! It’s no wonder that Buddha would entrust that dream to you.”

If Buddhism truly is based on mercy, then there really was no better choice than Liang Zixi. Times of chaos like these forced countless brilliant scholars to put their learning to the test, lest they perish in despair or disaster. Meeting a sober person amongst a vast horde of drunkards was like a flash of clarity, of waking from torporous slumber; and this person was unafraid to express his beliefs, possessed of the valiance to lead by example – how could he not be impressed? 

Wang Wen gazed at Liang Zixi with astonishment as well. In just a few months, his unmoored silhouette had sprouted roots, like a dying tree sprouting new branches. Was this by Buddha’s doing or by worldly means? Wang Wen didn’t know, but the youth before him did indeed have an extraordinary aura, one that made him all the more admirable!

Liang Feng breathed in relief at the reactions of those around him. As a born-and-bred modern person, he could muddle his way through a debate about idealism and materialism, but he definitely couldn’t handle poetry. This wasn’t a test you could pass by rote-memorizing a few famous poems. Disregarding the fact that most of the well-regarded poems in the modern-day were written in quatrains, it was impossible for someone without a deep background in literature to imitate the way that learned scholars recited poetry.

Whether it was during an outing or a banquet, when the scholar class entertained themselves with poetry, they always composed around a subject. It was a true game of words. He was no student of literature, the few poems lingering in his memory wouldn’t see him through all these rounds and rounds of impromptu poetry composition. Plus, those who were good at poetry were good at writing in general. Writing a splendid, magniloquent essay was an equally herculean endeavor.

The consequences of using his modern knowledge to pretend were: at best, being known as a washed-up poet and at worst, being suspected of plagiarizing or using a ghostwriter. Something like that could ruin him in seconds. Liang Feng wouldn’t do anything so stupid. 

By using Buddhism to bolster his standing, he could cleverly avoid such troubles. Buddhism sought enlightenment, the language they used was unpretentious. He didn’t need grandiloquence, only intelligence. With mercy as his ideal, his fame wouldn’t rely on empty prose. At any rate, eccentrics were rather ordinary in the Wei-Jin period. Putting on a lofty and unconstrained affectation, he’d have the hallmarks of being a distinguished literati!

The banquet could no longer continue, but all the guests were fully satisfied by the experience. That much-discussed Master Liang was more outstanding than they’d though, and lived up to the expectations of the noble elite. Plus, the praise of Pei Zhu, who didn’t believe in Buddhism at all, was another ring of light on his halo, making his already shining reputation as a boddhisatva even more radiant.

Perhaps noticing that Liang Feng really was tired, or learning from Pei Zhu’s actions, Wang Wen didn’t host any more banquets. Instead, he kept him company himself, whiling away the hours discussing the Diamond Sutra, playing the zither, or practicing calligraphy.

Wang Wen was a master of the zither. Even Liang Feng couldn’t resist putting some genuine effort into learning the instrument. And the understanding of modern music theory that he occasionally displayed was of great pleasure to Wang Wen as well. 

Two days passed by in the blink of an eye. On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the day of the ceremony arrived as scheduled.

The author has something to say:

Lost a bunch of brain cells, never want to play around with philosophy people again _(:зゝ∠)_

“Revering existence” and “revering non-existence” comes from He Yan, Wang Bi and Pei Wei, Guo Xiang respectively. I’m just pretending to know what I’m talking about _(:зゝ∠)_ 

The translator has something to say:

Take the translation of the philosophical/metaphysical stuff with a metric sh*tload of salt. The translator has also burned through most of her brain cells on this.