The Pacific LedgerThe Pacific Ledger
“A question slithers like a serpent over the earth. Whose world is it?” – Mikhail Bulgakov
ProloguePrologue
“名師, this humble slave begs for your orders.”
The so-called Famed Teacher, sitting on a mat of hemp in a forest by the Yellow River, opened his eyes to see a young man with his head bowed to the dirt.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy a moment of peace?” the teacher asked. “Do you not understand that with each breath I would take to give you unpaid advice, I would betray my own teachings? Besides, I have no orders to give you.”
“I’m begging you,” said the young man, his voice trembling.
The teacher narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Stand up straight,” he commanded.
The young man did so, but the setting sun revealed an expression of submission and despair on his face. It was gaunt and pale, and there were dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes.
The teacher frowned. “Did I not say to treasure the one life that you possess?” He tilted his head. “You suffer because your desires extend beyond death.”
The young man nodded.
“I’ve provided you a more accurate diagnosis than what you would receive from any doctor under Heaven,” the teacher continued. “For free, I might add. Now…” He stood up and stretched out his arms as if delivering a great revelation. “Leave me alone and enjoy your own life. In this you have discovered the totality of my thinking, have you not?”
Suddenly the young man’s pitiable expression turned fierce, and he spoke as one with authority. “名師, there are a few who have taken your ideas to heart, who fight for their own sake, and for such a world that would permit them to do so, but the winds still rise, the tides rush forth, and no one can say where they lead.”
With a sigh, the teacher collected his mat and walked past the young man to observe the river. “That is indeed what winds and tides do, lad. What are you hoping to accomplish with my guidance? Do you wish to conquer Hell itself?”
“Yes.”
“And why should I indulge your adolescent fantasies?”
“Because you love this world!” the young man shouted forcefully. Ashamed by his own lack of decorum, he slouched and cast his eyes to the ground, though the teacher turned to face him with a wry smile. “You,” the young man continued in a low voice, “not Mozi, more than Confucius, and more than a hundred schools combined, love this world. I love this world, and I love you. I can’t bear to see it forget you, to see it fall prey to the perversions of lesser men.”
“I’m afraid what you’re asking for is a contradiction,” said the teacher, “but because you have understood this much, I will make the rest clear to you. A Junzi of my school would have to renounce all violence and deception. Such a man would be utterly incapable of winning any war, much less one against Hell.”
The young man pulled up the sleeve of his 深衣 to reveal a fresh wound bleeding from his right hand. Lodged through his palm was a knife with a jade blade carved in the shape of a snake and a bronze handle in the shape of an eagle.
“Consider it renounced. I can wield neither sword nor brush. I’ve become a useless person. So let me be the one to try.”
The teacher turned back to face the river and stood in silent contemplation until the sun had fully set and the stars had blinked into view.
“There is no such thing as a useless person,” he said at last.
“Then give me my orders.”
“I can’t promise you a world without floods, certainly not in your time, but I can give you hope for one.”
“That would be enough.”
The teacher unfurled his mat and gestured for the young man to sit. He did so, and his blood stained the mat. The teacher knelt on the dirt beside him. They watched the river together in another moment of silence.
“I have lived a full life of one hundred years,” said the teacher, “and derived much pleasure from it, but in my final days it has become a burden to me, and I, too, will be deemed useless, for no prophet is accepted in his own country. Therefore, I ask that you give me this knife, the Imperial Seal of the New World. In return, I will bring it with me to Hell on your behalf. Then you may rest assured that there will be no tyranny on which the sun never sets, and that monsters of all kinds will be destroyed.”
Without hesitation, the young man extracted the knife and passed it to the teacher, who then used it to cut a rope from the mat.
“Do not think of this exchange as a sacrifice,” the teacher warned sternly, tying the rope around the young man’s wrist. "Neither is it an order. Such things belong to lesser schools."
“What about life after death?” asked the young man. “You said one should not concern themselves with it.”
The teacher smiled again as he pulled tightly to complete a knot with surprising strength for his age. “That is my opinion, yes, but I cannot do your thinking for you. At least, not all of it." He held up the knife, inspecting its craftsmanship. "As of today, you will be free from all taxation. No emperor or warlord will take notice of you in this condition. They will not understand that the source of your strength is within your heart. And now, since you insisted, you may have hope that others will one day enjoy this same freedom, yet without being crippled. As you said, no one can say where the winds and the tides lead.”
The young man’s eyes drifted upwards to the trees as a light breeze shook the branches and the stars flickered behind them. “I see it,” he said. His eyes welled up with tears and a broad grin swept across his face. “I can already see it.”