Chapter Nine: The Seed (Part One)

The night had grown deep. Xiong Dachui left the Bamboo Garden before the Luoyang city gates closed, for he still had to return home and oversee matters there.

Wang Zheng stayed behind to chat briefly with Zheng Shian before they each retired for the night.

The Bamboo Garden was quiet, the occasional chirp of autumn cicadas fading away swiftly. The bright, cool moonlight filtered through the bamboo leaves, casting a silvery frost-like sheen upon the forest floor.

Crack!

A sharp sound rang out. Zheng Yanqing withdrew his palm, staring at the trembling bamboo stalk before him, his brow furrowed deeply in thought. Mao Xiaonian squatted at a distance, holding a towel, watching Zheng Yanqing intently as he pondered.

During the day, the husky’s seemingly light blows had rendered Zheng Yanqing and Pei Xingyan defenseless.

This had profoundly unsettled Yanqing, causing him to brood.

He sensed the husky was no ordinary man, perhaps not even a normal one. But such formidable skill shocked Yanqing deeply. What intention could such a highly skilled warrior have suddenly appearing in Luoyang city?

The husky claimed to be a small-time merchant in Luoyang.

Neither Zheng Shian nor Xiong Dachui had ever heard of him. His origins seemed shrouded in mystery.

Yanqing recalled what Duoduo once told him when he first began martial training: The level of martial skill reflects the degree to which one can wield power. Strength divides into clumsy force, manifest force, hidden force, and transformed force. Ordinary people mostly rely on clumsy force, unable to convert strength into true power... The body’s bones are as solid as metal and stone, weightier than mountains. One may feel as light as a feather or as heavy as Mount Tai. At this stage, the bones have begun to change, transforming strength into power; the body moves smoothly without resistance, limbs rise and fall in perfect harmony, generating manifest force—fierce and overwhelming in presence.

To date, Yanqing had completed the initial bone transformation but had yet to convert strength into power.

For he had not yet grasped how intention, strength, and qi combine. Observing the husky’s moves, it was clear he had reached a miraculous mastery in wielding force. Yanqing could not claim to possess the strength of a thousand jin, but at full exertion, he could manage several hundred jin. Pei Xingyan was stronger than Yanqing.

Yanqing even sensed Pei Xingyan had perhaps already merged intention and strength, beginning to wield manifest force.

Yet still, the husky easily separated the two of them...

Fear crept in, spurring Yanqing to unlock the mysteries of ‘power’ as soon as possible.

The bamboo stalk stood straight, hollow and upright, curved but unbroken. Yanqing stood before it, throwing punch after punch, but could not snap the bamboo.

Though the night was late, Yanqing felt no fatigue.

He remained in the bamboo grove, carefully reflecting on every punch he had thrown.

Mao Xiaonian did not understand what troubled her young master—why he kept striking the bamboo—but she sensed the unease and anxiety in his heart. Midnight approached, yet Yanqing still practiced.

She wanted to persuade him but did not know how.

After all, her master was well-read, clever, and thoughtful. If he could not solve the problem himself, what help could she offer? So she quietly watched from the side.

When her master finally understood, everything would be well.

The late autumn wind was gentle yet chilling.

By the second half of the night, the temperature dropped sharply.

The wind grew fierce, swaying the bamboo stalks with a rustling sound. Yanqing sat on the ground, quietly watching the tall bamboo bend violently but never break. He seemed to have a revelation, yet could not fully grasp it.

Mao Xiaonian quietly approached, draping a cloak over Yanqing’s shoulders.

“Master, it’s very late. Please rest early. Some things cannot be rushed. If you cannot understand now, let it go for a while. You once said, ‘Let things take their natural course.’ When the time is right, understanding will come. Don’t force yourself.”

Yanqing closed his eyes, feeling some weariness.

Xiaonian was right; some things could not be forced.

He stood and turned to leave. A bamboo leaf floated lightly onto his face. He brushed it off and tossed it aside.

But the leaf did not fall to the ground; it swirled again with the wind.

Yanqing suddenly stopped and looked back at Xiaonian. “What did you say just now?”

Startled, she stepped back, timidly replying, “I said, it’s already very late...”

“Not that line. The one after it!”

“‘Let things take their natural course. If you cannot understand, let it go for a while...’”

Yanqing abruptly turned toward the swaying bamboo, as if struck by sudden clarity. He strode quickly to a bamboo stalk and punched it. Though his fist seemed less forceful than before, the moment it struck, a crisp snap echoed.

The slender bamboo stalk broke under his single punch.

Yes, that was the feeling!

The Tao Te Ching says: “Achieve utmost emptiness, hold to stillness. Returning to the root is called stillness; stillness is called return to destiny; returning to destiny is called constancy; knowing constancy is enlightenment...”

The use of strength is the same: the more you force it, the clumsier it becomes.

Yanqing laughed aloud, stepping forward to deliver another punch. A slender bamboo stalk snapped immediately. He felt the transformation of his power with each strike. Soon, his punches carried a fierce wind, whistling as they flew.

After snapping seven or eight bamboo stalks in succession, Yanqing stepped back.

The Bamboo Garden was a mess, with a dozen stalks lying broken and scattered.

Wang Zheng and Zheng Shian were roused from sleep, stepping out of the bamboo house. Seeing the scene, Wang Zheng applauded and nodded with a smile.

Though he did not understand clumsy or manifest force, he could sense Yanqing’s sudden growth.

This child was indeed gifted; who knew what he might become. It was a pity Wang Zheng might never live to witness that day.

——————————————————————————

The joy of breakthrough was immense!

Yet pain accompanied it. Early attempts to wield manifest force left Yanqing’s hands red and swollen like steamed buns the next morning. Mao Xiaonian massaged them with medicinal wine, causing him to grit his teeth in pain. She couldn’t help but chuckle, for in that moment he seemed like a mere child.

A day later, Dou Fengjie set off with his father, Dou Gui, traveling to Ziyang.

Yanqing saw Dou Fengjie off at the Ten-Mile Pavilion outside Luoyang. They parted reluctantly, tears falling. Dou Gui said nothing to Yanqing but bowed slightly from horseback in deep gratitude.

Though this broke protocol, it expressed Dou Gui’s profound thanks. Without Yanqing’s words that night, he might have spent his life neglecting his bond with his son. Yanqing had restored a father-son relationship, and despite the breach of etiquette, he accepted it calmly.

Watching the carriage fade into the distance, Yanqing lingered long at the pavilion.

On the sixth day of winter, the first snow arrived.

Flurries drifted from the sky, blanketing the Heluo region overnight in a vast expanse of white.

Since spring, Yang Guang had toured northward—from Luoyang to Zhuo Commandery, then Yulin Commandery, and finally to the court of Khagan Qimin. On the return journey south, he passed Taiyuan and Henei, arriving back in Luoyang just a day before the first snow.

It was curious that although Yang Guang had built the eastern capital to harness Heluo’s wealth and to intimidate the Shandong aristocracy, he seemed reluctant to linger there. Legend said that on the day he returned, he decreed a western tour to begin after spring thaw, with the route already planned.

This did not seem the behavior of a typical emperor, but more like that of a scholar who enjoyed travel. Of course, the western tour had reason: In the third year of the Daye era, Emperor Yang dispatched Xue Shixiong to the Western Regions, defeating the Tuyuhun and establishing four commanderies.

This journey was meant to showcase military achievements and pacify the northwest.

Yet an emperor who spends his days away from the capital invites criticism of neglect.

Zheng Yanqing opened the bamboo window. A cold gust swept in, carrying snowflakes that sharply dropped the temperature inside the bamboo house.

“Brother Yanqing, have you heard?” Zheng Hongyi sat inside, playing a game of double-six with Xu Shiji, grinning as he looked toward Yanqing.

Though Dou Fengjie had left, peace was not yet restored.

With the year-end approaching, Yan Shigu, who had not returned home for many years, wished to perform ancestral rites. This was natural, and Zheng Renji would not oppose. Yet with Yan Shigu gone, Zheng Hongyi and Xu Shiji’s studies would be disrupted.

Xu Shiji, at thirteen, was at a critical age, possibly entering official school the following year.

Madam Cui privately remarked, “Mr. Yan’s return for ancestral rites is important and must not be stopped. But Hongyi and Xu Shiji’s studies cannot be delayed either. How about sending them to the Bamboo Garden?”

Since Yanqing had proactively visited Madam Cui and written a calligraphy piece for her, relations had eased considerably.

In truth, there were no deep grudges. The initial conflict arose because Zheng Shian blocked Madam Cui’s financial interests, causing resentment. Now, with Zheng Shian returned to the clan and ranked as an elder uncle to Zheng Renji, and with Yanqing’s rising reputation, the Bamboo Garden no longer relied on any resources from Anyuan Hall. With no financial entanglements and Zheng Hongyi’s warmth toward Yanqing, Madam Cui’s bitterness faded. She had not expected Yanqing to accept her request for calligraphy so readily, which saved her face publicly.

Zheng Renji initially hesitated, not out of disdain for Yanqing, but fearing the boys would neglect studies if grouped together.

Madam Cui said, “Though young, Yanqing is mature and dependable, like a little adult. Remember the Xiong Dahai incident? You failed to resolve it, but he quietly minimized the problem. I think Hongyi would benefit from being there. With Yanqing around, Xu Shiji will be more diligent. Don’t you agree?”

Thus, the Bamboo Garden became a kind of daycare for the Zheng family.

Yanqing shook his head. “Heard what?”

“That the barbarians of the Wa country are ridiculous, writing in their national letter: ‘The sun rises where the son of heaven is, and the sun sets where the son of heaven is not.’ I heard His Majesty was displeased, harshly reprimanded the Minister of Rites, and refused to receive the Wa envoy.”

“Barbarian savages, ignorant fools!”

Yanqing vaguely recalled reading about this in the Zizhi Tongjian. Yang Guang had been furious, saying: “Do not report uncivilized letters of barbarians again.”

“From now on, I never want to see such letters!”

Xu Shiji clearly despised the Wa country people.

In fact, within the vast realm of the Great Sui, especially in Luoyang, how many held them in esteem?

“And then?”

“A few days ago, I heard from the Zheng family uncle that His Majesty plans to send envoys with gifts to those barbarians as a return courtesy.”

“Oh?”

“They say many fine gifts were bestowed.”

Yanqing’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Xu Shiji noticed it and asked, puzzled, “This is to display the grandeur of our Great Sui. Yanqing, you seem unconvinced?”

“I think, if I were a barbarian, I’d do the same.”

“Oh?”

“Think about it: just submit a national letter, kowtow a few times, say some flattering words, and receive a generous reward—what a profitable business. Since the Han, it’s always been so. Centuries ago, when the Xiongnu occupied Shuofang, if they won battles they advanced; if they lost, they gained even more benefits.

Centuries later, the Han people were slaughtered almost to extinction, derided as ‘two-legged sheep,’ butchered by barbarians. It was so then, and so again now. I say, those who win the battle are less fortunate than the losers.”

Zheng Hongyi did not fully grasp this, but Xu Shiji understood well.

He was momentarily stunned, then thoughtful.

After a pause, he softly asked, “But the Wa country cannot be compared to the Xiongnu; Yanqing, aren’t you exaggerating?”

“When Huo Qubing struck the Xiongnu a thousand miles away, did we foresee a day when we would be slaughtered by them?”

“Well...”

The Wa country now seems weak and meek; but can you guarantee they won’t become a menace? Huo Qubing’s rivers of blood against the Xiongnu led the world to believe they would never rise again.

Yet during the Five Barbarians’ turmoil, were the first to raise the slaughtering knife not the Xiongnu?

Yanqing knew he could not change the course of events now. He could not voice his thoughts to the world nor sway Emperor Yang Guang’s decisions. But he hoped to influence those around him—Zheng Hongyi, Xu Shiji—to slowly cultivate change. Xu Shiji would surely become a military god one day; perhaps he could make a difference.

“Hongyi, help me bring up Xiyao and Siyian,” Yanqing said.

Hongyi nodded and hurried down from the bamboo house.

Yanqing sat opposite Xu Shiji. “Today the Wa country imitates us, appearing mild and humble. Our Great Sui court is filled with talk of benevolence and virtue. But there’s an old saying among the people: ‘Teach the apprentice, and the master starves.’ I’m not saying we should close our doors and pretend to be strong. The Book of Changes says: ‘Renew daily, renew daily, yet again renew.’

The world is always changing and evolving. We should develop while civilizing the world. But this civilizing should not rely on mere kindness. I believe teaching foreign tribes requires iron and blood... Benevolence is only an aid, never the main method.”

Xu Shiji listened quietly, then suddenly looked up and asked, “Yanqing, why tell me all this?”

“Because I believe you will achieve great things!”

“Ah?”

Xu Shiji was taken aback, puzzled by Yanqing’s words.

He felt Yanqing might be mocking him—he was older but seemed less learned and insightful.

Yet when he met Yanqing’s gaze, he saw no hint of ridicule.

These words came from the heart.

Xu Shiji was moved, touched that Yanqing valued him so deeply, stirring in him a warrior’s loyalty to a confidant.

“If someday, I truly accomplish what you say... I will never forget your words today.”

Yanqing smiled upon hearing this.

Today, he had sown a seed, uncertain what form it might take when it took root and blossomed. Yet he believed that as long as he kept planting seeds, one day there would be a vast forest. That was the result he desired.