Chapter 15: The Academy of Three Nothings

Master Shouyin’s face flushed red with anger. He assumed that Zhang Chi must have said something to the monks, and turning back, he pointed at Zhang Chi, stammering, “You, you…” Yet after stammering for a long while, he still couldn’t get a word out. Feeling thoroughly ashamed, he quickened his steps, crestfallen, and soon dashed out of the monastery gates.

Master Ye approached, palms pressed together in a gesture of respect, and said to Zhang Chi, “I am the translation monk of this monastery, known to all as Master Ye. I must thank you, sir, for your timely assistance.”

Zhang Chi waved his hand, insisting he was unworthy. Master Ye then turned to Dao Yuan. “Are you, by chance, the renowned Master Dao Yuan of Chang’an?”

Dao Yuan had introduced himself earlier when he took the stage, so Master Ye remembered him. Still, Dao Yuan’s fame in the Buddhist world was such that Master Ye, cautious by nature, asked again to be sure.

“My elder brother is indeed Dao Yuan. We escaped from Chang’an to promote Buddhism in the South,” Dao Xuan declared, beating Dao Yuan to a reply.

“If you, Master Dao Yuan, have crossed the river to our land, I invite you to reside at this monastery and preside over the translation of scriptures. Though our monastery is grand and populous, we have long lacked a great monk to hold the seat,” Master Ye said.

Since Dao Yuan’s reputation was illustrious, none of the monks objected.

Dao Yuan did not decline, merely chanting “Amitabha” before replying, “That is exactly my wish.”

Seeing Dao Yuan’s matters settled, Zhang Chi was about to take his leave to seek out the Sanwu Academy in Jiankang, as Miss Wang had mentioned. But Dao Yuan called after him, saying, “You journey to the academy while I remain here to translate scriptures. There will be fewer chances for us to meet again. The Buddha teaches that every meeting is the result of fate. I have a small request. If you will honor me, I hope you will agree.”

Zhang Chi wondered what on earth this old monk could want from him. Before he could reply, Santong, always straightforward, saw Zhang Chi hesitate and, unable to hold back, said, “Brother Zhang, the master has saved us and spent his own money to bring us south. Now that he has a request, why not agree?”

“It was the master’s choice to help, and his choice to spend money. I never asked him to,” Zhang Chi replied.

He’d never cared much for worldly etiquette, and his blunt reply left Santong speechless.

Dao Yuan, however, was unperturbed and smiled. “I knew from the start that you, sir, are no ordinary man. My words just now implied I was seeking to be repaid for kindness, which was my error.”

Santong, seeing Dao Yuan unfazed, was puzzled. “Master, you’ve always been kind to Brother Zhang, yet he shows no gratitude. Why are you not angry? If it were me, I’d be livid.”

Santong was always candid, never afraid to speak his mind, nor to offend Zhang Chi.

“Zhang is like a crane soaring among the clouds, unrestrained and free. How could he be shackled by worldly rites?” Dao Yuan replied. “Those bound by such conventions are like chickens and ducks, never flying higher than the garden wall.”

“So if Brother Zhang refuses, you truly won’t be upset?” Santong still seemed baffled.

Dao Yuan didn’t say whether he’d be angry or not, only murmured, “If a man refuses to give his word against his heart, even to one who has shown him great kindness, then so be it. If he acts willingly, he’ll repay any debt, no matter how difficult. Such wild spirits are the true gentlemen of this world.”

Whether before or after his journey through time, there was probably no one who understood Zhang Chi better than this monk. Zhang Chi thought this silently to himself, saying nothing, but solemnly bowed to Dao Yuan.

Dao Yuan pressed his palms together, chanted the Buddha’s name, and turned to Dao Xuan. “You have a good nature, but your temperament is ill-suited to monastic life. In the past, you stayed only because our elder brother was aged and beset by troubles. Now that I have safely reached Jiankang, you should follow Zhang Chi. I foresee that he will not remain ordinary, and if you go with him, you’ll find your own path.”

“Elder brother…” In truth, Dao Xuan found monastic life dull—too many rules, too little freedom, and he’d always dreaded chanting scriptures. Still, having been raised by his master and accustomed from childhood to vegetarian fare, he was used to the monastic routine.

“The Buddha also teaches engagement with the world, to rescue others—a different kind of practice. Go with Zhang Chi, but take care not to commit wanton slaughter.”

After a pause, Dao Yuan added, “But the Buddha also drove out demons and protected the Dharma. Who deserves to die and who to spare, you must judge for yourself.”

Since Zhang Chi had met Dao Yuan, the monk had never spoken as much as he had today. His words to Dao Xuan sounded more like a father’s advice than anything else.

“Though Buddhism flourishes now, its roots in the Central Plains remain shallow, and petty men often cause trouble. Should disaster befall, Buddhism may vanish overnight. If you, sir, find good fortune and great achievement, I ask that you spare the lives of the Buddhist monks. That is all I seek,” Dao Yuan said to Zhang Chi, having finished his instructions to Dao Xuan.

Zhang Chi asked in surprise, “What great deeds could I possibly accomplish?”

He half-expected Dao Yuan to launch into a lengthy explanation, but instead, the monk reverted to his usual brevity. “I do not know,” was all he said.

As Zhang Chi was leaving the monastery, the elegant Young Master Ding followed him out and said with a smile, “I hear you wish to visit Sanwu Academy. I too am headed there to study. Shall we go together?”

Zhang Chi, of course, knew he wasn’t really this man’s cousin, and evidently Young Master Ding knew it too, but neither mentioned it. Zhang Chi simply slung his arm over Ding’s shoulder and joked, “My dear cousin, you grow more handsome by the day.”

When you can’t grasp the situation, best to muddy it further—so no one can grasp it. That had always been Zhang Chi’s way.

“When did you acquire a cousin, Brother Zhang?” Santong asked in confusion.

“There’s much you don’t know,” Zhang Chi replied, making no attempt to explain, as he led his horse toward the city.

Daoshan Monastery was in southern Jiankang, so on their way in, they hadn’t passed through the bustling heart of the city. Now, walking along the banks of the Qinhuai River, Zhang Chi finally witnessed the splendor of Jiankang at the height of the Six Dynasties.

“Nowhere in the world surpasses the opulence of the Qinhuai banks,” Young Master Ding said, seeing Zhang Chi’s wonder.

“Cousin,” Zhang Chi began, “what was your name again?”

“My surname is Ding, and my given name is Yizhi. Just call me Yizhi, brother.”

This was some kind of brotherhood indeed. Listening to the two of them, Dao Xuan and Santong were drenched in cold sweat, wishing they could faint on the spot.

As they walked, they finally found the Wang family’s Sanwu Academy in the bustling quarter by the Qinhuai River. Standing at the gates, Zhang Chi could not help but marvel. No wonder the great clans commanded such respect—their academies were built with such grandeur.

…

At that moment, Wang Guobao was practicing calligraphy in his study, while Miss Wang stood quietly just five paces away. Nearby was Wang Xu, Wang Guobao’s cousin, who had met Zhang Chi at the monastery earlier.

Wang Xu spoke up, “Brother, you can’t really blame Siyao for the loss of the horses this time. The bandits numbered over a thousand, and with only a few hundred guards, Siyao managed to protect all the goods. That’s already quite a feat.”

“Let it go. A few thousand horses are hardly a loss for our family,” Wang Guobao replied, not even pausing his brush. “You’ve always been too competitive. A little setback will do you good—keep you from thinking no one in the world is your match.”

“You’re still a woman, after all. You should marry soon. I have arranged a match for you with the son of Minister Wang Xun.” Putting down his brush at last, he continued, “A woman’s place is in her home, supporting her husband and raising children.”

Wang Xu added, “Our Wang clan of Taiyuan has been esteemed since crossing the river, but we still lag behind the Wang clan of Langya. Their fame fills the land. Siyao, your father has found you an excellent match.”

This was obviously a political marriage. In her heart, Miss Wang felt nothing but resentment, not a trace of joy. Yet in the Wei and Jin dynasties, noble families only married within their own ranks. She could not protest. After a moment’s silence, she said, “Father, I am indeed tired from my journey back from Huainan. I hear Master Han is lecturing on the Zhuangzi these days. I’d like to attend his talks at the academy.”

Wang Guobao, not objecting, continued practicing his calligraphy. “Go on then. Study a little Laozi and Zhuangzi, and spend less time thinking of state affairs. It’s better than running errands all day, making us the laughingstock of other noble clans. After all, you will marry soon.”

The aristocracy of Wei and Jin regarded practical tasks as menial. The noble class never did such work, holding only sinecures, spending their days drinking and enjoying themselves, never meddling in mundane affairs. Miss Wang could only accept her lot.

After she left, Wang Guobao suddenly recalled something and asked Wang Xu, “Are you sure Ding Yizhi isn’t a member of the Daoist sect?”

“I’m sure. If he were, why would he have supported Buddhism over Daoism at the monastery today? In my view, this man could be of great use.”

“Ding Yizhi,” Wang Guobao mused, “perhaps he is not as simple as you think. We’d best keep an eye on him.”

Wang Xu nodded. After a moment, he added, “Brother, Siyao’s concerns about the Celestial Masters’ Sect are not unfounded. The sect is in its ascendancy in the south, and today they caused quite a stir at our monastery. If not curbed…”

“Our Taiyuan Wang clan has always favored Buddhism, while the Wang clan of Langya devotes itself to the Celestial Masters’ Dao. Now that we are to be joined by marriage, let us put aside matters of the Dao for now,” Wang Guobao replied. “The most important task is to diminish the power of the regional warlords. The Prince of Kuaiji relies on us. If we can reclaim command of the Northern Army, our standing at court will soar. Even Minister Wang Xun will have to show us deference.”

Wang Xu nodded vigorously. “You are right, brother.”

“Only after chaos is order restored can I display my skill,” Wang Guobao said, picking up his brush again. “Being an official is like practicing calligraphy—first, you must steady your spirit.”

With that, he wrote eight characters upon the paper: “Composure brings focus; a tempered spirit makes a life.” His calligraphy was bold and forceful, the brushstrokes cutting through the page.

Wang Xu smiled knowingly at his side.