Pathway to Japanese Literature

Around the 3rd century BCE, during an autumn of that era which historians in China have named the Warring States Period, a middle-aged man—Zhuangzi—lay resting on spread tree leaves near the Oak Shrine in the outskirts of Wei's capital. He wore a roughly aged robe over his sturdy frame and carelessly donned a birch bark crown. His face was leaden and lusterless; his sharply defined eyes held pupils that had grown clouded from excessive thought. Yet his unbecomingly red lips and tightly curled, thick hair revealed him to be a man of passion. Yet at the same time, his strong, high nose and forehead like rock also appeared willful in nature. It was a face where various elements intertwined and clashed with each other as a whole.

The front of the earthen slope bordering the millet field where Zhuangzi sat faced the highway connecting Daliang, Wei's capital, through Xinzheng, Han's capital, to Luoyang in Zhou. As the sun dipped westward, carriages, horses, and pedestrians quickened their pace along the road. Yet travelers still lingered at the slope's edge and around the shrine across the highway, mingling with local villagers whose clamorous voices carried through the air. The villagers often gathered here to relish news from various states brought by wayfarers. They raised excited cries born equally of anxiety and fascination toward society's affairs. Zhuangzi paid no mind to the commotion, his gaze fixed on the great oak tree that jutted abruptly from beside the Oak Shrine into the sky. The oak surpassed ordinary ancient trees in grandeur and height, its broom-like crown rustling as it stabbed upward into azure emptiness. It lacked any semblance of lush vitality or majestic bearing—merely standing dumbstruck and rigid, spanning heaven and earth. Could such a natural form exist? Yet Zhuangzi praised this tree precisely because its wood proved useless for ships or coffins when put to use—a tree spurned by humans that thereby escaped their axes' blight, preserving its nature to fulfill heaven's mandate through this very rejection. He muttered.

“This tree, were it human, would be the embodiment of a sage.” The roots of the sentiments he had expressed toward this tree were beginning to coalesce into thoughts within his mind. “The Way was never something that appeared resplendent and dazzling to human eyes, nor was it something one could draw a clear line around and point to definitively.” In accordance with nature’s transformations, those that should follow their nature did so, and those that should become tiles and stones or gnats and horseflies entrusted themselves to change, finding peace in that transformation. This should be the true “Way.” To seek other uses while fussing and aspire to white steeds and azure clouds would hinder the path of those pursuing the true “Way”—yet somehow this thought still sat uneasily in his mind. People were eager to make their way in the world, even by exaggerating an inch into a foot. He too had been part of that competition until very recently. This habit was not something one could shed entirely so quickly. He once again looked up at the Great Oak Tree and sighed.

At that moment, a traveler's carriage came rattling its wheels from the direction of Daliang. When it reached before Zhuangzi, it abruptly halted, and a hunchbacked figure leaped down from beside the driver's seat. Drawing near, "Isn't this Master Zhuangzi? It really is Master Zhuangzi!" said Shiri Son.

This was Shiri Son—Zhuangzi’s patron and a wealthy merchant who traveled between various states.

Shiri Son crawled spider-like up the earthen slope, sat down beside Zhuangzi, and let his words gush forth.

“When I visited your residence just now and heard you were here, I came immediately.” “It’s been so long, Master! I hardly know where to begin—but more importantly, why did you give up both your post and scholarly pursuits to retire here without even sending word?” Zhuangzi was glad to meet Shiri Son after so long, but being questioned about it immediately proved somewhat tiresome. And he very briefly explained his reason for retiring.

Around this time, the two sages Confucius and Laozi had passed away. Though separated by approximately a century and a half, what came to be revered as "Learning" began to be systematized by later disciples, and alongside this development, numerous schools of thought arose in parallel. Taking up Confucius’s ethical idealism, Mencius advocated the theory of innate human goodness. In contrast, Xunzi adopted the Theory of Innate Human Evil and formed the Legalist school faction. Just as Mohist-inspired universal altruism was gaining popularity, Yang Zhu's faction on the other hand loudly advocated individualistic hedonism. Among the more unusual developments was the rise of the Sophist faction led by Gongsun Long, known for his phrase "A white horse is not a horse." Additionally, there was Liezi, who followed Laozi's lineage. With some chronological variation but centered roughly on this period, not only did nearly every conceivable philosophy of life that humans could devise appear before the world dressed in finery and adorned with splendor, but they also refined their principles, honed their rhetoric, and vied fiercely with one another. The era was a chaotic age of seven states divided and vying for power. Amidst this accompaniment of swords and halberds dancing through the streets, the ideological struggles—a chaotic spectacle beyond description, whether as "seven flowers eight splits" or a whirling confusion—raged on.

Zhuangzi immersed himself in the teachings of Confucius and Laozi from a young age, wielding his brilliance so masterfully that he left no rivals in the scholarly world. Yet as he neared middle age, he gradually wearied of debate and turned inward, growing more inclined toward Laozi's doctrines of following nature through passive acceptance. But how could the ideas of that ruddy-faced sage—a white-haired old man with a six-foot robust frame embodying antiquity's visage—ever align with those of this sensitive poet-scholar? In the end, Zhuangzi followed none of the ancient sages' paths and began forging his own Way.

Zhuangzi had turned these thoughts over in his mind once more, but however much reverence Shiri Son might hold for him, he found no compelling reason to explain such intricacies to the merchant before him. And so, "The Way may instead take the pathless as its path—it might be that." "In other words, neither official service nor scholarship could become my true treasures—they’re just trivial pursuits." And now it was Zhuangzi’s turn to inquire of Shiri Son about the state of the world from which he had grown distant after retiring.

The more Zhuangzi listened to Shiri Son’s account, the more the world seemed to be changing. The Vertical Alliance formed by Zhao, Yan, Han, Wei, Qi, and Chu to oppose the mighty Qin had begun to crumble, and in its place swelled momentum for each state to individually submit to Qin through the Horizontal Alliance strategy. Therefore people too were changing. Su Qin—the Vertical Alliance strategist who had carried the chancellor seals of six states upon his person and whose processions were praised as outnumbering those of kings—was sinking day by day into a fate of destitution, while Zhang Yi, newly appointed as Qin’s chancellor and mastermind of the Horizontal Alliance, saw his influence strikingly take root. Even the children of Luoyang chorused Zhang Yi’s name as the hero who would usher in the new era.

The hunchbacked Shiri Son stirred his hunched form with all his might as he explained the state of the realm. He, who spent the entire year traversing between various states, indeed grasped the true state of the world. When he finished his explanation, he added these words: “Everything changes like a cat’s eyes shifting in the light.” “Yet amidst all this, there remains one thing that never changes.” “Wouldn’t that be the beauty of Luoyang’s celebrated courtesan Lady Li Ji?” Shiri Son burst into laughter. In that laughter resonated an amused tone at the audacity of discussing a woman with whom he had little connection before an uncouth scholar.

Yet unexpectedly, Zhuangzi’s face began to show an eager expression.

"How has Li Ji been lately?" This left even Shiri Son dumbfounded. He could not help but wonder how a rigid man like you could possibly be concerned about Li Ji. Zhuangzi answered plainly that she was a woman renowned in the world and that even his wife in Luoyang had been close with her, but his tone had a suspiciously smooth quality. However, Shiri Son—who trusted Zhuangzi—nodded in understanding and then told him a recent anecdote about Li Ji that might interest even a scholar.

It was an evening in summer. Li Ji was strolling along the edge of the pond in her mansion's rear garden. The pond had been newly stocked with koi. Li Ji approached the edge of the pond to look at the fish. The koi, seeing the human shadow, hurriedly fled to the distant depths of the water. Water splashed onto her robe. For a while, Li Ji’s face remained flushed crimson, and then... “How utterly rude these fish are!” “I’ve never been treated with such cold indifference by anyone before.” “Even ignorant fish shouldn’t be this cruel!”

After finishing the rumor about how she had thrown a childishly naughty tantrum, Shiri Son laughed even more uproariously than before. "What do you think? A woman who voices grievances even to fish."

With that, he laughed again. Zhuangzi forced a polite laugh in return, but traces of suppressed excitement could be seen on his melancholic face.

Shiri Son adjusted his collar and stood up.

“I must take my leave, Master Zhuangzi. This time I’m too busy to linger at your home. I will certainly visit next time. By then, I hope you’ll establish a theory that makes everyone gasp ‘Ah!’ and astonish the world.” The rumbling of the carriage tracks bearing Shiri Son faded into the distance beyond the earthen slope.

The day faded without notice. The Great Oak Tree of the Oak Shrine carved its grotesque form stark black against the slumbering sky. Birds that roosted in this tree—countless hundreds of them—clamored around it. Their cries sounded like the distant roar of the tide. Over the fields, evening mist hung low, drifting across scattered forests like floating islands. The fences of the nearby village became nothing but scattered points of light, while within the streak of darkness along the horizon—likely Daliang—flickered lights like grains of gold dust.

Zhuangzi returned home with two stones cast into his heart. Both Su Qin and Zhang Yi had been companions who wandered Luoyang with him during their student days. The closeness between the two had been renowned even among their peers. That they were now—despite being former comrades—divided into enemy and ally outmaneuvering each other, as was customary in the Warring States... The vision still lingered in Zhuangzi’s eyes: Su Qin’s heroic ruddy face and Zhang Yi’s nervous pallid countenance standing side by side, bathing in the setting sun as they cast shadows upon Luoyang’s massive ramparts while returning from an excursion in days past. The two men now contending for supremacy in the imperial court seemed like entirely different beings. This reality sank even deeper into that tendency toward avoidance already gnawing at Zhuangzi. What a detestable world. He felt it was simply a truly detestable world.

However, when it came to matters involving Li Ji, Zhuangzi's heart would naturally grow tense. Before his reclusive life, when he had dwelled in Luoyang, he often met her—sometimes even with his wife Mrs. Tian—at banquets and other occasions. Uncompromising and willful, she lived with all her strength and spirit, her mind as taut as a polished mirror, without a speck of hesitation. If humans could live thusly, they would hardly need things called philosophy or thought. Li Ji—who would sometimes come to Zhuangzi's mind, filling him with poignant longing—had originally been the sole daughter of a general overseeing Qin's border defenses. In accordance with a common practice of the Warring States period, her father—the general—had been accused through fabricated slander by political enemies over a minor fault and received the King of Qin's punishment. Her mother and the remaining Li Ji had still been children at that time. There had been someone who informed the King of Qin of rumors giving people premonitions: her heaven-crafted beauty, still in bud, would permeate outward with its fragrance and eventually bloom into a peerless flower of unparalleled renown. Soon after being bereaved of her mother too, Li Ji had been taken in and raised within the rear palace. While it was thought she would become a powerful favored concubine—perhaps even rise to become the king's second consort—this king passed away, and through high ministers' machinations, Li Ji was dispatched to distant Luoyang's capital to live as a courtesan. At that time among Luoyang's courtesans were renowned ones who adopted names like Daji, Baosi, and Queen Mother of the West—names of famous seductresses from antiquity and legendary fairy maidens. They entertained guests ranging from scholar-officials to lords commanding hundreds and thousands of chariots, resided in grand mansions, kept dozens of servants, and led lives akin to noblewomen. That Li Ji—having entered this circle—swiftly surpassed those three without effort might prompt one to ask whether she possessed extraordinary skills different from others, but it could rather be said to be the opposite. She was self-indulgent and capricious; if displeased, she would lift her leg before high-ranking nobles and kick over low tables' pots of white peonies with the crescent-shaped tips of her golden shoes. When her spirits rose, she would call for musical accompaniment herself without awaiting guests' requests and stand up to dance. When sorrow struck, she would wail loudly even before princes. The rouge around her tear-streaked eyes dripped down her cheeks to her chin—she paid it no mind. Then she would suddenly cease moving before anyone and lapse into an ecstatic trance for a time. She would direct her unfocused eyes forward, position her arms gracefully against her slightly poised body, and maintain that posture—if someone were to ask "What do you see? What do you think?" I would begin by recalling my mother. After my father was slandered, my mother—profoundly feeling the world's unpredictability—would watch migrating birds crossing the sky while fretting over their fate.

"But when I think of my worrisome mother—no, no—I immediately change my mind: I shall live as I am, true to my nature through this world! And then I feel so wonderfully elated, slipping into an ecstatic trance—" she laughed sumptuously. Whether that explanation was true or false, people came to call Li Ji’s condition "Li Ji’s Divine Wanderings." At that moment, Li Ji’s beauty—her pale, thin-skinned complexion now thickly packed with flesh of faint peach hue like quicksilver—became especially abundant and voluminous. Li Ji again posed quite unreasonable demands to her clients. Shiri Son, Zhuangzi’s patron, was by no means her patron out of romantic interest, but precisely because of that, she was all the more indulgent. At one time, she pestered [someone] to have a famous doll maker from the Western Capital create a lifelike doll in her likeness. Then she also pestered [someone] to bring a live Wenyao fish dwelling in the Eastern Sea and show it to her. It was a rare fish said to be one that normally dwelled in the Western Sea yet journeyed night after night to the Eastern Sea. Let us extract a chapter from the Classic of Mountains and Seas that describes this fish: "Shape like a carp, fish body with bird wings, azure patterns with red head and beak, constantly traverses the Western Sea, wanders in the Eastern Sea, flies across seas, its cry resembles that of a phoenix."

However, preserving that rare fish alive for dozens of days—from departing Gusu near the East Sea, crossing the Yangtze River, reaching the main course of the Huai River and ascending its banks, to transporting it to Zhou’s Luoyang—was nearly an impossible feat. However, Shiri Son enlisted an old man with divine skills and fulfilled Li Ji’s wish. However, the story goes that the old man never showed anyone the mechanism inside the water tank used to transport it.

Zhuangzi was eating a mostly silent supper by the light of a small candle with his wife, Mrs. Tian, while drowsily pondering such matters. The more he pondered, the more Li Ji’s existence seemed a mystery. The more willful she became, the more her beauty manifested itself………Could it be that the Way exists precisely where there is no path—that true life's ecstasy resides in constraint-free realms like hers……?

“Darling, has Mr. Shiri Son come with another curious tale about Li Ji?” Zhuangzi was startled by his wife’s words, but he could hardly say he had ever considered a mere woman’s existence as being connected to his “Way.” “It’s nothing particularly new, but he did say she remains as mischievous and beautiful as ever.” He answered, adding almost apologetically to his response the story of Li Ji resenting the escaped fish in the pond, and laughed lightly with an air of nonchalance; but the clever Mrs. Tian had largely discerned her husband’s inner thoughts. Moreover, endeavoring to match the rhythm of her husband’s feelings in all things, she too received that same story with a light laugh.

“Oh ho ho... She is indeed still such a charming girl.” But Zhuangzi could not bring himself to laugh again at this and continued moving his chopsticks through the supper with the same unappetized look, listlessly as ever. Mrs. Tian, this wife, had come from the Tian clan—a prominent family of Wei—to marry Zhuangzi during his promising scholar days, drawn by his brilliant intellect. Even after Zhuangzi began to lose his way on the "Path," resigned from his position as a lacquer garden official, withdrew from his once-brilliant academic life, and entered into a poor and unprosperous existence, she—as though having completely forgotten her former opulent upbringing—continued living with him without uttering a single complaint. Though her features were thin, she was beautiful. Zhuangzi also loved this wife. Yet, Zhuangzi felt a conventional sense of dissatisfaction even with this wife’s virtue. In other words, virtuous virtue—like the conventional "Way-like Way" that Zhuangzi had grown weary of—was not something he considered supremely precious. The astute Mrs. Tian was dimly aware of even her husband’s feelings toward herself yet dared not show any discontent.

After having a servant help clear the dining table and adjusting her sleeves while taking in the sound of bamboo rustling in the night wind, Mrs. Tian spoke casually, taking care not to provoke her husband’s emotions.

“Darling, you should go out to Luoyang for a change of pace once in a while—staying cooped up alone in this countryside every day for so long cannot be good for your health.” Mrs. Tian moved even closer to the candle flame and added in a manner that caused the silver hairpin in her hair to sway slightly. “Now, having made arrangements in Luoyang, you must go visit before Mr. Shiri Son departs on his next business trip. And do go meet that innocent Li Ji for the first time in ages. Unexpectedly, your mood may clear, and the path to your studies might open up once more.”

Zhuangzi stared intently at his wife’s face. He understood all too well that his wife was by no means telling him to meet Li Ji out of jealousy or sarcasm. Even so, Zhuangzi continued to gaze at his wife’s face not only with the simple feeling of deep gratitude for her words but also with a strange sense of wonder at how perfectly this woman had been fashioned to embody wifely virtue.

From the quiet backyard came the sound of several ducks flapping their wings incessantly as they were shut into their night coop.

About a month later, Zhuangzi—following his wife’s earnest urging and with the arrival of the prearranged welcome from Shiri Son—finally set out on his journey toward Luoyang.

As autumn neared its end, even the bustling capital of Luoyang had taken on a tinge of desolation. The Zhou royal house, once hailed as hegemon over the realm, had utterly declined into a mere formality. Yet its capital, Luoyang—still buoyed by the inertia of its long prosperity and positioned geographically westward yet at the heart of China at that time—served as a crossroads for the nations’ traffic. Amidst song-filled banquets, strategists and lobbyists came and went, making it a convenient place for feudal lords’ advisors to conduct secret plots and conspiracies.

Zhuangzi was brought by Shiri Son to Lady Li Ji’s residence in Luoyang after dusk had passed.

The two were led to one of the many rooms surrounding the inner courtyard. It was a starry night, and countless small glimmers dotted the sky like linked hands. The grove of trees in the garden was skillfully arranged so that the rooms could not see into each other across the garden. Lights were lit in the windows, and willow strands hung desolately like cold rain. The two men had just begun drinking with the maids when the "Fly-Wing Performer" entered. A burly man, bare from the waist up to flaunt his muscles, came in carrying a thin-bladed axe. Afterwards, a beautifully adorned girl entered with a tiny dab of white powder on the tip of her nose. The thinness of that white powder was, in Chinese-style terms, about that of a fly’s wing. The girl came before the guests and, careful not to let them touch the white powder, showed only its thinness before lying supine on the floor in a spread-eagled position. The burly man bowed to the guests and took a firm stance beside the girl. The axe swung in two or three large arcs through the air with a resounding whoosh. With a sharp cry, the white powder on the tip of the girl’s nose flew off, struck the wall, and clattered to the floor. The girl immediately sprang up and giggled coquettishly. Her plump white nose remained calm, as if unaware of the axe’s danger. The burly man made a motion as if stroking her nose with his palm and said, “Your precious nose. Your precious nose.” Shiri Son and the maids all burst into laughter. In the Warring States period, such murderous arts added entertainment to banquet gatherings.

Zhuangzi, who had been staring unblinkingly at the performer's movements, asked in deep admiration.

“Is there some trick to this?”

The burly man answered without hesitation. "The trick lies rather with this girl here. This girl has never known the terror of blades since birth. She remains unfazed even when facing the axe. That’s why I can wield the axe so effortlessly." Zhuangzi, lost in thought about “the efficacy of no-mind,” glanced at the girl. The girl received half a chunk of pomegranate from one of the maids and spat seeds onto a tray. When she finished eating it, she was accompanied by the burly man and went out to the next room.

With a fragrant incense stand placed before her, Li Ji entered. The room suddenly brightened. She took a seat near the candle to make her beauty easily visible to all. To her innate delicate grace she added sophisticated cosmetics secretly imported from Mediterranean shores—their application so artful that even an unsettling Roman passion seemed to brim from her brows. Her arrogance had swiftly become renowned throughout Luoyang, yet Zhuangzi—that rarest of scholars—came to regard her with measured respect. She knelt meekly before Zhuangzi.

“You have kindly come.” “It has been quite a long time since I last had the honor of meeting you.”

“Having secluded myself in the countryside, I have neglected all correspondence.” “But you remain splendidly unchanged, I see.”

“Yes, thank you very much.” “Thanks to your graciousness……… And how fares your esteemed wife at your noble residence?” “She has been slightly unwell of late, but it’s nothing serious.” “It must be due to her being unaccustomed to rural living that she has grown somewhat despondent.” “Please convey to her that she should kindly visit the capital for a time.” “Thank you for your kind concern—I shall convey it thoroughly.”

However, the ritualized exchange of words between Zhuangzi and Li Ji came to an end at that point. Before long, Li Ji had forgotten everything and began letting her very fascination take flight into the void. It was precisely to witness that state that Zhuangzi had come to meet Li Ji. He, enraptured, tried to enter together into Li Ji’s realm of fascination.

“...When waves rise on the sea, those fish spread their wings and fly a hundred yards or two over the waves, they say.”

She repeated this over and over again. Zhuangzi initially thought she was starting to say something, but it turned out to be about the live flying fish she had recently made Shiri Son procure through unreasonable demands from the distant Eastern Sea. Though she had gone to great lengths to have them brought alive to her side, she lamented how in the one-zhang-square fish tank she had commissioned from a Luoyang cooper, those fish showed not a trace of their innate leaping nature—merely listlessly drooping their wings in the water. Thus she resorted to gesturing and mimicking how those fish must have leapt over the Eastern Sea's waves, both to distract herself and to vent through these appeals to others the pent-up frustration of her unattainable desires.

“When waves rise on the sea, those fish spread their wings and fly a hundred yards or two over the waves, they say.” After repeating this several times, she laughed with crystalline peals that resonated against the golden filigree of the balcony railing. But when her eyes—still bright from laughter—rested on Zhuangzi, she turned with sudden gravity toward Shiri Son and said: “Master Zhuangzi has changed. “When he dwelled in Luoyang before, he would never have deigned to listen so earnestly to my foolish prattle. “He would either deliver some piercing riposte or turn to converse with other gentlemen.”

“Oh, there’s no need to take it so seriously.” “Since retiring to the countryside, Master has grown ever more subdued.” “If you say that—though his once-so-beautiful face has taken on a leaden dullness…—then why would that Master invite someone like me and put on such an affected show of being deeply moved by these foolish antics?”

Shiri Son, at a loss for what to do while glancing at Zhuangzi—who wore a wry smile—was wavering over how to respond, but with Li Ji relentlessly pressing him for an answer, he finally spoke out. “Master... the truth is... he came because he wanted to see your willfulness.”

“What? My willfulness?” “That’s right—he said he wanted to see your willfulness, the greatest under heaven, and made me guide him here.” “Why would Master want to see my willfulness now of all times...?”

At that moment, a complex expression that could not be definitively called either sorrowful or ashamed flitted across Li Ji’s face. Shiri Son had never before seen such an expression appear on her. However, because Zhuangzi had his arms deeply folded and was meditating with closed eyes, he missed seeing that expression.

Another month or so passed.

It was a perfectly clear day with the first coolness of autumn.

A single carriage appeared near the Oak Shrine—an area abundant in warm sunny spots—and came to a stop before Zhuangzi’s gate. Emerging from the carriage was Shiri Son, who had his attendant carry a large gift bundle. Beside the low earthen wall where peonies stood with withered leaves, two or three clumps of short orchid leaves displayed their freshly verdant dampness—vestiges of morning dew and frost—in shaded patches. It was nearly noon, yet Zhuangzi’s house lay utterly silent. Shiri Son briefly restrained with his hand the attendant who had clomped into the gate behind him and was still scrutinizing the house’s atmosphere when the backdoor leading to the rear garden opened, revealing Zhuangzi’s wife Mrs. Tian emerging while drying her wet hands with a cloth.

“Oh, I thought someone was here—if it isn’t Honorable Shiri Son! Please, do come in.”

Shiri Son was ushered to the wooden table in the dirt-floored entrance. “Madam, have you been occupied with water chores? I had heard your condition was poor.” “No, nothing of consequence. Taking advantage of the fair weather, I was attending to laundry.” “Has your situation become so trying that you must even handle laundry yourself? No, no—I shan’t permit this state to endure long. I shall make arrangements for a modest helper to attend you ere much time passes.”

“Oh, not at all—when I say my condition is poor, it’s nothing serious. A little rinsing laundry and such... Considering my husband’s recent state, this way of life actually suits me quite well.” “If that’s the case, how has Master Zhuangzi been today?”

“Ho ho ho—have you not noticed yet? That... that sound of an axe coming from the rear garden... That is my husband chopping firewood.” “What? Master Zhuangzi chopping firewood? ………Now that is quite the eccentric pursuit he’s taken up.” “After we returned from Luoyang that time—and let me properly thank you again for your most generous hospitality then—he spent some time deep in thought, but then suddenly took up those activities on a whim... Since then, his days have gradually brightened. That lazybones now goes barefoot to weed the garden, draws fertilizer water, splits firewood—especially loving the wood-chopping... He says there’s nothing more satisfying than when the mindlessly swung axe cleanly splits dried wood in perfect rhythm.”

“If his days are spent thus, and he does his reading and writing at night—I only hope it doesn’t lead to exhaustion.”

Mrs. Tian hesitated slightly before speaking resolutely. "Even to your esteemed self who so favors my husband, this is difficult to say... The truth is, my husband has nearly ceased both reading and writing of late." "The other night, he declared that the books he had been reading had become an eyesore, promptly set about putting them away, and instead called local farmers for a nighttime meeting to begin discussing pig rearing." "He said he might even end up sleeping in the pigsty some nights, began researching pig breeds and designing the sty, splitting planks himself and helping with the roofing..."

“Hmm.” Shiri Son groaned and drank the lukewarm tea that Mrs. Tian had poured out exactly as it was. With reserve, Mrs. Tian—for there was no one else to whom they could now confide their thoughts—wished at least to have Shiri Son hear her out, “One night, I timidly asked, ‘Have you given up your research on the Way to become a village teacher in this hamlet?’ To which my husband replied with some vigor, ‘That very Way is beginning to reveal itself to me now.’” “When I, a bit taken aback, involuntarily let out an ‘Oh?’ and gazed at his face, he said that ‘the Way’ seemed to be everywhere.” “There is nowhere without the Way.” “The Way exists even in ants.” “In weeds too.” “In tiles and bricks too.” "In excrement and urine too." “And finally, plopping himself down, he declares that even in such a state, he’s ‘walking the Way of Non-Action and Naturalness,’ you see.”

From beyond the door connecting the dirt-floored area to the back entrance, Zhuangzi's throat-clearing could be heard. It resonated through the crisp autumn air. Mrs. Tian rose to her feet with a faint smile.

“It seems my husband has come, but please refrain from behaving as though you’re fully informed about his recent state from the very start; I would ask that you gently ease into the conversation over time.” “Otherwise, he might take some absurd contrary notion again, you understand.”

“Understood.” When Shiri Son began adjusting his dignified bearing, a certain nobility became apparent even in his hunched posture. Zhuangzi clumsily opened the door and entered the dirt-floored area. Having breathed the crisp air of the clear day, his skin now bore a fresh luster, and his healthily flushed face appeared to have regained some measure of the beauty he had possessed during his years residing in Luoyang. “It’s nearly noon.” “I will warm some wine and prepare an honorable seat in the upper chamber to entertain you properly.”

As Mrs. Tian departed to the kitchen while saying this, Zhuangzi took her vacated seat and settled onto the stool. Zhuangzi first expressed gratitude for Shiri Son’s warm hospitality during their recent time in Luoyang. Then, wordlessly, he displayed his palm, rubbing the cluster of calluses lining the bases of his upturned fingers for Shiri Son to inspect. Shiri Son spoke in measured tones. “You’ve been passing pleasant days splitting firewood, but discontent has stirred in Luoyang.”

“Huh? What is that, Mr. Shiri Son?” “Lady Li Ji, you know—she’s completely changed since then.” “What? Lady Li Ji? “Did something happen to Lady Li Ji?” “It was around the time you visited Lady Li Ji and departed Luoyang that she began to change, you know.” “She does nothing but say she’s ashamed—ashamed of all her past selfishness, you know.” “She fusses over hairstyle，fusses over speech.” “Because she fusses over people’s opinions，she’s no longer the Lady Li Ji of old.” “What could have caused this?” "And so she ended up losing her popularity in Luoyang instead." "That girl had been attracting people precisely through her capricious ways." “So I told her.” “When people said Master Zhuangzi came to witness your selfishness，it was actually your carefree way of living that he found delightful—even exerting a positive influence on Master Zhuangzi as he pursues mastery of the Way.” “I earnestly advised her，‘Do not feel ashamed over misplaced matters,’ but to no avail.”

Zhuangzi laid his arms down, closed his eyes, and sank deep into thought before finally speaking in a grave tone. “However, this too may be but one path of transformation through heavenly grace—there is nothing to be done about it. Just as I discarded books and brushes to take up the wood-splitting axe.” Shiri Son stared intently at Zhuangzi’s face before speaking in a slightly hurried tone. “Though I do not yet fully understand everything myself, I did tell Li Ji such things as this: ‘In the South Sea there was an emperor named Shu. In the North Sea there was an emperor named Hu. The two visited Hundun, Emperor of the Center. Hundun welcomed them and treated them most hospitably. Wishing to repay his kindness, the guests consulted together: “All humans have seven orifices through which they see, hear, eat and breathe—yet Hundun has none. Let us bore seven orifices into this bald-headed Hundun out of goodwill.” So they drilled one orifice each day into him. On the seventh day, Hundun died.’ So you see? Those who would test Heaven-endowed natural dispositions—such judgment is mistaken. If Master Zhuangzi were to hear this, he would only feel bitter resentment.” “Though I tried persuading her thus,” he continued, “she gave no reply whatsoever. Instead, she took out the ‘Lifelike Doll of Li Ji’ I had previously commissioned and said: ‘When you next visit Master Zhuangzi’s household in Oak Shrine village, present this to the Master and his honorable wife without fail. Tell them it is a memento of Li Ji from when she was doted upon by their household...’”

Shiri Son, holding a large bundle in the corner of the dirt-floored area, glanced at the crouching servant and had him undo the multiple layers of wrapping.

Li Ji’s Lifelike Doll, with the outer light from beyond the door at its back, sprang forth into the dimly lit dirt-floored area. “Ah! Li Ji!…”

The one who suddenly let out a cry of shock was Mrs. Tian, who had just arrived there carrying a tray of wine cups.