Han Ji

The sun climbed over the ridge of Mount Goushi, casting its light into the courtyard of the hermitage. Half a year passed in the blink of an eye.

Liu Bei knelt in the lecture hall, his back ramrod straight. On the table lay an open bamboo scroll, a passage from the Zuo Zhuan of the Spring and Autumn Annals. Lu Zhi's voice was not loud, but like a chisel, each stroke etching the principles within the words into the reader's mind.

"...Therefore it is said that war is based on deception." Lu Zhi's gaze swept across the audience. "Then, was Duke Xiang of Song's benevolence, which led to his defeat at the Hong River, truly benevolence or folly?"

A disciple in the hall quoted classical texts, saying that Duke Xiang of Song was rigid in his adherence to ancient rites and did not know how to adapt.

Lu Zhi listened without comment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze falling on the corner: "Liu Bei, you speak."

Liu Bei stood up, pondered for a moment, and spoke clearly: "In my opinion, Duke Xiang of Song was not benevolent, but hypocritical. To be benevolent towards the enemy is to be cruel to oneself. He did not attack the Chu army when they were halfway across the river, nor when their formation was not yet complete. He seemed to be following etiquette, but where did he place the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers? A general should be benevolent in order to win battles and protect the people, not in order to gain a false reputation through womanly benevolence."

He didn't talk much, and he didn't spout pedantry, but his words were like a sharp knife, instantly slicing through that lukewarm, watery surface.

A faint hint of approval flashed across Lu Zhi's eyes, quickly disappearing. "Hmm. In governing and leading an army, pragmatism is paramount. Empty fame can ruin a country, worse than war." He paused. "Disperse. Liu Bei, come with me."

Everyone rose and bowed, watching Lu Zhi lead Liu Bei away from the lecture hall. Some were envious, others were puzzled. How come this Liu Bei from Zhuojun, who had been so quiet and unassuming, had been repeatedly kept behind by Master Lu in just half a year?

Gongsun Zan hooked his arm around Liu Deran's neck and lowered his voice, "See? I told you long ago, Xuande is a real talent! Master Lu has a sharp eye!"

Liu Deran nodded, feeling happy for his cousin as well.

Liu Bei followed Lu Zhi through the corridor to a secluded little garden behind the hermitage. Unlike the orderly front yard, the garden here was wild and unkempt, with flowers and plants growing freely.

Lu Zhi squatted down beside a clump of somewhat unkempt chicory, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his lean wrists. He picked up a small hoe and began loosening the soil, his movements practiced, more like an old farmer than a learned scholar.

"What are you standing there for?" Lu Zhi asked without turning his head. "There's a hoe over there. Come over and clear these weeds."

Liu Bei paused for a moment, then immediately replied, "Yes, teacher." He found another small hoe, and, imitating Lu Zhi, squatted down to clear the weeds around the chicory.

The scent of earth mingled with the fresh fragrance of grass, filling their nostrils. The sun warmed their backs. For a moment, they were silent, the only sound the soft scraping of the hoe against the soil.

After working for a while, sweat beaded on Lu Zhi's forehead. He stopped, looked at the somewhat desolate yet vibrant garden before him, and suddenly spoke, as if to himself, yet also as if addressing Liu Bei:

"This Mount Goushi may look peaceful, but it's actually a place of fame and fortune. Countless people are desperate to get in, thinking that by attaching my name, Lu Zhi, to their name, they can rise to the top."

Liu Bei stopped what he was doing and listened attentively.

Lu Zhi turned his head, looking at him calmly: "And you, Liu Bei? What do you ask for?"

Liu Bei's heart skipped a beat. He knew this wasn't a casual question. He gripped the hoe handle tightly, dirt clinging to his fingers.

"Student..." He took a breath, raised his eyes, and met Lu Zhi's gaze. "Student wants to learn real skills. To be able to make a living, to establish oneself, and perhaps... to do something practical for this chaotic world in the future."

He didn't make grand pronouncements or shout slogans; his voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight.

Lu Zhi looked at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled faintly, a smile that vanished in an instant. He picked up the hoe again and continued tending to the flowers and plants.

"To make a living...to do something meaningful..." he repeated softly, then fell silent.

Liu Bei also lowered his head and continued clearing away the weeds.

A few days later, the afternoon calligraphy class ended, and everyone dispersed. Lu Zhi, however, called out to Liu Bei, who was packing up his brushes and ink.

"What do you think of the passage about Zheng Zichan casting the penal code in the Spring and Autumn Annals that we discussed today?" Lu Zhi sat behind the desk, holding a cup of warm water, his gaze seemingly casually falling on Liu Bei.

Liu Bei knew this was a test. He put down his things, stood respectfully, and his mind raced. Lu Shi had been explaining this matter during the day, focusing on the impact of the "Criminal Tripod" promulgating written laws on the old "rule of rites," and the fierce opposition from Shu Xiang and others.

He gathered his thoughts and began, "Teacher, I believe that Zichan's casting of the bronze tripods depicting laws, while seemingly a reform, was actually in line with the times. Old customs only existed in the hearts of the nobility; the common people, ignorant of them, were prone to injustice. By clearly engraving the laws on the tripods, the people knew what to do and what not to do. Although forced by circumstances, this was progress in governance. Shuxiang's criticism of him as 'abandoning rites and relying on books' is a conservative view. If rites were sufficient to govern the world, why would there be constant internal strife in the state of Zheng?"

Lu Zhi slowly drank his water, neither nodding nor shaking his head: "Oh? In your opinion, etiquette and law are useless?"

"It is not useless," Liu Bei replied. "Ritual is the skeleton, and law is the flesh and blood. Without ritual, law loses its order; without law, ritual is difficult to practice. Zichan's actions are to uphold ritual with law, not to abandon ritual. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures."

"An extraordinary measure..." Lu Zhi put down his water glass, tapping his finger lightly on the table. "If you were Zheng Qing, facing infighting among powerful clans within the country, simmering public resentment, and powerful neighbors threatening from the outside, what would you do?"

The question suddenly became specific and carried a murderous aura.

Liu Bei felt a slight tension in his back. He pondered for a moment, his gaze calming down: "Internally, take advantage of the casting of the penal code to clarify rewards and punishments, reduce the power of powerful clans to carry out private punishments, and win over the hearts of the people. Externally, feign weakness between Jin and Chu, but remain neither humble nor arrogant, exploiting their contradictions to gain a respite. At the same time, secretly strengthen the army, select talented individuals from humble backgrounds, and consolidate our foundation."

He did not cite any classics; he drew a strategy that combined power and strength entirely from the perspective of practical interests.

Lu Zhi listened quietly, his face revealing neither joy nor anger. After a long while, he slowly said, "Zichan once said, 'Government is like farming; one must think about it day and night.' A ruler must have the patience of a farmer, as well as the decisiveness to face weeds and thorns. You... are very good."

The word "very good" put Liu Bei at ease.

"However," Lu Zhi changed the subject, "knowing is easy, doing is hard. Strategy is like a knife; once you hold it in your hand, you must know when to conceal it, when to reveal it, and when... and where to strike. Otherwise, you'll only hurt yourself."

"The student will remember the teacher's teachings." Liu Bei bowed.

"Go ahead," Lu Zhi waved his hand. "We'll be discussing 'Sun Tzu's Art of War' tomorrow, so prepare in advance."

Emerging from Lu Zhi's quarters, the setting sun had already painted the sky crimson. Liu Bei walked along the corridor, understanding that Lu Zhi's teachings had begun to transcend ordinary interpretations of the classics, entering a more fundamental level. This was not merely the transmission of knowledge, but also the refinement of his character and vision.