The Martial Saint of the Defiled World

As the wheels of time roll on, they never ask whether those beneath them are jade steps and golden tiles, or humble dwellings and huts.

As the coffin of feudal imperial rule closed, some people hastily removed their horseshoe sleeves and cut off their queues, transforming themselves into new citizens and finding their place in foreign firms, newspapers, and modern schools.

Some people, clinging to their ancestral lands, lived as reclusive elders in foreign concessions or rural areas, reminiscing about their past lavish lifestyles by selling calligraphy, paintings, and antiques.

Some people lost everything in this upheaval: their official hats, their land, and even their lives.

Many others, like the middle-aged man sitting by the window, are caught between the new and the old, unable to move forward or backward, caught in a dilemma.

In the previous dynasty, Liu Wenqian would have been a remarkable figure in his hometown if he had passed the imperial examination at the age of twenty-four.

He was well-versed in classics and history, his writing was eloquent and his mastery of the eight-legged essay was profound. He was just waiting to go to the capital for the imperial examination next spring to try his luck. He could bring glory to his family, or at the very least, secure a real position as a county magistrate and embark on the right path in his official career.

Who would have thought that the world changes faster than turning the pages of a book.

The emperor abdicated, the queue was cut off, and the imperial examination system was abolished.

Overnight, the academic achievements he had earned through more than a decade of hard study, the path he relied on for his livelihood and regarded as the right way of life, became nothing but empty words and inappropriate jokes for others to laugh at.

He also tried to adapt on his own initiative.

He cut off his braid, put on a long gown, and attended a few classes on science and geography at a modern school.

However, those foreign languages, globes, and concepts of sound, light, electricity, and chemistry were completely incompatible with the "Confucius said" and "the great principles of the Spring and Autumn Annals" that he knew so well.

What he found even more unbearable was the undisguised contempt for traditional learning in the eyes of those young students.

He was like a fine piece of porcelain from a previous dynasty, abruptly placed among Western-style furniture; no matter how you looked at him, it looked awkward, and no matter how you put him, it was embarrassing.

The family fortunes had long since declined, and all their land and property had been sold off.

Now he only teaches a few mischievous children to recognize a few characters in a private school, in exchange for a meager tuition fee.

The private school was located in a dilapidated ancestral hall, which was drafty in winter and stuffy in summer. The children were unruly, and the parents were no longer as respectful to the teacher as before.

The frustration in his heart turned into his indignation at the "collapse of morality and music" in this world, and into his criticism and alienation of the vulgar people and things around him.

The dockworkers at the next table were having a great time talking when this abrupt snort interrupted them. One of the men slammed his chopsticks on the table and turned to glare at the window.

"Hey, Liu Wenqian, what are you pretending for? Eating fifteen copper coins' worth of shredded vegetables in this run-down restaurant, what kind of airs are you putting on as a former dynasty official?"

Liu Wenqian slowly put down his chopsticks, gave a soft hum, and calmly said:

"Who's making such a racket here? It's just a rough laborer carrying loads at the dock. What, Chen Dabang, after unloading a few boatloads of cargo and earning a few copper coins today, do you think you're qualified to stand here and pontificate about the country and judge people?"

Upon hearing this, Chen Dabang's face darkened, and he was about to lash out when Liu Wenqian continued speaking:

"You spend your days surrounded by goods and dust, your mouths are always talking about money and grain, your eyes are only on this small piece of land, and your hearts are only concerned with penny-pinching profits."

"Do you know that in this world, besides food and clothing, there are also principles of propriety, integrity, a sense of shame, poetry, and literature? Do you know what it means that 'a gentleman understands righteousness, while a petty person understands profit'?"

"Even if I, Liu Wenqian, am at my worst, I am still a scholar who has studied the classics. Although my past achievements are now history, how can you commoners and peddlers presume to comment on my learning and knowledge?"

"You accuse me of pretentiousness, but let me ask you: do you know how rebellious your fallacy of the previous dynasty being dead would be if it were placed in the books of sages?"

"According to the laws of the previous dynasty, what crime should be committed for making such a loud noise and criticizing a candidate in a public restaurant? He would probably be punished with twenty strokes of the cane and displayed in cangue!"

A barrage of questions, quoting classical texts and speaking from a superior position, left Chen Dabang speechless for a moment.

Qian Mansheng's eyes widened in surprise, and she said to Cui Jingshu, "Sister Jingshu, this person has a sharp tongue!"

Cui Jingshu frowned slightly and shook her head gently: "That's just sophistry. Times have changed, and clinging to the old ways only makes people dislike you."

Chen Dabang's face flushed red, and he slammed his hand on the table, standing up abruptly: "Liu Wenqian! Stop spouting this pretentious nonsense! What kind of classical texts and theories can they feed you?"

"If you're so capable, why are you still wearing a patched silk shirt? And why are you sitting here eating a 15-copper-coin mixed shredded vegetables dish?!"

He pointed at Liu Wenqian's sleeve, his voice loud and clear, drawing everyone's attention in the store.

Liu Wenqian's expression remained unchanged; instead, he chuckled lightly, a laugh filled with disdain.

"You can't talk about ice with a summer insect. You only know how to judge a person by their clothes and discuss principles by their food and drink. How shallow you are! Although I am poor today, my integrity has not been compromised and my mind is pure. How can you, who bow down for a few copper coins and toil for a few mouthfuls of filthy food, possibly understand me?"

"But you, Chen Dabang. I heard that the other day you lost all your wages for the month at the gambling den, and when you got home, your wife chased you all over the street. You finally hid in the reeds by the Guhe River and didn't dare to sneak home until midnight. I'm sure there are almost no neighbors in Huian Street who don't know about this, right?"

"You... what nonsense are you talking about!"

Chen Dabang was both shocked and furious.

"Am I talking nonsense?"

A cold glint flashed in Liu Wenqian's eyes.

"If you don't want people to know, then don't do it in the first place. Chen Dabang, ask yourself honestly, what face do you have to speak ill of me, Liu Wenqian, when you can't even support your wife and children properly and spend your days gambling? With your brute strength and your gambling luck that has emptied your coffers?"

These words struck a chord with Chen Dabang.

Chen Dabang was trembling with rage. He kicked the bench aside, strode forward, and raised his fist halfway in the air: "Liu Wenqian! I'll fuck your ancestors!"

"Big arm! You can't do that!"

The worker at the same table immediately stood up and hugged him tightly.

"Why bother arguing with this pedantic person! You'll be in the wrong if you resort to violence!"

Liu Wenqian remained seated, his expression unchanged. He glanced at Chen Dabang, who was being held back by the crowd, shook his head, and sighed:

"That's all the bravado a man can muster. What else can you do besides throwing punches and resorting to violence? How pathetic, how lamentable."

"Fuck your mother!"

Chen Dabang struggled, but his angry curses were tightly covered by his companions.

At the next table, Hong Pu stared in disbelief, then whispered to Jiang Shaosheng, "That old scholar's tongue is too sharp! He always manages to stab people in the heart!"

Jiang Shaosheng looked at Liu Wenqian speechlessly.

If he hadn't sensed no malice towards him, he would have thought he was experiencing the same scenario as that morning again.

However, although Liu Wenqian has read a lot of books, he probably hasn't even scratched the surface of the art of "being adept at interpersonal relationships."

He was still living in the old dream that he was a scholar who should be treated with utmost respect by everyone, but he couldn't see that the world had long since changed.

At this stalemate, the old Taoist priest, who had been quietly observing, suddenly spoke in a leisurely tone: "Amitabha."