The Three Teachings Converge into One: The Path of the Mortal and the Saintly is the Same

The Unity of Three Teachings: The Common Path of the Mortal and the Saintly

Volume One: A Young Scholar's First Awakening to the Mortal World

The poem says:

The misty rain over the Jiangnan region locks the painted bridge, and the fragrance of osmanthus wafts from the courtyard by the clear stream.

Young students study Confucian classics, their pure hearts untainted by worldly clamor.

In the third year of Jinghe in the Great Xia Dynasty, in late spring, the misty rain of Jiangnan always carried an unyielding gentleness, as if the heavens had dipped their brushes in ink, painting Qingxi Town, under the jurisdiction of Pingjiang Prefecture, into a long ink-wash scroll. Houses nestled along the river, their white walls and black tiles softened by the rain and mist, were covered with a thin layer of damp moss on the bluestone paths, making each step silent. Willows drooped along the banks, painted bridges lay across them, wine flags fluttered beside them, and the bustling atmosphere of the marketplace wafted through the green curtains of the wind, mingling with the raindrops dripping from the eaves, creating the unique gentle warmth of Jiangnan.

Nestled in the misty, rainy Jiangnan region at the eastern end of Qingxi Town, the Su family courtyard is a small haven. Enclosed by a low wall, this small space, barely half an acre in size, is meticulously maintained. Two ancient osmanthus trees, over a century old, stand on the west side of the courtyard. Their branches, strong and vigorous like dragons exploring the sea, stretch out in all directions. Raindrops from the previous night clung to the tips of their dark green leaves, scattering softly in the breeze, splashing onto the bluestone slabs. In the corner, the vegetable patch, tended by Mrs. Liu, is lush and green, tender seedlings glistening with raindrops, radiating vitality. The stone table, worn smooth by time, holds an open, yellowed copy of the *Analects*, its pages curled. The scent of ink mingles with the earthy aroma and the delicate fragrance of osmanthus, slowly permeating the damp spring breeze—the most ordinary scent in the courtyard.

A boy of about seven or eight sat upright on a bamboo stool. He wore a faded coarse blue cloth shirt, the collar frayed but impeccably clean, the stitches fine and neat—the result of his mother, Liu's, hand-sewing. The boy's back was as straight as an old pine tree in the courtyard, his eyes focused, his lips slightly parted, as he softly recited the Analects. His voice was clear and melodious, with a childlike softness, yet each word was steady and firm, as if he had thoroughly digested and absorbed the wisdom of the sages: "To learn and at due times to practice what one has learned, is that not a pleasure? To have friends come from afar, is that not a joy…?"

This young man was named Su Qingxuan, a native of Qingxi Town. He was handsome with refined features and a face like jade. Although his clothes were simple, he possessed a calm temperament that set him apart from ordinary children. His eyes were bright as autumn water, and his pupils were deep, as if they contained the vast universe. When he recited, he did not do so perfunctorily like a child, but rather as if he were sitting with sages discussing the Tao. He pronounced each word solemnly, and each sentence was filled with reverence for the teachings of the sages.

The Su family had been scholars and farmers for generations. Though not wealthy in town, they were a respected family of scholars in Qingxi. The father, Su Wenyuan, was an old scholar who had repeatedly failed the imperial examinations. He had spent half his life buried in books, and although he had never achieved official rank, he was kind and upright. He never engaged in farming or commerce, but devoted himself to teaching, and many of the town's children were educated by him. The mother, Liu, was virtuous and kind. Although she had some literacy, she managed the household impeccably, spinning, weaving, cooking, and cleaning, always filling the poor courtyard with a warm and cozy atmosphere.

The people of Qingxi Town all said that the Su family's youngest child was a born scholar. At three, he could recognize a thousand characters; at five, he had memorized the *Thousand Character Classic* and the *Three Hundred Poems of the Zhenguan Era*; at seven, he could recite the *Great Learning* and the *Doctrine of the Mean* from memory; and at eight, he had the *Analects* memorized perfectly, not only reciting it backwards but also explaining its meaning sentence by sentence. The town's old scholars, upon seeing him, would stroke their beards in admiration, grasp his hand, and sigh, "This child possesses extraordinary talent and a pure heart; one day he will surely become a pillar of the nation and a blessing to Confucianism!"

Su Qingxuan was different from others from a young age. While other children climbed trees to steal birds' nests, went to the river to catch fish, and chased each other on the ridges of the fields until they were covered in mud, he spent most of his time in his study, either practicing calligraphy with his father, his strokes, though immature, were vigorous and well-structured; or sitting on a stone bench watching the clouds and listening to the wind, pondering the principles of the universe, such as the gathering and scattering of clouds and the chirping of cicadas and birds; or squatting by the ridges of the fields, watching farmers plant in spring and harvest in autumn, pondering the laws governing the four seasons. He was neither mischievous nor arrogant, and was humble and polite to others. He would always bow to elders, help young children, lend a helping hand to neighbors, and assist those in need. At a young age, he had already lived out the true meaning of "gentleness, kindness, respect, frugality, and humility" from the Analects in his every word and deed.

Su Wenyuan often sat under the osmanthus tree, watching his son read, and earnestly admonished him: "My son, the way of the Confucian scholar begins with self-cultivation and ends with serving the world. Reading is not for fame and fortune, but to understand principles, right and wrong, human nature, and the ways of the world. When reading the books of sages, one should establish a heart for heaven and earth, establish a destiny for the people, continue the lost learning of the past sages, and usher in an era of peace for all generations."

Su Qingxuan remembered his father's words. That day, he took out a vermilion pen and solemnly wrote the four characters "cultivate oneself and benefit the world" on the title page of the Analects, and recited them every day. Although he was young at the time and did not understand the grand meaning of "establishing a heart for heaven and earth", he already understood that one should be upright and honest, kind and benevolent to others, and act with a clear conscience.

The rain had just stopped at dusk, and the air was so fresh it seemed you could squeeze water out of it. A rainbow arched across the sky, spanning the banks of the clear stream, adding a touch of splendor to the misty Jiangnan region. Su Qingxuan closed his book, slowly rose, and stood at the courtyard gate, gazing towards the town.

Farmers carrying hoes home hummed country tunes, their steps light and quick; peddlers with their wares, shaking rattles and calling out their wares along the street; shepherd boys rode on the backs of oxen, clutching a bunch of wildflowers, slowly swaying across a stone bridge; women squatted by the river washing clothes, the sound of their washing mallets mingling with their laughter, drifting far away. All these scenes of human life, these ordinary moments, fell into Su Qingxuan's eyes.

Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he gained a glimpse of understanding of what his father had said: the wise principles his father taught him might not be found in the cold pages of books, but in the warmth of a bowl of porridge, in the gentle breeze with every breath, in the interactions with people and things, and hidden in every inch of the everyday life in the Jiangnan water towns.

"Qing Xuan!"

A childish shout came from the alley entrance. Little Stone, his playmate, came running barefoot, sweating profusely, clutching half a steaming sweet potato in his hand, his face beaming: "Let's go fish in the river! The water's shallow today, we're sure to catch some big fish! Come on, let's go!"

Su Qingxuan gently shook his head, his fingertips lightly brushing across the Analects on the stone table, his voice gentle: "I won't go. I still need to practice calligraphy and read the chapter on benevolent governance in Mencius."

"Reading books again! Practicing calligraphy again!" Little Stone curled his lip, his face full of disdain. "What's the fun in keeping these lousy books? I caught three crucian carp yesterday, and Mom fried them so deliciously! You stay in the courtyard all day, you're so bored!"

Su Qingxuan didn't argue, but simply smiled gently. He knew his playmate didn't understand, and there was no need to force him. The Confucian way values ​​harmony with the world, not competing or arguing with others, each having their own path and their own destiny. Just like the rice stalks in the field and the fish swimming in the river, each is content with its place, each is satisfied with its own place, and there's no need to force them to be the same.

Just then, a soft sound came from outside the courtyard gate, followed by footsteps, and a middle-aged couple dressed in brocade entered. The man wore a royal blue brocade robe embroidered with lotus patterns, a jade belt around his waist, a broad face and a stout build, with three wisps of goatee, shrewd and cunning eyes, and a half-smile playing on his lips; the woman wore a brocade dress with phoenixes and peonies, adorned with pearls and jade, her makeup flamboyant, yet her brows concealed a hint of meanness. Behind them followed a girl of about seven or eight years old, her fair skin accentuated by a light purple silk dress, her hair adorned with pearl flowers in her double buns, her features delicate, yet she kept her head down, clutching the hem of her dress, her eyes filled with guilt, helplessness, and the timidity of being controlled by her parents.

The couple were Shen Wanshan and his wife Liu, a wealthy man from a neighboring village; the young girl was Shen Wanshan's daughter, Shen Jing'er, who was betrothed to Su Qingxuan when they were still children.

Upon hearing the sound, Su Wenyuan emerged from his study, a polite smile plastered on his face. He bowed respectfully and asked, "Brother Shen, Madam Shen, what brings you here today?"

Shen Wanshan's gaze swept over the poor courtyard, over the old osmanthus tree and the green vegetables, and finally landed on the Analects on the stone table. His brows furrowed slightly, and his tone carried a hint of disdain. He cupped his hands and said, "Scholar Su, I have come today to discuss the matter of our betrothal since childhood."

Su Wenyuan's expression changed abruptly, and his heart sank. Back then, the Su family still had some wealth, while Shen Wanshan had not yet made his fortune. Both were scholars from Jiangnan, and they were kindred spirits. When their wives became pregnant at the same time, they made a betrothal agreement, signing it in black and white with their fingerprints, agreeing that if they had a son and a daughter, they would marry. However, the Su family later declined, and Su Wenyuan repeatedly failed the imperial examinations, forced to make a living as a teacher; while Shen Wanshan became a wealthy merchant, a well-known household in Pingjiang Prefecture, with a spacious mansion and numerous servants. This marriage became a thorn in the side of the Shen family.

Su Wenyuan said in a deep voice, "The matter between Qingxuan and your daughter was clearly documented in black and white, with their fingerprints on a written agreement. Could there be another explanation?"

Liu stepped forward, her brocade skirt sweeping the ground as she covered her mouth and said with a sharp laugh, "Scholar Su, times have changed! My Jing'er is a young lady from a wealthy family, skilled in all the arts, and the sons of the rich and powerful families in the prefecture are lining up to propose to her. How could she possibly marry into your poor little courtyard and suffer with you, eating simple meals? In my opinion, this marriage should be called off."

Shen Wanshan's tone grew increasingly resolute. He flicked his sleeve and said, "Scholar Su, we have come today to annul the engagement! This marriage is null and void. From now on, we will be separate individuals, with no connection whatsoever."

"You..." Su Wenyuan's face turned pale with anger, his fingers trembled slightly, and his chest heaved. "A gentleman's promise is worth a thousand pieces of gold; integrity is the foundation of one's character. How could you break your promise and betray your word!"

"A gentleman?" Shen Wanshan scoffed, his eyes filled with disdain. "You're dirt poor, struggling to even support your family. What kind of gentleman are you talking about? In this world, money is king. No matter how many books you read, without money, you're just a poor, worthless scholar!"

The commotion alerted Liu Shi in the kitchen. She quickly came out with a bowl of freshly cooked sweet potato porridge, put down the bowl, reached out and took Su Wenyuan's arm, and gently advised, "Brother Shen, let's talk things out. Qingxuan is still here, don't frighten the child..." Liu Shi's gaze fell on Shen Jing'er, her eyes full of heartache. She knew that the marriage was probably beyond saving now, and her heart was filled with pity and helplessness.

Seeing Su Wenyuan's furious expression, Shen Wanshan became even more smug. He took out ten taels of silver from his sleeve and threw it onto the stone table with a "thud." The silver struck the stone surface with a crisp sound, and the cold light reflected off the fragrant osmanthus in the courtyard, making it particularly dazzling. "This ten taels of silver is Shen family's compensation. It's enough for your family to live on for several years. The marriage is off. The two families owe each other nothing and have no further connection."

Having said that, he said sternly to Shen Jing'er, "What are you standing there for? Come with me!"

Shen Jing'er trembled violently, glanced at Su Qingxuan with tears in her eyes, her gaze filled with guilt and reluctance, but she bit her lip, turned around and followed her parents, leaving without daring to say a word to stop them, leaving the Su family courtyard in a deathly silence.

The little stone at the gate shrank back in fright, tugged at Su Qingxuan's sleeve, and whispered, "Qingxuan, I'm going to go fishing." Then it ran off in a flash, leaving Su Qingxuan standing there.

The courtyard was silent, save for the rustling of the old osmanthus tree in the wind, its leaves reflecting the cold gleam of the silver ingot on the stone table. Su Wenyuan slumped onto the stone bench, burying his face in his hands, tears streaming down his face, his voice choked with sobs: "I've wronged you, my child... It's my fault, I didn't give you a good family background, I didn't protect your marriage, I let you suffer this humiliation..."

Liu's eyes also reddened, and she gently patted his back, silently comforting him.

Su Qingxuan stood under the eaves, listening quietly to everything. He felt angry and aggrieved, but he didn't cry or argue. His blue robe fluttered gently in the breeze, and tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. His heart was in turmoil. He witnessed the snobbery of the wealthy and experienced for the first time the coldness and indifference of human relationships... the fickleness of the world.

From a young age, he was well-versed in Confucian classics, deeply understanding the proverb "Wealth and honor gained unjustly are like fleeting clouds to me," and the noble spirit of "Wealth and honor cannot corrupt, poverty and hardship cannot sway, and power and force cannot subdue." He also remembered the principle that "A gentleman seeks within himself, while a petty person seeks from others." At this moment, fate gave him his first lesson in life, more vivid than words, more profound than books... It was heart-wrenching, striking his heart like a heavy hammer, etched into his very marrow.

He composed himself, stepped forward slowly, and gently took his father's arm. His voice was calm yet firm, like metal striking stone: "Father, Mother, there's no need to be sad. A virtuous person cultivates himself, not worrying about poverty or lowliness, nor about a lack of rank, but about a lack of moral integrity. Uncle Shen broke off the engagement because he disliked our family's poverty; it was his dishonesty and lack of virtue, not my lack of virtue or unworthiness. Today, his public annulment has disgraced the Su family. In the future, I will use the learning of a Confucian scholar and my own virtue to ensure that no one in the world dares to look down on the sons of the Su family, and that the Shen family... will regret it!"

The boy's voice wasn't loud, but every word was firm and resonant, carrying a breadth of vision and composure far exceeding that of an eight-year-old child. He looked up at the misty rain of Jiangnan, at the fields outside Qingxi Town, and at the distant outline of Pingjiang Prefecture. His eyes were no longer filled with resentment or bitterness, but instead held a clear and unwavering gaze, and a quietly established grand ambition.

He wanted to study, to understand principles, to leave his small town in Jiangnan, to travel the world, to establish himself with Confucianism, to cultivate himself, manage his family, govern the country, and bring peace to the world.

Looking up, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an unnamed weed in the vegetable patch at the corner of the wall, glistening with raindrops, stubbornly growing upwards, its roots deeply embedded in the barren soil. Even in its predicament, it never gave up its will to live. Su Qingxuan's heart stirred slightly, and he silently memorized the appearance of this weed—this was the first lesson in his life, and also the initial intention of his cultivation: no matter what circumstances one is in, one should be like the weed, tenacious and unyielding, growing towards the sun.

The wind rustled the pages of the Analects, turning to the line, "A scholar cannot but be resolute and persevering, for his burden is heavy and his journey is long. Is it not a heavy burden to take benevolence as one's own responsibility? Is it not a long journey to strive until death?" Su Qingxuan reached out and pressed the page down, his fingertips brushing over the words "resolute and persevering," his eyes as firm as iron, reflecting the light of the misty Jiangnan sky.

Unbeknownst to him, as he turned to return to his study, a wandering Taoist priest in a grey robe stood in the shadow of the old osmanthus tree outside the courtyard wall. The priest, holding a whisk, was slender and had a gentle gaze as he watched his retreating figure. He lightly brushed the whisk and murmured to himself, "A young man of great ambition and integrity, with the spirit of a Confucian scholar and the heart of a Taoist, and a hidden Buddhist nature. He will unite the three teachings and ultimately attain the Great Dao... This child is no ordinary man."

The Taoist priest paused for a moment, and seeing Su Qingxuan enter the study, he transformed into a wisp of breeze and disappeared into the misty rain of Jiangnan, leaving only a wisp of sandalwood incense lingering in the Su family courtyard. The ten-tael silver ingot on the stone table was never touched by Su Qingxuan; it served as a warning, a spur, constantly reminding the young man: never forget today's humiliation, never lose the integrity of a Confucian scholar, and never betray your original aspirations.

That is:

Amidst the fickleness of human nature, one can discern the true nature of a scholar from humble beginnings; yet, the scholar's spirit remains steadfast.

Once one sets one's mind on spreading the Way, the foundation for enlightenment is laid in the misty, rainy Jiangnan region.