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

Poetry:

Only by observing one's own heart can one understand the true nature of the world; in stillness, one can cultivate the body and mind in accordance with the Tao.

A single lamp illuminates the path of mortal life, and the spiritual roots are deeply planted, awaiting the coming spring.

After Su Qingxuan returned from observing the myriad aspects of life at the Qingxi market and reflecting on the Confucian ideal of helping the world, the gentle breeze of the Jiangnan summer nights, carrying the warmth of the water town, caressed the Su family courtyard daily. The humiliation of being annuled, the enlightenment from the old man at the ferry, the verses of the hermit in the rain, and the bustling life of the marketplace—these four encounters were like four layers of spring rain, nourishing the heart of the eight-year-old boy. They nurtured the Confucian and Daoist seeds that were originally rooted in the classics, making them grow stronger and stronger. They also quietly awakened the hidden Daoist roots and Buddhist nature, allowing his cultivation to completely break free from the shackles of "studying scriptures and rigidly adhering to the mind's methods" and enter the realm of "investigating things, observing the mind, and learning the Dao through practice."

From then on, the boy's daily lessons included a crucial practice—observing his own mind.

No longer mechanically reciting verses at dawn, no longer rigidly practicing mental exercises at night, but observing one's true nature in every movement and stillness, feeling the true spirit in every blade of grass and every tree. In the morning, sweeping the courtyard, observing the humility of dusting without disturbing the ants, one perceives the subtle meaning of the Confucian ideal of "benevolence towards the people and love for all things"; during the day, sitting quietly under the osmanthus tree, observing the old osmanthus sprouting branches and the green vegetables growing shoots, one feels the power of nature's inaction; at dusk, gazing out the window, observing the smoke rising from chimneys and the tranquility of villagers returning home, one feels a compassion for the "peace and happiness of all beings." He compares the principles of the Four Books and Five Classics, the methods of "Confucian Mind Method," and the verses of the reclusive old man with what he sees before his eyes and feels in his heart, trying to see through the surface of the words and seek the true meaning.

Su Wenyuan witnessed all of this, his heart filled with joy. He had dedicated his life to teaching and nurturing countless scholars, most of whom were trapped by the rigidities of the imperial examinations, confined by classical texts, never truly grasping the essence of Confucian cultivation. Yet his own son, only eight years old, had endured the humiliation of a broken engagement, his resolve unwavering; he had witnessed the full spectrum of human nature, his character strengthened, and he had managed to break free from these constraints, finding enlightenment within his own heart. Such innate talent and understanding were truly a gift from heaven, a Confucian gift unparalleled. He vaguely remembered that the Su family had a lineage dating back to ancient times, with ancestors who had produced remarkable figures. However, thousands of years had passed, and the family had fallen into decline. Even so, judging from Su Qingxuan's inherent qualities, he must have awakened the bloodline of those great ancestors. He needed no further guidance; simply following his nature and upholding his original aspirations would allow him to progress steadily. He would simply stand by silently, providing the Su family's tradition of scholarship and farming as his most secure support.

Summer nights in Jiangnan always carry a refreshing coolness. The heat of the day is dispelled by the evening breeze, and the moonlight, like a silver ribbon, spills down, wrapping the white walls and black tiles, the small bridges and flowing water of Qingxi Town in a soft, clear glow. The Su family courtyard is even more tranquil, with only the chirping of insects in the corner of the courtyard and the flowing water in the stream, weaving together the most serene nocturne.

That night, after cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen, Madam Liu saw her son still sitting upright in the study. She quietly brought him a bowl of cool lotus seed soup, placed it on the table, and said gently, "Xuan'er, it's late. Drink some soup and rest. Don't ruin your health."

Su Qingxuan rose and bowed, his voice clear and gentle: "I know you have gone to so much trouble, Mother."

Looking at the young man's serene profile, Madam Liu's eyes were filled with love and tenderness. Since the annulment of the engagement, her son had become even more composed, carrying a burden far beyond his years, yet he had never uttered a word of complaint, still adhering to his duty of studying and cultivating himself. Such a character was rare even for adults. She gently patted the young man's shoulder, said no more, and quietly withdrew, closing the wooden door of the study, leaving her son a quiet space.

After his mother left, Su Qingxuan slowly finished his lotus seed soup, then sat cross-legged on the futon in the center of the study. A dim oil lamp on the desk cast a faint glow, its yellow light dispelling the darkness and making his coarse blue robe appear even more simple and clean, as well as his clear and bright eyes.

Following the instructions in the fragment of "Confucianism Mind Method", he closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and focused his mind on righteousness.

With each inhale, the fresh, clean night air of heaven and earth enters through the nose, flowing down the throat and chest, slowly sinking into the dantian; with each exhale, the slight stale air accumulated in the body is expelled through the nostrils and pores, mingling with the night breeze, expelling the old and taking in the new, in a continuous cycle. In the past, when practicing mental techniques, one only felt the breath was warm and long, nourishing the body and purifying the mind; but tonight, after experiencing the trials of the marketplace and the tempering of worldly affairs, the resonance between the breath and all things in heaven and earth has deepened even further.

His mind was completely calmed, and his six senses were amplified infinitely—

You can hear the soft chirping of crickets outside the courtyard wall, the gentle lapping of the clear stream against the stone bridge, the steady snoring of the neighbor's wife, and even the faint chirping that quietly spreads out in the corner of the courtyard.

You can see the trails of flying insects circling the lamp in the night, you can see the dappled moonlight falling on the ground through the window, and you can "see" the vast energy in your dantian flowing slowly like a warm, smooth jade bead.

You can smell the hidden fragrance of the old osmanthus tree, the dampness of the soil, and the faint burnt aroma of the lamp oil from the next room.

With keen hearing and sharp eyesight, and a mind that shines inward, he has clearly surpassed the initial stage of Confucian cultivation—the state of sincerity and righteousness.

Su Qingxuan focused intently, letting his breath flow naturally through his meridians without deliberate guidance or force. He employed the Confucian principle of moderation and peace, subtly aligning with the Daoist principle of natural non-action. At that moment, a slight warmth suddenly arose deep within his dantian. A more mellow, balanced, and enduring aura, stronger than ever before, quietly rose from the core of his dantian, like melting snow in spring, slowly flowing through his entire body's meridians. Wherever it passed, his meridians became increasingly unobstructed, his body lighter and more agile, his spirit clearer and more serene. He felt completely comfortable, as if bathed in a spring breeze and drinking sweet rain.

He understood that this was a sign that his spiritual cultivation had broken through another level after experiencing the trials of life and gaining enlightenment.

Recent events flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern, unfolding slowly.

It was Shen Wanshan's opportunistic behavior of breaking off the engagement and throwing silver at his family that made him understand the Confucian integrity of "wealth and honor gained unjustly are like fleeting clouds to me";

It was the old man at the ferry crossing who told him the true meaning of "everyone should be in their place, fulfill their responsibilities, and guard their hearts," which made him understand the fundamental principle of Confucian order.

It was the hermit in the rain's understanding of the Daoist principle of "the three religions sharing the same origin and all laws returning to the heart" that allowed him to glimpse a corner of the appearance of the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth;

It was the sorrow of the poor, the pride of the rich, the compassion of the kind, and the focus of the craftsmen in the marketplace that made him understand the Confucian scholar's original intention to help the world.

Scenes and proverbs swirled and intertwined in my mind:

The recluse said, "Confucianism says to preserve the mind, Taoism says to refine the mind, Buddhism says to enlighten the mind; all methods and gates ultimately lead to the one mind." Our Confucian school also emphasizes that a righteous mind leads to righteous qi; righteous qi leads to self-cultivation; self-cultivation leads to the attainment of the Tao.

"All spiritual practice originates from the mind and is determined by the mind."

Su Qingxuan murmured to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear it. The moment his words fell, the vast and righteous energy flowing within his body suddenly trembled, like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, all converging into his dantian, condensing into a ball of energy the size of a pigeon egg, warm and smooth as jade. The energy ball shone with restrained light, neither dazzling nor ostentatious, yet it contained a balanced and peaceful, boundless power, completely opening up all the meridians in his body without the slightest obstruction.

Confucianism gradually took shape, and the foundation of the Way was initially solidified.

He slowly opened his eyes, a fleeting glint of light flashing within them before returning to stillness. The dim light of the lamp illuminated his eyes, revealing not a trace of childish naiveté, but only a steadfast and unyielding Confucian heart. His demeanor grew increasingly refined; though he was in a humble room and dressed in coarse clothes, he possessed an air of purity and undisturbed spirit, like a bamboo growing in the misty rain of Jiangnan—upright, resilient, and elegantly refined.

Su Qingxuan got up and pushed open the wooden door to the study. The night breeze brushed his face, carrying the fragrance of osmanthus and the fresh scent of earth, which was refreshing. The moonlight was like water, spilling across the small courtyard. The shadow of the old osmanthus tree swayed and danced. The green vegetables in the vegetable patch stretched their leaves under the moonlight. The ten taels of silver left by Shen Wanshan on the stone table lay quietly in its place, gleaming with a cold and hard light.

From the day the engagement was called off, this silver ingot became like a brand, etched on the stone table in the Su family courtyard and also on the young man's heart. This wasn't resentment, nor was it obsession; it was merely a symbol of worldly snobbery, a testament to the humiliation suffered by the poor, and a mark of the coldness of human hearts. Now, in Su Qingxuan's eyes, it was no longer humiliation, but a ballast stone for tempering his character, a warning bell to remind himself, and an inscription of a Confucian scholar's integrity.

He walked slowly to the stone table, his gaze calmly falling on the silver ingot, and softly recited a proverb from the Analects: "Wealth and honor obtained unjustly are to me like floating clouds."

Without hatred, without anger, without pride, without arrogance.

Poverty and lowliness cannot sway his will, wealth and honor cannot sway his heart, and power and force cannot bend his integrity—the eight-year-old boy has already engraved the principles of Confucianism into his bones and integrated them into his blood.

Just then, a faint white light suddenly appeared again at the corner of the courtyard wall. The light was soft, unlike moonlight or lamplight, but it carried a clear and transparent Daoist charm. A wisp of extremely faint, pure, and quiet spiritual energy slowly emanated from it, drifting gently with the night breeze, silently blending with Su Qingxuan's magnanimous Confucian aura, the hidden Daoist spirit, and the concealed Zen meaning.

The energy within his dantian trembled slightly, resonating with the wisp of Daoist spiritual energy. The energies of Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism subtly intertwined within the boy's body, barely perceptible, yet planting the initial foundation for the unification of the three teachings. In the corner of the courtyard, the small bronze seal, a family heirloom of the Su family, also glowed slightly; the withered tree beside it emitted a soft, white light, merging with the bronze seal and Su Qingxuan's aura, concealing profound secrets under the moonlight of Jiangnan.

Su Qingxuan felt his mind at peace, all distracting thoughts vanished, and the state of being one with heaven and earth, and with all things, became increasingly clear. He did not know that this was a sign of the awakening of the Dao seed and the fusion of the three teachings; he simply took it as the exhilaration of enlightenment. He immediately sat cross-legged on the stone bench in the courtyard and once again regulated his breathing according to the mental method, thoroughly integrating this wisp of pure spiritual energy into himself to solidify his foundation.

An ancient temple thousands of miles away.

The white-haired old Taoist priest was sitting quietly on a futon, deeply engrossed in comprehending the Dao, when suddenly he opened his eyes abruptly. A sharp light burst forth from his pupils, piercing through the clouds like lightning, and gazing directly towards Qingxi Town in Jiangnan. He rapidly calculated with his fingertips forming hand seals, but Su Qingxuan's fate remained shrouded in the mists of the Great Dao. The clouds and fog obscured the truth, making it unclear. He could only vaguely glimpse Confucian light soaring into the sky, the roots of Taoism growing, and Buddhist nature surrounding him, the spiritual energies of the three religions intertwining to form an unprecedented phenomenon.

The old Taoist stroked his beard and sighed deeply, his voice filled with astonishment and anticipation: "A Confucian heart is gradually taking shape, a Taoist root is becoming firm, and a Buddhist affinity is secretly emerging. This child possesses an innate, unparalleled spiritual root! The unprecedented destiny of the unification of the three religions truly belongs to this child! The will of Heaven is unpredictable, and the Great Dao is formless. Let us see how he walks the path of the mortal and the saint on the same supreme path!"

After speaking, the old Taoist closed his eyes again, concealed his aura, and silently guarded this opportunity of heaven and earth, waiting for the young man to grow up.

Thousands of miles away, in a remote mountain temple.

The old monk, deep in meditation, slowly opened his eyes, his gaze filled with compassion and his countenance solemn. He looked towards the south of the Yangtze River and respectfully chanted the Buddha's name, his voice deep and solemn, echoing through the ancient temple and startling the birds in the forest: "Namo Amitabha Buddha, the spiritual root is natural, the mind of the Way is established, the destined one has embarked on the path, when the time comes, we will meet again."

The chanting of Buddhist prayers faded, and the ancient temple returned to silence. Only the mountain breeze and the Buddhist lamps in the hall silently witnessed this extraordinary destiny that spanned three religions.

The moonlight still shines on the Su family courtyard.

After Su Qingxuan finished his meditation, he stood up in the courtyard, gazing at the countless stars in the vast night sky. He knew his path lay not in the imperial examinations or in wealth and glory, but in self-cultivation, helping the world, and proving the Way through his heart; he knew his Way began with Confucianism, and perhaps in the future, it would extend to Taoism and Buddhism...

The silver ingots on the stone table remain untouched, the faint glow of the Dao seed still lingers, the warmth of the bronze seal remains enduring, and the boy's initial aspirations remain steadfast. The everyday life of Jiangnan nurtures his Confucian heart amidst the hustle and bustle of the world, the trials of human relationships forge his character imperceptibly, and the connections between the three religions plant his spiritual roots in the darkness. A legendary tale that will shake the ages has taken root in this small Jiangnan courtyard.

He turned and went back to his room, blew out the lamp on his desk, and the night enveloped the study. Only the light of the Dao in his heart shone brighter.

It is:

Having seen through the clamor of the world, I understand my true nature; by the solitary lamp, I cultivate my true spirit.

The spiritual root is secretly planted, waiting for the time to sprout; once on the path to immortality, it remains untainted by worldly dust.