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

Poetry:

Night rain taps on the window, washing away worldly dust; alone by the cold lamp, I contemplate the true meaning of Zen.

He made a vow to save all living beings, and with the spirit of a Confucian scholar and a benevolent heart, he dedicated himself to helping the world.

In the depths of winter, the snow in Jiangnan had just cleared, only to be followed by a night of cold rain. The north wind whipped up dense rain like icy silk, enveloping Qingxi Town in a damp, chilly mist. The white walls and black tiles, once covered in snow, appeared even more pristine after the night's rain; strings of raindrops hung from the eaves, shattering into silver flowers as they fell to the ground; melting snow trickled down the steps, flowing into the stream through the cracks in the bluestone slabs. The river, nourished by the winter rain, swelled with cold waves, lapping against the banks with a clear, tinkling sound; the withered willows and frosty branches on the banks were shaken by the wind and rain, scattering the remaining snow; only the winter plum blossoms stood tall against the rain, their sparse flowers glistening with dew, their subtle fragrance permeating the damp, cold air, drifting through the alleys and into the small courtyard of the Su family in the east of town, adding a touch of serene tranquility.

Since his enlightenment through fishing in the cold stream and cultivating a tranquil mind, Su Qingxuan's Confucian cultivation has gradually progressed to a higher level. The bitter cold of deep winter did not disturb his rest in the slightest; he still rose at cockcrow, swept the courtyard, and cleared away the melting snow and remaining ice from the steps. After burning incense and washing his hands, he sat upright in his study, reciting Confucian classics and practicing Confucian mental techniques. On frosty nights, he practiced breathing exercises according to the Doctrine of the Mean, cultivating his inner energy. The vast and warm energy within his dantian was gentle and sustained, neither harsh nor fierce, just like the balanced and peaceful flow of a cold stream, allowing his entire body's meridians to flow smoothly. Even as the north wind blew through the window, he felt a warmth hidden in his heart, completely unaffected by the cold.

In the cold night of the Su family courtyard, poverty was accompanied by a sense of peace and warmth. Su Wenyuan, who taught less during the deep winter, often spent his time under the lamp organizing the Confucian classics of his ancestors, meticulously comparing and verifying the fragments of "The Confucian Mind Method" with the Four Books and Five Classics, all to pave a smooth path for his son's spiritual practice. Liu Shi tended the charcoal stove, simmering ginger soup and drying cloth clothes, making the damp and cold courtyard warm and cozy, fearing that the young man would suffer from the cold during his spiritual practice, and always taking meticulous care of him with loving kindness.

The rain intensified that night, the north wind whipping the rain against the windowpanes with a crackling sound, shrouding the world in a dim light. The townspeople had long since closed their doors and gathered around their stoves, the streets and alleys silent. But in the Su family study, a single lamp flickered in the cold, rainy night, casting the image of a young man standing solemnly.

Su Qingxuan did not study or practice calligraphy. Instead, he sat cross-legged on a futon, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing. Outside the window, the wind and rain raged, the sounds of rain pattering on banana leaves, wind swaying withered willows, and cold waves lapping against the shore all mingled in his ears, yet they did not disturb his mind in the slightest. Since comprehending the Doctrine of the Mean, he had deeply understood the principle of finding stillness amidst movement and guarding one's mind amidst chaos—the wind and rain are the movement of heaven and earth, while the human heart is inherently still. Stillness is not disturbed by movement, and the mind is not swayed by circumstances. This is the foundation of the Confucian scholar's self-discipline and the ultimate principle of cultivation.

He circulated his breath according to the "Confucian Mind Method," each breath seemingly in sync with the rhythm of heaven and earth, drawing in the refreshing and cleansing energy of the cold rain to cleanse his mind and spirit. The vast and righteous energy within his dantian flowed like warm jade, filling his entire body with a warm sensation, and his six senses became increasingly clear: he could discern the weight of raindrops falling on the tiles, smell the faint fragrance of plum blossoms blooming in the corner of the courtyard, feel the warmth of the flickering embers in the charcoal stove, and even faintly sensed something in the corner of the courtyard wall that merged with his own Confucian energy, giving rise to a wisp of pure and gentle energy.

The ancestral bronze seal, hidden in a brocade box, was now slightly warm, its rim emitting a barely perceptible glow. This glow resonated with the fragmented scroll of cultivation techniques and the youthful, righteous spirit, silently nourishing this innate Confucian character. Su Qingxuan had long known the fragmented scroll was an ancestral heirloom, but he didn't know the origin of the item within the box. He felt a natural affinity for it, sensing its close connection to his own cultivation. He knew it belonged to his ancestors, and had been quietly enshrined on the ancestral altar in the corner of the courtyard by his father for many years, worshipped on festivals, and never lightly opened.

"Qingxuan, the night is cold and the rain is heavy. Drink a bowl of ginger soup to warm yourself and don't exhaust your mind." The study door opened slightly, and Madam Liu slowly entered with a bowl of piping hot ginger soup. Her voice was gentle, as if she was afraid of disturbing her son's quiet sitting.

Su Qingxuan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze restrained, clear as a still, cold pool. He rose and bowed, his blue robe trailing behind him, his manners impeccable: "Thank you for your concern, Mother. I am fine."

Madam Liu handed him the ginger soup; the porcelain bowl was warm, and the warmth spread from his fingertips throughout his body. Looking at the young man's handsome yet composed eyes, she felt a pang of tenderness: "My child, you don't even slack off in your cultivation in the dead of winter. I know you have lofty aspirations, but I only hope you are safe and well. There's no need to push yourself too hard."

"Mother, rest assured, I have been cultivating my character and doing things in accordance with my nature, and I have never made myself suffer." Su Qingxuan took a small sip of the ginger soup, and the spicy warmth spread throughout his body, dispelling the cold and damp night.

Seeing that he looked calm and composed, Liu said no more, gently closed the door and left, returning a peaceful space to the young man.

The study returned to silence, save for the incessant sound of wind and rain tapping on the window. Su Qingxuan put down his soup bowl, sat cross-legged again, and his mind became even clearer. Just then, amidst the sound of wind and rain, a low, peaceful, and solemn chanting of scriptures suddenly seeped in.

The chanting wasn't loud, yet it pierced through the cold rain and north wind, clearly drifting into the courtyard, cleansing the heart and soul. There was no noise, no restlessness, only like a clear spring rinsing stones, like warm sun melting snow, instantly reducing distracting thoughts and dispelling worldly clamor.

"Bodhi has no tree, nor is the bright mirror a stand. Originally there is nothing, so where can dust alight?"

"Namo Amitabha Buddha, enlighten your mind and see your true nature, compassionately save all beings..."

Su Qingxuan's heart stirred slightly. He slowly opened his eyes, rose, and pushed open the wooden window. The cold rain, carrying dampness, rushed towards him, wetting the hem of his blue robe. He paid no heed, only looking towards the source of the sound—

Not far from the courtyard, under the eaves of a mountain god temple that had been abandoned for many years, sat an old wandering monk, cross-legged. He wore a patchwork robe, worn yet clean; his beard was white, his face gaunt, his eyes lowered, and he held a string of old sandalwood prayer beads, his fingers slowly twirling them, his lips parting slightly as he chanted sutras. He sat upright in the wind and rain, raindrops pattering down around him, yet his robes remained dry. His expression was serene and unwavering, as if he had become one with the cold rain, the dark night, and the dilapidated temple.

Su Qingxuan had studied Confucianism since childhood and had never been exposed to Buddhist scriptures. However, from the old monk's chanting, he heard a clarity that resonated with the Confucian principles of "sincerity and rectification of the mind" and a peace that aligned with the Doctrine of the Mean's principle of "impartiality and impartiality." He thought that this old monk might not be an ordinary person, so he immediately put on a plain-colored cloak, gently opened the courtyard gate, stepped on the wet and slippery bluestone slabs, and slowly walked towards the mountain god temple.

The night rain pattered softly, and the streets and alleys were deserted. Only under the eaves of the ancient temple hung a glass lamp carried by an old monk, its dim light casting an ethereal shadow. Su Qingxuan approached the temple, bowed respectfully, and said in a clear and respectful voice, "Venerable Zen Master, you are chanting scriptures late at night. I apologize for disturbing you."

The old monk slowly opened his eyes, his gaze clear as cold stars, devoid of any worldly dust. When he looked at Su Qingxuan, his eyes revealed approval. He clasped his hands together and softly chanted a Buddhist prayer: "Greetings, young master. This old monk was traveling and passed through this place. I sought shelter from the rain under the eaves of this ancient temple to recite scriptures. I never intended to disturb the villagers, and it is only thanks to your concern, young master."

"Venerable Zen Master, you are too kind. I heard you chanting scriptures and was deeply moved, so I came to pay my respects." Su Qingxuan stood with his hands at his sides, neither humble nor arrogant, his demeanor as a Confucian scholar was naturally refined.

The old monk's gaze swept over the young man, noticing the righteous spirit emanating from his brow, the hidden potential for Taoism, the gentle warmth of Buddhism, and the aura of the three religions swirling around him. Such talent at such a young age! He couldn't help but sigh inwardly. He softly asked, "Young master, now that you've heard me chanting scriptures, do you know the meaning of what I'm reciting?"

Su Qingxuan pondered for a moment and answered truthfully: "I have studied Confucianism since childhood, reading only the books of Confucius and Mencius, and learning the Confucian mindset. I am not familiar with Buddhist classics. However, when I listen to the Zen master chanting the sutra, I feel that my energy channels are open and my mind is optimistic. This seems to have something in common with the Confucian principle of 'the Master abstains from four things: no preconceived notions, no dogmatism, no obstinacy, and no ego.'"

The old monk nodded and smiled, "Young master, your wisdom is extraordinary, and you have already seen through the confusion. Confucianism speaks of preserving the mind, Buddhism speaks of understanding the mind. All methods and paths ultimately lead to the same mind. Confucianists preserve their minds with benevolence, rectify their hearts and minds, and then cultivate themselves and help the world; Buddhists understand their minds with compassion, see their true nature and realize emptiness, and then guide all sentient beings. Although the two paths are different, they are both about cultivating, guarding, and purifying the mind, both are about walking the path, and there is no difference between them."

A glint flashed in Su Qingxuan's eyes. The recluse in the rain had once said, "The three teachings share the same origin, and all methods return to the mind." The old monk's words today resonated perfectly with the recluse's verse. He bowed deeply: "Venerable Zen Master, your profound words have enlightened me. Our Confucian school speaks of 'benevolence and love for others,' while the Zen Master speaks of 'compassionate salvation.' One is benevolence, the other compassion; both are about having the common people in one's heart and remaining true to one's principles, aren't they?"

"Indeed." The old monk nodded slowly, his fingertips twirling the prayer beads. "The Confucian scholar's benevolence is the responsibility to help all under heaven; the Buddhist scholar's compassion is the tolerance to save all sentient beings. Taking responsibility without attachment, to be tolerant without delusion, with a heart free from defilement, is the Great Way. Young master, you are calm in the face of adversity and adept at Confucian principles; at such a young age, you have lofty aspirations; though inexperienced in worldly affairs, your heart is free from worldly dust—this is a heart free from defilement, already a superior state of cultivation."

Recalling the humiliation of Shen Wanshan's annulment of their engagement, the warmth and coldness of observing people's hearts in the marketplace, and the clarity of fishing in the cold stream, Su Qingxuan sighed softly, "Old Zen Master, you flatter me. I know very well that self-cultivation begins with self-cultivation; only when the heart is upright can the body be cultivated; and only when the body is cultivated can one care for others. In the past, seeing the suffering of the poor in the marketplace and the hardships of the old farmers, I felt that a Confucian scholar should not confine himself to the quiet solitude of his study, but should have the common people in his heart and relieve their suffering. However, I am still unclear about the path ahead."

The old monk gazed at the cold, rainy night, his voice as gentle as spring rain: "Only with a pure heart can one go far; only with a firm will can one help all living beings. Young master, you possess the benevolence of a Confucian scholar, the clarity of a Daoist mind, and the compassion of a Buddha. There is no need to be confused about the road ahead—guard a pure heart, act with integrity, establish yourself with Confucianism, help the world with benevolence, follow the Dao, and treat others with compassion. This is the right path in the world."

He paused, gazing into the boy's clear eyes, and slowly said, "This old monk offers you another piece of advice: When the storms are dark, the lamp of your heart will not be extinguished; when the world is turbulent, your true heart will not waver. Even if you go through countless tribulations, do not lose your benevolence, do not be tainted by worldly dust, and do not change your original intention, and you will eventually reach the state of ultimate goodness."

Su Qingxuan memorized every word and bowed again, saying, "Thank you for your guidance, Zen Master. I will uphold this principle for the rest of my life, and live up to your teachings and the expectations of all living beings!"

The night rain gradually subsided, the north wind subsided, and the soft glow of the glass lamps under the eaves of the ancient temple illuminated the young man's resolute features. Standing before the old monk, Su Qingxuan felt all the lingering confusion in his heart dissipate, replaced by an unprecedented determination and grand ambition—

His father once taught him to "establish a heart for heaven and earth, and establish a destiny for the people," but he was still young and only kept it in mind. After experiencing the humiliation of being jilted, observing the world, comprehending the Way through the Doctrine of the Mean, and watching fish in a cold stream, and then being enlightened by the Zen music tonight, he has a clear understanding: the self-cultivation of a Confucian scholar is not about self-cultivation, but about taking responsibility for the world; the path of cultivation is not about escaping the world with arrogance, but about entering the world with compassion to help others.

Born into a poor family in Jiangnan and raised in a family of farmers and scholars, he deeply understood the hardships of life, the fickleness of human nature, and the desires of the common people. He did not want to be a pedantic scholar confined to his study, nor a vulgar person seeking only fame and fortune. He wanted to establish himself with Confucian integrity, help the world with benevolence, and uphold the Way with a pure heart, so that the poor would have food, the cold would have clothing, the elderly would be cared for, and the young would be supported. He wanted to reduce the cold-heartedness of opportunism and increase the warmth of justice and benevolence in the world.

This grand ambition is no longer a child's casual vow, but an aspiration etched into the very marrow after being honed day and night and enlightened by Zen teachings.

Seeing the unwavering resolve and radiant compassion in the young man's eyes, the old monk knew he had made up his mind and nodded with a smile. At that moment, the rain stopped, the clouds dispersed, and a sliver of light appeared on the horizon; the cold night was drawing to a close, and dawn was about to break. The old monk rose and clasped his hands in prayer: "This old monk must now depart. Young master, the road ahead is long; I hope you will remain steadfast in your principles and live a life without regrets."

Having said that, the old monk, holding a glass lamp, slowly walked into the dim morning light. His figure gradually disappeared at the end of the alley in Jiangnan, leaving only a faint sandalwood incense lingering under the eaves of the ancient temple and drifting into the Su family courtyard, blending with the fragrance of Confucianism and the charm of Taoism.

Su Qingxuan stood before the ancient temple, gazing in the direction the old monk had departed, lost in thought. The cold rain had just ceased, and morning mist was beginning to rise. The white walls and black tiles of Qingxi Town were covered with a thin layer of moisture, the fragrance of winter plum blossoms wafted in the air, and the clear stream rippled gently, creating a serene and clear atmosphere between heaven and earth.

After a moment of contemplation, he slowly returned to the courtyard, gently pushing open the gate. A faint, shimmering white light returned to the corner of the courtyard, and the warmth of the bronze seal grew even more profound. The righteous energy within his dantian surged once more due to this grand ambition, becoming warm, mellow, and filling his entire body. Without pausing, the young man went straight to his study, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote two lines of large characters on the hemp paper:

With a Confucian spirit, one should strive to benefit all people; with a Zen mind, one should remain untainted and follow the righteous path.

With vigorous strokes and a dignified spirit, the ink is rich and lustrous. Between the lines lies the responsibility of a nine-year-old boy, the foundation of the integration of Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, and the budding of the path of the ordinary and the holy.

At this moment, Su Wenyuan had already risen early to practice his boxing. Seeing the study brightly lit and his son standing there with a pen in hand, exuding extraordinary bearing and with a resolute heart in his eyes, he slowly entered. Upon seeing the writing on the paper, he couldn't help but stroke his beard and sigh deeply: "My son has set such a lofty ambition; the Confucian school is fortunate, and the common people are fortunate! As your father, I will guard this small courtyard of farming and studying, serving as your most secure support, so that you may travel far and wide to help the world."

Su Qingxuan turned and bowed deeply, his voice resounding: "Father, rest assured, I will uphold the integrity of a Confucian scholar, cherish a heart for saving the world, and live up to the Su family tradition, the teachings of the sages, and the hopes of all living beings!"

As the deep winter dawn pierced through the morning mist, it shone into the Su family study, illuminating the resolute face of the young man, the solemn vows on the paper, the winter plum and old osmanthus in the courtyard, and the simple yet serene Jiangnan courtyard.

Having been enlightened by the Zen chants on a rainy night, the young man's heart grew stronger, his Confucian roots deepened, his Taoist seed flourished, his Buddhist nature became clearer, and the foundation of the unity of the three religions became more solid. His path has officially begun on a grand journey of self-cultivation in a small town in Jiangnan, embarking on a journey of caring for the world and bringing peace to the people.

It is:

The cold rain and Zen chants awaken the world's heart; with a benevolent heart, one aspires to help all people.

With Confucianism and Taoism blending together, we will never fail to live up to the promise of spring on our earthly journey.