Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

"No need." Zhu Han raised his hand. "Go and replace the well rope in the small well in the west corner. The child will come to fetch water tomorrow morning, so don't break it."

“Yes.” Ah Huai took two steps, then turned back. “Your Highness, Vice Minister Han has stayed.”

"Okay." Zhu Han waved his hand. "I'll go."

Under the eaves, Han Shuo stood with his hands behind his back in front of the "straight-walking" stone, his shadow stretching out long.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around and smiled: "Prince Han, the time I taught that row to be the most orderly, it wasn't because I taught well, it was because they were blind."

"Closing your eyes is like drawing your eyes back into your heart."

Zhu Han said, "When there is light in your heart, your feet will not falter."

"When I practice by myself, my mind wanders."

Han Shuo said softly, "I practiced it twice today and suddenly realized—I don't need to chase it back. I just need to walk properly, and it will come back on its own."

"You've stepped out of your own line."

Zhu Han looked at him and said, "That's enough."

Han Shuo pondered, "Prince Han, you want me to teach the second line, are you afraid I'll be too hasty?"

“No,” Zhu Han laughed. “I know you’re not afraid of backlighting.”

Han Shuo was taken aback, then chuckled: "I'm really not afraid."

He paused, then suddenly added, "The moment that young Bai Yu carved those words, I thought to myself, 'I admire him.'"

"That's good." Zhu Han nodded. "It's not about being convinced by others, it's about being convinced by the voice you hear yourself."

The next morning, three more stones were erected in front of the Imperial Academy's stone steps.

Three lines of large characters stood side by side on the steps: Stand firm, walk straight, and retract your steps.

There weren't many people, and the wind was gentle. Four or five children had gathered around the stone, pointing and whispering.

The old man also arrived, carrying a bamboo ruler. As usual, he swept around the area before sitting down by the stone.

“Your Highness.” The headmaster approached and lowered his voice, “Last night I paced around the courtyard twice, unable to sleep. Thinking of ‘a bend within a straight line,’ I took a dry brush and drew in the air. As I drew, I suddenly fell asleep.”

Zhu Biao smiled and said, "Sir, your painting is excellent."

"I don't know if it's good or bad," the headmaster waved his hand. "I only know that I didn't have any nightmares last night."

“That’s good,” Zhu Biao said.

Zhu Han drew several small circles on the steps, dividing everyone into five or six groups. Each group practiced their own "collection" and then combined them together.

Han Shuo chose the most diverse group: it included a peddler from outside the city, a stuttering student from the Imperial Academy, and an elderly craftsman.

He stood outside the circle, first looking, then pointing, and finally collecting.

It was very small, but the amount collected was extremely stable.

By the third time, the stuttering student no longer stumbled over his words, and his voice was much clearer than the day before.

"Your Highness," Bai Zan said softly as she approached the stone, "Bai Yu has taken a small group of children and gone to the west alley."

"He's willing to bring people." Zhu Han nodded. "Good."

"Before he left, he lingered here at the 'take back' spot for a long time."

Bai Zan said, "He placed his hand on the stone, then put it down."

"He said to himself, 'I've arrived,'" Zhu Han laughed.

Bai Zan's eyes flickered, then she smiled and said, "Your Highness, there's a person by the stone, staring intently at the words, very still. His footsteps seem to have been disassembled and reassembled."

“Go check the heels,” Zhu Han said.

Bai Zan nodded and left.

In the afternoon, the courtyard gradually became more crowded. Some people came from the outer city, panting as they stopped in front of the stone, their eyes lingering on the three lines of characters.

Some people rummaged through the tiles in the small basket next to them, found a blank one, and wrote down two small words: "Try it".

After writing, place the tile under the stone base.

"Your Highness." The old man suddenly stood up and handed the bamboo ruler to Zhu Biao. "You write a stroke."

"What should we write?" Zhu Biao asked.

“Write ‘Jiujianchang’.” The old man laughed. “That day, the prince wrote ‘Jiuchang’, and I felt an itch to write it.”

Zhu Biao received the bamboo ruler, stood beside the third stone, looked up at it, and then began to write.

After the carving was finished, applause suddenly broke out from the crowd. The applause was not loud, like a light drizzle.

Zhu Han listened intently, and the "echo map" in his mind unfolded. The density of his footsteps was like dots of ink falling on silk—the densest cluster was on the right side in front of the stone.

There stood a young man, simply dressed, with thick-soled shoes, his hands resting on his sides. He was reading, and also observing people. His steps, which had been unsteady before, were now steady.

"He will speak," Zhu Han thought to himself.

Sure enough, the young man clasped his hands and walked to the stone, his voice not loud: "Your Highness, Your Highness. I am a peddler, traveling all over the country (he immediately corrected himself) – traveling inside and outside the city, I have traveled many roads. Today, after reading this 'shou de hui' (meaning 'to take back'), I feel less anxious. I don't understand books, but I understand the word 'hui' (to return), and when it's time to return, one should return."

"Well said." Zhu Han nodded. "What's your name?"

"Li He," the young man replied.

"The 'merging' of merging lines?" Zhu Han laughed.

“Yes.” Li He smiled as well. “My dad named me because he wanted the name to go smoothly.”

“You have thick soles,” Zhu Han said, his gaze falling on his shoes. “You’ve walked a lot, so you’ll be able to recover faster. Would you be willing to help Miao Xing lead a team here?”

Li He paused for a moment, then his eyes lit up: "I'm willing!"

“Then stay on the second lap,” Zhu Han said. “I’ll give you three pieces of advice: watch your shoulders, watch your feet, watch your breathing. Only watch these three things, don’t be greedy.”

"Yes!" Li He replied readily.

The wind in front of the stone changed direction, as if someone had lifted a curtain and then gently lowered it again.

Zhu Han looked up; the shadow of the sun had already moved to the other side. He suddenly said, "Biao'er, erect another small stone today and write 'Don't Talk' on it."

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, then laughed: "Write it next to the three stones?"

“Written after San Shi,” Zhu Han said, “to tell people: besides standing, walking, and collecting, there is another thing called ‘not speaking.’”

The stonemason immediately went to lift the stone. The old man leaned on the bamboo ruler, squinted, and smiled: "Good calligraphy. It holds its weight well."

As the night wind rises, the shadows of the locust trees in the old schoolyard spread out in the center of the courtyard, like a wrinkled quilt.

Zhu Han stood alone under the corridor, tapping his fingers lightly three times on a pillar, as if beating the drum in his heart.

"Sign in."

[Check-in Location: Under the Locust Trees in the Main Courtyard of the Old Academy]

[Reward: Stepping Techniques - Three Forms (Parallel and Change of Stance); Bonus: 'Unquenchable Inner Fire' Extended by One Day]

He withdrew his hand and smiled gently.

Light footsteps approached from behind, and Zhu Biao, carrying a thin scroll of wooden plaque patterns, said: "Uncle, I'm thinking of a way."

"explain."

“Engrave ‘Stand, Walk, Collect’ on small plaques, write a short passage on the back of the plaques, and hang them by the gate of the Imperial Academy and this courtyard.”

Zhu Biao's eyes lit up. "Have someone take one back, and exchange it for another the next day. Whoever takes the card must carry out what is written on the back of the card."

"That's good," Zhu Han nodded, "but not too much. Five yuan to start."

"I think so too," Zhu Biao laughed. "Too much, too little."

"Who will write the words on the back of the cards?" Zhu Han asked.

"Let the old gentleman write first," Zhu Biao said. "The old gentleman writes steadily."

“Let the child write again,” Zhu Han added. “The child’s writing is really good.” “Okay,” Zhu Biao nodded. “I’ll go ask him.”

As the night deepened, under the horn lamp, the old man turned over the first small card, picked up a pen, and wrote a line: "Stand without complaint, leave without contention, and collect without delay." He put down the pen, then smiled and pushed the second card to a thin child: "You write it."

The child swallowed hard and wrote four words in a crooked hand: "Slow and steady wins the race."

As Zhu Han looked at it, he suddenly felt that the fire in his chest was more stable.

He placed his hand on the edge of the stone table and gently exhaled: "Tomorrow we'll proceed with the parallel and change of paces."

"Parallelism?" Zhu Biao looked up.

"If there are too many people and too many lines, then we need to merge them."

Zhu Han said, "When changing beats in parallel, who is faster or slower is not determined by the feet, but by the mind."

"I'll be playing on the second line tomorrow," Zhu Biao laughed. "I want to try 'changing rackets'."

"Don't bring anyone yet," Zhu Han said to him. "Try to switch places with someone else first."

"Alright," Zhu Biao replied. "I'll go find Minister Han."

“He will change.” Zhu Han smiled as well.

The next morning, two circles were drawn in the courtyard, and each person practiced within their own circle, with a short parallel area between the circles.

Zhu Han stood in the parallel area and said, "When you pass through here, don't rush. Look at the other person's shoulder. You pull back, I move in; you move in, I pull back. Remember two sentences: 'You are not a roadblock,' and 'He is not the wind.'"

“I am not a roadblock, and he is not the wind.”

Bai Yu read it aloud, and then laughed as she read it.

The first time he walked side by side with Han Shuo across the parallel area, Han Shuo's shoulder didn't move, and neither did he.

The two intertwined lightly like two ropes, then returned to their own rhythms.

When Bai Yu reached this spot for the second time, she suddenly said "Here" in her mind and crossed it safely once again.

"Change the racket," Zhu Han said. "Who's willing to change?"

Li He was the first to raise his hand: "I'll try."

"Slow down your pace by half a beat and catch up with the old craftsman on the third lap."

Zhu Han pointed and said, "The old craftsman breathes long, don't try to take it."

Li He responded, recalling his past standing shoulder to shoulder with the old craftsman.

His steps slowed down by half a beat, and the old craftsman's breathing just caught him.

The two were like two bamboo stalks of different thicknesses, leaning against each other, and when the wind blew, they rustled together.

After passing through the parallel zone, Li He returned to his own circle and suddenly laughed, his laughter carrying a hint of unexpected joy: "Your Highness, this time, I feel like I've grown a bit."

“You’ve grown,” Zhu Han said. “Not your legs, but your heart.”

After practicing with different rackets three times, everyone gradually got into the swing of things.

Just then, a series of chaotic footsteps came from outside the courtyard gate, as if someone was dragging something.

Just as Ah Huai was about to leave, Zhu Han raised his hand to stop him: "Don't look."

A moment later, the footsteps stopped outside the door.

Someone coughed softly, as if to remind the people inside.

Zhu Han smiled and said to everyone, "Continue."

He walked to the door, pushed it open half an inch, and glanced inside—several young men were carrying an old drum outside, the drumhead stretched unevenly and the drum nails loose.

The leader cupped his hands in greeting: "We...we want to use this courtyard to practice our skills."

"Come in, drum." Zhu Han opened the door. "But the drum is for us, not the other way around."

The young men looked at each other in bewilderment, and finally carried the drum in and placed it in the center of the courtyard.

The leader tried knocking three times, "thump, thump, thump," the beat was heavy, but his feet felt unsteady.

Zhu Han didn't look at the drum, but at the person: "The drum isn't something to be driven around. You need to stand firmly on your feet first before you start drumming."

The man paused for a moment, then followed Zhu Han's instructions to stand with his shoulders relaxed, waist tucked in, and breathing in sync with his feet.

The drumbeats suddenly became steady. The people in the parallel sections changed their beats almost simultaneously, as if they had planned it beforehand.

The drumbeats echoed back and forth between the courtyard walls, merging with the footsteps of the two circles.

"Look," Zhu Han said with a smile to the young man, "it's the drum that follows you, not the other way around."

The young man looked up, a clear expression appearing on his face, and nodded firmly: "Thank you, Your Highness."

Zhu Han waved his hand: "Thank you for bringing the drum in."

The day's practice continued until sunset.

As the crowd left, no one dared to make a sound, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Miao Xing closed the courtyard gate and turned to look at Zhu Han: "Your Highness, today's matter of 'parallelism and changing paces' is like two rivers merging into one."

“There are two roads,” Zhu Han corrected. “They are not a river.”

“The road is fine.” Miao Xing smiled. “The road is made by walking.”

Early in the morning, as soon as the gate of the old academy opened, Bai Yu was seen leading several children squatting in front of the stone steps, scraping the moss from the cracks in the stones with bamboo strips.

“Bai Yu,” Zhu Han called to him from under the eaves, “this job is for the newcomer.”

Bai Yu looked up, the bamboo strip in his hand still damp with moss: "Your Highness, they climbed over the wall last night, saying they wanted to learn 'parallelism' as soon as possible."

Before he finished speaking, several heads indeed peeked out from the top of the wall. One of the boys hurriedly tried to retreat, but his companions grabbed him by the ankles and hung him upside down on the wall, making the children giggle.

"Come down," Zhu Han said with a smile. "But today we won't practice parallelism; let's learn 'listening' first."

He turned around and picked up the old drum from yesterday from the stone table. "Bai Zan, put the drum in the center of the third circle."

As the drums sounded, Zhu Biao was returning from the Imperial Academy, carrying five newly carved wooden plaques in his arms.

He could hear the chaotic drumbeats from afar, and when he got closer, he found that the crowd was forming three circles, but no one was moving. Li He was shirtless, holding a drumstick and standing in front of the drum, with veins bulging on his forehead, but every time he hit the drum, it was crooked and uneven.

"Stop." Zhu Han raised his hand. "Li He, whose feet were you staring at when you were drumming?"

“Your Highness,” Li He wiped his sweat, “and stared at the old craftsman’s shoe tips.”

"Why?"

"You said...you said you wanted to check his breathing, but his breathing was too light, so I could only check his feet..."

Zhu Han shook his head and took the drumsticks from his hand: "The drum is alive, and so is the person. If you stare at his feet, the drum dies." He then suddenly raised his hand, "Boom!"

The drumbeats were like thunder, startling several children on the periphery who jumped up.

But looking at Zhu Han again, he clearly had his eyes closed, yet the drumsticks rose and fell with some invisible rhythm, sometimes as fast as a downpour, sometimes as slow as a stream.

“Listen.” He opened his eyes. “Listen to your own heartbeat, listen to the breathing of others, listen to the wind passing through the locust tree in the corner of the yard—that’s what the drum should follow.”

Zhu Biao suddenly exclaimed softly, "Uncle, the drumbeats and your footsteps..." He pointed to Zhu Han's cloth shoes on the bluestone slab, "Every time you tap three times, your left foot moves forward half an inch."

"Good hearing." Zhu Han laughed and tossed him the drumsticks. "You give it a try."

When Zhu Biao took the drumsticks, his palms were slightly hot.

He closed his eyes like Zhu Han, but the first strike hit the edge of the drum, making his hand go numb.

Suppressed laughter came from the crowd, but he gritted his teeth and tried again and again... Gradually, he got the hang of it.

When the drumbeats finally came together in a continuous stream, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him—not chaotic, but advancing in waves like a tide.

“Look,” Zhu Han’s voice whispered in my ear, “they’re following your drum.” (End of Chapter)