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

"Okay." Zhu Han nodded. "You make the decision, don't keep looking at me."

The students inhaled, raised their mallets, and the drumbeats sometimes light and sometimes heavy, as if paving a narrow road for Wang Fu.

Following the drumbeat, Wang Fu stopped pounding his left foot and stopped pacing his right foot.

He finished the lap, his forehead covered in sweat. He stopped at the last step, like a ball caught in a palm, no longer rushing forward.

"Okay," Zhu Han said. "Who's going for the second lap?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a series of footsteps echoed from the direction of the Imperial Academy.

Bai Yu had already run to the door and replied in a low voice, "Coming."

Five or six gentlemen entered. The one in the lead was over forty years old, not very tall, with a neat beard and his clothes were covered with wet mud.

He bowed as soon as he entered and said, "My name is Han Ding, an assistant instructor at the Imperial Academy. I have heard that Your Highness teaches people how to walk, so I have come to learn from you."

"I wouldn't dare to ask for your guidance," Zhu Han laughed. "Let's go together."

The gentlemen behind Han Ding exchanged glances, as if they had already made their plans.

Han Ding's gaze swept over the wooden signs that read "Stand, Walk, Collect" and landed on the drum in Wang Fu's arms: "Your Highness teaches people to walk by beating a drum?"

“If someone is panicking, use a drum to calm them down first.” Zhu Han said calmly, “When it comes to walking, the feet come first, then the mind.”

Han Ding grunted in response, neither confirming nor denying. He turned and waved his hand, saying, "Let the students in."

Students from the Imperial Academy entered the courtyard one after another, their collars neat and their shoes gleaming.

They looked at the group of people selling straw sandals, hot tea, and other ordinary folks in the courtyard with either curiosity or disdain.

The boy at the front had a pointed chin, bright eyes, and a pursed-lip smile: "May I ask, Your Highness, is it permissible to walk in a straight line?"

"What do you mean by 'straight'?" Zhu Han asked.

“The uprightness of a scholar,” the young man said, “is upright in body, upright in gait, and upright in heart.”

"Alright." Zhu Han reached his hand behind him. "Bai Zan, bring me the rope."

Bai Zan quickly pulled out two thick hemp ropes from the storeroom, and stretched them into two parallel straight lines from the courtyard gate to the inner eaves, weighing down the ends of the ropes with stones.

Zhu Han then had the children bring over a dozen earthenware pots and place them upside down next to the rope: "Don't step off the rope, and don't knock over the pots."

Han Ding raised an eyebrow at the scene but remained silent.

"Mr. Han, please go first." Zhu Han stepped aside. "I'm afraid I'll spoil your fun."

Han Ding nodded, gathered his sleeves, and stepped forward.

His steps were steady from the start, with even strides and his toes slightly turned inward.

Halfway there, a gust of wind suddenly passed through the corridor, causing the earthenware pot to make a soft humming sound.

Han Ding didn't sway, but instead revealed a hint of contempt at the corner of his mouth.

"Please." He turned around and gestured with his chin toward the boy behind him.

The boy took his first step with a clearer agility than Han Ding.

He had strong ankles and kept his back in a straight line.

Finally, he turned slightly, like a blade sheathing itself, and his whole body remained between the ropes, without even stirring up a layer of ash on the earthenware pot.

A low "wow" rippled through the crowd. The straw sandal seller, gripping the rope, laughed like a child.

"Impressive." Zhu Han clapped his hands. "Let's go through it again, but this time, you're not allowed to look at your feet."

The boy paused for a moment, then asked, "How can you walk straight without looking at your feet?"

"Look at that locust tree ahead," Zhu Han pointed. "Go in the direction the wind is blowing and use that direction for support. Don't focus on your feet; if your feet are slow, your mind will be in turmoil."

The boy wasn't so confident this time. He looked up at the locust tree, took three steps, and his toes lightly brushed the rim of the earthenware pot, making a "ding" sound.

He abruptly stopped, sullenly continuing to walk. When he reached the end, his face showed dissatisfaction: "That's called taking shortcuts."

“You were looking at the tassels just now,” Zhu Han said calmly. “The wind is above, and the tassels are below. If you’re focusing on the part that’s most likely to sway, of course it will sway along with it.”

Laughter rose and fell in the courtyard. The young man's face struggled between red and white before he finally said in a muffled voice, "Please demonstrate, Your Highness."

"Me?" Zhu Han laughed. "I'm not leaving. I'll teach someone to walk today, and you'll see."

"Who?" Han Ding asked.

"Wang Fu," Zhu Han turned to the burly man holding the drum, "put down the drum and go."

Wang Fu handed the drum to the stuttering student and carefully placed it on the ground.

He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the threshold in front of him, which was glistening from the rain.

As soon as I took my first step, the mud on the soles of my shoes was sucked up by the stone slab, making a strange sound.

He ignored it, and took the second and third steps... The flesh on his shoulder trembled slightly, but he didn't slip out of the rope.

At the end, he stopped, turned around, and walked back.

This time, his steps were even more steady than before, as if he had laid an invisible track in the courtyard. He walked back to where he started, straightened up, and his eyes shone.

The crowd erupted in chaos. The tea vendor slammed his teacup over on its roof with a loud crash, scalding tea splashing onto the back of his fingers, but he didn't even notice.

The children jumped up the steps, shouting, "Wang Fu is walking straight! Wang Fu is walking straight!"

The students from the Imperial Academy exchanged bewildered glances. The young man snorted coldly, "It's just that I'm familiar with the stone slabs in this courtyard."

Zhu Han shook his head: "Come again tomorrow, and do it once more."

Han Ding raised his hand and pressed down on the boy: "Shut up."

He turned to Zhu Han, cupped his hands, and said, "We have been disrespectful. The teachings Your Highness have given seem different from those we usually teach."

“The difference is that you teach ‘rules’, while I teach ‘meaning’ today.”

Zhu Han said in a calm tone, "Rules are necessary, but if the heart doesn't move forward, the rules are in vain."

Han Ding pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Could our students follow your drum for a while?"

"That's a good thing," Zhu Han laughed. "Who's going to play the drums?"

The stuttering student, who was holding a drumstick, was slightly startled upon hearing this and subconsciously looked at Zhu Biao.

Zhu Biao nodded to him: "You come here."

The student gripped the drumsticks tightly, his lips moved slightly, but he didn't stammer: "I...I'll try."

When he struck the first button, the crowd fell silent again.

The drumbeats were no longer the mottled sounds of before; they sounded like someone walking down a long street at night, their footsteps carrying moisture and light.

The students of the Imperial Academy walked among the ropes. At first, their steps were different, but as they walked, their steps gradually became more synchronized.

"Don't push your way in," Zhu Han reminded them. "The wind is pulling you outwards, so keep your hearts inwards."

"Where will it be sent?" the boy asked again, unconvinced.

"It should be three fingers below your navel," Zhu Han gestured to him. "You usually just scratch your shoulders."

The boy frowned, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes. He did as instructed, and surprisingly found his steps became steadyer.

After he left, he didn't argue, but just whispered to the stuttering student, "You didn't knock badly."

The stuttering student paused for a moment, then smiled, revealing a hint of his canine tooth.

As soon as the drum stopped, someone coughed at the entrance of the courtyard.

Everyone turned around and saw a thin old man in a short blue robe standing by the threshold, his hands behind his back, a glint of shrewdness hidden in the fine lines around his eyes.

Beside him was a short, middle-aged man carrying a bamboo basket with several stones weighing it down.

The short, middle-aged man looked like an old traveling traveler; the muscles on the back of his feet looked like twisted ropes.

"Who are you, sir?" Bai Yu stepped forward. The thin old man didn't bow, but vaguely replied, "I came because of your voice. Do you teach people how to walk here?"

"I'll teach you." Zhu Han stepped forward. "You want to learn?"

"No," the old man laughed, "I'm here to stir up trouble."

There was a commotion in the crowd.

Wang Fu hugged the drum even tighter to his chest, and the stuttering student instinctively took a step back. The students of the Imperial Academy also raised their eyebrows, as if facing a formidable enemy.

Zhu Han smiled and asked, "What is it?"

The old man pointed to the bamboo basket: "In this basket are pebbles from all the alleys in the old city. The ones from the east wing are a bit sharp, the ones from the west wing are a bit rounder, the ones from the south wing are smooth, and the ones from the north wing are rough. If you teach someone to walk in this flat courtyard, can they still walk steadily outside? I'll put a row of pebbles here, and none of you should look at them. If you can walk three steps on these pebbles without falling down, I'll become your apprentice."

"Good," Zhu Han said. "You have a good eye for choosing."

The old man was taken aback when he heard him agree so quickly.

The short, middle-aged man put down the basket, deftly took out stones from it, and placed five or six of them between the ropes, with varying spacing and heights, like an invisible trap.

"Who's coming?" The old man asked defiantly, scanning the crowd.

Zhu Biao suddenly stepped forward: "I'll go."

"Your Highness!" Bai Zan called out softly.

"Afraid of him?" Zhu Biao turned around and smiled at Zhu Han. "Uncle, you just taught me how to read the wind from a high place. Let me try it."

A hint of a smile flashed in Zhu Han's eyes: "Go."

Zhu Biao steadied himself and stood at the end of the rope.

He didn't look at his feet or the pebbles, but only looked up at the sliver of sunlight outside the courtyard gate.

A breeze swept through the corner of the courtyard, carrying the grassy smell of freshly dried straw sandals. He took his first step.

He felt a sharp rock under his foot, and the pain shot up his sole. Instead of pulling his leg back, he gently pushed with his palm and used the momentum to step over the second rock.

When he reached the third step, the pebble suddenly sank, and his heel slipped half an inch. He leaned forward slightly, used his waist and back to support his body, and with a flick of his toes, he slid across smoothly.

"Good!" someone shouted from the crowd.

The old man didn't speak, nor did he blink. When Zhu Biao reached the end, he chuckled and said, "Come back again."

"Alright." Zhu Biao smiled, turning back step by step. Returning to the starting point, he put his hands behind his back: "How was it?"

The old man grinned: "I'll take you as half an apprentice."

"Half?" Zhu Biao asked curiously.

"My other half, it depends on whether you're still walking so steadily tomorrow."

The old man snorted, "Don't think you'll understand after just one trip. There are puddles, mud, broken tiles, potholes in the city... cough, my old bones have worn out more than you've eaten rice."

"What's your name?" Zhu Han asked.

"Me?" The old man raised his chin. "My name is Shi Buwai."

“Good name,” Zhu Han said. “It’s not crooked. You put the pebbles at the alley entrance outside the courtyard gate, and we’ll move to another place.”

Shi Buwai's eyes lit up: "Is Your Highness not afraid?"

“I’ll have to walk, even if I’m afraid,” Zhu Han laughed. “This courtyard is straight, but the city is winding. If you need to help someone walk, it’s not just on straight ground.”

The crowd surged to the alley entrance. The alley was narrow, with mottled walls on both sides, still damp with mud and water.

Shi Buwai lined up the pebbles in a row, deliberately leaving a few gaps.

He stood to the side with his hands behind his back, grinning lewdly: "Come on."

Before the person had even stood still, a series of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the alley.

A tall, thin young man came running up, dragging a basket, sweating profusely: "Your Highness—Your Highness—" He ran up to the front and realized he had wandered into a trap. He stumbled and almost tripped over the stones.

Bai Yu reached out and grabbed him, asking, "What are you panicking about?"

"I...I'm not panicking," the young man gasped for breath.
"I've come to seek refuge. My surname is Chen, Chen Tong. I work as a porter. I've been carrying rice and firewood for the past few years. My legs are strong, and my back is also strong, but after walking for a long time, my heart races. I want to rest halfway, and the more I rest, the less I want to walk. Today, I listened to the drum at the door for a while, and it felt like a rope was pulling me in the heart, so... so I came."

"You want to leave?" Zhu Han looked at him.

Chen Tong nodded: "I...I want to walk a hundred steps without stopping, then two hundred more, and then—"

"Don't rush," Zhu Han waved his hand, "Take thirty steps first."

"I can walk as much as I can," Chen Tong said urgently.

“Too many steps and you're unstable.” Zhu Han looked at him. “If you can keep your footing steady at thirty steps, you can reach two hundred.”

Chen Tong gritted his teeth: "Okay."

The stuttering student carried the drum to the alley entrance, and immediately everyone's eyes fell on Chen Tong.

Chen Tong leaned the load on his shoulder against the ground, then hesitated before picking it up again: "Your Highness, would you like to go empty-handed?"

“Take it with you,” Zhu Han said. “Just walk the way you normally do. We’re changing the scales in your heart, not the scales on your shoulders.”

Chen Tong nodded. He stood at the end of the rope and took a breath.

The student struck the first blow. Chen Tong took a step forward, the load swaying slightly on his shoulder, but his feet remained steady.

By the tenth step, his eyes were bloodshot; by the fifteenth step, his Adam's apple bobbed as if he had swallowed a handful of sand; by the twentieth step, he suddenly laughed, and his steps became lighter.

As he finished the last step, he put down the load, bent over, and supported his knees, panting heavily, yet laughing like a child.

"How many steps?" someone asked.

"Exactly thirty," the stuttering student answered, his voice surprisingly steady.

"I still want to leave." Chen Tong looked up, his eyes shining brightly. "Your Highness, can I come again tomorrow?"

“Come here,” Zhu Han said. “But tomorrow, you’ll help someone. Go and teach those who sell straw sandals to tie the soles of their sandals closer to the feet, so the uppers don’t come loose. When your feet are stable, your mind won’t be in turmoil.”

The straw sandal seller's eyes widened: "Me? All I know is how to tie knots."

“Perfect.” Zhu Han laughed. “Look at other people’s feet, see who has blisters on the outside and who has blisters on the inside, and then tie on their shoes. You don’t teach them to walk, you only teach them to wear them.”

The straw sandal seller wiped the sweat from his face and nodded emphatically: "Okay!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, and the narrow wall at the alley entrance seemed to be pushed open by half an inch by the laughter.

Shi Buwai stood aside watching, his nostrils twitching slightly, as if he smelled a familiar scent from the old days.

"Your Highness," Han Ding suddenly spoke, "I have a favor to ask."

"explain."

"Could the students from the Imperial Academy also help out here?"

He turned to the neatly dressed young men, “You teachers don’t just teach writing inside the house; today you’re teaching footsteps at the alleyway. Who’s willing?”

For a moment, no one spoke.

The boy with the pointed chin hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward first: "I do."

Han Ding was slightly surprised, then smiled and said, "Okay."

The boy turned around and reached out to Chen Tong: "My surname is Gu, Gu Chen. If you feel a chill on your shoulder when you leave, tell me and I'll change the pad for you."

Chen Tong stared blankly at his hand, then hesitantly reached out, "I... my name is Chen Tong."

The two clasped hands, and another murmur rippled through the crowd.

As dusk fell, Bai Zan brought over an oil lamp and hung it below the door.

The lights flickered in the wind, casting a warm glow on everyone's faces. (End of Chapter)