Chapter 3 Last Words - The Weary Sage

The sixteenth year of Duke Ai of Lu - 479 BC, April Guiwei. In the evening, Qufu, State of Lu. With a jujube stick that was half the height of a person, Confucius walked slowly to the top of the hill outside the door. The wind in early summer lifted the big sleeves with a little fragrance of wheat blossoms, and the hair on the temples, which was so sparse that it was difficult to pin it down, gently brushed the face. The land of Lu is flat, and although the mountains are not high, they can overlook most of the capital.At this time, the capital city surrounded by checkerboard-like farmland was filled with smoke from cooking.

Zigong followed far behind.Kong Qiu didn't let him approach - he wanted to be quiet by himself.Last night he had that dream again, and it was never clearer: he dreamed that he was being solemnly sacrificed. "Has the time really come?" He smiled wryly, the journey just now had actually made him out of breath.He remembered the bow he used when teaching archery to students, the strong bow that convinced the strong Zilu ever since. And the world is still a mess. Although there have been fewer wars among countries since the Jin-Chu Mi Bing Alliance that year, everyone understands that either they are accumulating strength to prepare for the next round of competition or they are too busy to take care of themselves-wasn't it just the year before last, Qi Guotian Finally took that step, killed the monarch, and easily grasped the grandfather's inheritance.Also, in recent years, Wu Guo's arrogance has become more and more arrogant, and he seems to have forgotten that Gou Jian's wolf-like green eyes are always staring fiercely at his back, and he has not wandered away for a moment in more than ten years.

Kong Qiu frowned slightly, looking at the sky full of fire, cloud and blood, hanging over the capital city.He seemed to hear the increasingly harsh sound of forging and grinding coming from behind the closed city gates of various countries. He often thinks of Lao Tzu recently.When he was still working as a commissioner in charge of the warehouse, he traveled thousands of miles to meet the wise Zhou's librarian. He will never forget, that shriveled-mouthed, withered old man squinted his eyes, and sat with his hair disheveled among the bamboo slips all over the floor, speaking weakly to this humble and polite young man.

"The world is not benevolent, and everything is treated as a dog. This world cannot be forced. You can only follow the avenue." He coughed, "What kind of benevolence, righteousness and morality are all things that can confuse people. You don't want to go to anything." If you do it, you will disturb the world even more—those who do it will be defeated, those who persist will be lost, and nothing can be done. Let you and me, let all living beings in the world, spend this life in this chaotic, ruthless and ruthless avenue." After finishing speaking, Lao Tzu closed his eyes tiredly and did not speak again.

But the young Kong Qiu is not reconciled, he always feels that his shoulders should share something for this suffering world.In this era of years of fighting and suffering, faced with the mortal beings moaning in dire straits, is it the only way to close your eyes and turn a blind eye, plug your ears to listen and not hear, and deceive yourself to live in a trance so-called Dao? He thought hard. Finally, one night, he felt that a bolt of lightning tore apart the boundless darkness. At that time, he remembered that he seemed to be forty years old. His method is actually very simple. It does not require everyone to love all beings unselfishly and treat others as themselves - such a requirement can only be hypocrisy and affectation for most people; Do what you can, starting with your parents and brothers, and spread the "benevolence" outward step by step, and influence it outward.It's like pushing up a ripple in the water, slowly rippling until it fills the entire water surface; it's also like the breeze in the wilderness, passing by gently, combing the messy weeds neatly.As long as everyone learns to cultivate their own benevolence and try to do things around them such as "filial piety" and "fraternity", then the violent atmosphere that fills the world will slowly dissipate from the source, and soon, the whole world will be able to Be kind to the world.

He didn't know that at about the same time, there was also a philosopher on the other side of the snow mountain thousands of miles away.In the end, his method was to lead all sentient beings to the cold Nirvana. But Confucius only believed that starting from himself and from the side, let "benevolence" take root and grow gradually, and one day a world of great harmony will be created. He took the trouble to explain this "benevolence" to the students over and over again, but each time he said it differently.But he knows that the students can understand his painstaking efforts: There are many things, and in a word, "benevolence" is just a cultivation method to make the world truly a "human being".

But until today, after decades of running around, even if it is only a small country of Lu, how much can his "benevolence" achieve?In other words, how many real "human beings" have been created in this world? He thought of Lu Hou's numb and cold face.That was two years ago, because Qi Tian often killed the king, he solemnly went to Lu Hou after fasting and bathing, and asked to send troops to seek justice, but was politely rejected. He suddenly felt a little terrified, and raised his head to look at the sky.The sunset glow is even brighter, turning red like drunkenness.

After turning fifty, he wondered more and more whether there was a number of days in the dark—the cooked cowhide that was worn by him was broken by him at least three times.In fact, every step he takes is steadfast, and he doesn't think much about the unknown world beyond his intellectual ability.He remembered what he said to Zilu back then: "If you can't serve people, how can you serve ghosts?" "If you don't know life, how can you know death?" He thought of Zilu, a strong and bold man who died calmly and peacefully in the Weiguo Rebellion last year, and his heart twitched.And Yan Hui, the haggard and studious young man who lived a miserable life in the back alleys, died the year before...

Could it be that these are the endings of doing "benevolence"? He turned his head and looked at Zi Gong standing in the distance with his hands down. To be honest, he was not very satisfied with Zigong, although he also felt that Zigong seemed to be the most capable among all the disciples, and he was able to get along well in all countries.He had praised Zigong's talent in business, but for some reason, he always felt unspeakable uneasiness when he saw Zigong's well-dressed appearance.Perhaps it reminded him of Yan Hui's pale and thin face—he thought Yan Hui was the most moral among his disciples—and it was more likely that he was worried that Zi Gong would lose the benevolence in his heart during the business process.

Didn't even Yang Hu say a word, "Being rich is not benevolent".Although he believes that everyone has a beautiful benevolence in their hearts, in this materialistic era, no matter who they are, they still have to carefully nourish and cultivate this precious nature.Relying on pondering other people's minds to produce goods, the more "presumed, the more you hit", the more you lose your sincerity. In order to cultivate and carry forward the benevolence in the hearts of all living beings, he also spent a lot of energy sorting out the rituals and music passed down from ancient times.He believes that it is impossible to strengthen the study of benevolence and righteousness: "Those who know are not as good as those who are good, and those who are good are not as good as those who are happy." Using rituals and music to guide and temper human nature is a happy learning experience that can be accepted by everyone. method, otherwise it can only be hypocrisy.

He used Yu's "sparse" method. But he could not have imagined that thousands of years later, those humble people—those who claimed to be his faithful believers—were trying to tie their hearts and the hearts of others tightly with external ropes: they believed that perfect morality should be It was made like this. They forget that what Confucius hopes is to guide and coordinate slowly and naturally from the inside to the outside: morality should be a healthy flower that develops step by step; but they rigidly use the dogmatic concept of "benevolence and righteousness" to form Countless ropes, trying to twist every heart bloodily into the shape of their dreams - just like the little feet that became popular later.What they imitated was Gun's stubbornness, and regarded his enlightenment as "Xiyang".Impatient people even want to eliminate all desires—they regard desires as the natural enemy of benevolence and righteousness.In fact, Confucius never underestimated human desires, what he wanted was coordination.As he has always advocated, in the turbulent current, find a balance point, which he calls "the golden mean", stabilize yourself, and calmly face the coming waves. Perhaps it is no wonder to those people, Kong Qiu stood too high, this small hillside is simply the pinnacle that future generations cannot cross. "Wow-wow--" There was a bird noise in the air, and a group of crows returning to their nests fluttered past. Kong Qiu's legs were a little numb, and he felt exhausted like a collapse.He misses the energy he had in his early years when he was busy running around the world.Although all he got was disappointment and bumping into a wall, at that time he always felt that he was not too old and should still have a chance, so no matter what the difficult situation was, he could be at ease. I remembered that time when I was besieged in Chen Guo, I was hungry for several days, and some students couldn't stand up straight, but I calmly adjusted my breath and played the song "Shao" that made people lose their sense of meat for three months.Zilu was in despair, and asked angrily: "Does it mean that if you want to be a so-called gentleman, you will always be poor?" How did you answer?Oh, it was a playful stab at this somewhat reckless student: "Although a gentleman is poor, he still perseveres; if a villain is a villain, he will do everything when he encounters difficulties." With a shy smile, when did you start to be completely disappointed with those fat-headed monarchs and nobles?Is it the time when Ji Huanzi accepted Qi's girl music in a seductive way?Was it that time when Wei Linggong listened to his explanation of righteousness but absent-mindedly looked at the wild geese flying by in the air?Can not remember. Sometimes I doubt the rationality of these dirty nobles' power, but if the action is too violent, blood will flow!But he always had a hunch that some new forces were secretly gearing up in a corner.But he understands that his talent is just like Nu Wa, at most he can try to repair the broken sky, and open up the world like Pangu, which he never dared to imagine. His career of repairing the sky is like pulling a horse-drawn carriage that has run off into a wheat field and back to the road, using his "benevolence" and "propriety" to bring this extremely chaotic world back to a reasonable track, so that Everyone should go back to where they should be and do what they should do, just like when Duke Zhou was back then.So that everyone can live and work in peace and contentment.He thinks this is the great benefit of the common people. But he gradually found that this goal was getting farther and farther away from him day by day, and he might not be able to achieve it in this life.Once, I couldn't help complaining in front of Zilu, saying that I would go sailing overseas and ignore this messy and hopeless world anymore.It was only later that he laughed at himself and said that he knew the destiny——from then on, his energy became more and more inclined to education and sorting out documents. And now, he has only one goal left: passing on the torch.He believes that one day, the world will accept his ideas, and the world will become reasonable, warm and noble under his ideas. But he seems to have some doubts recently: Is there really such a day?The hand holding the cane trembled slightly. He tried not to think about it anymore, asked Zigong to come to him, and said softly, "Ci, sort out my documents." After a pause, he said, "Put it away." Zigong looked at Kong Qiu's sunken eye sockets, and nodded bitterly: "Yes. I will ask Master to continue studying after his health is better." "No more, you can hide it." Kong Qiu said weakly. "Then "Spring and Autumn" seems to have not been completed yet, and nothing has been recorded in the past two years..." Confucius didn't seem to hear it, and he lowered his head and sang the few lines of the song that lingered in his dream last night: "Mount Tai is decaying, beams and trees are decaying, philosophers are withering..." Indeed, two years ago, he stopped editing "Spring and Autumn".Ever since he saw the monster that Uncle Sun's hunted, he could no longer calm down—he stubbornly believed that it was the legendary unicorn, and he always felt that he, too, appeared in troubled times and would die silently. A dead untimely beast. In the past two years, he just proofread word by word. "Confucius, is that the one who knows what can't be done?" "The one who is as tired as a bereaved dog?" "Why is he so busy?" ... Suddenly, all kinds of voices came out from nowhere, making a mess.He seemed to see that fat, thin, old, young, majestic, wretched and vulgar face circling around him laughing. Is it really impossible? He seemed to see Lao Tzu's closed eyes again. A deep sense of loneliness hit him again.He raised his head, and the evening wind blew the clouds to the horizon. Various colors of red, yellow, gray, and black were superimposed and squeezed into a long, strange and changing stream.Most of the sky turned a clear and translucent bright red under the rays of the setting sun.Under the feet, the smoke from the cooking has dissipated, revealing the scale-like tiles of a hundred thousand people's houses that have been plated with gold.It seemed that there was a long and cordial voice, probably the mother calling the shepherd boy to go home. This afternoon, he finally finished proofreading the last piece of "Poetry", and he let out a long breath. Kong Qiu suddenly felt an unprecedented relief.He feels that this life has been fulfilled and reassured, because he knows that he has done his best.He felt that the world was still full of hope. A gust of wind blew, and he was a little cold, so he couldn't help but shrink back. "Master, it's getting late, let's go back." Zigong's nose felt sore for some reason. "Yeah, it's getting late, and it's time to go back." Kong Qiu murmured. He turned around and pinned the stick behind his back. Zigong stepped forward to help, but Confucius shook his head, straightened his chest, and walked slowly towards the sunset alone, dragging his stick. He remembered what Zeng Xi described to him that year: "Those who are in late spring, the spring clothes are ready. Five or six people who are crowned, and six or seven boys, bathe in Yi, dance in the wind, and return home after singing." Mu Chun, it was about this time, thinking about it, Kong Qiu couldn't help but smile. Looking at the sunset, Zi Gong saw that Confucius was originally tall, but now his body was a bit rickety, casting an incomparably majestic shadow on the ground, and the two huge words "sage" came to mind. "Holy...man", yes, no matter how holy he is, he is still a person, an ordinary and kind old man.He just set a real "human" example for future generations. He didn't leave an illusory paradise, but just pointed out a direction for future generations to work hard—he never thought of being that high god. And now, he's really old. Zigong watched Confucius's white hair fluttering in the setting sun, and tears welled up in his eyes. Confucius walked slowly, and as he walked, his shadow became longer and taller, stretching, stretching... Seven days later, Confucius passed away.