Chapter Ten: The Surname

Since the day he became an apprentice, most of Liu Xian’s time was spent going to Mangshan to study with Chen Shou.

Every day, around the time when dawn was just beginning to break and the sky above was still pitch black, Liu Xian would hear the rooster crowing from the residence and the streets outside being reopened. Groggy and half-awake, his mother, Zhang Ximiao, would pull him up, hastily wash him, help him eat an early meal, have him change clothes, gather his belongings, and then set off with the ox cart.

The ox cart was, of course, driven by the coachman Zhu Fu. His driving skills were average, and combined with the rough, uneven roads in the distant suburbs, as soon as Liu Xian got into the cart and left the city, he would be jolted so violently that any thought of taking a nap was completely shattered. After about an hour, Liu Xian would arrive at the foot of Mangshan, dizzy and disoriented, and then had to walk along a thorny path to reach the thatched hut where Chen Shou resided.

At that time, the sky was mostly pale, and the outline of the rising sun was faint, like a pearl resting on an icy surface.

The long journey, the jolting bumps, the pale sunrise, the gradually thinning population, and the tombstones scattered among the forest—all these formed Liu Xian’s impression of his early days of enlightenment.

Yet, Liu Xian harbored no resentment toward this path. When recalling this period, he even felt a strange sense of fate.

Logically speaking, a child’s early education was certainly important, but did it warrant such elaborate arrangements? Seeking out a former Shu Han native who dwelled in a remote mountain hut was hardly better than finding a learned man in the village; after all, it was all about learning to write and read, and how much grand principle could a child really comprehend? Yet, because of his mother’s insistence, a man who was reluctant to become a teacher, shouldering risks Liu Xian could not yet understand, happened to become the one to resolve his doubts.

After being mocked once, Liu Xian had accumulated more and more questions: Who am I? Who were my ancestors? Who was the person who died before my eyes? What drove my father mad? Why was I ridiculed? And why was I called the “Duke of a Fallen Kingdom”?

These questions made him restless and compelled him to act.

At first, he silently eavesdropped among the adults. Whenever there was discussion in the residence, he would quietly move to the side, trying to piece together clues from snippets of conversation, though with little success.

Then he heard from Qi An that every household usually kept a book called the “Genealogy” that recorded the history of their family line. So, he searched repeatedly at home but found nothing.

In the end, he had to sneak into the family ancestral hall at midnight, attempting to copy the names on the memorial tablets as a starting point for unraveling his doubts. Unfortunately, the ancestral hall only traced back to his grandfather, Liu Chan. Among the names listed alongside or beneath Liu Chan, there was no “Zhang Fei” as Jia Mi had mentioned, nor was there his great-grandfather “Liu Bei.”

The past was like a blank wall carved by an axe, stopping Liu Xian before a precipice of emptiness. Every method he could think of seemed futile. Yet he understood all the more that this absurd reality, like a ghost in his dreams, was the root determining the course of his life. Liu Xian grew increasingly eager to find answers.

Through this apprenticeship, Liu Xian already sensed a destiny unfolding—that he would obtain the answers he sought.

Indeed, on the very first day of formal instruction, Chen Shou resolved one of his important puzzles.

Childhood enlightenment was simply learning to read. Chen Shou prepared a sand tray and wrote the four Chinese characters “Liu Xian” and “Bi Ji,” teaching Liu Xian to read them, explaining that these were his formal given name and his childhood name, then elaborated on the meanings.

“Bi Ji, your given name is Xian. As the name suggests, it means you were born into a noble family, blessed with great fortune and admired by many. Your parents chose this character ‘Xian’ hoping you would be content and joyful, not resentful or self-pitying.”

“Your childhood name, Bi Ji, was given by your mother. ‘Bi’ means to ward off, and ‘Ji’ means illness or hardship. Together, Bi Ji means that your mother wishes you a life free from illness and disaster, smooth and safe.”

Liu Xian sat before the sand tray, carefully studying the four characters. After a moment, he closed his eyes and then pointed at the character “Liu.”

“Teacher explained the meanings of the last three characters, but why not the first one?”

Chen Shou smiled faintly and said, “Liu is your surname, inherited from your father and ancestors. It helps you distinguish your close and distant relatives. Legend says the earliest Liu family came from Tao Tang Liu Lei of the Xia dynasty two thousand years ago. He served Emperor Kong Jia by controlling dragons, earning the surname Yulong—‘Dragon Controller.’ However, he mishandled the dragons, causing a female dragon’s death. Fearing punishment from Kong Jia, Tao Tang Liu Lei fled to Lu County in Henan and changed his surname to Liu. That is the origin of your family name.”

This was the first time Liu Xian heard of Xia dynasty history, and the first time he heard tales from two thousand years past, stirring his imagination. In his heart he wondered, was the teacher telling the truth? Did dragons really exist? How had his ancestor caused the death of a female dragon? And how did the teacher know all this?

Chen Shou evidently saw his doubts and continued, “What I just said comes either from the ‘Zuo Zhuan,’ the ‘Qianfu Lun,’ or the ‘Records of the Grand Historian’—all documented sources. When you learn more characters in the future, I can lend you these books. But keep in mind, these records are very old and may contain inaccuracies. They’re credible but not infallible. For you, you only need to remember the three ancestors and five ancestors of the Han family.”

At this, Chen Shou picked up a twig and wrote a long list of names on the sand tray, reciting them one by one to Liu Xian:

“Great Ancestor Gao, Emperor Liu Bang; Ancestor Shi, Emperor Liu Xiu; Fierce Ancestor Zhaolie, Emperor Liu Bei; Great Ancestor Taizong Xiaowen, Emperor Liu Heng; Ancestor Shizong Xiaowu, Emperor Liu Che; Ancestor Zhongzong Xiaoxuan, Emperor Liu Xun; Ancestor Xianzong Xiaoming, Emperor Liu Zhuang; Ancestor Suzong Xiaozhang, Emperor Liu Da.”

“These eight men surpassed the Three Sovereigns and the Five Emperors in merit and virtue, founding an unprecedented great enterprise in the world. Even though the Han dynasty has fallen now, their deeds still shine through the ages, and even the current emperor must respect them. This is why, as the heir to the Duke of Anle, even if you live a mediocre life, you will still inherit the title of duke.”

Liu Xian’s heart surged turbulently as he stared at the characters on the sand tray, his eyes heavy as if weighed down by lead. Chen Shou continued smoothly:

“Therefore, you must remember that the surname itself is meaningless; its significance and glory come from your ancestors’ deeds.”

Chen Shou paused and then pointed to the line of Liu Bei’s name: “Especially your great-grandfather Liu Bei, who persevered tirelessly, fought across the nine provinces, enduring decades of hardship, and finally restored the kingdom in the west and was hailed as a hero throughout the land. As his legitimate descendant, people will look upon you with greater respect. Accordingly, you should be mindful of your words and actions, so as not to disgrace your ancestors.”

This was Liu Xian’s first real encounter with his forebears’ history. Though Chen Shou did not elaborate further that day, he had undoubtedly opened a door, allowing a glimpse of the glorious path hidden in the blank abyss. This filled Liu Xian with joy, and at their parting at dusk, he could not help but ask:

“Where did you find these stories about my ancestors, Teacher?”

Chen Shou stroked his beard with a smile and replied, “Of course from the historical records. When you learn more characters, I will teach you everything.”

But for some reason, after that day, the next history lesson seemed a long way off.