Chapter 6: The Complexities of Friendship (4k words, bonus chapter)

When Liu Xian looked back, many years later, on that period of time after his coming-of-age ceremony and marriage up until he entered official service, he found it somewhat ironic and absurd.

For back then, he harbored no particularly lofty ambitions. To put it bluntly, he simply wanted to find some like-minded new friends. Yet, for quite a long time, the people he encountered were nothing short of a disappointment.

The root of this lay in the shattering of his illusions about his past acquaintances.

His previously favorable impression of Shi Chao and the others stemmed, frankly, from the generosity of those aristocratic young masters.

After all, in this golden age of the gentry, how could county marquesses and commandery dukes be stingy with their money?

They might appear egalitarian, approachable, dashing, and magnanimous toward friends of equal birth, but in reality, toward mortals whose social origins were visibly beneath theirs, these noble youths harbored a bone-deep indifference.

Not only were they incapable of empathy, but they could not even comprehend that commoners were creatures of the same flesh and blood as them. Their tears were no saltier than ordinary people's, their blood no brighter, and their bones no sturdier.

It was only when everyone eventually drew their blades and faced each other in mortal combat that those young masters would suddenly repent, with tears of vain regret.

Later, when he served as a companion reader at the Prince of Shiping’s Mansion, Liu Xian had initially held certain hopes.

Sima Wei was indeed an imperial prince who loved to bestow benevolence and win people over. If he could use his position as a companion reader in the prince's mansion as a springboard to befriend talented newcomers eager to learn, it would undoubtedly be a sound choice.

Yet, regretfully, upon his very first entry into the Prince of Shiping’s Mansion, he sensed the thinly veiled atmosphere of factional struggle within:

Around Sima Wei, a small clique had already formed, headed by Chief Administrator Gongsun Hong and Household Attendant Qi Sheng. Even before Sima Yan had passed away, they were already impatiently laying the groundwork for future struggles for power.

Of course, this was hardly something to be condemned. Power struggles were inherently a matter of life and death, and those who prepared usually triumphed over those who did not. Although Liu Xian’s initial goal was to remain aloof from worldly disputes, once he stepped into officialdom, having one's actions dictated by circumstance was the norm.

Therefore, when Liu Xian heard Qi Sheng’s sudden and rousing exhortation to Sima Wei earlier, he knew instantly that he had already been sucked into the vortex of factional strife and was forced to declare his stance:

"Your Highness possesses supreme heavenly brilliance and stands as the crowning jewel of the imperial clan. The rise and fall of the state rests entirely upon your shoulders. If the court should truly face peril, who else but Your Highness is capable of quelling the disaster and restoring peace?"

With these words, Liu Xian officially joined the faction of the Prince of Shiping.

Yet, despite having joined, there was virtually nothing to do.

After all, the reigning Emperor Sima Yan was still alive, and Sima Wei was merely seventeen years old. He did not even have a proper political adversary; what actions could he possibly take? Although Qi Sheng and the others made a great fuss of it all, the pool of usable talent was extremely small. For the present, all they could do was cultivate ties with scholars and take precautions for future struggles.

On the other hand, small though this faction of the Prince of Shiping might be, it suffered from every single malady common to such groups. No sooner had Liu Xian joined than he was immediately subjected to exclusion by the senior members.

It turned out that Qi Sheng, seeing how cheerfully Liu Xian conversed with Sima Wei and noting his extensive learning and talent, grew fearful that his own position would be usurped. Thus, after drawing Liu Xian into the fold—treating it merely as investing in a cold hearth—he told him nothing, assigned him no tasks, and severed all private communication. This reduced Liu Xian to a mere companion reader, leaving him to wonder why on earth he had been pressured into declaring his allegiance in the first place.

Consequently, during the days that followed, after a brief exchange with fellow companion reader Wang Cui and becoming acquainted with Imperial Tutor Liu Song, Liu Xian relapsed into a state of having nothing to do.

At times like these, Liu Xian found himself profoundly missing Elder Ruan.

Back when Liu Xian had followed Elder Ruan, while deeply grateful for his guidance and goodwill, he had—truth be told—remained somewhat uncomprehending of his words and deeds:

With such splendid learning, why was Elder Ruan unwilling to throw himself into officialdom, preferring instead to live in seclusion among the mountains and forests for his own amusement? Even if rising through the ranks was difficult in officialdom, doing something that benefited the state and the people would surely be better than snoring away on a bamboo couch.

Yet now, having merely taken his first tentative steps into official service, Liu Xian understood Elder Ruan's sentiments completely:

To an individual, officialdom was a vast dyeing vat. Once stepped into, one was easily controlled by circumstances. Forget about achieving anything beneficial for the common people; simply striving to preserve one's personal purity became an arduous task. In comparison, living in seclusion amidst mountains and forests and entrusting one's emotions to rivers and peaks, though failing to establish any grand career, at least left one's conscience clear.

At this thought, Liu Xian sat down to write a letter to Elder Ruan, discussing his recent observations and inner queries.

In the letter, he primarily raised three questions:

When one encounters people with whom one does not wish to associate, yet is forced to maintain superficial civility, how should one conduct oneself so as to preserve the path of a gentleman?

When one encounters atrocities where human life is treated like grass, yet lacks the power to intervene, how does one strike a balance so as neither to lose one's conscience nor endanger oneself?

Furthermore, by what methods and in what places could one befriend like-minded companions?

Upon finishing the letter, Liu Xian made a special trip to the Ruan estate, entrusting Ruan Fu to deliver it to Elder Ruan.

As it happened, Liu Xian was now serving as a companion reader to the Prince of Shiping, while Elder Ruan was concurrently serving as the Administrator of Shiping Commandery.

Shiping Commandery corresponded to the ancient areas of Huili and Wugong in Guanzhong, adjacent to Hanzhong, Chang'an, and Chencang. Liu Xian had long yearned to visit the place. After all, having read the histories, he had heard far too many legends associated with it: Han Xin secretly crossing Chencang, Feng Yi’s great battle against the Red Eyebrows, Ma Chao’s surprise raid on Cao Cao, Zhuge Liang’s autumn winds at Wuzhang Plain...

These legendary chapters seemed inextricably linked to his own life. Yet, constrained by his status, he had been unable to leave the capital region, never having the fortune to witness the very earth and scenery where these events had transpired—a source of enduring regret for him.

Roughly a month later, on the day of *Ji-mao* in the fifth month, Liu Xian received a reply from Elder Ruan.

In his letter, Elder Ruan appeared greatly gladdened by his disciple's message.

He first soothed Liu Xian, writing that phases of life where one has nothing to do are invariably numerous. Even his own great-grandfather, Liu Bei, had once lamented the re-emergence of flesh on his thighs, let alone Grand Founder Gaozu, who remained a minor village head of the Qin Dynasty well into his forties.

This phase was known as hibernation and accumulation; as long as one firmly kept one's aspirations in mind, there would always come a day to shine and radiate heat.

Then, shifting his tone, Elder Ruan began to recount his life as the Administrator of Shiping.

Even as an administrator, Elder Ruan remained true to his nature, carving out ample time to roam the mountains and rivers and gaze upon the scenery under his jurisdiction:

The peaks of the Qinling Mountains wound sinuously, standing like walls ten thousand fathoms high; green pines and bizarre rocks bore crowns of snow, possessing a magnificent momentum like soaring wild geese.

The waters of the Wei River surged turbid and vast, with pale, desolate reeds lining both banks. In autumn, migratory birds fluttered in flocks like swirling blizzards.

He had also visited Wuzhang Plain, where relics of ancient battlefields still lingered, and had climbed Mount Taibai, where white clouds girdled the mountainside, and looking down, one could not see the base.

Among all these sights, the one that left the deepest impression on Elder Ruan was Maoling.

Maoling was the mausoleum of Emperor Wu of Han, where a qilin was said to have been sighted in ancient times. Yet by the time Elder Ruan visited, it was merely a mound overgrown with wild grass. Flanking Maoling were the burial tombs of Huo Qubing, Wei Qing, Lady Li, and others—the glorious memories of an entire dynasty resided mostly right here.

Elder Ruan had personally touched the stone carvings of "A Horse Trampling a Xiongnu" before the tomb of Huo Qubing, sighing in his letter: "Rise and fall are swallowed by autumn grasses, yet the qilin's patterns endure."

Only then did he address Liu Xian's three questions.

Regarding the first question, Elder Ruan stated that eight or nine out of ten things in this world do not go as desired, and people are much the same.

What outsiders say and do is beyond our intervention; the only thing we can determine is what kind of person we ourselves choose to be.

Though not everyone can blend in with the dust of the world, your status is already sufficient to allow you to hold fast to your principles. Above those principles, dealing with people perfunctorily does no harm; below those principles, one should issue stern refusals.

As long as one can maintain consistency between inner and outer selves, while one may not win the intimacy of others, neither will one incur their bitter resentment.

Regarding the second question, Elder Ruan deliberated that this was indeed a difficult query to answer.

Even Mencius had said: "When successful, benefit the whole world; when obscure, better oneself."

Logically speaking, if one is impoverished and powerless to save others' lives, there is no shame in it. But the danger lies in the passing of time, wherein people gradually grow numb and come to regard such tragedies as a matter of course.

Only by constantly examining oneself, remaining vigilant against such a state, and keeping these harrowing events etched in memory can one hope for a day of change.

As for the final question, Elder Ruan’s tone relaxed, and he remarked to Liu Xian with a sigh that true confidants are rare in life, but friends are easily found. As long as one dares to voice oneself and knows how to make one's voice heard, companions will naturally be drawn to you—as the classic verse says: "The birds sing out, seeking each other's notes."

The reason why he and the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove were able to meet back then was largely due to Elder Ruan’s soul-stirring and unexpected whistle, which served as a vital catalyst.

At the end of the letter, Elder Ruan offered his congratulations on Liu Xian’s marriage and reminded him: when encountering difficulties, do not grow discouraged if they cannot be solved immediately. Learn to let go and take a detour, turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones. To rush blindly for the moment would only result in broken heads and bleeding brows.

Await the right timing and soar by borrowing external force—this was the way of the soaring dragon.

Having finished reading, Liu Xian was deeply moved. Before his eyes materialized Elder Ruan’s leisurely and detached posture in repose. If he could learn to view worldly affairs with such detachment, perhaps many of his current troubles would vanish entirely.

Summarizing Elder Ruan’s advice, it boiled down to three phrases: upholding the center with righteousness, establishing one's destiny unflinchingly, and voicing oneself to seek friends.

The first two were merely principles for living, to be gradually comprehended through worldly experience in the future. But the so-called "voicing oneself to seek friends" was rather practical.

Where should he voice himself? How should he do it? After pondering for a moment, Liu Xian discussed the matter with his wife, A-Luo.

Having read Elder Ruan’s letter, A-Luo thoroughly agreed with his words. She said to her husband: "My lord, haven't you spent years following Elder Ruan? Shouldn't you know many famous scholars? Nowadays, famous scholars make friends through pure conversation. Why don't you leverage Elder Ruan’s connections to attend a few salon discussions? Wouldn't that settle it?"

Liu Xian shook his head. "Pure conversation is, after all, just talk. Even if you talk until blossoms rain from the sky, it only misleads oneself and others. Unless forced by necessity, I really don't wish to participate."

"Fine, fine, fine! You're the only one who is truly noble, while everyone else is falsely aloof."

A-Luo retorted somewhat sharply, then added: "Then use my father's connections. He knows plenty of literary luminaries. Going to listen to lectures on classical learning is always beneficial and never harmful."

Liu Xian hesitated for a moment before shaking his head again. "That's not impossible, but let's wait a while. I don't even have a local commendation rank yet; if I directly rely on my father-in-law's connections, people will point fingers behind my back."

Upon reflection, A-Luo realized he had a point and suggested, "Well then, why not go attend gatherings at the Imperial Academy? Though the current dynasty cannot compare to the Han, there are still plenty of brilliant talents in the Imperial Academy."

Liu Xian smiled bitterly. "If the National Academy weren't housed right inside the Imperial Academy, I would have gone every single day."

This won't do, that won't do either—A-Luo’s temper flared up at last. Crossing her arms on her hips, she snapped: "In my opinion, you might as well emulate Elder Ruan! Go to the Western Market, the Horse Market, the Gold Market... find somewhere crowded, throw your head back, and let out a long whistle to vent the heroic spirit in your chest! Who knows, you might just attract all the heroes of the realm to come flocking and place themselves at your service!"

Without waiting for her husband's agreement, she pushed the bewildered Liu Xian right out the door. A moment later, Zhang Gu and Xi An were also shooed out by A-Luo. The three men stood blinking at one another before the mansion, then burst into speechless laughter.

Xi An brushed down his sleeves and smiled. "Why are you still standing there in a daze? Didn't my lady say we should immediately take to the streets and hunt down the great heroes of our age for the young master?"

Zhang Gu also chuckled. "Bijiji, what do you say? Shall we head to the Horse Market and cross swords?"

Liu Xian sighed. "Let's find a tavern and order some food first."

Ordering food was, of course, said in jest. Yet, compared to the ethereal pure conversations of the scholars, Liu Xian genuinely preferred the earthy, bustling vibe of the neighborhoods. The joys and sorrows of ordinary folk, though lacking the decorum and restraint of the aristocracy—and sometimes even displaying ugly and repellent traits—had the virtue of being direct and authentic, without any pretense or concealment.

Therefore, Liu Xian thought, even if he truly went to befriend a few petty thieves and scoundrels, it would still hold its own amusement.

Thus, the group genuinely set off toward the Horse Market.

The Horse Market lay to the north of the Duke of Anle's Mansion. There was no direct route, requiring them to detour east toward the Dongyang Gate, head north to the Jianchun Gate, and then turn east, walking another half-li to reach the Horse Market.

The Horse Market was the most prosperous of Luoyang's four great markets and the place with the most complex crowds. Before Liu Xian even reached the Jianchun Gate, the surging throngs of people were already growing congested. The imperial thoroughfare, originally wide enough for four carriages to race side by side, now had only half its space left open.

Despite it being the height of summer in the fifth month, street vendors acted as if the heat weren't enough. Cries of hawking, loud shouts, and bargaining could still be clearly heard piercing through the summer haze, reaching the youths' ears.

Walking a few steps further, the Jianchun Gate loomed imposingly ahead. Along the extended streets, trading caravans, ox carts, Hu people, laborers, scholars, and slaves jostled shoulders in an endless, flowing stream.

Faced with this boundless sea of people, Xi An fanned himself and asked Liu Xian with a smile, "Bijiji, do you think there are truly any heroes hidden among these people?"

Liu Xian replied, "Heroes do not ask of their origins. Until we look around, who can say?"

Even as they spoke, a shout of reprimand rang out from the soldiers at the Jianchun Gate. They seemed to be yelling, "Make way! Make way! Let the Left Chief Minister pass through here!"

Accompanied by a stir in the crowd, an ox cart adorned with simple, elegant decorations emerged slowly from the city gate, escorted by several dozen servants.

Hearing the commotion, Liu Xian looked up and saw a scholar sitting at the front of the cart. He wore a plain cyan robe; his features were pure and handsome, his bearing serene and refined. Though situated in the midst of a bustling market, he looked as if he were strolling through a pristine landscape, striking one like a divine being. Accustomed as Liu Xian was to viewing dashing and celebrated scholars, he could not help but lose himself for a moment.

Who was he? Just as this question formed in Liu Xian’s mind, he heard someone shout out, "It's the exemplar of the age! Wang Yifu!" Following that, the surrounding crowd surged forward together to catch a glimpse of the celebrated scholar's demeanor.

So it was Wang Yan! Liu Xian understood in a flash.

If one asked who commanded the greatest prestige in the current literary circles, without a doubt it was this Wang Yifu of the Langya Wang clan. He had discoursed on the mysteries of Taoism since childhood, remaining entirely unrivaled; not a single person in the world could debate metaphysics with him. It was precisely because he championed pure conversation that the practice had flourished wildly, sweeping across literary circles. While Shi Chong’s status as the richest man in Luoyang was still somewhat debatable, Wang Yan’s position as the leader of the literary world was universally acknowledged.

Yet, despite having studied under Elder Ruan for several years and having met numerous famous scholars, for some reason Liu Xian had never laid eyes on this Wang Yan. Seeing him for the first time today, Liu Xian could only sigh inwardly: the descriptions of him as "a jade forest and frost-swept tree" and "an otherworldly being untouched by dust" were truly well-deserved! Merely looking at his appearance was enough to inspire deep affection.

Just as he subconsciously wanted to step closer to take a careful look at the leader of the gentry elite...

Perhaps guided by fate itself, at that very moment, Liu Xian heard the sound of whistling.

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