Zhuangzi's Human World, Zhu Yingtai the Fangirl

Two days later.

That afternoon, after school, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai walked along the blue stone path towards the schoolhouse.

The weather was hot, and both of them were sweating. Beads of sweat were seeping from Zhu Yingtai's forehead.

Stepping into the inner room of the school, Zhu Yingtai let out a long breath, tugged at her collar, and then quickly withdrew her hand.

Yin Xin smiled broadly and called out, "My lord."

Then he took out a ceramic jar from behind him.

The pottery jar is not large, about a foot tall, with a round and bulging body and a bluish-yellow glaze.

Zhu Yingtai's eyes lit up immediately: "What is this?"

Yin Xin smiled and said, "They were sent by everyone and just arrived today. They said the loquat tree in front of their courtyard was ripe, so they personally made honey and specially sent it to you, my lord, to try it."

The "elder" here refers to Zhu Yingtai's mother, Lady Wei.

Although Zhu Yingtai had already learned of this from her sister's letter, she was still pleasantly surprised and hurriedly said, "Quickly open the letter."

Yin Xin responded and opened the earthenware jar.

As soon as the ceramic lid was opened, a fragrance wafted out—the fruity aroma of loquat mixed with the sweet scent of honey.

Yin Xin tilted the earthenware jar and poured some candied loquats into a small celadon dish.

The loquat fruit was cut into segments, peeled, and pitted, then soaked thoroughly in honey until the flesh turned amber and the honey became thick and sticky.

Zhu Yingtai held the small celadon dish in both hands, looked down at the candied loquats on it, and her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. Her home in Shangyu seemed to appear before her eyes, along with the loquat tree in the courtyard that her father had planted with his own hands.

Every single loquat petal is imbued with a mother's longing.

Every drop of this honey is infused with a mother's longing.

Zhu Yingtai's eyes welled up with tears, which slid down her cheeks.

She quickly wiped her cheeks.

Seeing her tears, Liang Shanbo softly called out, "My dear brother."

Zhu Yingtai snapped out of her daze, looked up at him, and forced a smile: "Brother Liang, there is a loquat tree in front of my family home in Shangyu. My father planted it when I was seven years old. Now the loquats are ripe, and my mother has soaked them in honey and sent them to me to eat."

She looked down at the candied loquats in the dish, then looked up and handed the small celadon dish to Liang Shanbo: "Brother Liang, please try some."

Liang Shanbo gazed at her and smiled slightly: "This was sent by my mother at home, how could I dare to taste it first?"

He knew that this dish of candied loquats was more than just food for Zhu Yingtai; it represented her mother's longing, the taste of home, and a tangible connection between her in this foreign land and her home far away in Shangyu. And she was willing to share this connection with him.

Zhu Yingtai smiled, picked up a segment of candied loquat from the plate, and put it in her mouth.

Tears streamed down her cheeks again, but she handed the small celadon dish to Liang Shanbo.

Liang Shanbo then reached out and picked up a segment of candied loquat from the plate, and began to eat it.

The loquat flesh, soaked in honey, becomes soft and melts on the tongue with a gentle bite. The sweetness of the honey, the fragrance of the loquat, and a hint of tartness intertwine together.

He chewed and savored it slowly, then smiled at Zhu Yingtai and said, "Delicious."

Just two words.

But Zhu Yingtai saw something more in his eyes and in his smile. It wasn't just praise for the candied loquats; it was understanding, a deep appreciation.

He understood the significance of this dish of candied loquats to her, understood why she shed tears, and understood the bittersweet feeling she was experiencing at that moment.

Zhu Yingtai looked at Yin Xin: "You should try some too."

Yin Xin stepped forward, picked up a segment of candied loquat from the plate, popped it into her mouth, and mumbled, "These loquats were pickled by everyone themselves, they're so sweet!"

Zhu Yingtai was amused by her and stopped crying while laughing, instinctively saying, "You greedy little devil!"

As soon as she spoke, her expression stiffened slightly, and she quickly glanced at Liang Shanbo.

Brother Liang was looking down at the candied loquats on the plate, as if he was thinking about something. His expression was calm and showed no signs of anything amiss.

Zhu Yingtai secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, Brother Liang didn't notice.

She composed herself and handed the small celadon dish to Liang Shanbo: "Brother Liang, have a few more slices."

At that moment, the three of them sat around a small celadon dish, sharing the amber-colored candied loquat slices.

The candied loquats in the dish were disappearing, one segment at a time.

Zhu Yingtai's tears dried up, drop by drop.

……

……

Another half month has passed in the blink of an eye.

On this day, Meng Wenlang came to Jiazhai to give a lecture on "Zhuangzi: The Human World".

He spoke slowly.

The story of Yan Hui asking to leave begins with "Hui heard that the ruler of Wei was young and acted alone," then goes on to say "The sages of old first preserved themselves and then preserved others," and then to "If one can enter his enclosure without being moved by his name, one will speak out if one enters, and remain silent if one does not enter."

After explaining each level, I would pause and let the students digest the information themselves.

Among the students in the hall, some were writing furiously, some were frowning in deep thought, and some were nodding slightly.

Even Sun Yuangui listened intently, his posture becoming more upright than usual.

In fact, Sun Yuangui was gifted in his studies and not averse to learning; otherwise, he wouldn't have been assigned to the Jia Zhai (a specific classroom). However, he had a particular temperament: he was often distracted when other teachers were lecturing, but he remained attentive throughout Meng Wenlang's classes. In his eyes, Mr. Meng was a truly learned man.

At this moment, Meng Wenlang's gaze swept over the students and suddenly stopped on Liang Shanbo's face: "Liang Shanbo."

Liang Shanbo immediately stood up, bowed slightly, and said, "Your student is here."

With a hint of expectation in his eyes, Meng Wenlang asked, "Just now I was talking about the section in 'The World of Men' where Yan Hui asked to go. People often make three mistakes when reading this chapter: First, they avoid the world, saying 'there's nothing they can do' when faced with problems and keeping their hands to themselves; second, they are empty and lonely, thinking that 'fasting of the mind' is just sitting in a daze; third, they follow the crowd, taking 'riding things to roam the mind' as being unprincipled."

None of these three interpretations directly address the difficult question posed by Zhuangzi. The difficulties in human life lie not in external obstacles, but in the barriers within one's own heart.

Let me ask you this. When Yan Hui was about to advise the ruler of Wei, Confucius first posed several probing questions before finally revealing the concept of "fasting of the mind." This "fasting of the mind" is not about sitting in meditation in a quiet room, but rather the self-cultivation one undergoes before stepping into a perilous vortex. If you want to "enter," you cannot hide; if you want to "roam," you cannot crash into it. What is the key to striking a balance between "entering" and "roaming"?

The lecture hall fell silent for a moment.

Everyone looked at Liang Shanbo.

Liang Shanbo remained silent for a moment, then calmly replied, "What you ask, sir, seems to be about Yan Hui, but it is actually more than just Yan Hui. In 'The World of Men,' one side is a man eager to enter the world and practice his principles, while the other side is a madman singing 'The next life is not to be waited for.' Zhuangzi places these two attitudes in one chapter, which seems contradictory, but in reality, they are two teeth marks on a key."

The three biases that Mr. Fang just pointed out all suffer from the same problem: viewing "oneself" and "the world" as two separate things, as if either oneself triumphs over others, or others triumph over oneself.

Meng Wenlang nodded slightly, signaling him to continue.

Liang Shanbo then said, "Confucius taught Yan Hui the 'fasting of the mind' not to teach him to be still, not to think, and not to enter, but to teach him to first sweep away the things that have accumulated in his heart."

Yan Hui first used self-cultivation, then intellectual skill, but even Confucius said it wasn't enough. Why? Because although these methods were good, there was still an ego within him, a desire to correct others, and a need to establish a reputation. Therefore, Confucius said, "It's still like taking one's own mind as a teacher." He was still taking his own preconceived notions as his teacher.

Zhuangzi taught people not to escape from the world.

As the gentleman once said, before doing something, one should ask oneself: Is this enthusiasm for the matter at hand, or for the sake of "me"?

The key to "fasting of the mind" lies not in the solemnity of "fasting," but in "listening with the heart without listening with the ears, and listening with the spirit without listening with the heart." The ears have limitations, and the heart has prejudices; only "spirit" is open and receptive to things.

Yan Hui's practice of "fasting of the mind" was precisely for the purpose of going to the State of Wei. He went without emotion, without reason, without a trace of "self," but rather, after letting go of everything, to see where the true "qi" (vital energy) lay between the ruler and his ministers of Wei. He discerned which words were genuinely anxious, which were merely expressions of self-interest, and which seemingly incomprehensible place held a glimmer of hope.

A glint flashed in Meng Wenlang's eyes, but he remained silent.

Liang Shanbo continued, "Sir, you asked what it takes to grasp the balance between 'entering' and 'wandering'. In my humble opinion, it doesn't rely on pre-learned rules or the smoothness of adapting to changing circumstances, but rather on the word 'emptiness' that Confucius taught Yan Hui."

"Emptiness" is not nothingness, but "unattached." The mind is not bound by the obsession that things must be this way, not bound by the expectation of success, and not bound by the desire for recognition.

Entering the human world is like sailing on water. Water has its ups and downs and hidden reefs, and the boat cannot contend with the water. But the person navigating the boat observes the water's movements and responds with their hands, yet their mind remains unaffected by each wave or surge. This is what is meant by "riding on things to roam the mind."

What the teacher taught us was not how to avoid or conform to the world, but how to stand firm, see clearly, and act effectively in this world. He did not teach us to be like Yan Hui, but to learn the same intention Confucius had when he taught Yan Hui: no matter who we encounter or what happens, we should first clear the clutter from our own hearts.

Once the dust is swept away, the true nature of things and the true nature of people's hearts will naturally become clear. Seeing things clearly, one can proceed when necessary, stop when necessary, and turn away when necessary.

Zhuangzi also said in the same chapter: "Entrusting oneself with the necessity of doing so to cultivate inner peace." People often misunderstand "necessity of doing so" as passive helplessness. In fact, what Zhuangzi meant by "necessity of doing so" is that after clearing away selfish desires, one clearly sees the thing that "must be done." This is not passively enduring, but actively undertaking.

The mind may be empty, but the actions are real.

The professor's course, titled "Zhuangzi," is actually a treatise on "worldly practices"!

After speaking, he bowed deeply and stood quietly awaiting further instructions.

The lecture hall was completely silent.

Meng Wenlang nodded slightly, his eyes filled with satisfaction.

Zhu Yingtai looked up at Liang Shanbo's profile, her eyes filled with admiration.

He was like a devoted fan.

No, she's a "fangirl"!

Meng Wenlang gestured for Liang Shanbo to sit down, then addressed the students: "Liang Shanbo's words are not on my behalf about Zhuangzi, but on his own behalf. That's correct. The book of Zhuangzi is not meant to be worshipped, but to be used."

The most difficult thing to talk about in "The World of Men" is not "fasting of the mind" or "riding on things and letting the mind roam", but the three words at the beginning: "Yan Hui met him!"

To "see" is to confront. What Zhuangzi offers is not a map to escape the world, but a mirror to see oneself. In your daily lives, when faced with challenges, do you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion? Do you cling to a set of unyielding principles? Do you have a "self" constantly calculating gains and losses, honor and disgrace?

If so, first perform a "fasting of the mind." This doesn't mean putting things down, but rather cleansing yourself before doing anything. Once you've cleansed yourself of your true nature and seen your true heart, the path ahead will naturally appear.

Yan Hui did this his whole life, Confucius did this his whole life, and Zhuangzi was still doing it when he wrote this article. You don't need to rush, but you can't stop even for a day!

After saying that, he picked up the book and walked out of the lecture hall.

He stepped out of the house with an air of nonchalance.

School's out.

Sun Yuangui turned around and said to Liang Shanbo, "Brother Liang, although I couldn't fully understand the discussion just now, I could tell that among all the people in the room, besides you, I'm afraid no one else could do such a thing."

Liang Shanbo smiled slightly.

Sun Yuangui added, "After breakfast, I will ask Brother Liang for his advice."

Liang Shanbo nodded, put away the writing brush and ink on the table, and then walked out of the lecture hall with Zhu Yingtai.

The sunlight outside the corridor was just right.

It's just like the feelings of Zhu Yingtai, the "fangirl".