Chapter 003: Success Is Born of Diligence and Frugality, Ruin Follows Extravagance

Li Zaixing shouldered the long staff that had accompanied him for eight years, balanced his luggage on the other end, and descended the mountain via the rugged path behind the monastery. Though Prajna Temple was nestled deep in the mountains, its reputation spread far and wide. Many high officials and celebrated scholars would endure the arduous journey to seek out immortals, visit friends, or discuss Zen and philosophy. Li Zaixing, preferring to avoid the crowded front path, chose the quieter, more secluded trail at the back. Though the way was steep and treacherous, it was no challenge for him. The Eight Extremities Fist valued strong footwork and included techniques for swift movement; mere mountain paths were nothing to him.

He had calculated his timing precisely, arriving at White Dragon Pool just as the hour of noon faded and the early afternoon approached. By the pool, there was a massive boulder shaped like an elephant, beneath which a spring, as sinuous as a dragon, gushed forth. Those entering or leaving the mountains often paused here to drink from the spring and rest before continuing their journey.

However, the early spring was hardly the season for scenic wanderings, and the midday meant the place was all but deserted. Li Mi had been waiting by the spring for two hours, yet not a soul had passed. As Li Zaixing approached from the mountain path, Li Mi was gazing up at the sun, dabbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

Li Zaixing, fully aware of the situation, feigned surprise. “Oh? Li Sanlang?”

“It’s you, Zaixing, my good brother,” Li Mi replied, equally startled. “What brings you here?”

“I’m leaving the mountain, heading to Chang’an,” Li Zaixing answered, casting a puzzled look at Li Mi. “And you? Waiting for someone?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Li Mi’s heart was heavy with disappointment. The Master had said that, if fate permitted, he would meet someone important here today. He had come early and waited until he was dizzy, yet no noble figure had appeared. As for Li Zaixing, though a disciple of the Master and a decent martial artist, his knowledge was limited to basic literacy—hardly the stuff of the influential. It seemed fate had not favored him with an encounter, and he wondered when these aimless days would end.

Forcing a smile, Li Mi made conversation. “Zaixing, what makes you suddenly decide to head to Chang’an?”

“To serve my country and save the common people,” Li Zaixing replied with perfect seriousness.

Li Mi nearly choked, coughing into his hand.

“What’s this? Do you look down on me, Sanlang?” Li Zaixing asked, somewhat displeased.

“Not at all,” Li Mi forced a laugh. “Serving your country is commendable. But saving the people? The empire is at peace; who needs saving?”

Zaixing smiled silently, glancing sidelong at Li Mi, recalling his master’s words. The night before, after spinning tales for Li Mi, the lazy, disheveled monk had returned to the woodshed and said, “I’ve done my part. Li Mi will be waiting by White Dragon Pool tomorrow. If you can persuade him to be your companion, that’s your own skill. I can’t say it outright, or he’ll grow suspicious. The boy is sly, but not stupid.”

Now it was his turn to persuade Li Mi. Clearly, this was a test the master had set for him—if he failed to win Li Mi over, his journey to Chang’an would surely be difficult. Simple enough: apart from the name “Chang’an,” he knew nothing of the world.

“Sanlang, do you truly not understand, or are you pretending?” Li Zaixing’s tone hinted at displeasure, his lips curled in a half-smile.

Li Mi replied earnestly, “Zaixing, though we haven’t known each other long, we are kindred spirits. Why would I deceive you?”

“If that’s so, why claim the empire is at peace?” Li Zaixing’s expression softened. He said calmly, “On the surface, the Tang seems to be enjoying an age of prosperity unmatched in a hundred years. But prosperity sows the seeds of decline—an eternal truth. You, well-read as you are, surely know this.”

Li Mi was momentarily stunned, his gaze at Li Zaixing growing curious. Though young, he was not unfamiliar with the politics of Chang’an and knew well the troubles that plagued the Tang. Yet Li Zaixing, a mere novice at Prajna Temple who had never left Mount Tianzhu, barely literate, how could he perceive the hidden dangers of the empire? To speak of decline in the midst of prosperity was easy, but to see the crisis lurking beneath a golden age required extraordinary insight.

Could it be the teachings of his master, the Lazy Monk, that gave him such perspective?

“Did the Master foresee something and send you down the mountain?”

“The Master?” Li Zaixing grinned. “That old eccentric? He’s mad half the day and can’t even recall his own name. What could he possibly see? By the way, did you see him yesterday?”

“I did,” Li Mi said, his interest waning. He had no desire to discuss the matter of his ‘important encounter’ with Zaixing. With a glance at the sky, he muttered to himself, “It must be past noon by now.”

Zaixing looked up as well, agreeing, “It should be.”

Li Mi sighed and set off toward Prajna Temple. Zaixing called after him, “Still seeking immortals and wisdom? Why not join me in making a name for yourself in the world?”

Li Mi glanced back, offering a polite smile. “Your ambition is admirable, my friend, but I dare not compare myself to you. Go your own way.”

Zaixing sighed. “Very well, to Chang’an I go alone. It’s a pity, really—someone as talented as you, Sanlang, content to remain pure and aloof, a mere spectator to the empire’s fate. Clearly, Heaven intends to doom the Tang, and human effort will be in vain. Still, I cannot stand idly by; I must step into the world, do what little I can, and show my devotion. May all the gods and Buddhas have mercy and grant me a safe journey.”

With that, he shouldered his staff and strode forward.

Li Mi had taken only a few steps when Zaixing’s words began to work on him. He turned to watch Zaixing’s broad stride, suddenly feeling a flush of shame. Here was a mere novice, ignorant even of which direction led to Chang’an, yet burning with a desire to serve the people. He himself, full of learning and ambition since childhood, knew well the court’s troubles, yet lingered here waiting for a vague premonition rather than acting. It was a poor repayment of the sages’ teachings.

He raised his arm and called out, “Zaixing, my friend!”

“What is it?” Zaixing turned, his voice impatient, though inwardly he was delighted.

Li Mi hurried over. “After you reach Chang’an, how do you plan to save the country and its people?”

“By joining the army, of course,” Zaixing replied without hesitation.

“The army?” Li Mi hesitated. Zaixing was skilled in martial arts, so the army suited him, but what did that have to do with saving the nation and its people?

Seeing Li Mi’s expression, Zaixing sighed, leaned on his staff, and asked, “Sanlang, tell me, what is the key to the rise and fall of an empire?”

“What do you think?”

“The willingness to endure hardship,” Zaixing answered gravely. “As the saying goes: success comes from diligence and thrift, ruin from extravagance. To achieve anything, one must be able to endure hardship—be willing and unafraid of it. Once people start shunning hardship, decline is not far off. In the past, from the emperor to the common folk, everyone could endure hardship, hence today’s prosperity. Now, people seek comfort and shun hardship, so naturally, decline will follow. And where is hardship greatest? In the army, of course. That’s why I must begin where it’s hardest—by joining the army.”

Zaixing’s words were simple, but they sparked many thoughts in Li Mi’s mind. “Success comes from diligence and thrift, ruin from extravagance”—how true. Mencius said those born in adversity thrive, those in comfort perish. The present emperor achieved the flourishing era of Kaiyuan because he was willing to endure hardship in his youth. When Han Xiu was prime minister, he bravely admonished the emperor, and at the slightest misstep, Han’s memorials would arrive before the emperor could finish his words. Thus it was said, “With Han Xiu as prime minister, the emperor grows thin, but the world grows fat.” Because of this spirit of enduring hardship, the empire flourished. But now, the emperor has lost that spirit. He craves comfort and pleasure, indulges himself, and even snatches his son’s wife to make her his own consort. Are not all today’s hidden dangers rooted in his extravagance?

Zaixing’s words, though blunt, hit the mark. He spoke sense. Knowledge can be learned, but insight is innate—a gift, not something one acquires through study.

Li Mi’s heart was stirred. This crude, unlettered novice was more than a mere martial artist; his insight was extraordinary, making him a man worth befriending. After a moment’s thought, Li Mi changed his tone to one of warmth. “Zaixing, why not come with me to the Wei Pavilion for a few days’ rest? We can talk more before you set out.”

Zaixing understood that Li Mi was tempted, though not yet fully convinced—he wanted to sound him out further. It wasn’t quite what he hoped for, but it was better than a complete rejection. Glancing down the road, he laughed heartily. “Very well, I was hoping to seek your advice anyway.”

The two exchanged a smile and walked together toward the Wei Pavilion.

...

Three hundred paces behind them, in the woods, the Lazy Monk stood atop a massive boulder, watching the two young men depart side by side, his thick brows arched in surprise. “I didn’t expect that boy to actually win Li Mi over. That’s a bit unexpected.”

Beside him stood a figure shrouded in a veiled hat, appearing frail against his tall frame. The voice was thin and delicate, impossible to tell if it belonged to man or woman.

“You’ve been with him all these years and still make such mistakes?”

The Lazy Monk glanced sideways at the speaker, hesitated, then sighed. “Reading people’s hearts was never my strength. If you think it’s so easy, you can handle it from now on.”

“Wretched monk, in such a hurry to wash your hands of it?” The thin voice was close by for the first line, but by the second had drifted ten paces away, and the last words came as though carried off by the wind, fading and uncertain. “If you’re really willing, don’t follow me anymore. I’ll wait for you in Chang’an for a month—if you’re late, I won’t wait.”

The Lazy Monk sighed, muttered to himself, and shook his head.

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