Explore Chapter 7 of '故事新编' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
"Alas, you Confucians! You invoke the names of Yao and Shun, yet in your actions you would emulate pigs and dogs. Pitiful, truly pitiful!" With that, Mozi stood up and hurried toward the kitchen, saying, "You do not understand my meaning..."
He passed through the kitchen to the well outside the back door. Working the windlass, he drew up half a jar of well water. He drank over a dozen gulps, put down the jar, wiped his mouth, and suddenly, looking towards a corner of the garden, called out:
Ah Lian had already seen him and was running over. Upon reaching him, he stood properly at attention, hands at his sides, and uttered a respectful "Master." Then, with a hint of indignation, he continued:
"Yes. You have heard already?" Mozi had Geng Zhu mix the cornmeal with water while he himself fetched flint and tinder to strike a fire. Lighting some dry twigs to boil water, his eyes on the flames, he said slowly, "Our fellow townsman Gongshu Ban-he always relies on his petty cleverness to stir up trouble. It was not enough that he taught the King of Chu to fight the Yue people with his naval weapon, the grapnel and ram. Now he has devised something called 'siege ladders' to incite the King of Chu to attack Song. Song is a small state; how could it withstand such an attack? I must go and restrain him."
Seeing that Geng Zhu had already placed the cornbread buns in the steamer, Mozi returned to his room. From a wall cupboard he retrieved a bundle of salted dried greens and a worn bronze knife, then found an old piece of cloth for wrapping. When Geng Zhu brought in the steamed buns, he bundled everything together. He did not pack any clothes, nor did he take a towel for washing. He merely tightened his leather belt, walked to the main hall, put on his straw sandals, slung the bundle over his shoulder, and left without a backward glance. From the bundle, wisps of steam still rose intermittently.
By the time Mozi crossed into the territory of the state of Song, the straps of his straw sandals had broken three or four times. He felt the soles of his feet burning. Stopping to look, he saw the soles worn into large holes, some parts of his feet calloused, others blistered. Paying no heed, he pressed on. Observing the conditions along the way, he noted the population was quite numerous, yet the scars of repeated floods and wars were everywhere; the people had not undergone swift change. After three days of travel, having seen not a single large house, a great tree, a lively person, or a fertile field, he reached the capital.
He decided to pass straight through the city. Approaching the north gate, he followed a central street straight south. The city was desolate yet calm. Shops displayed signs announcing price reductions, but no customers were in sight, nor did the shops carry much stock. The streets were thick with fine, sticky yellow dust.
As he proceeded along the main street, he saw nothing remarkable besides poverty and weakness. The news of the impending attack from the state of Chu had probably been heard, yet the people, being accustomed to invasions, considered it their lot to be attacked and felt nothing particularly unusual. Moreover, everyone had only one life left, with neither clothes nor food, so no one thought of moving. It was only when he caught sight of the south gate tower that he saw a dozen or so people gathered at a street corner, as if listening to someone telling a story.
Yet he did not push through to greet him. He hurried out of the south gate and continued on his way. After another full day and most of the night, he rested, sleeping under the eaves of a farmhouse until dawn, then set off again. His straw sandals were now in tatters, unwearable. The cornbread buns in his bundle were no longer usable, so he tore a piece from his robe to wrap his feet.
But the cloth was thin, and the uneven village path pressed against his soles, making the journey even harder. In the afternoon, he sat under a small locust tree, opened his bundle for lunch, and rested his feet. In the distance he saw a burly man pushing a heavily laden cart towards him. As the man drew near, he stopped the cart, walked up to Mozi, and called out "Master." Lifting the hem of his garment to wipe the sweat from his face, he panted heavily.
"Yes," said Mozi. "But whether he will listen to me is still uncertain. You must continue preparing. Do not rely solely on the success of words."
Guan Qian'ao nodded. Watching Mozi set off, he gazed after him for a moment, then pushed his creaking cart back into the city.
The capital Ying of the state of Chu was nothing like Song. The streets were broad, the houses neat. Grand shops displayed many fine goods: snow-white linen, fiery red peppers, dappled deerskins, plump lotus seeds. The pedestrians, though somewhat shorter in stature than northerners, were lively and vigorous, their clothes clean. By comparison, Mozi in his old, tattered robe with cloth-wrapped feet truly resembled a veteran beggar.
Further towards the center was a large square with many stalls, crowded with people-a bustling market at a crossroads. Mozi found an old man who looked like a scholar and inquired about Gongshu Ban's residence. Unfortunately, the language barrier made communication difficult. Just as he was trying to write characters on his palm for the old man to see, a great roar went up as everyone began to sing. It turned out the famous singer Sai Xiangling had begun her performance of "Song of the Rustic Folk," leading the whole crowd to sing in unison. Soon, even the old scholar was humming along. Knowing the old man would no longer look at the characters on his palm, Mozi only wrote half of the character "Gong," then strode off to seek elsewhere. Yet singing was everywhere, leaving no opportunity. After a considerable time, probably when the singing over there had finished, it gradually quieted down. He found a carpenter's shop to inquire about Gongshu Ban's address.
"That old fellow from Shandong, Master Gongshu who made the naval weapon, the grapnel and ram?" The shop owner, a plump man with a sallow face and black beard, indeed knew. "Not far. Turn back, pass the crossroads, take the second lane on the right heading east-south, then turn north at the corner. He is the third house."
Mozi wrote the directions on his palm, had the man check for any mistake, then firmly committed them to memory. Thanking the owner, he strode purposefully towards the indicated place. It was indeed correct. On the main gate of the third house was nailed an exquisitely carved nanmu plaque inscribed with six large seal characters: "Residence of Gongshu Ban of the state of Lu."
Mozi knocked several times on the brass animal-head knocker. Unexpectedly, the door was opened by a scowling, fierce-looking porter. Upon seeing Mozi, he shouted loudly:
"The Master does not receive visitors! We have had too many of you fellow countrymen coming to beg for help!"
Mozi had barely glanced at him when the man shut the door. Further knocking yielded no response. Yet that brief glance had unsettled the porter. Feeling uneasy, he had no choice but to go in and report to his master. Gongshu Ban was holding a carpenter's square, measuring a model of the siege ladders.
"Master, another fellow countryman of yours has come begging... This man seems rather peculiar..." the porter said quietly.
Gongshu Ban was startled and cried out. He put down the model of the siege ladders and the square and ran down the steps. The porter was also startled and hurried ahead to open the door. Mozi and Gongshu Ban met in the courtyard.
"It really is you," said Gongshu Ban happily, ushering him into the main hall. "How have you been? Still as busy as ever?"
"Splendid!" Mozi exclaimed, deeply moved. He straightened up and bowed twice. Then, with great calm, he continued, "But I have a few words. In the north, I heard you built siege ladders for an attack on Song. What crime has Song committed? The state of Chu has land in abundance but lacks people. To kill those you lack to seize what you have in surplus cannot be called wisdom. Song is without crime, yet you would attack it; this cannot be called benevolence. Knowing this is wrong, yet not opposing it, cannot be called loyalty. Opposing it, yet not succeeding, cannot be called strength. To claim it is wrong to kill one man on principle, yet kill many, shows a failure to understand categories. What does the Master think?"
"Of course, of course," Mozi also said earnestly. "It is not that I am particularly fond of wearing ragged clothes... I simply have not had the time to change..."
"Suppose there is a man who, having a fine carriage, does not want it, but wishes to steal his neighbor's broken cart; who, having brocade and embroidery, does not want them, but wishes to steal his neighbor's short felt jacket; who, having rice and meat, does not want them, but wishes to steal his neighbor's husks and chaff. What kind of man is this?"
"The land of Chu," said Mozi, "measures five thousand li square, while Song's measures only five hundred li square. This is like the fine carriage and the broken cart. Chu has Yunmeng, filled with rhinoceroses, deer, and the like. The abundance of fish, turtles, and alligators in its rivers and lakes is unsurpassed elsewhere, while Song is said not to have even pheasants, rabbits, or carp. This is like the rice and meat versus the husks and chaff. Chu has tall pines, fine catalpas, elms, and camphorwood, while Song has no great trees. This is like the brocade and embroidery versus the short felt jacket. Thus, in my humble view, Your Majesty's officials attacking Song is of the same category."
The King of Chu, fond of novelties, was very pleased and ordered his attendants to fetch wooden pieces immediately. Mozi undid his leather belt, bent it into an arc facing Gongshuzi, representing the city wall. He divided several dozen wooden pieces into two piles, keeping one and giving the other to Gongshuzi, representing the offensive and defensive weapons.
Thus, each holding their wooden pieces, they began to engage like players in a board game. When the attacker's piece advanced, the defender's countered; when one side retreated, the other pursued. However, the King of Chu and his attendants could not understand it at all.
They saw only such advances and retreats, nine rounds in total, with about nine variations each for attack and defense. After this, Gongshu Ban stopped. Mozi then turned the arc of his belt towards himself, as if he were now on the offensive. They still parried with advances and retreats. But by the third round, Mozi's wooden piece had entered inside the arc of the belt.
Although the King of Chu and his attendants were mystified, seeing Gongshu Ban lay down his piece first with a look of disappointment, they knew he had failed in both offense and defense.
Mozi turned to answer: "Gongshuzi's meaning is simply to kill me, thinking that with me dead, Song would have no one to defend it and could be attacked. However, my disciple Qin Guli and three hundred others are already on the walls of Song, armed with my defensive weapons, awaiting the enemy from the state of Chu. Even if you kill me, you still cannot take the city!"
Having succeeded in halting the attack on Song, Mozi originally intended to return to the state of Lu immediately. But because he needed to return the clothes borrowed from Gongshu Ban, he had to go back to his residence. It was already afternoon, and both host and guest felt quite hungry. The host naturally insisted he stay for lunch-or perhaps it was already supper-and urged him to stay the night.
"I must leave today," said Mozi. "Next year I shall come again and bring my books for the King of Chu to read."
"Are you not still preaching about the practice of righteousness?" said Gongshu Ban. "Toiling body and mind, aiding the endangered and relieving the distressed-these are things for the lowly. The great men do not favor them. And he is a king, my friend!"
"Not necessarily so. Silk, hemp, rice, and grain are all things produced by the lowly, yet the great men all want them. How much more so with the practice of righteousness."
"Then I have truly given you the state of Song," said Mozi, also happy. "If you wholeheartedly practice righteousness, I shall give you the whole world!"
As host and guest conversed and laughed, lunch was laid out, with fish, meat, and wine. Mozi did not drink wine nor eat fish, taking only a little meat. Gongshu Ban, drinking alone and seeing his guest barely touch his knife and chopsticks, felt apologetic and could only urge him to eat the chili peppers:
"I have the grapnel and ram for naval warfare. Does your righteousness have a grapnel and ram too?" he asked.
"My righteous grapnel and ram is better than your naval one," Mozi answered firmly. "I use love for the grapnel and respect for the ram. Without the grapnel of love, there is no mutual affection. Without the ram of respect, there is only slickness. Without mutual affection and with slickness, separation follows immediately. Therefore, mutual love and mutual respect equal mutual benefit. Now you use a grapnel to hook others, and others use grapnels to hook you. You use a ram to repel others, and others use rams to repel you. Mutual grappling and mutual ramming equal mutual harm. Therefore, my righteous grapnel and ram is better than your naval one."
"So you must practice righteousness wholeheartedly," said Mozi, looking into his eyes earnestly. "Then you will have not only cleverness but the whole world as well. I have truly disturbed you for most of the day. Let us meet again next year."
With these words, Mozi took his small bundle and bade his host farewell. Gongshu Ban, knowing he could not be detained, let him go. After seeing him out the main gate, he returned inside. After a moment's thought, he stuffed the model of the siege ladders and the wooden magpie into a chest in the back room.
On his return journey, Mozi walked slower, first because he was tired, second because his feet hurt, third because his provisions were finished and he inevitably felt hungry, and fourth because his mission was accomplished and he was not as hurried as on the way out. Yet his luck was worse than before. Upon entering the border of Song, he was searched twice. Nearing the capital, he encountered a "Donate to Save the Nation" team, who took his old bundle. Reaching the outside of the south gate, he was caught in a heavy rain. Going under the city gate to shelter, he was chased away by two halberd-wielding guards. Drenched through, his nose remained stuffed up for over ten days thereafter.