Chapter Thirty: Using Six

Zhang Heng's expression was grim as he scrutinized Zhang Yue.

Zhang Yue offered a respectful salute and said, "Master of the Hall, I was delivering a manuscript to the registrar and happened to pass by Dayu Brocade Hall. Hearing your profound words, I was so captivated that I lost track of time."

"Is that so?" Zhang Heng sneered. "Is this a place where you may linger? I see clearly you are simply—"

Zhang Yue had no desire to argue with Zhang Heng. Even if he won, he would lose his position; if he lost, he would be humiliated and dismissed. Noticing the professor approaching, likely to see what was happening, Zhang Yue immediately sidestepped Zhang Heng, strode forward, and bowed to the professor, saying, "I beg the venerable master’s pardon!"

The professor lifted his drooping curtain and slowly walked to the edge of the steps, glancing at Zhang Yue. "Who are you?" he asked.

Such a forgetful nature...

Zhang Heng replied, "Master, this person is a scribe from the library. I discovered him eavesdropping beside Dayu Brocade Hall."

"Oh, is that so?" asked the professor.

Zhang Yue bowed and replied with admiration, "I am a novice, newly studying the Book of Changes, but have yet to find an entry point. As I passed here, I heard the master's elucidation and was so absorbed I forgot myself."

The professor smiled faintly at these words.

"As it is said, 'To hear the Way in the morning, one can die content at dusk!' If I have offended, I beg your forgiveness."

"I remember you," said the professor. "You tried out for the scribe’s post the other day. Were you hired? Ah, I ask too much."

Zhang Yue...

Zhang Heng, aware of the professor’s forgetfulness, bowed and said, "Professor, please allow me to handle this matter."

As head of the hall, it was Zhang Heng’s duty, as a student, to manage his peers—a form of practical experience. Indeed, with a word, he could determine Zhang Yue’s fate. The professor could ignore it, and being disinclined to meddle, he was about to leave.

But Zhang Yue spoke again, "That day, I was graced by your kindness, master, and allowed to stay as a scribe, earning a livelihood for my family. I have yet to thank you in person. Today, hearing your teachings, I recalled, 'The Master said: purity and subtlety are the essence of the Change.' Carefully pondering your words, I found my mind opened, and your instruction today is an even greater kindness than the opportunity to feed my family. I am at a loss how to express my gratitude."

The professor was at first indifferent, but then suddenly recalled: Yes, Biao Min recently mentioned to me an interesting young man at the library—could it be him?

Zhang Heng, inwardly sneering, had seen many students make a spectacle of themselves to draw attention, or ask obscure questions to show off. He found Zhang Yue’s performance even more distasteful.

"Ziping, go summon the scribe manager here!" the professor commanded.

Zhang Heng replied, "Such a thief of eavesdropping—how could he be worth your time, Master? ...Yes, I shall go at once."

With a glare at Zhang Yue, Zhang Heng departed.

After he left, the professor turned to Zhang Yue and asked, "Do you know my name?"

Zhang Yue shook his head. "I only know your surname is Zhang. I have no acquaintances in the South Peak Institute. Outside my duties, no one speaks to me. Back in Wuxi, I knew only that there was a venerable master here."

The professor smiled kindly. "Come with me." With a sweep of his sleeve, he entered Dayu Brocade Hall.

Zhang Yue was taken aback but quickly removed his straw sandals and entered. Within the hall, the windows were open on all sides; the breeze stirred the gauze curtains. Outside, sparrows peered in curiously, and sweet osmanthus petals fell silently into the ink pool. Sunlight filled the hall, its windows bright and spotless. Two or three dozen students, all in splendid attire, each sat upright on brocade cushions at their desks. Hanging in the center was a great seal script scroll: "The Dao is the mother of Heaven and Earth."

Seal script had long since been lost by the Song Dynasty—who could have written this?

As Zhang Yue stepped onto the wooden floor, he felt the students' gazes. Someone whispered, "Why is he not wearing socks?"

Zhang Yue flushed slightly but straightened his back and walked to the professor’s side.

Footsteps sounded outside. Zhang Heng announced, "Master, they are here."

"Let them in!"

The scribe manager and Guo Lin entered, following Zhang Heng.

"Boyi, why have you called me?" the manager asked gruffly, making no bow to the professor, standing carelessly.

The professor smiled, looking at Zhang Yue.

Behind the manager, Guo Lin could not help but exclaim, "Zhang Yue, weren’t you delivering a manuscript? What are you doing here?"

Zhang Heng sneered, "Of course he’s here to steal—"

Guo Lin, alarmed, protested to the professor and Zhang Heng, "Master, Head of the Hall, my junior may be rash, but he is not a thief."

Zhang Heng chuckled, "When did I say he stole things? Only that he stole teachings—isn’t that so?"

Guo Lin glanced at Zhang Yue, his face reddening in embarrassment. "My junior is inexperienced; forgive him..."

"Biao Min, what do you think?" the professor asked.

The manager sat down and said, "I thought it was something serious. He only happened to overhear a few words. Why use the word 'steal'?"

Zhang Heng replied, "Our Zhang clan's disciples' tuition comes from the academic fields endowed by Lord Xun. Has this youth paid his tuition? How is this different from taking without asking? Is that not eavesdropping? The sages had three thousand disciples, teaching all without distinction, but also said, 'Instruct those who bring their tuition.'"

The manager scoffed, "If you insist on calling it theft, so be it. Kuang Heng bored through his wall to steal light for reading—is that not also theft? Yet what of it? Jia Kui’s sister, a famous woman of the Eastern Han, would hold her brother and listen through the fence to neighbors reading—did the neighbor ask her for tuition?"

Zhang Heng replied coolly, "You may think it nothing, manager, but my concern is that someone might claim such teaching, boast of having attended Dayu Brocade Hall, and thus aggrandize themselves. Would that not disgrace the master? Our reputation would be tarnished, and some might even use the name of a fellow student to scam others..."

Guo Lin, face flushed, repeatedly defended Zhang Yue, "My junior is not such a person."

"Enough, do not quarrel," the professor interjected. "Jia Kui’s poverty was well known, but rules must be upheld. Ziping is only doing his duty as head of the hall."

The professor looked at the silent Zhang Yue, who stood barefoot and poorly clad in the hall.

After some thought, the professor said, "If I condemned you without cause, you would resent it. Since you said you have studied the Book of Changes, and that its teaching is pure and subtle, tell me: what is the meaning of 'using nine' in the Qian hexagram?"

Zhang Yue recalled the lines of the Qian hexagram in his mind.

First nine: The hidden dragon should not act (the dragon is in the water). Second nine: The dragon appears in the field (the dragon is on the land)—these are the first and second lines, symbolizing the dormant phase of one’s career.

Among the six lines, the third and fourth are central. If deviated, it is called "neither three nor four." Both Qian and Kun hexagrams have a seventh extra line: Qian has "using nine," Kun has "using six."

In the Qian hexagram, all lines are yang, called nine.

Zhang Heng mocked, "Master, what sort of wild fox Zen is this?"

Zhang Yue thought, What age is this, still worshipping family and master transmission? What use then are the works of past sages?

Zhang Yue replied, "Humble student ventures to say: among the sixty-four hexagrams, only Qian and Kun hexagrams are pure yang or pure yin. Thus, Qian’s six lines are all yang, all called nine; Kun’s six lines are all yin, all called six. 'Using nine' is the synthesis of the six lines—either all are nines, or none are used as nines."

"'Using nine, with dragons without a leader, is auspicious.' This means that those who practice the Qian hexagram, amidst the transformations of the six lines, must not forget the virtue of Heaven, which does not seek to lead. The noble man strives constantly, not to dominate others, but to foster the transformation of all things. For example, a teacher instructs students not to demand blind obedience, but to hope they surpass their master. Even if my own understanding is unconventional, what harm? 'With dragons without a leader' means all are as dragons."

Zhang Yue's answer was like a slap to Zhang Heng’s face.

Guo Lin now looked at Zhang Yue with newfound respect. The answer was excellent, the analogy perfect, and it smartly refuted Zhang Heng’s mocking accusation of "wild fox Zen."

The professor stroked his beard, nodded, and glanced at the manager, who wore a look that said, "I told you so, but you wouldn’t listen."

"And what is the meaning of 'using six'?" the professor asked Zhang Yue.

"Using six" does not mean spamming '666.'

"Using six" is the extra line in the Kun hexagram, corresponding to "using nine" in Qian.

Yin lines are two horizontals; thus, Kun hexagram has six horizontal lines. All lines yin, all called six.

Zhang Yue answered, "'Using six, it is beneficial to be steadfast and upright.' 'Steadfastness' is rectitude, uprightness, and integrity. Wherever a noble person finds himself among the six lines of the Kun hexagram, he must hold to rectitude and integrity."

The old man neither approved nor disapproved—such words were a direct quotation from the text, nothing remarkable.

Zhang Yue continued, "In the Qian hexagram, 'using nine' means the virtue of Heaven does not seek to lead. In the Kun hexagram, 'using six' means the earth’s nature is receptive; the noble man, though carrying all with his virtue, does not see himself as inferior. The noble man, upright and principled, persists in all circumstances. Though his position be humble, he never demeans himself."

"Just as I, a moment ago, was accused of eavesdropping. In ancient times, Kuang Heng bored through his wall for light to study. Mediocre people may ridicule, but I, like Heng, do not ridicule myself."

At these words, a buzz of voices arose among the students.

Zhang Heng’s chest heaved in anger, for Zhang Yue had again used scripture to slap his face, but he could not say Zhang Yue was wrong.

The professor stroked his beard in deep thought, then looked gravely at Zhang Yue and asked, "Did you come to this understanding yourself?"

Zhang Yue instinctively glanced at the manager, then replied, "Indeed, these are but my own humble insights."

Guo Lin understood: though Scholar Guo had taught Zhang Yue to recite the Book of Changes, such reasoning had never been imparted; this truly was Zhang Yue’s own realization. And this talent for subtle rebuke was also uniquely his.