Chapter 22: It’s Really That Simple
Reading a book a hundred times reveals its meaning—it’s just that some people only need ten days, while others need half a year. There’s nothing to say about such comparisons, just as Tang Thirty-Six once said, that young lady often left people speechless, so Chen Changsheng naturally had no choice but to stay silent.
But for some reason, Shuang’er felt displeased seeing Chen Changsheng’s silent, almost dull demeanor. Or perhaps she always thought that since you’re engaged to the young lady, even if your strength is worlds apart, you should at least show some will or ambition?
And in her view, if the young lady hadn’t written that letter from Nanxi Zhai, Chen Changsheng would probably be dead by now, with no chance to enter the National Academy, sit on the clean floor, and read or cultivate. She wasn’t expecting a thousand thanks, but he shouldn’t be so silent either, as if nothing had happened.
Shuang’er shook her head at him, took a thin sheet of letter paper from her bosom, and handed it over.
“Since you’ve finally got this rare chance to cultivate, you should cherish it more. Start from the basics, keep your feet on the ground, don’t always think about crooked paths, and don’t pin your hopes on others, especially women.” She thought of something and said sternly, “Cultivation isn’t that simple. Even if there’s no hope at all, I hope you won’t just give up and let yourself go. Do you understand what I mean?”
Chen Changsheng took the paper, stunned for a moment, not understanding what she meant. He thought to himself, I’ve hidden away in this academy that’s like a graveyard, silently reading and cultivating—does the General’s Mansion and that Miss Xu still find me an eyesore?
Outside the library, the sun hung high in the sky, and the leaves rustled in the wind, scattering the direct sunlight into countless dappled spots. Fortunately, it was still early spring, and the weather wasn’t too hot. The paper carried a faint, feminine fragrance, but no sweat.
Chen Changsheng stared at the four characters on the paper and fell silent for a long time.
“Take care of yourself.”
The handwriting on the paper was fairly delicate, but nothing extraordinary. The strokes were straight, giving it a naive, endearing look. He guessed these four characters were written to him by that Miss Xu from the distant south, but he couldn’t connect the young woman who wrote such clumsy, simple strokes with the legendary genius girl of the rumors.
He understood the meaning of those four characters, and he could almost see the expression on Miss Xu’s face as she wrote them. She must have had indifferent eyes, a slight frown, some impatience, some displeasure, but mostly indifference.
She wrote him four characters, but the key was that one character: “self.”
Self meant yourself.
Live your own life.
Read your own books.
Cultivate on your own.
Eat and drink well on your own.
Chen Changsheng thought quietly for a while, then stopped pondering. He tucked the paper into his sleeve, stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and began searching for the forty-nine books listed on the back cover of the Marrow Cleansing Treatise. As he searched, he recalled what the maid Shuang’er had said earlier, and couldn’t help frowning. The speed of his fingers moving among the books slowed down—could someone really read all these books a hundred times in just ten days? How was that even done?
The Marrow Cleansing Treatise was a general treatise on cultivation, but the forty-nine books on its back cover were the real objects of study. Students were supposed to use the knowledge and wisdom in these books to awaken their minds, solidify their understanding of the world, and thereby strengthen their own souls.
This was purely spiritual cultivation—ever since the Heavenly Book descended and humans began cultivating, the initial step of focusing the mind had always used this method. Perhaps because countless sages had concluded that this method was the most efficient and had the highest success rate, or because words were the only carriers of thought, if you wanted to use the thoughts of predecessors to turn your own thoughts into power, you naturally had to use words as a bridge.
Since this method was used, the forty-nine books listed in the notes of the Marrow Cleansing Treatise were naturally the ones recognized by human society as most helpful for condensing the spirit. Since the National Religion finalized the list in 1582, it had never changed.
Chen Changsheng walked along the bookshelves searching. Even though he was extremely familiar with the library’s arrangement, it still took him a full hour to find all forty-nine books. He then moved them all to the floor by the window, arranging them in order.
He didn’t start reading immediately. Instead, he went to Baihua Lane to eat a bowl of vegetable soup with rice, then rested for half an hour on the lakeside lawn shaded by dense trees. Only when he felt completely satisfied did he return to the library, pick up the first book, and begin reading.
Earlier, while searching for the books, he had confirmed by their titles that he hadn’t read them before. He felt a slight regret, but also curiosity—what was written in these books that could help humans condense their spirits?
The first book he picked up was called “Elementary Insights into the Simple Gate.” He was sure he hadn’t read it, so when he opened it and saw some familiar phrases, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, like during the Heavenly Dao Academy exam.
The book was thin, but it felt heavy to him. He stared blankly at the content, dazedly realizing that he had already seen this material when he was four years old. More precisely, he could recite it backward by heart.
It was just that in the old temple in Xining Town, this book was called “The Classic of Embracing Simplicity.”
He was surprised, as if he had returned to the Heavenly Dao Academy exam site. He had thought such good fortune couldn’t keep happening, but it had appeared again, leaving him dazed for a while before he snapped out of it.
Once he came to his senses, he quickly opened the second book.
This book was called: “Collection of Praises and Odes from the Heavenly Book Mausoleum.”
Flipping through the pages as fast as a breeze, he quickly confirmed that he had also read this book. Those poems of praise written by sages after viewing the Heavenly Book Mausoleum were all in his mind, but when he read them at five years old in the old temple in Xining Town, the collection was called “Anthology of Poetic Splendor.”
Chen Changsheng was silent for a moment, then opened the third book.
It was the same.
He had read this book too, just under a different name from when he was a child.
The fourth book, the fifth book… He quickly skimmed through all forty-nine books and confirmed that he had read every single one.
Again?
Was this still a surprise? Chen Changsheng picked up the Marrow Cleansing Treatise again and was silent for a long time, thinking to himself. Unbeknownst to him, the corners of his mouth had lifted, and his eyes narrowed as if a river of stars were flowing, brimming with joy.
He remembered what Shuang’er had said when she left.
“Cultivation isn’t that simple.”
He looked up and saw the dappled light and shadow at the library entrance, a gentle breeze blowing in, but no one was there. He felt a pang of loss—if that little girl were still here, he really wanted to tell her that it seemed he might actually condense his spirit faster than her young lady.
But then he thought of Xu Yourong, who had read the forty-nine volumes a hundred times, seen their true meaning, and successfully condensed her spirit at just four years old. The little pride he had just felt instantly dissipated. He smiled wryly to himself, thinking it was really nothing special.
The next step was to use the method from the Marrow Cleansing Treatise to transform the words etched in his mind—along with the information they carried—into nourishment for his powerful soul, and then condense his spirit in one go.
For anyone else, at such a critical moment, they would probably push forward. But Chen Changsheng glanced at the sky, saw the sun had shifted westward and dusk was deepening, and actually put down the Marrow Cleansing Treatise. He tidied up the books on the floor and walked out of the library.
It was time for dinner.
…
…
Because it was time for dinner, he could ignore the opportunity to change his destiny that was right within his grasp. If this was self-discipline, it was harsh and cruel to the point of being self-torture. But it could also be seen as a kind of confidence—he believed that opportunity wouldn’t slip away.
From the entrance exam at the Heavenly Dao Academy to the reappearance of these forty-nine volumes in his mind today, Chen Changsheng could now be certain of some things: his master had already laid all the foundations for his cultivation long ago. His master was indeed no ordinary Daoist.
The path of cultivation was long and arduous, but he and his senior brother Yu Ren had studied the Daoist canon since childhood, with ten thousand volumes stored in their hearts. That meant he had already set out long before others, walking ten thousand miles, so it was only natural that he would reach the other shore before them.
Chen Changsheng had always been confident, and now that he had confirmed these things, he was even more so. Though dusk was deepening and the setting sun was fading, within his ever-expanding heart, a red sun was rising steadily. Why would he fear the darkness ahead?
After dinner, he returned to the library, boiled some water, brewed a cup of flower tea he had bought in Baihua Lane, sat cross-legged, and calmed his mind for a moment. His gaze slowly swept over the neatly arranged forty-nine volumes before finally settling on the Marrow Cleansing Treatise.
The words in the book rose from the deepest recesses of his mind, returning from his childhood memories, becoming vividly real. Then they gradually released a certain aura, following the method of the first chapter of the Marrow Cleansing Treatise, intertwining endlessly within his world of thought.
Many years ago, in the old temple, he had already completed the awakening of his intellect. Now, what he needed to do was solidify his understanding.
He closed his eyes, thought quietly, and then gradually forgot to think.
What they called illuminating the mind and seeing one’s true nature wasn’t really that complicated.
It was just the word “integration.”
Time passed slowly. Outside the library, in the wetlands, the croaking of frogs began to sound.
It was still early spring.
The night grew deeper, the stars brighter, and the sounds of Kyoto’s bustle filled the air.
The National Academy, with only one person, remained as quiet as ever.
The oil lamp in the library was faint, yet it seemed it would never go out.
Suddenly, a soft hum echoed through the library.
This sound came from between heaven and earth.
A breeze swirled around the building.
Chen Changsheng opened his eyes. His gaze was dazed at first, then gradually calmed, and finally filled with joy.
In one day and one night, he had successfully condensed his spirit.
Cultivation—it was really that simple.