Chapter 24- Fate Has It, Jiang Ziya Finally Meets His Lord, King Wen Jichang

So our journey starts with Wu Ji. Simple woodcutter, yeah. You know, doing his job near the Wei River. And he has this really unsettling, almost kind of chilling encounter with the enigmatic Jiang Ziya. Now, Ziya, he's known for seeing things others don't, right? Beyond the ordinary. And he delivers this stark, frankly terrifying prophecy. Yeah, it's immediate. He tells Wu Ji, straight up, you're destined to cause a death. Not his fault, but it's going to happen. It's not vague at all, it's super specific. A personal fate. And what's really striking there is how immediately Jiang Ziya's foresight is established. It's extraordinary. This isn't just him making a guess, it's like he's seeing a fixed point in the cosmic order, a moment that will occur. It tells you right away, you know, that we're in a world where destiny feels tangible, almost visible, something you can observe, even if it seems cruel, sets a powerful stage. Yeah, tragically, that prophecy doesn't waste any time. It happens pretty quick. Wu Ji's in a bustling marketplace, trying to get out of the way of King Wen's carriage. He drops his firewood bundle, and just horrible luck, it hits and kills a gate guard, Huang Shan. Wow. Just like that. And the consequences, swift, severe. King Wen, bound by the law, sentences Wu Ji to death. Accidental crime, but still. The prophecy fulfilled. Brutal. Exactly. Brutal and uncompromised. But, if we kind of zoom out here, this incident really shows the intersection of rigid imperial justice, and then this, well, surprising bit of compassion. Oh, right, the official. Yeah, Sanyi Sheng. He steps in. Now, he doesn't challenge the sentence itself, that seems pretty clear-cut legally, but he secures a temporary reprieve, a delay. Okay, why? Crucially, so Wu Ji can go home and arrange things for his elderly mother. She depends entirely on him, so it really makes you ask, you know, in a system with absolute law, where does mercy even fit? Especially with these really deep personal duties, like looking after your parents. Right, and Wu Ji, he's caught. Impending execution on one side, this profound filial duty on the other. He must be utterly desperate. He goes back to Jiangxia, basically pleading for salvation. But the really heart-wrenching part, it's not just for himself, it's mainly for his helpless aging mother. She'd be completely alone. So for a guy trapped like that, facing death but worried about his mom, what does that even mean? Total despair, right? Especially knowing it was foretold. Absolutely crushing. So Jiangxia, he's not just going to wave a magic wand, is he? There's a condition. Right, and it's a big one. He says, fine, I'll help, but you have to formally become my disciple. And that's not like signing up for night school, is it, in that tradition? Not at all, no. This is deeply significant. Accepting a master in this whole context, it's a profound spiritual commitment, a practical one too. It often means a complete redirection of your life. And crucially, your destiny. It's an act of total submission, absolute trust. You're basically handing your entire future over. Wow. For Wu Ji, whose life is already forfeited, it's not even really a choice, it's surrender. Dissolving that old woodcutter identity to embrace, well, whatever Xia has planned. A massive gamble on a totally new fate. And the plan Xia gives him. Yeah. It's extraordinary. A bit peculiar maybe. Definitely unusual. He tells Wu Ji, dig a four foot pit under your bed. Right under the bed. Sleep in it at dusk, put a lamp at your head, another at your feet. Okay. Then, his mother has to scatter two handfuls of rice or grain plus some random grass over him. I mean, that sounds less like an escape plan and more like, I don't know, something really symbolic. Ancient ritual stuff. That's exactly what it is. What's fascinating here is this whole process. It's known as Yam Sheng. Literally averting a star. Averting a star. Yeah, it's a prime example of ancient Chinese cosmology and some pretty sophisticated Taoist magical practices. Xia's actions, they're performed at exactly 3 a.m. The text even describes him Which means? Unbinding his hair, holding his sword, doing specific ritual steps, forming these intricate hand seals. It's not just for show. Every single gesture is precise, symbolic. It's designed to align him with specific cosmic energies and, well, exert direct influence on the flow of fate. Wow. This is a huge aha moment, really, because it shows destiny, yeah, it might be observable, but maybe it's not completely fixed. Not unchangeable. It suggests you can actively, even magically, defy it, reshape it, through these deep ritual interventions. So, it's not just magic to escape. It's like realigning his whole cosmic blueprint. You could say that, yeah. It works. The immediate result. Wu Ji is saved. His fate is seemingly altered. Death sentence gone. And from that point, he calls Xia, Master. Seals the deal. New identity. New commitment. Exactly. The transformation begins. So, Wu Ji's safe now. He's a disciple. Xia immediately points him down a totally new path. Tells him chopping wood is, quote, not your long-term strategy. Uh-huh. Right. Time for a career change. Big time. He instructs Wu Ji to start studying military strategy, specifically this ancient text, the Lutao. Mm-hmm. Six secret teachings. That's a massive shift, right? From, like, forest rhythms to war strategy. Mm-hmm. What kind of dedication did that take? And how does studying something like Lutao actually change how you see the world, beyond just fighting, I mean? Oh, it's a profound transformation. It demands not just, you know, physical ability, but huge intellectual effort. The Lutao isn't just battlefield tactics. It's foundational statecraft, strategy. It shaped Chinese military thinking for centuries. So, Wu Ji, who was rooted in simple nature, now has to grasp power dynamics, ambition, war psychology. That's a lot to take in. Absolutely. Imagine the mental discipline. Grappling with centuries of wisdom, it reshapes his whole worldview, you know, from just being an observer to potentially shaping events. Ziya isn't just saving a life here. He's forging a hero, giving him the tools for the chaotic times ahead. And Ziya gives him the why, too. Paints this grim picture of King Zhu's rule. The world's on the brink. Yeah, he doesn't hold back. He says King Zhu is without a path. And East Marseille, the world's in rebellion, 400 feudal lords. 400, that's huge. He gives specifics, too. East Marquis Jiang Wenwen, 400,000 troops attacking Yuhuan Pass. South Marquis Xichen, 300,000 against Anshan Pass. Wow, massive armies. And he foresees swords and soldiers rising right there in Sikhi. So he's framing Wu Ji's personal journey within this epic historical upheaval. Precisely. That detailed prophecy is a crucial backdrop. Ziya's not just teaching theory. He's prepping Wu Ji for a very real, very imminent conflict. The sheer scale tells you the depth of the crisis. The world is being reshaped. And a new kind of leader, this warrior-scholar type, is needed. Wu Ji's being groomed for significance, not just survival in these crazy times. But then, right in the middle of this dark forecast, Ziya gives Wu Ji this incredibly uplifting message. It really goes beyond their situation, he tells him. Generals and ministers are not born. Men must strive for self-improvement. Learn literary and martial arts and sell them to the imperial family. Basically, make something of yourself. In an era often defined by who your parents were, how revolutionary is that idea? Meritocracy. What hope would that give someone like Wu Ji? Oh, it's incredibly potent. Hugely inspiring. I mean, merit wasn't totally unknown. But Ziya stating it so clearly, generals aren't born, men must strive. Especially when the dynasty's crumbling. Mm. That's powerful. It's like a rallying cry for a new order. Talent, not just bloodline, will lead. It basically says anyone, even a woodcutter, can rise to the top through effort. That's fundamental for building new heroes, new empires, especially in turbulent times. It tells Wu Ji, your past isn't your future. Your effort is. And Wu Ji clearly gets it. The text says he's dedicated, studies martial arts, studies the Lu Tao diligently, a Dunderous master. Yeah, he puts the work in. It's not just learning, is it? It's forging a new identity. From simple woodcutter to this budding warrior scholar, getting ready for something big. Definitely. A complete transformation. Okay, now, let's jump forward. About six months later, Wu Ji's deep in his studies, transforming. But back in the capital, the past hasn't quite gone away. Ah, right. The execution he missed. Exactly. Sanya Shang, the official who got him the reprieve, suddenly remembers Wu Ji never came back. Yeah. So he goes to King Wen, expresses his concerns, and this is where we get this really fascinating contrast in foresight. Yeah. Different kinds of wisdom, maybe. Yes. This brings us back to King Wen. He's famous for his skill in On Tian Shu, innate calculation. Innate calculation. Yeah, and he uses En Qian, divination coins. It's not just simple fortune-telling. Huang Shi's complex. Cosmic numerology, discerning patterns, probabilities. A powerful, almost scientific way of understanding the universe's flow. Okay, so different from Xia's magic. Very different. Xia's is direct intervention. King Wen's is more about reading the existing patterns. It makes you wonder, why would one oracle's vision, even King Wen's, be so different from what actually happened, what we know happened? So King Wen does his divination thing, expects to find out where Wu Ji is. Mm-hmm. In his reading. It's definitive, but totally wrong and kind of tragic from his perspective. He concludes, Wu Ji, terrified of punishment, threw himself into a 10,000-fathom-deep abyss. Oof. He thinks Wu Ji killed himself. Yeah. And King Wen feels really bad about it. Expresses pity, thinks the death was unnecessary since the crime was accidental. But we know better. We know the truth. So what does this dramatic irony tell us? About fate, about wisdom, about maybe the limits of even really advanced foresight? Well, the dramatic irony here is incredibly powerful, isn't it? You, the listener, you know Wu Ji's alive, training for greatness. But King Wen, this powerful ruler, renowned diviner, is completely mistaken. It beautifully shows the limits of human foresight, even extraordinary foresight. Maybe King Wen's Oten is brilliant at reading patterns within a certain framework, a predictable universe. Okay. But Jiang Ziya, he seems to operate on another level. Maybe divine intervention, maybe just directly manipulating fate in a way that breaks those predictable patterns. It's not that King Wen's skill is wrong in its own sphere, perhaps, but it just can't see or account for forces outside that sphere. Makes you think, right, are there always hidden variables, our best tools, our deepest insights? Just miss. Hmm. Fascinating point. Okay, scene shifts again. More peaceful this time. About six months after King Wen's mistaken divination, King Wen and his court are out enjoying spring. Ay! Junkan takui, seeking green, shredding emeralds. Sounds lovely. Yeah, nice imagery. Out in the southern suburbs, the poem in the source really paints a picture. Peach red like fire, willow soft as gold, birds singing, people working, shepherds, farmers, tea pickers, everyone just enjoying the rich spring. A moment of peace. And the poem adds that reminder, you'll track an inch of time as an inch of gold. Don't waste spring's beauty. It's a lovely contrast to the chaos Xia described, isn't it? Highlights the value of peace, even with rebellion brewing. And that proverb, it's not just about beauty, but about using time wisely. Even leisure can have purpose when big changes are coming. And right then, in that reflective mood, Sanyu Shang, always the clever advisor, skillfully brings up an older prophecy. Ah, yes. The one linked to building the Lingtai, the spirit terrace. That's the one. Yeah. And King Wen's dream about a flying bear. Right. Which foretold the arrival of a gay tea, Dongbianjikai, a pillar of talent for Zhiki. This isn't just small talk, is it? He's connecting leisure to destiny, reminding the king of his bigger purpose. Exactly. Masterful move. Because that flying bear prophecy, it's a huge foreshadowing of Jiang Ziya himself. The very sage training Wuji right now. Oh, okay. Sanyu Shang's genius is using this calm moment to subtly shift King Wen's focus. Not just enjoying spring, but actively seeking the wisdom and talent Zhiki needs. He's reminding the king, even in peace, prepare. Especially when cosmic signs point the way. And King Wen jumps right on it. Enthusiastic. He sees the outing now as more than just fun. It's a chance to visit reclusive sages out in the mountains and marshes. Mm-hmm. Actively searching. He even compares himself to the ancient sage kings Yao and Xun, who enjoyed life with the people, but were also governing wisely. What does that tell us about his leadership? What kind of leader is truly enlightened, according to this story? Well, it paints a picture of enlightened leadership as being proactive, right? Not just ruling from on high, but actively seeking out wisdom, talent, often in unexpected places outside the usual court circles. King Wen gets that true strength comes from diverse minds. Comparing himself to Yao and Xun shows his commitment both to his people's well-being and to strategically finding talent for the future. It's a quest for the intellectual and strategic resources needed for what's coming. A leader who knows the future isn't just decreed, it's discovered. General Nan has set up this massive oh, this hunting ground. Right, the White Chang. And the description is vivid, of fierce flags like fire, retainers in brocade clothes and embroidered jackets chasing eagles. Sounds quite spectacular. It is. Yellow eagles flying, biting down jade swans, even evil dogs coming, dragging down plum blossom deer. It's intense. A whole spectacle meant to impress the king. A display of power, skill, all standard for a royal hunt back then. Hunting wasn't just sport, it was, well, military training, asserting dominance, that kind of thing. So it would have been completely normal, expected even, for King Wen to participate. Absolutely, part of the royal routine. So for him to refuse, that must have really stood out. A significant break from tradition. Yeah, instead of joining in, the text says he, huya, spoke with a serious face, almost sternly, to his official, yesheng. Wasn't pleased. Not at all. He immediately draws this contrast between the hunt and ancient wisdom, specifically mentioning Emperor Fuxi. Ah, Fuxi. Going way back. Right, Fuxi, who lived in primitive times with hardly any grain, still refused to eat raw meat. Even with scarcity all around him. King Wen quotes him, My desire is for them to live, how can I bear to let them die? He says Fuxi believed in preserving life to nourish harmony with heaven. Beauty, that's a powerful concept. It really is. Think about it, in a time of scarcity, Fuxi chose compassion. And King Wen uses this, doesn't he? He's essentially saying, if Fuxi could do that then, exactly, how much more should they show compassion now, when, as he puts it, the five grains can sustain life and rich flavors are sufficient to please the mouth. It's a strong argument. He's linking his own decision directly to this revered ancient sage. It elevates it beyond just personal taste. It feels like he's grounding his rule in something deeper than just power. Precisely. He's framing good governance through the lens of compassion and harmony with nature, directly invoking Fuxi's example. It suggests his idea of the mandate of heaven might be tied to, well, ecological balance almost, not just ruling people. That's quite a thought for that era. So how would that have gone down, this kind of radical stance against a royal pastime? Was he an outlier? Oh, it would definitely have marked him out. Compassion was a virtue, sure, but the day-to-day realities of kingship often took priority. By bringing Fuxi into it, King Wen makes it a philosophical principle, not just a preference. He calls the hunt a savage policy, right? Yes. Especially in spring. He points out that spring is the time when all things giving birth and growing, the season of life. Exactly. So to engage in widespread killing then, he says it's painful to benevolent people. His actions show he believes a ruler's behavior, even their leisure, affects the whole kingdom's harmony, maybe even its cosmic balance. He doesn't just complain. His command is immediate. General Nan, dismantle this hunting ground. Now. Decisive action based on principle. So the hunt is called off. King Wen and his officials carry on enjoying the peaceful scenery now. They see coming and going scholars and ladies, and there's this feeling of contentment. That the ruler is righteous, the ministers are wise, and the people are joyful. A sense of order restored. But then, the mood changes. They hear a song. And this is crucial. The focus shifts. After establishing King Wen's morality, the story shows wisdom appearing in unexpected places. Not from the court, but from ordinary people. It tells you where he looks for truth. Exactly, his perception. So the first song comes from Fisherman, and it's heavy stuff. Not just a sea shanty, it's remembering King Tang fighting the corrupt King Ji. A historical echo. The lyrics are grim. Meat hanging like forests, winemaking pools, deer terraces piled with blood. It paints this picture of terrible excess and suffering. Vivid imagery. Yeah, and the four seas boiling with groans. Just awful tyranny. Shah, the suffering of the people. But the line that grabs King Wen is A very potent line. Instantly, he thinks, there must be a great sage nearby. He senses it in the song's quality. It's pure and unique character. He hears something profound behind the simple tune. But the fishermen, they just say, oh, us, we're just idle people, not sages. Humble deflection. Then they mention they learned the song from an old man over at Banak, about 35 kilometers away. And there it is. The first clue. Banky. And note King Wen's discernment. He hears the potential for wisdom, even if the singers deny it. That phrase, washing years, resonates deeply with him. He knows it's not just a random phrase. He actually explains the backstory to Yusheng. Ah, the story of Yao and Shuyu. That's the one. Emperor Yao wanted to abdicate, find someone truly virtuous. He finds this guy by a stream, totally content, wants nothing to do with fame, power, possessions. A true hermit, detached from worldly concerns. So Yao offers him the throne. And the man's reaction. He smashes his gourd, covers his ears, and runs to the stream to wash them. Declaring the offer itself had defiled him. Yeah. Such a dramatic rejection of power. It gets better. Another guy comes along to water his ox, hears the story, and leads his ox upstream so it won't drink the polluted water. Huh. That's fantastic. It really drives the point home. This isn't just some quaint folktale. It's a foundational story about ultimate integrity in Chinese thought. Total detachment from power. Exactly. It shows that for King Wen, true wisdom might be found far from the palace among those who deliberately shun ambition. It's about purity, rejecting corruption in any form. Okay, so that sets the stage. Later, they hear another song. This time from woodcutters. The pattern continues. Their song talks about phoenixes and Quinlan signs of good fortune. But laments that good governance isn't guaranteed. It praises famous recluses who became great ministers. Like Yi Yin and Fu Yu. Figures who emerged from obscurity to serve enlightened rulers. Ye Yin, who farmed in Xinya, served King Tang. Fu Yu, who worked in Fuyuan, advised King Gaozong. Historical precedence for finding wisdom in unexpected places. And the song ends with this hopeful note. Looking up at the sky and laughing. Awaiting an enlightened ruler. A clear signal. And guess where they learn the song? Let me guess. Bangsa. Bingo. From an old man at Bangsa, but this time they say it's only ten li away. And he fishes there. The trail's getting warmer. 35 li, now 10 li. These aren't accidents. It feels like breadcrumbs, doesn't it? Absolutely deliberate narrative clues. The geography narrows, the songs become more specific, focusing on finding a hidden sage to help a good king. It's guiding King Wen, and guiding us as listeners, towards this meeting. The universe is practically pointing him there. So King Wen presses on. And then, one final song. A man carrying firewood this time. The final piece of the puzzle. Seems like it. The song goes, Spring waters flow, spring grass is wondrous, a golden fish, yet undiscovered, hides in banks. Now, the hidden treasure metaphor. The world knows not the high sage's ambition, only sees an old man fishing by the stream. Perfect. Unrecognized value. King Wen is deeply moved. He cries out, Amazing! There must be a great sage right here. He knows he's close now. The imagery is undeniable. But then a twist. Yisheng, his official, recognizes the singer. Oh, who is it? It's Wuji. A man who accidentally killed a royal minister ages ago. King Wen had done a divination back then and thought Wuji was dead. What? So the divination was wrong? That's what King Wen thinks. He's furious at first, calls Wuji cunning and rebellious, demands to know how he's still alive if the divination said otherwise. A challenge to the king's own perceived abilities. But Wuji breaks down, crying. He explains everything. Yes, he accidentally killed the minister, but then he sought advice from an old man living just three lights away at Banshee. Banshee, of course. It all comes together. And now, finally, Wuji reveals the old man's name, Zhang Sheng, courtesy name Ziya, Taoist name Faxiang. Zhang Ziya Faxiang. Flying bear. This is it. And Wuji explains how Ziya saved him. Ziya's advice was totally unorthodox. I can't imagine. He told Wuji to dig a pit, lie inside, cover yourself with grass, put a lamp at your head and feet, scatter rice, and sleep till dawn, then just go back to chopping wood. It was this incredibly clever way to fake his death and avoid the punishment predicted by the divination. Ingenious. A trickster sage. It preserved Wuji's life while seemingly fulfilling the prophecy of his demise. That is remarkable thinking. And then Yu Sheng has the big aha moment. He connects the dots. The name Faxiang. Exactly. The Taoist name, Faxiang, meaning flying bear. Yu Sheng reminds King Wen of the famous prophecy. Just as King Gaozong of Shang dreamed of a flying bear and found his wise minister, Fu Yu. Today, you, King Wen, have met Faxiang, which points directly to Ziya. It's the proof. Jiang Ziya is the destined sage. Destiny revealed. It's a fantastic narrative weave. The songs weren't just background noise. They were divinely inspired clues. Wuji wasn't just some random encounter. He was the key. And the prophecy provides the ultimate confirmation. It really shows how destiny and sort of active searching work together. Absolutely. King Wen wasn't just passively waiting. His moral choices, his refusal to hunt, his ability to listen to the common people, his understanding of history and myth, it all put him in the right place. With the right mindset to recognize the signs when they appeared. He was prepared to find Ziya. So looking back, it all connects. The king who rejects violence out of compassion. Who understands the deep meaning in old stories about rejecting power. The washing ears story. Who follows the trail of folk songs. And even recognizes wisdom behind a man faking his own death. Yeah. He was all leading here. A journey paved with moral clarity and keen discernment. It's this beautiful tapestry of morality, folklore, prophecy, destiny, all converging on this one crucial meeting. Perfectly put. And King Wen's reaction now. Pure respect. He immediately pardons Wuji, understanding the bigger picture. Understand Ziya's cleverness saved Wuji. And he sends Wuji to invite Jiang Ziya. But he doesn't just wait in his chariot. No, that wouldn't be right. Not for meeting a sage. He and his officials get down a few airs distance away and walk. They approach the forest on foot. A powerful gesture of humility. The king humbling himself before wisdom. It shows profound respect for what Ziya represents. King Wen finally gets to the Wei River. He's been searching. He's heard about this wise man. What does he actually find when he arrives? Well, right away there's a problem. A challenge. He'd sent his servant, Wuji, ahead, remember? Right. Wuji went into the forest, looked around, couldn't find the master. So when King Wen shows up and asks, is the troll the worthy scholar here? Wuji just says, basically, he was just here, now he's gone. Oof. Just missed him. Exactly. It says this immediate tone, like, this guy is elusive. Maybe deliberately so. So the king's standing there, looking at an empty spot by the river. That takes some patience. I mean, a lot of leaders might just... Move on? Yeah. Probably. But King Wen doesn't. He asks, okay, does the scholar have, like, another place? A home? And he does. He does. Wuji leads the king to this thatched hut nearby. Yeah. King Wen approaches very respectfully, you know, doesn't want to barge in. Very careful. Yeah. A young child comes to the door. King Wen puts on a smile, asks very politely if the teacher is in, and the kid's reply is just, well, it's perfect. What does he say? He's not here. He went for a stroll with a fellow Taoist. A stroll? Just casually out for a walk while the king is waiting? What's the implication there? Is Jiang Ziya playing hard to get, or is he genuinely just detached? That's the big question, isn't it? And it gets deeper. King Wen asks, okay, when will he be back? Yeah, like, roughly. An hour. Tomorrow. The child says, it's uncertain. Maybe soon. Maybe a day or two. Maybe three to five days. He describes him like floating duckweed. Just drifting. Wow. Encountering mountains and rivers, masters or friends. And then he talks about metaphysics and the weight. So there's no fixed time. It paints him as this complete recluse. Totally outside the normal world of schedules and appointments. You can almost feel King Wen's, like, mounting frustration there, can't you? Yeah. But then Sanyi Sheng, one of his ministers, steps in with some advice. Yes, and this is absolutely crucial. Sanyi Sheng tells the king, look, seeking a worthy and distinguished person demands utmost sincerity. Utmost sincerity. And he backs it up. He cites these ancient examples. Shenong honoring Changsang, Xuanyuan honoring Laopeng, Huangdi and Fenghao, Tang and Yiyin. Really prestigious precedents. So he's saying there's a proper way to do this. Exactly. He advises the king directly. You need to bathe and fast, choose an auspicious day, and then respectfully invite him. He basically says this current visit, while, you know, the intention is good, it lacks the real ni, the true deep sincerity. Ah, the di. So that's why the sage is still elusive, according to Sanyi Sheng. That's the interpretation. It's not just about wanting him. It's about demonstrating the depth of that respect and need through ritual and preparation. That's... That's a powerful point. Even for a king, sincerity isn't just a feeling. It's gotta be visible. Demonstrable. Like an investment. That feels very relevant, even today. It really does. And king when? He feels it. The text says he's young, kinda depressed, unhappy that he didn't get to see the, ah yeah, the old fisherman. He even writes poetry about it. He does. Lamenting the empty trip, but linking it directly to his people's suffering. Like, this time I didn't see the old man. How many more days will the people suffer? It shows his drive isn't just personal ambition. It's tied to his duty as a ruler. So his concern for the people is really fueling this surge. Deeply. He actually doesn't want to leave, but Sanyi Sheng convinces him, go back to court, prepare properly, do this the right way. Okay, so Qiwen returns to Westaya. Maybe a bit down, as you said, but definitely not giving up. He issues this decree. All officials, fast for three days, stay in the palace, get ready. Big preparations. But not everyone's convinced, are they? There's some pushback. No, and this is where you see that classic clash of perspectives you get in any leadership team, right? General Lan Gongxi speaks up. The general. Okay, what's his issue? He's basically saying, hold on, this fishing old man of Pangxi, were we sure he's the real deal? Maybe it's just an empty name, just hype. Doubting the source, essentially. Yeah, and he thinks this grand ceremony, all the fasting, it might be a waste of the king's sincerity. It could make them look foolish if this guy turns out to be nothing special. A waste of sincerity. That's pretty blunt, coming from a general to his king. So what does he suggest instead? Just forget the ceremony. He proposes something much more, well, pragmatic, or maybe cynical. He says, look, let me go get him, I'll fetch the old man. If he's really as good as they say, then you can do the whole grand ceremony thing. If not, if he's just an empty name. He could be basically told off and dismissed. Scolded and dismissed. Wow. He sees the king's fasting as totally unnecessary, then. Completely. Just cut to the chase, test the goods first. But Sanye Shing, the minister who advised sincerity, he's not having any of that, I bet. Absolutely not. The text says he he sternly proclaims, general, that is not the way to achieve great things. He tells them off. Pretty much. He lays it out. The world's in chaos. Good people, worthy people, are hiding, they're in seclusion, they aren't out there advertising themselves. Good point. And then he brings up the Suhu, the flying bear omen. Ah, yes, the flying bear omen. Can you remind us what that was about? It sounds important. It was hugely significant. It's believed King Wen had a dream where he received some kind of prophecy about a figure associated with a bear, sometimes interpreted as a winged bear or a flying bear. Yeah. This was taken as a divine sign. A sign from heaven, basically. Exactly. That a great sage destined to help him was out there. So finding this sage wasn't just smart politics for Sanya Sheng, it was fulfilling destiny. It was the great fortune of Wes Kee, a blessing. So Sanya Sheng is really framing this in terms of tradition, divine will. Much bigger than just recruitment. Precisely. He tells Nangong Shi they need to Xi Ji Yi Yi A Xie. Learn from the ancients in seeking sages. Break free from these restrictive, perhaps overly pragmatic habits. Don't be so modern and cynical about it. Right. He warns against expecting a sage to basically sell himself, like he's applying for a job. That's not how wisdom works, according to this tradition. And he warns that kind of talk could make all the officials slack off, lose their reverence. Powerful stuff. So how does King Wen react to this debate? Does he side with the pragmatist general or the traditionalist minister? He's absolutely delighted with Sanya Sheng. He says his words, Yi Xie, they exactly match his own intentions. So conviction holds. It does. Despite the skepticism from someone like Nangong Shi, the plan goes ahead. The hundred officials do the three-day fast in the palace. The stage is set for a truly respectful, sincere invitation. And the chapter even underlines this, right, with the poem. Yeah, there's a poem right there predicting the Yu Dynasty's future 800 years of rule. It directly links this act, this specific, sincere effort to find the sage to the entire future success of the dynasty. It raises the stakes incredibly high. Okay, so the three days of fasting are done. It's day four. King Wen gets ready. How does he prepare this time? Meticulously. He bathes, dresses carefully with extreme sincerity. It's presented as much more than just getting dressed. It's a ritual act, almost spiritual. And the journey back to the river. Is it low-key this time? Oh, not at all. The scale of the procession is kind of mind-blowing. King Wen himself is in the royal carriage carrying these elaborate K-formal recruitment gifts, almost like a betrothal offering. Wow. The whole army is turned out. There are musicians de-suit pipes and reeds filling the road. The atmosphere is described as festive, almost divine yuwen, like cranes crying and phoenixes singing. Drums thunder. That sounds, yeah, like a full-blown parade, not just a delegation. It absolutely is. The text says it's sin-shu-di! It startles everyone. People come out, bring the old folks, leading the kids, just to watch this totally unprecedented event. The king going to welcome a hermit sage. It must have been an incredible sight. Yeah, the description's full of detail. Colorful banners, weapons gleaming, civil officials in their robes, military officers in armor. All the big names are there. Mao Geng-shui, Xu Geng-dan, Xiao Geng-shi, Bi Geng-rong, the eight juns, or talents. The whole court is basically involved. A massive display of respect and seriousness. What about Wuji, the servant who first led the king there? Ah, good point. King Wen doesn't forget him. Recognizing his initial service, even though he couldn't find Jiang Ziya the first time, the king appoints him General of Martial Virtue right there on the spot. Nice touch. Shows the king values loyalty and effort. Exactly. It shows he's paying attention even amidst all this grandeur. So they travel the 35 nights, about 17, 18 kilometers, and get back to the forest near the stream. Does King Wen maintain his humility now, arriving with this huge entourage? He absolutely does. It's quite striking. He orders his soldiers, Fulunning. Meaning? Basically, camp outside the forest for now. Keep quiet. Don't make a racket. We don't want to startle the worthy scholar. Even with the whole army there, he's worried about disturbing one man. Yes. And then he gets out of his carriage and walks into the forest, just with San Yixing. That contrast, the huge procession waiting outside, the king walking humbly into the woods, is really powerful. And there he is, Zhang Ziya. There he is, sitting by the stream again. His back is to the king. Okay, what happens now? Does Zhang Ziya just ignore him? Not quite. The text says Zhang Ziya knows the king has arrived, and he intentionally starts singing a song. Singing? Like, just bursts into song? Yeah. And the lyrics are very pointed. Something like, Five phoenixes cry, a true lord appears. I cast my life, knowing few recognize me. Whoa. So he's acknowledging the king's arrival, but also asserting his own unique wisdom. Testing him, maybe? It feels like a bit of both, doesn't it? Yeah. A subtle test, an acknowledgement. Maybe setting the terms of the encounter. How does King Wen handle that? After all the fasting, the parade, does he get impatient now? Like, okay, enough with the songs. Not at all. He keeps his composure, his respect. He just asks, Yan, what do you want? Which means, are you happy, worthy scholar? A simple, respectful question. And Zhang Ziya? He turns around, sees the king, and immediately drops his fishing rod, prostrates himself on the ground, apologizes for not greeting him properly. Okay, so he shows deference, too. Yes. But then King Wen instantly helps him up and bows himself, saying how much he admires him, and explicitly acknowledges his own lack of sincerity on the first visit. Wow. So the king apologizes to the hermit. It's this incredible moment of mutual humility. Really striking. But then Zhang Ziya immediately downplays himself again, calls himself, like, I'm just an old, worn-out, untalented guy, not fit to advise you. Oh, come on. Another layer of humility or maybe false modesty. It feels like he's still testing King Wen's resolve, making sure the king really wants him. It certainly seems that way. He's not making it easy. But, Sanyi Sheng steps in again here. Okay, Sanyi Sheng's turn. What does he do? This time, his job isn't just advising the king, it's persuading Zhang Ziya directly. And he does it powerfully. He paints this really stark picture of the world chaos, corruption, under the current emperor. The bad emperor, Zhou of Shang. Exactly. And he contrasts that with King Wen, who's losing sleep, worrying constantly about the suffering people. So he's appealing to Zhang Ziya's sense of duty. Yes. He basically implores him, come out of retirement, use your amazing strategies, to save everyone. He calls it an act of benefit, like unparalleled benevolence. A unique chance to do immense good. And the gifts. The fancy recruitment presents King Wen brought. Sanyi Sheng presents them, lays them out. And Zhang Ziya, he tells his young attendant, the child from the hut, to accept them. Ah, that's the signal then. That's the signal. It's subtle, but clear. By having the gifts accepted, he's accepting the offer. The deal is effectively done. Okay, fantastic. The sage is recruited, mission accomplished, they can all go back to West Quy now, right? Oh, almost. There's one more fascinating little hurdle. It involves the royal carriage. The carriage King Wen arrived in. What's the issue? This is such a great detail about ancient protocol and, again, humility. Sanyi Sheng tries to usher Zhang Ziya into the fancy royal carriage. Standard procedure, you'd think, for an honored guest. Makes sense. But Zhang Ziya kneels down again, flat out refuses. He says, meaning, how could I possibly dare to ride in the royal carriage? That would be overstepping my status and position. Overstepping my status. So, even though the king is offering it as an honor, Zhang Ziya sees it as improper, a violation of hierarchy. Exactly that. It wasn't just being polite. In that society, with its very strict ideas about rank and status, riding in the king's personal carriage when you weren't, well, the king, or equivalent royalty, could be seen as a serious breach of etiquette, a transgression, even if the king intended it kindly. Wow. So it highlights how deeply ingrained those social rules were. Deeply. Zhang Ziya is adamant he will not get in that carriage. But King Wen brought it specifically for him, right? As a symbol of honor. Yes. King Wen insists. He says, look, I arranged this beforehand to welcome you. You must ride in it. Please, fulfill my earnest wish, my sincere intention. So there's a bit of a standoff. Polite, but firm. A definite back and forth. Yeah. Zhang Ziya keeps refusing. King Wen keeps insisting. How do they resolve this? Someone has to give. Sandy Sheng steps in again. He sees Zhang Ziya is absolutely firm on this point of propriety. So he suggests a clever compromise to the king. Okay, what's the solution? He says, basically, all right, since the master sage won't ride in the royal carriage, maybe your majesty could allow him to ride your, your personal leisure horse. The king's own horse. Yeah. Well, the king himself rides in the royal carriage as planned. And does King Wen agree to that? I mean, letting the new guy ride his personal horse while he takes the carriage, that still feels like a big gesture of respect. After a bit more polite discussion, you know, making sure everyone's comfortable, King Wen agrees. So that's how they do it. King Wen in the carriage, Zhang Ziya on the king's horse. That's how they do it. And the text says, this resolution is met with you. Cheers fill the roads. Soldiers and horses are all in high spirits. Everyone's happy. It's a really powerful symbol, isn't it? Mutual respect. And King Wen's willingness to adapt, to bend protocol, to secure this vital person. Absolutely. He prioritized getting the sage over, sticking rigidly to his original plan for honoring him. Flexibility and leadership. And it's mentioned here, Zhang Ziya is nearly 80 years old at this point. Yeah. Which is just incredible. What's the significance of highlighting his age right then? It kind of changes how you picture a new recruit, doesn't it? It really does. It completely demolishes any idea that opportunity or great contribution has an age limit. Wisdom can arrive late in life. And the text emphasizes this with another description of him. Another poem? Sort of, yeah. Describing him. A fishing rod at the head of the Wei River. White temples like two clouds. It talks about his wisdom. His chest holds stars reaching the sky. His spirit exhales rainbows sweeping away the cold sun. Wow, that's quite an image for an 80-year-old. It's powerful. Deep inner wisdom. Immense capability despite his age. And significantly, this description immediately links his recruitment to the future of the dynasty. The Shuba. The 800 years of peace and stability the Zhou dynasty is destined to have. So his arrival is literally the key to that future. That's exactly how the narrative frames it. His role is absolutely crucial from this moment on. So the procession finally heads back to West Quay. How's the reception there? Huge excitement. 10,000 people are jostling to get a look and everyone is joyful. They understand the significance. Jiang Ziya gets off the horse at the palace gate. And then, straight to work. Pretty much. King Wen gets on the throne. Jiang Ziya pays his formal respects. And King Wen doesn't hesitate. He immediately appoints him treasurer. Right, prime minister of Lingtai. Right, prime minister. That's a top job. An incredibly high-ranking, powerful position. No messing around. No probation period. He's immediately integrated at the very top level of government. So, the king's sincerity is matched by immediate trust and empowerment. Exactly. And what's the immediate impact? Does Jiang Ziya, you know, live up to the hype after all of that? Oh, absolutely. The text is clear. Wu, Yu, meaning. At that time, the ruler had his assistant. The dragon had his tiger to rely on. A perfect partnership. And Jiang Ziya gets straight to it. He immediately shows his skill. Wu, he had methods for governing, laws for bringing peace to the people. Everything became orderly, systematic. They even built him an official prime minister's residence in West Chi right away. instant positive transformation. Things started running better immediately. That's the picture painted. An immediate and beneficial impact on the administration and the state of West Chi. And presumably, this news didn't just stay within West Chi's borders, right? This would be major political news. Definitely not. The text specifically mentions that EU reports quickly reached the five passes, these strategic border crossings. Ah, so the neighbors and potentially enemies heard about it quickly. Yes. Han Rong, the general commanding Sichui Pass, sends a formal report, a memorial, straight to the Shang court in Zhaoge. Reporting what? Reporting that Xian Sheng, that's Jiang Ziya, is now assisting Zhao, is now Zhu's prime minister. So the Shang dynasty now officially knows that their vassal state, Zhou, just recruited this legendary sage. Exactly. It puts the Shang rulers on notice. It signals a shift in power dynamics. And it really sets the stage for all the conflict that's going to unfold later in the novel, leading to the eventual overthrow of the Shang. This recruitment is the spark.