Gods 022: Flying Bear

Ji Chang undertakes a monumental construction project of his own and dreams about airborne mythical creatures.

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Transcript

Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 22 of Investiture of the Gods. 

Last time, Ji Chang, the Grand Duke of the West, finally made it back to his home state of Zhou (1), and his top two officials — the minister San (4) Yisheng (2,1) and the general Nan (2) Gongkuo (1,4) — immediately began clamoring for marching back east to overthrow the debauched Shang king. But Ji Chang was most displeased at that advice.

“Sirs, I took you to be loyal and honorable men, on whom our state depends for its safety,” he chided them. “And yet, today you have uttered such disloyal words. How dare you mention vengeance when you have placed yourselves in a most indefensible position? The king is the head of all the realm. Even if he does something wrong, his vassals should not dare to say anything, much less correct him. Just as a son would not dare to correct his father. As the saying goes, ‘If the king wants a vassal dead, the vassal dares not live. If a father wants his son dead, the son dares not disobey.’ Whether you are someone’s son or vassal, you must put loyalty and filial piety above all else. I was imprisoned because I admonished the king. Even though I suffered for seven years, it was my own fault. How would I dare to hold a grudge against the king? As the old saying goes, ‘A gentleman does not shrink from calamity, but rather follows the will of heaven.’ Now, I have received his majesty’s kindness in being promoted and being allowed to return home. I should pray day and night for all the strife in the land to cease and for all the civilians to tend to their professions diligently. That is the duty of a vassal. You two must not push this misguided idea. This is not befitting a benevolent gentleman.”

But General Nan Gongkuo was flabbergasted. Dude, were you not puking up rabbits just a few days ago? “You should be ridding the realm of this unjust king. It would be in accordance with the hearts of the people,” he told Ji Chang.

“You are mistaken,” Ji Chang said. “My son brought his own death upon himself. When I left for the capital, I told all my sons and officials that I was destined for seven years of suffering, that you must not send a single person to come see me, and that after seven years, I would return in honor. But Bo Yikao disobeyed my instructions and was prideful. He placed his own filial piety above all else rather than follow my command. He also couldn’t adjust to the circumstances. He was short on virtue and talent, and stubbornly went against heaven’s will. That’s why he suffered his horrible fate. Right now, I shall obey the laws and my lord. I will not act rashly and will instead fulfill my duty as a vassal. If his majesty is acting perversely, that’s for the nobles of the land to criticize. There’s no need for you two to take the lead in this misguided course toward self-destruction. As the old saying goes, ‘Among the five relations, the one between lord and vassal is the most important. Among all the conducts, loyalty, filial piety, and honor come first.’ Now that I’m home, I must lead by example and focus on people’s material well-being. If our civilians remain content, then you and I can enjoy peace. We would not have to hear the sounds of battle, wage campaigns, suffer hardship in the saddle, or be troubled by thoughts of victory and defeat. My wish is for our soldiers to not have to don their armor, and for our civilians to not be afflicted by fear. That would be good fortune and happiness. There’s no need to burden the people or empty our treasury.”

Nan Gongkuo and San Yisheng now bowed and thanked Ji Chang for showing them the light. Personally, I think they just got tired of these long-winded lectures and relented. In any case, Ji Chang now moved on to the next order of business.

“I’m thinking about building a terrace to the south of the city; it would be called the Spiritual Terrace,” he told his officials. “But I’m worried about it being a burden on the people. On the other hand, it would be used to foretell the future.”

San Yisheng told him, “My lord, since this terrace would be used to foretell the future, it would be in service of our people, not for your own amusement. So how could it be a burden? And you are so compassionate and loving toward  your subjects, that they all feel your kindness. If you post an announcement, all our people will happily flock to your call. It would be fine as long as you don’t take their labor for granted, pay them for their work, and allow them to come and go as they please. And the people of our land would gain a means to know the future. How can they not rejoice?”

That was satisfactorily reaffirming for Ji Chang, so he proceeded to post announcements at all the gates of his capital. It said:

“The Grand Duke of the West wishes to make this known to his people: The region of Western Qi is a land of virtue. There is no disturbance of war here. Our people are peaceful and prosperous. There are few disputes, and our officials are just. Even though I was imprisoned in Youli (2,3), thanks to the king’s benevolence, I was allowed to come home. But our land has been prone to droughts and floods. I recently noticed a piece of government land to the west of the city. I wish to construct a terrace there. It would be called the Spiritual Terrace and would be used to predict natural disasters. But I worry about burdening the people. So I will offer a daily stipend, and no one will be held to a specific length of service. You may come and go as you wish. If you are willing to contribute to this work, please put your name forward. If you are not willing, just go on about your business. No one will pressure you. Think it through, and spread the word.”

And of course, with the way the story is painting Ji Chang as this wise, benevolent-to-a-fault sage lord, it naturally followed that all his subjects were eager to make his dream of a fortune-telling terrace come true. Apparently when they saw the notice, they all said as one, “Our lord’s kindness and virtue are immense and beyond repayment. The peace and prosperity we enjoy are all bestowed by him. Today he wants to build a Spiritual Terrace and is even offering to pay us to build it. Even if our innards were scattered across the ground, we would willingly help him. And this project is for our sake, so how can we accept his lordship’s money?”

 So all the people happily signed up to contribute their labor. San Yisheng reported to Ji Chang that the civilians were on board, so he should start handing out silver and get the construction underway. As soon as they broke ground on the project, all the people worked diligently to help construct the terrace. Within 10 months, the work was finished, and it was indeed an impressive terrace. 

Ji Chang now ascended the terrace with his officials for inspection. After looking all around, Ji Chang simply remained silent. San Yisheng noticed this and asked him why he didn’t seem happy even though the construction was done. 

“Oh it’s not that I’m unhappy; the terrace is terrific,” Ji Chang said. “But from a geomancy standpoint, it’s missing a pool at its foot. I was thinking about building a pool, but I’m worried that it would further burden the people.”

But San Yisheng said, “A project as immense as this terrace was completed in no time, so what’s a little pool?”

So, he promptly passed along a decree that Ji Chang would like to have a pool dug by the base of the terrace. Word had barely gone out when all the civilians shouted, “What’s so hard about a little pool? There’s no need for our lord to trouble his mind!”

And before you knew it, everybody was running over with their tools and started digging. While they were digging, they unearthed a human skeleton. But hey, nothing must stand in the way of our benevolent lord’s pool. So the laborers simply tossed the skeleton aside and returned to their work. 

But when Ji Chang got word of this, he immediately ordered his men to collect the bones, put them all in a coffin, and buried the coffin on high ground.

“How can we allow these remains to be exposed for the sake of my pool?” he said. “This is my fault.”

When everyone heard what he had said, they all shouted, “Our lord is so benevolent toward even a skeleton, so imagine how good he is to us! His kindness to us is like the rain and the dew. He truly acts in accordance with the will of heaven. He is like a parent to the people of Western Qi!”

And so they worked on in their nauseatingly joyous state. By now, it was getting too late in the day for Ji Chang to return to his palace, so he just threw a feast on the terrace for his officials. After they celebrated to their hearts’ content, the officials slept at the base of the terrace while Ji Chang slept at the top on a makeshift bed.

Around midnight, Ji Chang suddenly heard a noise. He rose to see a ferocious white-faced tiger with two wings charging at him from the southeast. As the beast stormed into his tent, Ji Chang screamed for his attendants. At that very moment, he heard a loud noise from behind the terrace and saw a bright light shoot toward the heavens. And the next thing he knew, he was sitting straight up in bed, soaked through with sweat. From below, he heard the sound of drums signaling that it was midnight. It was just a dream.

The next morning, Ji Chang’s officials ascended the terrace to pay their respects. Ji Chang now recounted his dream to San Yisheng and asked him whether it was a good or bad omen. San Yisheng bowed and said, “My lord, this is a great omen! It means you are going to land a rare talent, one who will be a pillar of the state and rival the great ministers of old.”

“What makes you say that?” Ji Chang asked.

“The 23rd king of the Shang Dynasty once dreamed of a flying bear, and then he landed his legendary prime minister. That winged tiger in your dream is actually a bear. And the bright light behind the terrace portends future prosperity for your house.”

All the officials now offered their congratulations to Ji Chang in unison. Ji Chang then ordered the entourage to return to the palace. All the while, he couldn’t wait to start looking for this great talent that was supposed to be coming his way.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Ji Chang’s kingdom, by the shore of a stream, Jiang Ziya was living in seclusion, waiting for his destiny. While he waited, he recited Daoist scriptures and tried to understand their wisdoms. When he was bored, he fished while leaning against a willow tree. But all the while, he never forgot his master or the Dao. 

One day, while he was fishing, he sighed in lament about his current situation and composed a poem, which said:

Since I left Kunlun,

Eight years have passed.

I thrived for a time in the Shang capital,

But had to flee when I rebuked the king.

Coming to the Western land,

I fish at Panxi (2,1) Stream.

When shall I meet my true lord,

When will I see the sky again?

When he was done composing the poem, he sat down under the willow tree and watched the waters of the stream continue its timeless flow toward the East. As the old saying goes, “Everything past and present is transient. Only the green mountains and flowing rivers persist.”

Just as he was reflecting on this fortune cookie message, he heard a man coming near while singing. The song went:

Up the slopes and over the peaks,

The air rings with the sound of my axe.

I carry it with me all the time,

To slash down creepers in my way.

Down the cliff run wild hares,

Behind the hill young doves croon.

Over the treetops fly rare birds,

In the willows sing yellow orioles.

In pine, cypress, plum and peach trees,

A merry woodcutter I will stay!

 I won’t be a millionaire anyday.

Three pints of rice for a load of wood,

Vegetables galore, and wine that’s good.

The moon is my companion as I drink

Beneath the trees in the quietude

Of hills and valleys.

Exotic plants delight my heart,

A carefree life is all I want!

When this woodcutter came upon Jiang Ziya, he set down his load of firewood for a break and asked Jiang Ziya, “Elder, I see you fishing here a lot. You and I are like a story.”

“Oh, what story would that be?” Jiang Ziya asked.

“We are like that story, ‘The chat between fisherman and woodcutter.” Oh and by the way, that happens to be the title of a historical commentary presented in the form of a conversation between a fisherman and a woodcutter. Of course, it’s also an anachronistic reference, since that literary work wasn’t written until the Northern Song Dynasty, which would place it a good 2,000 years after the time of our story here.

In any case, the woodcutter now asked Jiang Ziya for his name and what brought him to this place. 

“My name is Jiang Ziya, and my Daoist moniker is Flying Bear,” Jiang Ziya said, which prompted a raucous laugh from his companion.

Jiang Ziya now asked the woodcutter for his name, and the woodcutter said, “My name is Wu (3) Ji (2). My family has lived in Western Qi for generations.”

“Why did you laugh when I said my name just now?” Jiang Ziya asked Wu (3) Ji (2).

“Because you called yourself Flying Bear.”

“Everyone has their name; what’s so funny about that?”

“Monikers are for ancients, sages, and great talents,” Wu Ji said. “But you? What have you done to deserve a moniker? That’s why I laughed. I often see you leaning against this willow tree and fishing. You have no other enterprise. You are like the man who sits waiting by a tree stump hoping that a rabbit would run into it and knock itself out. You don’t seem to have any great insights. How can you give yourself a moniker?”

As he spoke, Wu Ji pulled up the fishing line that Jiang Ziya had put into the water. He saw that at the end of the line was a straight needle, which made him laugh out loud again. He nodded toward Jiang Ziya and sighed, saying, “Wisdom cannot be measured by a man’s years; some live to a hundred and still don’t have any sense at all. Why aren’t you using a hook? Let me teach you a trick. Put this needle over a fire until it turns red. Then you bend it into a hook. Put bait on the hook, and attach a float to the line. When the fish swallows the bait, the float will move. That’ll tell you there’s fish. Then you jerk the line up. The hook will latch onto the fish’s lips. Only then can you catch something. That’s the way to fish. The way you’re going about it, you won’t catch a single fish in 100 years. You’re obviously not that bright, so how can you call yourself Flying Bear?”

“You only know part of the story,” Jiang Ziya said. “I may be dangling a line here, but my target is not the fish. I’m just killing time while waiting for my opportunity to attain lofty heights. How can I bend the needle to catch a fish? That’s not the action of a true man. I want to attain my goals by straightforward means, not crooked means. I’m not looking to catch a fish; I’m after a duke or a king.”

That made Wu Ji laugh even harder. “So you want to be a king or a duke?!” he roared with incredulity. “Look at yourself. You’re not king or duke material. You have the look of a monkey!”

But now, Jiang Ziya also chuckled and said, “You can mock my looks, but your looks aren’t great either.”

“Well, at least my looks are better than yours,” Wu Ji shot back. “I may be just a woodcutter, but I’m living a happier life than you. In spring I gaze at the peaches and apricots. In summer I enjoy the red lotus. In autumn I take in the yellow chrysanthemums. And in winter I feast my eyes on the plum flowers. Listen to this.”

He then recited a poem that said:

I sell my firewood on the long street;

Then I go home with wine for my mother and me.

I am content to cut wood for a living;

While I watch the world turn itself upside down.

But Jiang Ziya said, “That’s not how I see you. In my opinion, you have a bad look about you.”

“What do you mean?” Wu Ji asked.

“Your left eye is green, and your right eye is red. You are going to kill someone in town today.”

And that brought the conversation to a screeching halt. Wu Ji was highly offended. “I was just poking some fun with you; why must you speak so ill of me?!” he chided Jiang Ziya as he picked up his load of firewood and got back on his way.

Later that day, Wu Ji entered the capital city of Western Qi. He headed toward the south gate to sell his firewood. As luck would have it, Ji Chang was heading toward the Spiritual Terrace at the same time to cast a divination. As he and his officials made their way through the city, his guards shouted for all the civilians to make way. 

Wu Ji heard the guards and saw Ji Chang’s entourage approach, so he quickly turned to get out of their way. But the street was narrow and crowded, and as he switched his load of firewood from one shoulder to the other to make the turn, he unknowing swung his pole right into the face of a soldier who was guarding the gate. It smacked him so hard that the soldier instantly dropped dead.

“The woodcutter just killed a guard!” everyone immediately shouted. They quickly seized Wu Ji and brought him in front of Ji Chang, telling their lord that this woodcutter had killed a guard for some reason.

Ji Chang asked Wu Ji for his name and why he had killed the guard.

“My name is Wu Ji, and I am a law-abiding subject,” Wu Ji said. “I saw your lordship coming, so I tried to get out of the way. But the street was too narrow, and when I switched my load of firewood to the other shoulder, I accidentally struck the guard and killed him.”

Upon hearing this explanation, good ol’ benevolent Ji Chang handed down his ruling: “Since Wu Ji killed the guard, he should pay for it with his life.”

He then ordered his men to draw up a jail cell by the south gate to hold Wu Ji. And then he resumed his journey to the Spiritual Terrace, satisfied that justice had been done in his paradise.

So, when Ji Chang told his men to draw up a jail cell, he meant it literally. Instead of getting wood and building a cell, they simply drew the perimeter of a would-be cell and told Wu Ji to stand in it and not leave. And shockingly, that worked, and not just in this instance. While all the other corners of the realm had real prisons, in Ji Chang’s idyllic Western Qi, they did things a little differently. They just drew a box on the ground and told criminals they were to stay within that box. And the reason people didn’t simply walk off was because Ji Chang was so good at divination that if you fled, he would invariably figure out where you were hiding, and once you are caught again, your punishment would be doubled. So even the criminals abided by this policy.

Anyway, Wu Ji remained in his phantom penalty box for three days. As he … umm … languished in “jail”, he couldn’t help but think to himself, “My mother has no one else to take care of her. She must be worried sick over my whereabouts.”

That thought made him weep aloud, which soon drew a crowd. Apparently the people in this paradise on earth will always yield to each other on the streets, but they aren’t above gawking at someone else’s misery. 

At that moment, Ji Chang’s top minister San Yisheng happened to walk by and heard Wu Ji crying. So he asked Wu Ji, perhaps rather obtusely, “You are the guy who killed the guard a few days ago. Paying for a murder with your life is normal and just. Why are you crying?”

Wu Ji said between sobs, “I was befallen by bad luck and accidentally killed the guard. It is right that I should pay for his life with mine. How would I dare to weep about that? It’s just that I have a mother who is in her 70s. I have neither siblings nor a wife. My mother will surely starve to death on her own, and then her remains would be exposed to the elements. How pitiful would that be? She raised her son for nothing! When the son dies, the mother will perish as well. That’s why I was weeping. I didn’t mean to disturb you, minister; please forgive me.”

Hearing this, San Yisheng thought to himself, “Wu Ji only killed someone by accident, not in a fight. He doesn’t deserve death.”

So he now told Wu Ji, “No need to cry. Let me go see his lordship and convince him to let you go home and settle your mother’s care and your own burial arrangements. You can return after the fall to serve your sentence.”

Wu Ji kowtowed to San Yisheng to thank him. San Yisheng then went to see Ji Chang the next day and relayed Wu Ji’s conundrum. Ji Chang was moved, so he decreed in his benevolence that yes, Wu Ji can go home for a spell to take care of affairs at home, and then come back to be executed.

Once he was released from his … umm … cell, Wu Ji rushed home. There, he found his mother waiting outside their house for him. As soon as she saw him, she asked, “My son, what happened? Where have you been the last few days? I was restless at home. I was worried that you had been harmed by tigers or wolves in the mountains. I was so worried that I couldn’t eat or sleep. Only now do I feel relieved. Why did you disappear for the last few days?”

Wu Ji kneeled, wept, and recounted his travails in town, why he was released, and how he still has to go back to meet his death once he takes care of her future living arrangements. When she heard that, his mother grabbed hold of him, sobbed, and sighed toward heaven, “My son has been loyal and honest his whole life. He never picks on anyone and always takes care of his mother and stays in his place. How did he come to offend heaven and earth that such a calamity should befall him?! My child, if anything happens to you, then how can I live on?”

Wu Ji now told her about how some old idiot by the stream had told him he was destined to kill someone. “That old man’s words were truly toxic; so despicable!” he said.

“Wait, who is that old man?” his mother asked.

“His name was Jiang Ziya, and he called himself Flying Bear or something. When he told me his moniker, I laughed at him. That’s when he predicted that I would kill someone.”

“Could it be that he can tell the future?” his mother said. “My son, go beg that old man to save you. He must be a sage.”

So Wu Ji returned to the stream and found Jiang Ziya under the willow tree as usual, casting a line into the water and amusing himself by composing songs. Wu Ji walked up behind him and said respectfully, “Elder Jiang!”

Jiang Ziya turned, saw who it was, and said, “Ah, you were that woodcutter from a few days ago, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, did you kill someone that day?”

Wu Ji now fell to his knees, wept, and said, “I am a foolish man of the mountains. How can an idiotic oaf like me understand the deeper secrets of life? I was blind and did not realize that you were a sage living in seclusion. I offended you with my words that day. You are a big man with a big heart, not like me.. I hope you will forgive me and exercise your great compassion and save me! That day, after we parted, I went to the south gate and ran into the grand duke’s entourage. I was trying to get out of the way and accidentally hit a guard with my load and killed him. The grand duke sentenced me to death. Fortunately, Minister San Yisheng convinced his lordship to let me go home temporarily to get my old mother settled. But soon I will have to go meet my death. Then both my mother and I will be doomed. So I have come to beg you today to save us. I swear I will do everything I can to repay your great kindness!”

“It’s hard to dodge what’s preordained,” Jiang Ziya said. “You killed someone, so it’s right that you should pay with your life. How can I save you?”

Wu Ji now cried bitterly and pleaded, “Sir, please have pity. All living things deserve compassion. If you can save me and my mother, I will never forget it.”

To see if Jiang Ziya will save Wu Ji, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening!

Music in This Episode

• “Sao Meo” by Doug Maxwell / Zac Zinger
• “Dark Toys” by SYBS (from YouTube audio library)
• Eastminster by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution license (Source: http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/index.html?isrc=USUAN1100719; Artist: http://incompetech.com/)
• “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library)