Chapter 2571 - Divination

Now the Australians were treading the same path as the First Emperor. What made them so confident they wouldn't repeat his mistakes?

He Wuzhou cleared his throat. "When you examine it closely, this Baldy administration offers nothing new. It's simply Shang Yang's old methods dressed in fresh clothing. The Qin ruled through Legalism. Though they unified the Six States, their governance was brutal and the people could not endure. The dynasty collapsed after only two generations. Does the Australians' Senate not know this history? Even if they don't, surely you do, Mengliang. As their Consultative Councillor, have you not offered them counsel? Since ancient times, governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish—one must not stir too vigorously. These Baldies have implemented many good policies since entering Guangzhou, yet they act with excessive haste. Their governance is too fierce, too severe. This is hardly the path to lasting peace."

This sentiment was shared by many scholars familiar with the Senate. They recognized its governing capability, but none could shake their lingering doubts—the Qin dynasty's lesson cut too deep.

"I must disagree," Liu Dalin replied. "Qin fell not because of Qin law, but because the First Emperor and Second Emperor abused the people's labor without restraint." He continued, "Emperor Wu of Han was little different. Had it not been for the painstaking stewardship of Emperors Zhao and Xuan restoring what was lost, the Han might have collapsed long before Wang Mang ever had a chance to usurp the throne."

All present were men of deep learning, well-versed in classics, histories, philosophy, and literature, thoroughly familiar with the affairs of past ages. They were no pedantic scholars who knew only the Thirteen Classics. Though each held different views on the political successes and failures of successive dynasties, all agreed that the collapse of empires could ultimately be reduced to four words: the people cannot survive.

They felt the Great Ming was beginning down that same road. He Wuzhou had recently received multiple letters from classmates and relatives serving in the capital, all bearing the same warning: court deliberations had approved levying the "Qiong Surcharge" for three years and the "Suppression Surcharge" for one, with plans to appoint a military supervisor for a southern campaign. Each letter urged him to "make early preparations."

The gathered elder statesmen held little hope for the court's expedition. They had witnessed the Baldies' military strength and financial power firsthand—they knew it all too well. Whoever came to supervise the campaign, any hope of settling matters in a single battle was pure fantasy. Nine times out of ten, the army would stall north of the Five Ridges. A prolonged standoff like Liaodong would inevitably follow. Though the court promised "three years of Qiong Surcharge," it would likely continue indefinitely, just as the Liaodong Surcharge had.

"No, no!" Someone else joined the debate.

...

Liu Dalin had been arguing so long his mouth had gone dry. He knew that continuing this classical debate for seven days and seven nights would change nothing. At last he said, "Do my elder brothers remember? I passed my examination through the Book of Changes. Since you all believe the Ming dynasty's fortune remains unexhausted, why not divine by the Changes and ask Heaven itself? What say you?"

The art of divination had existed since antiquity. Courts throughout history maintained officials responsible for reading auspicious and inauspicious omens. The Jiajing Emperor had been devoted to cultivating immortality, making divination extremely popular during the Ming. Scholar-officials were hardly alone in this—even the Emperor himself, when driven to desperation, sought guidance from Heaven. Legend held that before hanging himself, Chongzhen had been psychologically shattered by Li Zicheng's strategist Song Xiance through divination. When Li Zicheng's army reached the capital, the restless Chongzhen and the eunuch Wang Chengen slipped from the palace to clear their minds. They encountered Song Xiance disguised as a fortune-teller. The distraught emperor wrote the character "you" [酉]. Song Xiance handed him a sealed slip of paper, saying these were heavenly secrets that could only be opened at midnight. Chongzhen returned to the palace and waited. At midnight he opened the slip. It read: "The Great Ming Son of Heaven was originally honored; but 'honored' [尊] with head and tail removed becomes 'you' [酉]. The realm hangs by a thread."

Lingnan customs were superstitious by nature, so these learned scholar-officials saw nothing improper in Liu Dalin's suggestion. Zhao Xunru asked, "There are various methods of divination: tortoise shell, yarrow stalks, copper coins, drawing lots. Which method do you propose?"

"Tortoise shells and yarrow stalks cannot be obtained quickly," Liu Dalin said. "Copper coins and lots are methods for country bumpkins. I shall use chess divination."

"What is chess divination?"

"Go pieces are black and white—the image of yin and yang. Thus, chess pieces may substitute for yarrow stalks."

Chen Zilü, as host, quickly sent for a go set.

Under everyone's gaze, Liu Dalin selected fifty exquisite jade pieces from the set and arranged them on the ox-bone board to begin his calculation.

With deliberate calm, Liu Dalin used his pipe to remove one piece at random from the pile and set it aside. This followed the principle: "The great expansion number is fifty; its use is forty-nine." The piece set aside represented Taiji, while the forty-nine symbolized all things in the world. He then used his pipe to divide the forty-nine pieces randomly into two groups—left for "Heaven," right for "Earth." The first piece symbolized "Man," completing the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Man.

Next, Liu Dalin began counting the pieces in the left "Heaven" group by fours. This "dividing by four" symbolized the four seasons; the remainder he set aside. After the left pile, he continued with the right "Earth" pile, again setting aside the remainder. Then he combined the piece symbolizing "Man" with the removed pieces—totaling five. (This step would always yield either five or nine; any other result meant a miscount.) This process was called "one change."

He mixed the two remaining piles together and repeated the procedure—"the second change." A third repetition completed "three changes." The remaining pieces, divided by four, yielded one yao line. After six yao lines and eighteen changes, a hexagram was complete.

After the first three changes, Liu Dalin drew a long horizontal line on xuan paper with his brush. "Young yang," he announced.

A moment later, he drew two short horizontal lines above the first yao. "Young yin."

As the hexagram gradually took shape on the paper, the onlookers felt their anxiety mounting for the Great Ming's fate.

"Young yang."

"Young yin."

After the fifth yao line appeared, the result was becoming clear. Only one line remained—either yang or yin. Chen Zizhuang clung to a sliver of hope: Perhaps Mountain-Fire Adornment. That would still be an upper-middle hexagram.

"Old yin."

As Liu Dalin drew the final yao line, every heart in the room sank. It was the thirty-sixth hexagram of the Book of Changes: Ming Yi—Brightness Wounded.

Into the heavy silence, Liu Dalin spoke. "This hexagram has only one old yin in the sixth position. With one changing line, we read the moving line's statement from the original hexagram. The text says: 'Top Six: Not bright but dark. First rising to heaven, later entering the earth.' Ming Yi is the hexagram of darkness and obscurity—when darkness rules above, the bright are wounded below."

The Ming Yi hexagram's image was Li (fire/sun) below, Kun (earth) above. The sun entering the earth, unable to shine forth, as if wounded—hence the name Ming Yi, a lower-balanced hexagram. In human affairs, it represented a corrupt ruler above and virtuous ministers below, unable to exercise their abilities, trapped in dire circumstances. As the saying went: "Fortune turns against you—escape is impossible. In panic you cross the river, and the bridge collapses. The benefactor grows ungrateful and turns to resentment. All efforts prove vain—all toil for nothing."

He Wuzhou's face went pale. Yao Dian and Chen Zilü fell silent. Zhao Xunru could not stop tears from welling in his eyes. Could Heaven truly be destroying the Great Ming?

Only Chen Zizhuang refused to accept it. "This hexagram still holds room for reversal," he insisted. "Extreme yin transforms—things turn at their worst. The top yao is old yin. If it moves, the hexagram becomes Mountain-Fire Adornment. The text says: 'Top Nine: White adornment, no blame.' The top achieves its will. Our current holy Son of Heaven assumed the throne at sixteen and immediately executed the eunuch Wei Zhongxian, setting the inner palace in order. Day after day, beset by internal and external crises, he rises early and retires late, never enjoying a single day of leisure—all for restoring the Great Ming's mountains and rivers. Ritual rests on three foundations: Heaven and Earth are the foundation of life; ancestors are the foundation of our kind; sovereign and teacher are the foundation of governance. Heaven and Earth produced the sovereign; the sovereign governs Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth may change, but their positions remain eternal."

Liu Dalin knew Chen Zizhuang was grasping at straws. "Duke Jing of Qi asked Confucius about government," he replied. "Confucius answered: 'Let rulers be rulers, ministers be ministers, fathers be fathers, sons be sons.' In ancient times, all under heaven came first; the ruler was secondary. Everything a ruler devoted his life to managing was for the sake of all under heaven. In those days, the people loved and honored their ruler, viewing him as a father, comparing him to Heaven—and truly this was not excessive. Now the ruler comes first; all under heaven is secondary. Every place where there is no peace exists for the ruler's benefit. Before obtaining the throne, he slaughters the people, scatters their families, all to advance his own ambitions. He feels no remorse, saying, 'I am establishing a legacy for my descendants.' After obtaining it, he flays the people to the bone, scatters their families—all to serve his personal pleasures. He considers this only proper, saying, 'These are merely the interest on my property.' Today the people hate their ruler, view him as a bandit, call him a tyrant. The great harm to all under heaven comes from the ruler alone."

Chen Zizhuang answered with righteous conviction: "Since ancient times, there have never been true followers who were not also true subjects. Since I am a Ming minister, I must prop up the falling mansion and stem the raging tide. Though ten thousand stand against me, I shall go forward."

"Since Jisheng quotes Mencius," Liu Dalin replied, "he should know that Mencius also said: 'The people are most important; the altars of land and grain come next; the ruler is least important.' When Taizu read the Mencius and encountered the passages about 'mere straw dogs' and 'bandits,' he declared these were not words a minister should speak and proposed removing Mencius from the shrine. He decreed that anyone who remonstrated would be charged with lèse-majesté. Yet the great expanse under heaven cannot be governed by one person alone, so authority is divided among many officials. Therefore, taking office is for the realm, not for the ruler; for the myriad people, not for one family. Later generations came to believe officials exist to serve rulers, that rulers grant them portions of the realm to govern and people to shepherd, treating all under heaven as a ruler's private property—this is a grave error. When the realm falls into turmoil and the people suffer enough to endanger the ruler, only then does one discuss the arts of 'governing' and 'shepherding.' If it doesn't concern the dynasty's survival, then the realm's turmoil and the people's suffering, though honest ministers exist, are treated as trifling matters."

"You and I serve different masters, Mengliang. There is nothing more to say." Chen Zizhuang swept his sleeves and departed.

Seeing this, Chen Zilü followed him out. The remaining men wore grim expressions.

Though Liu Dalin had anticipated resistance, he had not expected today's gathering to end on such a bitter note. He turned to He Wuzhou, Yao Dian, and Zhao Xunru. "A minister who makes light of the people's suffering in fire and flood—even if he can help his ruler prosper or follow his ruler to ruin—in terms of a minister's proper way, he has still betrayed it."

He Wuzhou sighed. "Jisheng's nature is upright. The cataclysmic changes under heaven are still difficult for him to accept. Mengliang should be understanding."

Liu Dalin shook his head, his heart a tangle of emotions. He let out a long breath. "Our acquaintance is a matter of fate. This foolish younger brother leaves you these words—my elder brothers, take good care of yourselves."

With that, he took up the brush and left four characters in regular script: "Do Not Cross the River."

(End of Chapter)