The Trial

Translated by Leo Shtutin; Published in miniMAG magazine

“Teacher,” said Zhang with a bow, “I have been most diligent. I have studied hard. I have learned all I could learn. I am ready for many a challenge. I can face down a tiger one on one. Womanly cunning does not frighten me. My self-confidence will enable me to overcome any and all obstacles. Now, I have heard tell that pupils of yours must submit themselves to certain trials. Test me, then, O respected one.” The teacher, Xian Zhi by name, fixed Zhang with an unblinking gaze. “Esteemed Zhang,” he said at length, bowing, “no one knows when a man’s time for learning might draw to an end. We know only that a man might learn everything, and know nothing. Tell me, why do you wish to undergo the examination?” Zhang’s reply was swift. The matter had evidently been giving him pause for thought. “When I pass the examination,” he said, “I shall know that I have completed my learning. I shall know that I am fearless and intelligent, and that my spirit is strong.” “But do you not know this already?” asked his teacher. “I do.” Zhang looked at him stubbornly. “I do. But I want to undergo the trials nonetheless.” “They don’t scare you, then?” “They don’t!” fearless Zhang replied. “I have heard tell that those who fail the examination perish. But I am prepared even for that.” “Well then,” said Xian Zhi, “he who seeks out trials finds them. You wish to triumph or to die. You shall have your wish. I’ll set you three tests.” He paused, snorted, glanced at Zhang. “Those who wish to acquire qi,” he began, “oughtn’t to limit themselves to a single woman. They ought to have three, nine, eleven and more. Possess ten women or more in the span of a single night and you shall achieve longevity. Hold back your seed, the better to direct it into a roiling stream, and you shall achieve immortality.” Zhang grew flustered. “But, teacher,” he said with trepidation, “I have not had eleven women, or nine, or three. I have not even had one!” “Well then,” said Xian Zhi, “better start with a duo. Those two, for instance, entwined in an embrace as they proceed down that path.” Zhang leapt to his feet in an access of agitation, only to sink to the ground once more. “But they’re caressing one another, teacher. How am I to—” “So much the better!” Xian Zhi exclaimed. “There are two yin waiting for you at once.” Zhang grew utterly unnerved. “But they do not love me!” he cried. “How do you know?” said the teacher. “…Yes, but I ought to love them, at the very least.” “Don’t you love them already?” “I do not.” “What are you waiting for, then? Go and love them.” “No,” said Zhang, “I cannot.” And he burst into tears. “Well,” said Xian Zhi, “let us go then, you and I, for a stroll in the gardens of the Yellow Emperor.” “What lies in store for us there, teacher?” asked Zhang. “What dangers await us?” “Dangers?” Xian Zhi thought awhile. “Oh! There may be any number, but they cannot be predicted. Even your beloved tigers could doubtless gain access to the gardens if they took it into their heads to do so.” They began their stroll. Every now and then Zhang looked about him warily. “Where are those tigers hiding?” he asked over and over, and assumed a host of combat stances, each more menacing than the last. But Xian Zhi remained silent. Not until they had reached the very end of the path did he call out to his pupil. “Take a look,” he said, “at how this lizard has concealed itself in the branches of the old elm. Does it know of our existence? Do we trouble it as we amble past?” “Teacher,” Zhang asked again, “I see the lizard, but where are the tigers?” “Can you see, my good Zhang, that bamboo whose trunk has arrowed into the heart of the cypress’s branches? Does it muse on the Yellow Emperor, in whose honour these gardens are named?” “I cannot answer your question. Forgive me, but I find it obscure. What I should very much like to know is, where are those tigers hiding?!” “My dear Zhang,” said his teacher, “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. It would appear that the gardens of the Yellow Emperor are devoid of tigers. Nobody has ever encountered one here.” “But, teacher,” Zhang cried in astonishment, “what exactly did this test involve, then?” “Strolling,” Xian Zhi replied. He sat himself down on the grass, looked into Zhang’s eyes, and told him to focus on his gaze. “My dear Zhang,” he said, “if you wish to undergo the final trial, you must embark on a journey to the Yan’e region. When your eyes grow weary, close them, and you shall be transported to Yan’e.” Zhang continued to hold his teacher’s gaze. Presently his eyes closed, his body began rocking hither and thither, his head fell back, and he froze stock-still. Xian Zhi kept his eyes ever on his pupil. All sound vanished for Zhang, along with grass, trees and teacher. He embarked on his journey. A quarter-hour later he returned. “How much time has elapsed?” was his first question. “I believe, esteemed Zhang, that you know the answer better than I do.” “Six months,” Zhang said, astonished. “What strange people inhabit the Yan’e region—they’re all one-legged. They didn’t even know there are people with two. The locals went into raptures over me. I was made Emperor of the Celestial Kingdom! I had a vast palace and a thousand servants. Each and every woman there sought out my love. My riches were incalculable—” “But tell me, my dear Zhang,” interjected Xian Zhi, “whom do you feel yourself to be now?” “Now?” Zhang said. “Oh, I still feel like an emperor!” “Look around, venerable Zhang. Everybody in our midst also has the good fortune to possess two legs.” Zhang looked around. “True enough,” he said. “Strangely, though, I still feel like an emperor!” “My dear friend,” said the teacher, “before disenchantment sets in, and doubts begin to torment you, would you not wish, perhaps, to embark on another journey, this time to the province of the White Clouds?” “Very well!” Zhang exclaimed. “If what awaits there is what awaited me in Yan’e, I should be only too happy to go.” Once again he focused his gaze on Xian Zhi’s, then closed his eyes. It all vanished—sound, glade, teacher, the world entire. Xian Zhi scrutinised him ever more fixedly. A quarter-hour later he returned. “Teacher,” he cried at once, “what a dreadful place I have been to! I spent half a year or so there. Its denizens are all one-armed. They do not so much as suspect that normal folk have two. They treated me with contempt. Branded me a freak of nature. Brought their children to gawk at me! It was a dog’s life for me there. Not one woman deigned to glance in my direction. I lived like the poorest of paupers, begging for alms. My deformity meant I was barred from entering teahouses. I was the most despised man in the entire province of the White Clouds!” “But now you have returned, respect-worthy Zhang,” the teacher said, scrutinising him, “and you’re surrounded by people who are just like you. How do you feel now you’re back?” “Teacher,” said Zhang, his voice laced with sorrow and surprise, “I know we all have two arms, but I still feel hideous and worthy of contempt. I want to conceal myself in the shadow of that beech, lest anyone catch sight of me and my deformity!” “But having two arms is not regarded as a deformity amongst us, esteemed Zhang!” “I know, I know,” Zhang cried, “but I cannot help the way I perceive things. I feel misshapen!” “Alas, my dear Zhang,” began Xian Zhi, “you subjected yourself to three tests and failed to pass a single one. You opted for dispassion when love was the name of the game. You cast about for non-existent tigers instead of inhaling the scent of grass. You allowed yourself to rise in your own estimation solely because you rose in the estimation of others, and you were willing to regard yourself as a nonentity solely because others came to regard you as such. What, then, do you want now?” Zhang abased his head and buried it in his hands, despondent. An instant later, however, he proudly straightened up and declared, “I did not pass your tests. Well then! I am ready to accept death!” “My poor Zhang,” Xian Zhi said sadly, “do clouds know of the wind? And when the wind chases clouds across the boundless sky, does it believe it is subjecting them to trials?.. You were hungry for an examination, and an examination is what you got. You want death, and death shall come. Await it.” Bowing to his pupil, Xian Zhi glanced at him a final time, turned on his heel and with light nimble steps proceeded down a path leading to a beech thicket. Zhang turned to watch him go, but he had already vanished. Zhang spent many years awaiting death on that glade. His body stiffened and his hair grew out, its tangled ends meeting the earth. Rain and wind lashed at his bulk. His clothing rotted, leaving nothing but tatters about his waist. Struggling to move his swollen tongue, he informed passerby that womanly cunning did not frighten him, that he was capable of facing down a tiger one on one, that his self-confidence would enable him to overcome any and all obstacles. And nor was he lying, our pupil Zhang, he was telling the purest truth. On festal days crowds of gawkers gathered round him and marvelled at the courage of this man. Zhang is still awaiting death today.