That evening, Ma Yu was bickering with Zhu Shuang when Zhu Biao suddenly appeared to announce that Song Lian had arrived and was right next door.
It caught him completely off guard.
Yet he could understand why the man was so cautious. This was the Yingtian Prefecture Prison, and as a state prisoner, he could hardly drop by as casually as a neighbor visiting next door.
Naturally, he had to pick an inconspicuous time and slip in silently.
Just like the last time he made Zhu Shuang fake an illness.
Who knew how great a risk even this visit posed.
Since he was already here, there was nothing more to say—he would see him.
Afterward, Zhu Biao went to fetch Song Lian, taking Zhu Shuang along on the pretext that the latter would only disrupt the conversation between Song Lian and Ma Yu.
Ma Yu harbored no suspicions.
The young rascal had a rebellious streak and constantly muttered disrespectfully about "old man Song," so Song Lian certainly wouldn't like him.
Taking him away made complete sense.
Yet, with his mind entirely focused on Song Lian, he failed to notice the panic on Zhu Shuang's face.
Zhu Shuang might be rebellious, but he was no fool; he knew very well that his mother had come along nine times out of ten.
Being taken away meant going to see his mother.
Sure enough, behind a wall around the corner just a few yards away, he saw Empress Ma and Song Lian.
Although Song Lian disliked Zhu Shuang, he still bowed to him in accordance with ritual before walking off toward the cell with Zhu Biao.
Only the mother and son were left behind.
Zhu Shuang became even more flustered.
No matter how much of a big shot he acted like inside the prison, treating himself like number one and his father like number two, in his heart he held deep respect for Empress Ma.
It was precisely because of this respect that he felt fear.
Would she be angry? Would she scold him?
He cared not at all if anyone else cursed him, but Empress Ma's attitude mattered immensely to him.
Just as he was worrying, Empress Ma looked him up and down, nodded slightly, and whispered:
"You've performed well these past few days."
The stone in Zhu Shuang's heart finally dropped, replaced by a surge of joy, and he wanted to step forward and speak.
Empress Ma raised a hand first. "Hush. Don't speak. Listen."
Knowing she was afraid of alerting Ma Yu, Zhu Shuang hurriedly clamped his mouth shut.
At that moment, a Gongwei Guard secret agent walked over carrying a chair, and Zhu Shuang lunged forward to take it from him.
"Mother, sit down and listen."
Once Empress Ma was seated, he stood obediently behind her, massaging her shoulders like a flattering sycophant.
A smile finally surfaced in Empress Ma's eyes; rascal though he was, the boy was truly filial.
Yet the more he acted this way, the more strictly he needed to be disciplined to keep him from straying onto the wrong path.
***
On the other side, Ma Yu had risen early and stood waiting respectfully at the entrance of the cell.
He began his moral kidnapping by casting himself everywhere as the junior, putting on an attitude of utmost respect to see if Song Lian would have the nerve to bully a younger man with his seniority.
Before long, a man in his fifties or sixties appeared, escorted by Zhu Biao.
Ma Yu immediately knew this was Song Lian.
Looking closer, Song Lian's appearance completely matched his imagination: tall and slender, with a square face and a long beard cascading down his chest.
His bearing was dignified and stern, inspiring instant reverence.
He truly was a great Confucian scholar.
As he thought this, his hands moved without delay, bowing deeply from afar:
"Your junior, Ma Yu, pays his respects to Master Qianxi."
This form of address was deliberate; he used neither "Mr. Song" nor his official title, but instead chose his literary style name.
This instantly framed the meeting as a private encounter between a junior and an elder, entirely unrelated to anything else.
Song Lian gave a slight nod, looking Ma Yu up and down. His first impression could not be called good, but neither was it bad.
Ma Yu's current appearance was quite disheveled, but considering his recent past as a beggar, it was understandable.
More than that, Song Lian focused on his demeanor and observance of ritual.
Aside from a slight stiffness, everything else was quite commendable—clearly, he was a well-bred man.
His folded-hand greeting particularly won him favorable impressions.
Originally, he had intended to say a few opening remarks, such as words of encouragement, but remembering Empress Ma's injunction to knock the young man down a peg or two, he reined himself in. With a slight nod, he strode directly into the cell.
Ma Yu saw nothing amiss; Song Lian had come to "call him to account," so simply acknowledging him was already quite good.
He then respectfully invited Song Lian to sit, poured a bowl of hot water, and presented it to him.
With a timid and cautious expression, he murmured apologies for the crude conditions, begging Master Qianxi not to mind.
Song Lian naturally cared nothing for such trifles, and instead grew even more satisfied with Ma Yu's breeding.
Without even realizing it, his internal role had shifted.
He was no longer the Crown Prince's tutor coming to hold someone accountable, but an elder examining a junior's studies.
Yet he had not forgotten the purpose of his visit, nor the task entrusted to him by Empress Ma, so he dispensed with idle chatter.
With a stern expression, he demanded: "Confucius and Mencius as the foundation, Guan Zhong and Xunzi for application—did you say that?"
Ma Yu had not expected the other man to be so direct, but he was well prepared. Maintaining an expressionless face, he replied:
"Just some shallow insights, bound to make Master Qianxi laugh."
His attitude was so deferential that even if Song Lian wanted to find fault, he didn't know where to begin. He had no choice but to bite the bullet and ask:
"Which of the Four Books and Five Classics have you studied?"
With a look of shame, Ma Yu answered: "My family elders told me I was still young and in the age of understanding the world."
"They only taught me to grasp the general intent of the classics broadly, without deep study."
"They meant to wait until my temperament matured slightly and I found my own path before teaching me the canon, only..."
At this point, a look of sorrow crossed his face.
Pity inevitably stirred in Song Lian's heart—what a pathetic child.
Moreover, he was somewhat surprised by the educational method used by Ma Yu's elders.
The mainstream educational method of the present day was to memorize books first.
Before even recognizing all the characters properly, children were forced to memorize the classics, only returning to study their meanings after reciting them fluently.
As the saying goes, "Read a book a hundred times, and its meaning will reveal itself."
Ma Yu's elders had taught him to understand the world first and only then study the canon, which was diametrically opposed to current educational philosophy.
However, Song Lian had no intention of criticizing.
Every family had its own method of instructing its youth; outsiders who did not understand the reasoning were best off keeping their opinions to themselves.
Yet...
"Since you have not studied the canon, how can you presumptuously judge the true intent of the sages?"
Ma Yu's spirit lifted; he was finally entering his domain of expertise.
Keeping his expression humble, he said: "Precisely because I have not studied them deeply, I can evaluate the intent of the sages more fairly."
Song Lian frowned slightly. This answer exceeded his expectations, but it also displeased him greatly—it was far too ignorant and arrogant.
Ma Yu could naturally see the change in his attitude. Without waiting for him to speak, he continued:
"An elder in my family once taught me a principle."
"Humans are like silkworms: they eat mulberry leaves to grow into worms, and then spin silk to wrap themselves in a cocoon."
"To the silkworm, the cocoon is the entire world."
"Humans grow through learning, and the knowledge they acquire is like that silkworm silk, wrapping around them bit by bit."
"In the end, we can only see a tiny corner within the silkworm cocoon, and fail to see the vast universe outside."
"My family elders call this an information cocoon."
"Some of these cocoons are spun by ourselves, while others are woven under the interference of others."
"Only by breaking through the cocoon can one transform into a butterfly and catch a glimpse of the vastness of the universe."
"Precisely for this reason, my family elders first let me understand the world broadly."
"That way, when I study the canon in the future, I will not be easily trapped by its meaning, and even if I accidentally fall into a cocoon, I will have a greater chance of breaking out of it."
"Although I have yet to study the canon deeply, this very fact proves I am not wrapped in a silkworm cocoon."
"Therefore, I can view the teachings of the sages from a more neutral perspective."
"I dare not say it is completely correct, but it is certainly the most direct."
Song Lian once again wore an expression of astonishment: information cocoons.
Such a unique understanding, such a brilliant concept.
He could not help but feel a sudden surge of respect for the person who had proposed this theory.
Empress Ma in the next room was equally astonished, and her thoughts immediately turned to the education of Zhu Biao.
As a sovereign, the most important thing was not having outstanding personal ability, but knowing what the world was truly like.
Knowing the actual condition of one's country, and then delegating problems to professionals.
Clearly, the educational method described by Ma Yu was far more suited for Zhu Biao.
The discourse had only just begun, yet it yielded such rich rewards, making her immensely happy.
She now looked forward with great anticipation to the discussion that would follow.
Hearing the information cocoon theory, Song Lian longed to engage in an immediate debate with Ma Yu.
Yet, remembering his mission, he suppressed his emotions and feigned severity:
"Sophistry! To judge presumptuously without understanding the meaning is sheer arrogance."
"This old man knows you are unconvinced, so let me test you."
"Since you claim to have a broad understanding of the sages' intent, let me ask you:"
"What is *shu*?"
Instead of being offended, Ma Yu felt an even greater admiration for Song Lian's character; the man looked angry on the surface, but left plenty of leeway in practice.
Take this question, for instance: if he truly wanted to suppress him, he could easily have picked a specific passage or sentence.
Since Ma Yu had never formally studied the canon, he naturally wouldn't be able to answer, allowing Song Lian to deal a heavy blow or even humiliate him.
Yet he did not do that, choosing instead to ask a general, conceptual question based on Ma Yu's actual situation.
Moreover, *shu* was one of the most important and fundamental concepts in the *Analects*, with ready-made answers right in the book.
Anyone who had ever brushed against the *Analects* could answer it.
This was what true nobility of character looked like.
Thinking of this, respect welled up in his heart.
He approached the test with even greater seriousness:
"Do not impose upon others what you yourself do not desire—that is *shu*."
Song Lian was unsurprised. He continued: "What is *zhong*?"
This time Ma Yu did not answer immediately, falling instead into contemplation.
Seeing this, a flash of disappointment crossed Song Lian's face.
*Zhong* and *shu* were Confucius's most important concepts alongside *ren*.
The sages had long since provided the answer, and Zhu Xi had distilled and summarized all answers into a single sentence:
*Zhong* is doing one's utmost; *shu* is extending oneself to others.
Ma Yu didn't even know this, which showed he hadn't even achieved a broad understanding.
Zhu Biao was also extremely anxious: you can't even answer such a simple question?
Don't screw this up, please.
This didn't just affect whether he could study the teachings of Guan Zhong and Xunzi in the future; it also concerned his own face.
He bragged about Ma Yu to his mother every single day; if the fellow couldn't even answer this, where would he find the face to face her?
Ma Yu observed the expressions of both men, secretly amused.
How could he possibly not know what *zhong* meant?
Many people believed the *zhong* of the *Analects* meant blind loyalty, associating it with foolish obedience.
In reality, nothing could be further from the truth; *zhong* in the *Analects* carried a much broader meaning.
To take responsibility for what one does—that is *zhong*.
To be responsible for the work one is currently engaged in, to be responsible for the task in one's hands, to be responsible for one's employer, and to do the job well.
This was the true *zhong* of the *Analects*.
In modern terms: making sure your labor output matched your salary was *zhong*.
Yet if he answered it that way, it would sound far too conventional.
The crucial point was that if he let Song Lian keep questioning him like this, his ignorance would soon be exposed.
He needed to be original, to offer a striking answer that would divert Song Lian's attention.
Pretending not to know and falling into deep thought was merely a tactic of lowering first to raise later.
Seeing that the atmosphere was properly set, he finally raised his head and said:
"Wishing to be successful yourself, you help others to be successful; wishing to be established yourself, you help others to be established—that is *zhong*."
Hearing this answer, both Song Lian and Zhu Biao wore expressions of astonishment.
The difference was that Zhu Biao had thought he truly didn't know the answer.
Song Lian, however, was pleasantly surprised, and couldn't help praising:
"Brilliant! Simply brilliant!"
The gaze he cast at Ma Yu was filled with appreciation.
Being able to offer his own distinct explanation showed that he truly understood the true meaning of the *Analects*.
More importantly, this answer possessed immense elevation.
If this were the imperial examinations, he would gladly award the candidate top honors for this single opening interpretation alone.
This went to show that claiming a mere "broad understanding" was entirely a display of modesty.
Zhu Biao was stunned at first, and then it dawned on him—this answer really did seem much more exquisite.
If he wanted to prosper, he had to do things well.
Doing things well was tantamount to helping others prosper.
In short, treating other people's affairs as your own, ultimately achieving mutual prosperity for both sides.
This concept was far higher than merely being conscientious and responsible at work.
It was a good thing he trusted him so much; this was wonderful.
If the occasion hadn't been inappropriate, he would have jumped up and applauded.
Ma Yu also let out a long breath of relief—he had pulled it off. Thanks to that teacher from his past life.
This method of answering naturally wasn't something he had thought up himself.
Back when he was in college in his previous life, a scholar had been invited to give a public lecture at his school, and he had gone to audit it.
That scholar had lectured on the *Analects*, and his interpretation of *zhong* was precisely "wishing to be successful yourself, you help others to be successful."
Of course, even this method of interpretation wasn't originated by that scholar.
It was the interpretation of his own teacher, another university scholar who had conducted deeper research into classical literature.
Whenever he mentioned this interpretation, that scholar would beam with pride, intentionally emphasizing that this was his teacher's unique understanding, distinct from those of past scholars.
That was why Ma Yu remembered it so clearly.
However, when they discussed it privately among themselves back then, most of them had held a cynical attitude.
So I'm supposed to work overtime and buy a villa for my boss?
What a load of crap, "wishing to be successful yourself, you help others to be successful"—it's just slavish ideology.
Only, everyone conveniently ignored the premise set by that scholar: that both parties considered each other mutually.
Without this premise, *zhong* ceased to exist, and there was no further need to abide by it.
For instance, if your boss paid you a meager three thousand yuan while demanding endless overtime, he wasn't being *zhong*.
Since he wasn't *zhong*, it was only natural for you to slack off and idle your days away.
If he acted like that and you still tried to practice *zhong*, you weren't being loyal; you were just being stupid.
Conversely, if you swept floors at a company and still took home seven or eight thousand yuan after all benefits were paid,
and you still slacked off and goofed around, then *you* were the one failing in *zhong*.
This was the scholar's true explanation—everything was mutual.
In fact, Confucius and Mencius had always emphasized that etiquette and morality were reciprocal.
Treat others the way they treated you.
Confucius said: "Repay grievance with uprightness, and repay virtue with virtue."
Mencius said: "When the ruler regards his ministers as his hands and feet, the ministers regard the ruler as their heart and mind; when the ruler regards them as mud and grass, the ministers regard him as an enemy and a foe."
As for the later ideology of blind loyalty, that was something cooked up by later Confucian disciples to cater to the rulers.
You couldn't pin that on Confucius and Mencius.
To return to the matter at hand.
Ma Yu's deployment of this interpretive angle indeed produced the desired effect.
Naturally, he knew that making Song Lian feel a moment of surprise was already no small feat.
As a great Confucian, what kind of interpretations hadn't he seen?
The moment he spoke that opening line, the man probably already had a complete set of interpretations running through his mind.
Trying to stump him with such petty cleverness was impossible.
He still had to deploy his trump card.
Just as he was pondering how to steer the conversation toward his trump card,
Song Lian spoke again: "This old man will ask you one last question. If you can answer it, this old man will acknowledge that you are qualified to critique the sages."
Ma Yu took a deep breath. "I hope I do not disappoint Master Qianxi."
Song Lian asked sternly: "What is *ren*?"
Zhu Biao was overjoyed. *Ren* could be said to be the core ideology of Confucius, and there were countless interpretations throughout the dynasties.
Ma Yu could pick any random one and pass.
For Master Song to pose such a simple question—was he intentionally letting him off the hook?
Empress Ma in the next room shared the same thought, though her mind ran deeper.
In all likelihood, the information cocoon theory and the interpretation of *zhong* had left Song Lian extremely satisfied, which was why he was throwing out a simple question to wrap up the examination.
She herself had no objection to this.
The first two answers were already enough to prove that Ma Yu possessed genuine learning and talent; there was no need to make things difficult for him any longer.
The crucial point was that these three questions were not a true debate on the Dao, but rather tests to see if Ma Yu qualified to debate the Dao with Song Lian at all.
Only by passing the examination would Song Lian officially discuss the viewpoint of "Confucius and Mencius as the foundation, Guan Zhong and Xunzi for application."
Only then would the real show begin.
Ma Yu naturally understood this logic as well, and he had been desperately trying to avoid discussing the "foundation and application" issue with Song Lian.
With his meager level of knowledge, that would simply be inviting humiliation.
That was why he had prepared several trump cards to steer the conversation away.
And one of them happened to pertain to *ren*.
Hearing Song Lian's final question, joy surged in his heart.
Outwardly, however, he remained calm, choosing not to answer directly:
"The characters of Huaxia have undergone numerous evolutions, and the way characters are written today differs vastly from their original forms."
"Of this, Master Qianxi must surely be aware."
Uncomprehending why Ma Yu was changing the subject, Song Lian still nodded: "Indeed so, though I have not researched the matter myself."
Ma Yu continued: "An elder in my family specializes in the study of ancient scripts. He once acquired several ritual bronze vessels left over from the Three Dynasties period, with inscriptions carved upon them."
"Oh?" Song Lian became even more baffled. What was the meaning of telling him this?
Zhu Biao was also secretly anxious—hurry up and get back to the point! What was the point of all this rambling?
Ma Yu went on: "In the inscriptions on those bronze vessels, the character for *ren* appeared multiple times."
Song Lian grew even more puzzled. What did that mean? Was he going to lecture him on how to write the character for *ren*?
Without beating around the bush, Ma Yu revealed the answer:
"During the Three Dynasties period, *ren* was not written with the 'man' radical next to a 'two'; rather, it was composed of 'upper body' sitting over 'lower heart'."
Zhu Biao was left in a daze. What difference did that make?
Yet he saw Song Lian jump up with a start, staring intently at Ma Yu as he asked with trembling excitement:
"Is this true?"