A gardener could not cultivate two identical flowers or trees, nor could gods make two people grow exactly as they wished—let alone people.
And there were so many people under heaven.
Desire could not be eliminated, but rules could be made.
It was not that Old Zhu's rules were bad. Rather, rules too had an expiration date. For civilization to advance, rules had to be continually replaced to suit an ever-changing world.
Rules were not merely fences; they were also steering wheels, guiding civilization forward instead of blindly penning it in place.
When rules could no longer accommodate present development, the forces trapped in place would devour and rot. In the end, they would either break through the rules and become a scattered heap of sand, or rot where they stood.
On the way back to the imperial palace, Pan Yun told Zhu Qiyu, "Everyone in the world wishes to govern the state and bring peace to all under heaven, yet they forget that the Eight Steps proceed in order. If one does not understand the nature of things or the laws by which this world operates, if one's heart is neither sincere nor upright, how can one cultivate oneself and regulate one's family? Much less govern the state and bring peace to all under heaven."
At that moment, the eunuchs, female officials, and Imperial Guards all followed far behind. Only the Emperor and Empress walked beside Pan Yun, and only the two of them heard her words.
Zhu Qiyu had not yet realized how weighty those words were. Smiling, he said, "Isn't the Imperial Preceptor a Daoist? Why are you speaking of Confucian classics?"
Pan Yun lowered her head and chuckled softly. "Only ordinary people would box themselves in as representatives of a single school."
Pan Yun lifted her