Cloudlike tresses, mist-veiled shadows, distant and faint,
Who would vie with flowing light in a dance of slender waists?
Before the flowers, fill the cup with the bright moon,
Together drunk on fragrant autumn, celebrating freedom.
- Guan Pingchao
I dedicate this chapter to all the friends following this book: happy Mid-Autumn Festival, and may both your moon and your family circle be whole!
"Without contending, it excels at winning."
Xing Yan pondered those words over and over. Although the passage from the Tao Te Ching neatly explained how he had turned defeat into victory in that perilous situation, it also raised a few doubts.
Was the way of Heaven simply not to contend?
The hot-blooded young man found that idea difficult to accept. If one truly refused to contend in everything, such a Heavenly Way hardly seemed appealing. Take that scoundrel Zhao Wuchen, for instance. He had behaved so abominably when he came bullying his way to their door a few days ago-was Xing Yan supposed to practice "not contending" with him too?
Impossible!
The answer in the boy's heart was as decisive as an axe cleaving iron.
It seems I'd better content myself with enough food and clothing and a quiet life. This Heavenly Way and Immortal Road don't seem so easily mastered by someone like me...
Xing Yan sighed inwardly. Despite his self-mockery, he could not help feeling a little bereft.
Just as he was about to lie down fully dressed, in the final instant before the book closed, he happened to glimpse the last word of that sentence:
"Winning."
That fleeting image suddenly flashed through his mind like a ray of spiritual illumination.
Winning?
In an instant, everything seemed to become clear:
Whether the way of Heaven involved "contending" or "not contending," it ultimately came