Faced with those four lines, Xie Lin had nothing to say.
The sound of rain filled the building, water pouring from the eaves as though through a leak.
Wei Nisheng did not hurry him.
He walked back to the desk, lifted the earthenware pot, poured a cup of hot tea, and gently pushed it to the other side.
He picked up his own cup and slowly took a sip.
The tea was still warm, dispelling the damp chill of the rainy day.
"Zi'an."
Only when the hot tea appeared before him did Xie Lin sit down.
"Aren't you curious why I came?"
Wei Nisheng set down his teacup and looked up at him.
Several days earlier, he had sat opposite him over a Go board, shutting himself away and calling it countering stillness with stillness.
Today, he had arrived through the rain, uninvited, and stood before his opponent's door.
He had entered only after the window closed, and sat only after receiving hot tea.
That, in itself, was already an admission of defeat.
Yet he still insisted on first asking, "Are you not curious?"
Hah. He looked like someone finding himself a step to climb down, or a cornered beast making one last struggle.
Wei Nisheng glanced at him, the corners of his lips rising in the faintest curve.
"The Mencius says, 'When one's actions fail to achieve their aim, one must always seek the cause within oneself.'
"When a man sets himself right, all under heaven will turn to him.
"Dao'an, wouldn't you agree?"
Xie Lin froze.
Wei Nisheng continued, his speech neither hurried nor slow:
"The Zuo Tradition also says, 'To condemn a wrong and then imitate it makes the offense still greater.'"
"To know a fault and imitate it only deepens that fault.
"Those who fail