Taking lessons with Zhuge Liang

Author: Feng Xuesong
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-01-01
Features: To be fair, I am neither a god nor a monster, just an ordinary person with both strengths and weaknesses. If someone were to judge my merits and demerits with a "seven-three split," I would be quite embarrassed to accept it in full. In reality, even this head that most people are so fond of can be divided into a "seven-three split"—seven parts are the collection accumulated over thousands of years, and three parts are the insights I have gained through centuries of trials and errors, learning from gains and losses, and teaching myself. Let the seven parts be used by others to make a living, and let the three parts compensate for the efforts of the author of this book. Want to see for yourself the insights I have gained from teaching myself?
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Back in my time, I traveled through a long and winding tunnel of over a thousand years, and my soul wandered alone. I heard how many people still spread and interpret my wisdom, attaching labels to my name. I was fortunate not to have been born in this era! Although over a thousand years have passed, the scenery of Wuhou Temple has become even more lively with the hustle and bustle of Xiangyang's internet, as if the cawing of crows and the chirping of cicadas that once swirled above my head are still echoing, leaving me with a sense of emptiness and helplessness. Who can imagine that the autumn wind on Wuzhangyuan could be so deadly, the grass and trees on Dingjun Mountain could make heroes lonely, and the cawing of crows for thousands of years could even disgust the dead?
To die without achieving success in one's mission, to make heroes shed tears endlessly—ah, it's not just tears, it's the blood of my brothers in the Liang Dynasty! Although my flesh and blood have long turned into fertile soil, and my old bones have long decayed, my heart that has turned green has not stopped pulsing with the cawing of crows outside my tomb for a single day. My restless soul has not ceased to reflect on its pure heart, like a fist, and its ethereal essence, like a wisp of smoke. I can forget the glory of burning the Red Cliffs, but I cannot forget the dim candlelight in the bleak autumn wind of Wuzhangyuan—, , , 、 sorrow, ; what matters is, oh, why have you treated the descendants of the Han Dynasty so unjustly, why have you treated Zhuge Liang so unfairly? Even if you give me ten years or five years, let me thoroughly reflect and summarize, let me temper Fei, Jiang, Jiang, and my son, Zhan, so that they can mature!
Whether in the past or in the future, I know that there are no geniuses born with knowledge and no bosses destined for success. People are shaped by continuous tempering, reflection, and self-improvement. Perhaps the autumn wind of Wuzhangyuan and the cancer pain in my stomach have made my mind so clear—Fei, Jiang, Jiang, and my son, Zhan, have so much to temper and improve. I cannot help but regret the past; without a doubt, I am a perfectionist, or a narrow-minded perfectionist who pays too much attention to details, or a blind optimist who thinks he is still young and strong. Otherwise, what have I been busy with for all those years?!
Unfortunately, time no longer allows it! How hateful, that heaven has not granted me more years! With so much unfinished and lingering, how can my soul return to where it belongs? I hate the soup of Mengpo! For over a thousand years, I have shouted in the wind and rain every day with the same voice: I want to improve—both for myself and for my successors! But who can hear the cries of a ghost who has been silent for millennia? I, the restless soul, wait every day, month, and year for such an opportunity to share my thousand years of reflection and accumulation of gains and losses with everyone. That would be the phosphorescent light of my wisdom! I hate all insincere flattery and accusations, just as I hate the crows perched on the outside my tomb! I never humble myself, but I have never hoped that in the centuries to come, I would become the cold pork belly that emperors and generals would use in their speeches and writings to praise and control me, talking about "dedicating oneself to the cause until death" (from an unknown "Post Out-of-Service Memorial" by some anonymous talented writer)—am I so helpless and pessimistic? As for things like "lasting for ten thousand generations, eternal as the universe, shining with the sun, moon, and stars," "loyal and diligent in duty," "wise and resourceful," "the model of loyal ministers for all ages," and so on, they are so exaggerated that even my decayed bones feel helpless.
In truth, this is not praise—it is clearly done with good intentions to feed the dead cold pork and poison the living: First, those who are emperors and supervisors hope to use such praise to bring me in to set an example for their subordinates—to see how good Zhuge Liang is, how they should follow his example, be loyal and devoted, uphold the principles of a minister, "study hard and make progress every day." Second, those who are subordinates merely use the praise of Zhuge Liang as a stepping stone to show their loyalty to their superiors—as if the more Zhuge Liang is praised, the more loyal they themselves become.
So, there is meaning in praise, and there is skill in listening—nobody dares to say I am bad, or to criticize this virtuous and loyal minister, and naturally, they are classified as treacherous petty men—this logic is indeed confusing even to a smart person (the reasoning is as follows: a good person has no flaws, those with flaws are not good; praising a good person makes them good; speaking ill of a good person makes them not good). But if this is the case, who dares to say a word of objection? If this is the case, who dares to say a single word of objection? Since so many predecessors have given me full marks, then any later generation who does not want to be labeled "unloyal and unworthy" naturally dare not give me ninety-nine. It's just blindly following suit, following others in their footsteps.
I dare not say that no one has objectively evaluated me, but in an era where such illogical reasoning is rampant, it takes courage to do so. But if a person never receives objective and fair evaluation, it may not be a happy thing even if the underworld knows it—although these empty phrases escape the eyes of the wise, they may mislead future generations—just as the Chinese love to praise their ancestors, putting high hats on their forefathers. At least, I am extremely unwilling to wear such a cheap and showy hat.
To be fair, I am neither a god nor a monster, just an ordinary person with both strengths and weaknesses. If someone were to judge my merits and demerits with a "seven-three split," I would be quite embarrassed to accept it in full. In reality, even this head that most people are so fond of can be divided into a "seven-three split"—seven parts are the collection accumulated over thousands of years, and three parts are the insights I have gained through centuries of trials and errors, learning from gains and losses, and teaching myself. Let the seven parts be used by others to make a living, and let the three parts compensate for the efforts of the author of this book. Want to see for yourself the insights I have gained from teaching myself?