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18 A Former Protégé Repays His Patron unto the Third Generation Buy an ox and learn to till the fields; Build a thatched hut by the spring in the woods. Without much time remaining in this life, Why not spend a few years in the hills? Wealth and rank are but an illusion; Only poems and wine bring true bliss. The price of everything is on the rise; But worthless is the talent of the old. The above eight lines are truly words of the wise, but I take issue with the last line “But worthless is the talent of the old.” Generally speaking, the timing of one’s rise in life, whether early or late, is predetermined by fate. Those who achieve fame and fortune early in life may not, after all, retain what they have for the rest of their lives. Those who get there late in life may not be any less successful. The young must not be conceited, nor should the old give up hope. Even the terms “old” and “young” are relative. For example, Gan Luo became prime minister at the age of twelve but died at thirteen.1 Thus, he had reached the age of hoary hair, loose teeth, stooped shoulders , and a bent back when he was twelve. Without much time left in his life, he no longer qualified as a youth. There is also the case of Jiang Taigong,2 who, at eighty years of age, was fishing at the Wei River when he was accosted by King Wen of Zhou. He was invited onto the king’s carriage and addressed respectfully as “Master”. After King Wen died and King Wu took the throne, Jiang became his military adviser. He helped King Wu conquer King Zhou of Shang and found the Zhou dynasty that was to last for eight hundred years. After he was granted the territory of the state of Qi, he had his son Duke Ding rule Qi while he himself remained in the Zhou dynasty court as the prime minister until he passed away at the age of 120. How could you have foreseen the long and prosperous career for which an eighty-year-old fisherman was destined? Now, in his case, at eighty years of age, he was like a young man just reaching the stage when his hair 276 should be tied up under a cap, when he should get married and make his first attempt at the lowest level of the imperial examinations. At that point, an old man he was not. The ordinary men of the world judge a man only by his status at the moment, with never a thought of future possibilities. Like the shortsighted ignoramuses they are, they dance attendance on rich young men but give the cold shoulder to older men whose talents have not won recognition. Think of the farmers; they grow rice for early as well as late harvesting. It is hard to say which rice yields a better crop. Consider what the ancients used to say: Peach and plum blossoms in the east garden, First to bloom and first to wither; Pine trees by the ravines, slow in their growth, Last the longest in their verdant splendor. But enough of this chatter. Let me now tell a story that takes place in the Zhengtong reign period [1436–49] of this dynasty. In Xing’an County, Guilin Prefecture, Guangxi, there lived a scholar by the name of Xianyu Tong, courtesy name Datong. At eight years of age, he was given the title Child Prodigy upon recommendation. At eleven, he started formal education in a government school and skipped two grades to become a student supported by government stipend. So profound was his erudition that he thought nothing of men like Dong Zhongshu and Sima Xiangru.3 Truly, he had learned ten thousand books by heart, his brush-pen mighty enough to wipe out an army one thousand strong. So high was his opinion of himself that he turned up his nose at men like Feng Jing [1021–1094] and Shang Luo [1414–1486] who had won first honors at three successive levels of the examinations. Truly, he rode the wind and the clouds, and his ambition soared to the stars. As it happened, however, for all his literary talent, his was an unhappy lot. Despite his ambitions, fate was against him. Year after year, he sat for the civil service examinations , and year after year, he failed...

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