WISDOM VERSUS POWER: A Tale of Two Teachers Who Wanted to Fix the World, But Learned to Love It Instead
Oleh Konko
January 12, 2025
93pp.
A profound meditation on power, wisdom, and the eternal dance between order and chaos. When a brilliant reformer creates a perfect system to measure virtue, he unleashes forces that will teach him the most important lesson: true perfection lies in embracing imperfection.
CONTENTS:
Prologue: Birth Of Light 3
Part One: Ambition 4
Chapter 1. The Young Reformer 5
Chapter 2. First Victory 8
Chapter 3: The Great Decree 11
Chapter 4: The Power Of Numbers 15
Chapter 5: The Old Gardener 19
Part Two: Collapse 22
Chapter 6: Death Of The Righteous 23
Chapter 7: The Lost Path 26
Chapter 8: Night Of Doubts 30
Chapter 9: Escape To The Mountains 34
Chapter 10: On The Edge Of The Abyss 37
Part Three: The Encounter 40
Chapter 11. The Secret Teacher 40
Chapter 12. The Difficult Student 43
Chapter 13. Trial Of Pride 47
Chapter 14: The Broken Mirror 51
Chapter 15: The Price Of Wisdom 54
Part Four: The Struggle 58
Chapter 16: Return To The Palace 58
Chapter 17: Battle For Souls 61
Chapter 18: The Choice Of Paths 65
Chapter 19: The Price Of Decision 68
Chapter 20: The Final Stake 71
Part Five: Transformation 74
Chapter 21: Fire And Water 74
Chapter 22: The Broken Seal 78
Chapter 23: True Power 80
Chapter 24: New Dawn 83
Chapter 25: The Eternal Path 86
Epilogue: Two Streams 88
From The Author 89
Copyright 90
PROLOGUE: BIRTH OF LIGHT
"He wanted to fix the world. But he just needed to love it"
- Old man in homespun clothes, watching falling snow
They say the sun didn't rise that day.
Darkness shrouded the capital of the Celestial Empire like a thick blanket. In temples, gongs rang out to drive away evil spirits. Court sages leafed through ancient books, seeking explanation for the heavenly omen.
But in a small garden on the outskirts of the city, a plum tree was blooming. A single tree daring to challenge winter. Its branches bent under the weight of snow, yet its flowers stubbornly reached toward the invisible sun.
Here, beneath the blooming plum, an old poet waited for dawn. He had come from distant mountains, drawn by a strange premonition. In his hands trembled a brush, ready to record a prophecy that had not yet formed into words.
And suddenly...
Through the darkness pierced a ray - thin as a needle, sharp as the sword of truth. It fell upon the blooming plum, and each petal ignited with its own light.
At that moment, in the house behind the garden wall came the cry of a newborn. And the old poet, not understanding how, began to write:
"When plum blossoms in the snow,
And verses turn to light,
He will come who teaches the world
To dance instead of march"
He didn't manage to place the final dot - a gust of wind tore the silk scroll from his trembling hands. The sheet soared into the air, twirled in the currents of air, and vanished into darkness.
They say that scroll still flies somewhere between heaven and earth. Sages and rulers seek it, but only children find it - and then only in dreams.
And the old poet remained sitting beneath the blooming plum. Now he just smiles at every passerby and says the same thing:
"The light has already been born. Now we must learn to see it."
PART ONE: AMBITION
"Every farewell is a little death,
Every morning is a little birth"
(Eastern wisdom)
CHAPTER 1. THE YOUNG REFORMER
"He wanted to fix the world. But he just needed to love it"
- Yang Zhu, watching Li Shi Min in the throne room
The morning was exceptionally clear, as if heaven itself had decided to bless this important day. Li Shi Min stood at the window of his office in the Imperial Academy, watching as the first rays of sun painted the palace roof tiles the color of molten gold.
On his desk lay a scroll - the fruit of ten years' labor. A system capable of changing the world. Every virtue, every action, every quality of the soul - everything had received its number, its weight, its measure. No more uncertainty, no more injustice. Only pure, crystalline truth of numbers.
"Master Kun!" - a young servant appeared in the doorway, bowing so low that his forehead almost touched the floor. "The Emperor is ready to receive you."
Li Shi Min nodded, carefully rolled up the scroll and hid it in his sleeve. The silk of his ceremonial robe rustled slightly with each step - the only sound in the echoing palace corridors where even the guards seemed to hold their breath.
At the entrance to the throne room, he met Yang Zhu - his old opponent, a hermit philosopher who had specially descended from the mountains the day before to witness the historic event.
"Ah, young reformer," - Yang Zhu's smile resembled a crack in old porcelain. "Ready to turn the world upside down?"
"Ready to fix it," - Li Shi Min bowed exactly as much as etiquette required. Not a millimeter more.
"Fix it?" - Yang Zhu shook his head. "Can a straight ruler fix a winding stream? Or can a plumb line teach a tree to grow straight?"
"It can," - Li Shi Min replied firmly. "If you know how to apply them."
The throne room doors slowly opened. The Emperor sat on the Dragon Throne, surrounded by clouds of incense and courtiers in silks of all rainbow colors. Li Shi Min walked down the central path, counting exactly thirty-three steps - the number of perfection according to his system.
"Master Kun," - the Emperor's voice was like distant thunder. "We have heard that you have created something... unusual."
Li Shi Min knelt and held the scroll above his head.
"Your Majesty, before you is the key to a perfect state. A system capable of measuring the virtue of any person, from a simple peasant to a minister. Every quality of the soul, every action receives its score. Adding them together, we get an exact number - the virtue index."
A whisper swept through the hall - some admiring, some frightened. The Emperor unrolled the scroll, his eyes moving slowly across the lines.
"Respect for elders - eight points... Care for parents - ten... Bravery in battle - seven... Mercy to the defeated - six..." - he raised his eyes to Li Shi Min. "And you claim these numbers are... just?"
"They are objective, Your Majesty. Behind each number stand years of observation and reflection. I have studied thousands of cases, questioned hundreds of sages. These are not just numbers - this is crystallized wisdom of ages."
"Interesting," - the Emperor stroked his long beard. "And how do you propose to use this system?"
Li Shi Min straightened up, his eyes burning with inner fire.
"Every official will undergo regular evaluation. Every action will be recorded and measured. Those who score high will receive promotion. Those whose score proves low..." - he paused, - "will be removed from service."
"Without exceptions?" - interest appeared in the Emperor's voice.
"Without exceptions, Your Majesty. Numbers know no kinship or friendship. They are impartial, like the scales of Heaven."
The Emperor rose from the throne. The hall became so quiet that the crackling of incense sticks could be heard.
"Master Yang Zhu," - the Emperor turned to the old philosopher. "Do you wish to say something?"
Yang Zhu slowly stepped forward, his simple homespun clothing appearing as a gray spot among courtly luxury.
"Your Majesty, this young man proposes to turn a living garden into a stone pavement. Yes, it is convenient to walk on, but will it please the eye? Will it bear fruit?"
Li Shi Min felt blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Master Yang speaks beautifully, but beauty will not feed the people or protect the borders. We need order, we need a system. Only thus can we build a just state."
"Just?" - Yang Zhu smiled bitterly. "Tell me, young reformer, how many points will you give to a mother who lied to save her child? Or to a warrior who showed mercy to an enemy and was executed for it? Can love be measured by numbers? Can loyalty be weighed on scales?"
"Yes!" - steel rang in Li Shi Min's voice. "Everything can be measured if you find the right measure. Everything can be evaluated if you create an accurate scale. This is the path to perfection!"
The Emperor raised his hand, calling for silence.
"We have heard both sides. And we have made our decision," - he paused, sweeping his gaze across the hall holding its breath. "Master Kun's system will be adopted. Let numbers decide the fates of people - it is better than whim and chance."
Li Shi Min bowed deeply, hiding a triumphant smile. The scroll in his sleeve now seemed not just paper - it was the seed of a new world, a world of perfect order.
"So be it," - Yang Zhu spoke quietly. "But remember, young reformer: someday your numbers will return to you. And then you will understand the true price of perfection."
But Li Shi Min was no longer listening. His thoughts were far ahead - where spread a beautiful new world, lined with straight lines of numbers and formulas. A world where every virtue had its measure, every action - its price.
A world that was about to change forever.
The sun had risen higher, its rays piercing the clouds of incense, creating bizarre patterns in the air. Patterns that somehow didn't fit into neat rows of numbers. But Li Shi Min didn't notice this either.
CHAPTER 2. FIRST VICTORY
"Every victory over humanity is a defeat of the soul"
- Minister Zhao before execution
Minister Zhao's hands trembled as he shuffled through the documents. Each sheet rustled like an autumn leaf in the wind. His career, built on connections and gifts, was crumbling like a house of cards under the new evaluation system.
"Forty-three points," Li Shi Min's voice was calm and cold as a mountain stream. "That's even below the minimum threshold for a junior scribe."
The throne room fell silent. Hundreds of eyes watched the unfolding drama. Minister Zhao, one of the most influential people in the empire, knelt before the young reformer whose system had mercilessly exposed the truth.
"But my services... My experience..." the minister's voice trembled like a taut string.
"Your so-called services have been thoroughly analyzed," Li Shi Min unrolled a new scroll. "Every decision, every appointment, every decree. The result is obvious - incompetence multiplied by self-interest."
A whisper rippled through the hall. No one had ever dared speak this way to a member of the High Council. But numbers... Numbers knew no fear.
"I served three emperors!" Zhao jumped to his feet, his face purple with rage.
"And served each one poorly," Li Shi Min opened another document. "The flood in Chu province - your delay cost thousands of lives. The famine in Yan - your wrong decisions emptied the granaries. The uprising in Jin - your greed drove people to desperation."
"This is slander!"
"This is mathematics," Li Shi Min pointed to rows of numbers. "Every event evaluated on a standard scale. Every decision analyzed by independent experts. Numbers don't lie, Minister Zhao."
The Emperor, seated on the throne, leaned forward. His eyes narrowed like a predatory bird before striking.
"Continue, Teacher Kun."
"Corruption: minus twenty points. Incompetence: minus fifteen. Neglect of duty: minus twenty-five. Even your vaunted loyalty to the throne, upon closer inspection, turns out to be mere fear of losing power - another minus ten points."
"Lies! All lies!" Zhao lunged toward the throne, but guards blocked his path. "Your Majesty, will you allow this upstart..."
"Silence," the emperor raised his hand. "Teacher Kun, are you certain of your calculations?"
"Absolutely, Your Majesty. Each number has been verified thrice. The system leaves no room for error."
"And what about... the human factor?"
"That's precisely the point, Your Majesty. The system eliminates the human factor. Only facts, only numbers, only truth."
The Emperor nodded slowly. In twenty years of rule, he had never seen a tool capable of piercing the armor of court intrigue and reaching the essence.
"Minister Zhao," his voice thundered under the hall's vaults. "You are dismissed from your position. Immediately."
"But..."
"This is not up for discussion. Guards, escort the former minister."
When the footsteps of the guards and Zhao's sobs faded in the corridor, the emperor turned to Li Shi Min.
"Impressive, Teacher Kun. But this was an easy target - Zhao had long overstayed his welcome. What next?"
"Next?" Li Shi Min produced a new scroll. "I have evaluations ready for all members of the High Council. And the results... are impressive."
A shudder ran through the rows of courtiers. Each mentally counted their sins, estimating their weight in the new system.
"Continue," a hunting gleam appeared in the emperor's eyes. "It seems we're in for an interesting month."
"Very interesting, Your Majesty," Li Shi Min unrolled the scroll. "Let's start with the Chief Treasurer..."
The day was waning, painting the palace halls in blood-red hues. Somewhere in the city, bells tolled, marking the end of an era. A new world was being born in agony, to the rustle of paper and the clink of coins falling from confiscated treasuries.
And Li Shi Min was already preparing the next lists. His system worked flawlessly, like a well-oiled mechanism. It was beautiful in its merciless objectivity. Perfect in its mathematical purity.
Only the stars, igniting in the sky above the palace, seemed to form patterns that defied any calculation. But who would listen to stars when numbers spoke?
The first victory had been won. And this was only the beginning.
CHAPTER 3: THE GREAT DECREE
"Easier to count grains of sand in the desert than measure a child's smile"
- Old man, reading the decree in the square
The drumbeat shook the square. Bronze gongs sliced through the morning air. Thousands stood frozen, heads raised to the imperial balcony where scribes unfurled crimson silk the size of a sail.
"From this day forth and forever," the herald's voice soared over the crowd, "every citizen of the Celestial Empire receives their Virtue Index..."
Li Shi Min stood behind the emperor, fingers clasped behind his back. His face remained impassive, but his heart hammered like mad. Twenty days of preparation. A hundred scribes copying the decree. A thousand messengers ready to carry the news to the farthest reaches.
"...every action will be evaluated and recorded..." the herald continued.
Movement rippled through the crowd. Peasants in straw hats exchanged frightened glances. Merchants furrowed their brows, mentally recalculating their dealings. Officials in silk robes grew pale, remembering bribes and promises.
"...every three months a total will be drawn..."
The emperor leaned slightly toward Li Shi Min:
"They're frightened."
"Fear is the beginning of wisdom, Your Majesty."
"And if they rebel?"
"Against numbers? Against justice?" Li Shi Min smiled faintly. "Impossible."
The herald moved on to specific examples. Respect for parents - ten points. Honest trade - eight. Helping neighbors - five. Cursing in the street - minus two. Cheating with weights - minus ten.
The crowd's murmur grew louder. Some shouted "Fair!", others cursed under their breath. A fight broke out at the far edge of the square - guards rushed to break it up.
"Minus five points to each fighter," Li Shi Min muttered.
"They're not used to it yet," the emperor observed.
"They will be. They have no choice."
The herald reached the main part - punishments and rewards. Those scoring above one hundred points would receive positions. Below zero - sent to the mines. The most distinguished would receive imperial awards. The worst of the worst...
"Execution?" the emperor raised an eyebrow.
"Only in exceptional cases. When the sum of sins exceeds all conceivable limits."
A groan rolled across the square. People began looking around as if seeing each other for the first time. Each wondering - who would report first? Who would record the transgression? Who would evaluate?
"A special service is established for control..." the herald bellowed.
"Spies?" the emperor frowned.
"Virtue accountants," Li Shi Min corrected. "They will be everywhere. In every city, in every village. Counting, recording, reporting."
"And who will watch them?"
"Numbers, Your Majesty. Only numbers."
The sun reached its zenith. Sweat rolled down people's faces, but no one dared leave the square. The decree was read to the end, all one hundred and twenty-three paragraphs. Every sin, every virtue, every point.
"The decree takes effect immediately!"
The crowd shuddered. Hundreds of eyes stared at each other. Thousands of ears pricked up. The count had begun.
"Look," Li Shi Min pointed to a strange movement in the crowd.
People began parting, forming a living corridor. Through it walked an old man in tattered robes. He carried on his back a young woman with a child in her arms.
"Helping strangers? Ten points," the scribe automatically noted.
"No," the old man stopped. "This is my daughter-in-law. She has bad legs. I've been carrying her for three years."
"Care for relatives? Fifteen points!"
"Wait," another scribe intervened. "She's not his daughter. A daughter-in-law is almost a stranger."
"So twelve and a half points?"
"And the child? If he's carrying two..."
The scribes clicked their abacuses. The crowd held its breath. The old man stood, swaying under his burden, but not lowering his head.
"There," Li Shi Min said quietly. "Now they understand. Every action has its price. Every virtue its weight. Nothing will remain uncounted."
"And happiness?" the emperor suddenly asked. "How many points for happiness?"
Li Shi Min remained silent. He watched as the scribes finally settled on thirteen points, as the old man, not waiting for the recording, limped on, as people around hurriedly made way for him - each hoping to earn an extra point.
The system worked. The world was changing. And happiness... Can one measure happiness?
However, that was already the next project. On Li Shi Min's desk lay a new scroll - formulas for calculating joy, equations of bliss, graphs of delight. Soon, even happiness would submit to the power of numbers.
He didn't notice the white-bearded old man in simple homespun clothes appearing in the corner of the square. How he shook his head, looking at the imperial balcony. How he turned and slowly walked away, muttering something under his breath.
And if he had noticed - he wouldn't have given it importance. What weight could the opinion of some vagrant have when the empire itself bowed before the power of numbers?
The drums continued to thunder. The gongs rang. The first messengers were already galloping along the roads, carrying copies of the decree. The great experiment had begun.
And only the wind, flying over the square, mockingly ruffled the edges of the crimson scroll, as if trying to hint - there is no formula that could measure its own dance...
CHAPTER 4: THE POWER OF NUMBERS
"A cage is perfect until you hear the birds sing"
- A vegetable seller, losing her last points
"Minus eighteen points!"
The gong strike. The woman falls to her knees. Her basket of vegetables overturns, cabbages rolling across the cobblestones. The guard raises his brush over the bamboo tablet.
"What for?" - her voice trembles.
"Overcharging customers," - the guard writes the characters in black ink. "Three copper coins above the established price."
"But my children..."
"Minus two points for arguing with authority."
She falls silent. Picks up vegetables with trembling hands. A crowd gathers - not out of sympathy, but fear. Each has their own account, their own tablet in the Archives of the Counting Chamber.
A boy rushes to help the woman. The guard squints:
"Plus three points for mercy. What's your name?"
"Lin, sir. The potter's son."
Another entry in the tablet. Another drop in the sea of numbers flooding the empire.
Li Shi Min observes this scene from a teahouse balcony. Three months have passed since the decree was announced. Three months of the new era.
"Teacher Kun," - the servant bows, bringing in a tray. "Your favorite green tea."
He sniffs:
"This isn't the right variety."
"I'm sorry!" - she pales. "I'll immediately..."
"Minus one point for carelessness," - he makes a note in his sleeve. "Plus two for honest admission of error."
Her face brightens. Net profit - one point. Not bad for a simple servant.
Shouts rise from below. A new scene unfolds in the square - a man in rich robes demands justice.
"I donated fifty gold pieces to the temple! Where are my points?"
"Donation from vanity," - the monk is unyielding. "Only true virtue has weight."
"I'll ruin your temple!"
"Minus ten for threats," - the guard is already writing in his tablet.
The rich man cuts off. Bows. Leaves, biting his lips.
Li Shi Min smiles. The system is flawless. Even wealth means nothing now. Only true virtue, only pure actions.
The gong strikes again. Noon. Time for the first inspection. The cry of heralds spreads through the streets:
"Everyone to the square! Public reading of accounts!"
The crowd flows to the platform where scribes lay out scrolls. Everyone holds their breath - whose account will be announced first?
"Wang, silk merchant! Twenty-three points!"
A man in yellow robes stands proudly.
"Zhao, porter! Minus seven points!"
A hunched figure tries to blend with the crowd.
"Teacher Li! One hundred and twelve points!"
A gray-haired man in modest clothes accepts congratulations awkwardly.
"How?" - they whisper in the crowd. "How did he score so much?"
"Teaches children for free. Feeds the homeless. Sweeps the street in front of his house every morning..."
"And they say, his old mother..."
Li Shi Min makes a note in his scroll. Teacher Li is the perfect example. Living proof of the system's justice.
Suddenly his gaze catches on a strange figure at the edge of the square. An old man in homespun clothes, with a long gray beard. He doesn't look at the platform, doesn't listen to the accounts. Just stands, eyes raised to the sky, as if seeing something important there.
"Who is that?" - Li Shi Min summons a guard.
"Don't know, sir. Appeared recently. Lives somewhere in the mountains."
"His account?"
"No account. He... he seems not to exist for the system."
Li Shi Min frowns. Irregularity. The system must account for everyone.
But while he ponders, the old man disappears - as if dissolving into air.
And on the platform names and numbers continue to thunder. Fates are weighed and measured. Virtue gains exact weight.
Time approaches evening. Li Shi Min prepares to leave when he hears a cry from the street. A woman's cry, full of despair.
He hurries to the sound. Around the corner - the same vendor who was fined for overcharging this morning. She sits on the ground, clutching a bundle to her chest.
"What happened?"
"My son... he's ill. I wanted to buy medicine, but..." - she unwraps the bundle. A small face burns with fever. "I don't have enough money. Those three copper coins..."
Li Shi Min freezes. The system makes no exceptions. Even to save a child, rules cannot be broken. Otherwise everything will collapse.
He opens his mouth to explain this, when from the shadows appears that same old man in homespun clothes. Silently places a pouch of medicinal herbs on the ground and leaves, not waiting for thanks.
"Stop!" - shouts Li Shi Min. "This must be recorded! Plus ten points for..."
But the old man has already vanished into the alley. And the woman hurriedly brews the herbs, whispering thanks to all the gods at once.
Li Shi Min stands, clutching his recording tablet. For the first time in many years, his hand trembles.
Somewhere in the distance the gong strikes, announcing the end of day. Scribes roll up their scrolls. Guards disperse to their posts.
The system works. Numbers rule the world.
But that old man... Why doesn't he fit into any formulas?
Li Shi Min returns home, not noticing how the evening wind plays with his scrolls, tangling the columns of numbers, as if trying to hint at something important.
Something that cannot be measured by any numbers.
CHAPTER 5: THE OLD GARDENER
"Sometimes you must betray the law to remain human"
- Teacher Li before his final lesson
"Teacher! Teacher Li!" - a boy burst into the classroom, out of breath. "There... there..."
The elderly mentor looked up from the scroll where he was writing another column of numbers. One hundred and fifteen points - the best score in the quarter. Pride of the system.
"Calm down, Little Feng. What happened?"
"The accountants! They're coming here! With a special inspection!"
Teacher Li turned pale. Special inspection meant only one thing - someone had informed.
Black uniforms already loomed in the doorway. Bamboo counting sticks tapped against tablets.
"Virtue index check! Everyone remain in place!"
The children froze at their desks. The teacher slowly rose.
"Teacher Li," - the senior accountant consulted his tablet. "According to the latest report, your index is one hundred and fifteen points. Highest score. A model for all."
"I just do my work."
"Really?" - the accountant narrowed his eyes. "And what's that there, in the far corner?"
The teacher blocked the small door with his body.
"Nothing special. A storage closet."
"Open it."
"Listen..."
"Open it immediately! Or minus twenty points for disobedience!"
With trembling hands, the teacher slid back the bolt. Behind the door was a narrow closet, filled with bowls of rice.
"What is this?"
"Food... for the children."
"Which children?"
The teacher lowered his head:
"Those whose parents didn't score enough points. They were sent to the mines, and the children... I couldn't let them starve."
"Violation of the food distribution decree!" - the accountant wrote furiously on his tablet. "Aiding criminals' families! Distortion of the benefits distribution system!"
"But they're children..."
"Minus fifty points! Minus one hundred! Minus..."
Noise erupted outside. Someone was shouting, guard bells jingling.
"What now?" - the accountant looked out the window.
A woman ran down the street with an infant in her arms. Guards chased after her.
"Stop her! Minus thirty points for fleeing inspection!"
"But my child is sick!" - the woman cried. "I need to get to the healer!"
"Visiting a healer without permission - minus twenty points!"
Teacher Li lunged for the door.
"Stay where you are!" - the accountant blocked his path. "One more step - and your account will go so far negative your grandchildren won't be able to pay it off!"
And then the incredible happened.
Teacher Li, model citizen, pride of the system, man with index one hundred and fifteen, lifted the heavy writing board and brought it down on the accountant's head.
"Run!" - he shouted to the children. "All of you run!"
Chaos erupted. Children scattered in all directions. The guards were torn between chasing the woman and the riot in the school. Accountants hysterically wrote in their tablets, unable to keep up with the multiplying violations.
And Teacher Li, covering his students' retreat, recited from memory:
"The sage said: he who forgets mercy for the sake of law is like one who forgets the meaning of characters for the sake of the brush's purity!"
"Seize him! Minus two hundred points for seditious speech!"
"The sage said: when laws multiply, crimes increase! When prohibitions constrain life, honest people become criminals!"
"Silence! Minus three hundred!"
"The sage said: you cannot measure heaven with a ruler! You cannot weigh the soul on scales!"
The guards subdued the old man. He didn't resist, only continued speaking - louder, as if wanting the whole street, the whole city, the whole empire to hear:
"The sage said: woe to that country where kindness is measured by numbers! Woe to those rulers who think justice can be calculated! Woe..."
A blow to the head cut off his speech. His body went limp in the guards' hands.
"Take him away!" - the senior accountant wiped blood from his split forehead. "Report to Li Shi Min immediately! Such rebellion has never happened before!"
The square emptied. Only sheets with numbers blew across the cobblestones, while in the distance the cries of running children could still be heard.
In the doorway of the ransacked school stood the gray-bearded old man in homespun clothes. He shook his head and wrote something on a scrap of paper. But not numbers - characters of an ancient prophecy:
"When wisdom turns to calculation, great foolishness appears. When kindness becomes duty, great cruelty appears..."
He didn't wait for the guards to notice him. Dissolved into the shadows of the alley, leaving the note lying on the school's threshold.
And at that moment in Li Shi Min's office, urgent report bells were already ringing. The system had its first crack. The one who should have been an example had raised rebellion.
The coming night promised to be long. Very long.
And somewhere in the mountains, in a small hermit's hut, water was already boiling for tea - tea that would be drunk by a very important guest. A guest who didn't yet know that he would soon come there seeking answers to questions he hadn't even learned to ask...
PART TWO: COLLAPSE
"Memory is a mirror where the present
meets the past"
(Confucius)
CHAPTER 6: DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS
"The axe falls more quietly than a tear"
- The Executioner, dropping his axe
The morning was gray as ash. Li Shi Min stood at his office window, watching the leaden clouds. On his desk lay a scroll with a red seal - the sentence for Teacher Li.
The first execution in the system's history. Not of a thief, not of a murderer - but of a teacher. One who just yesterday had been the model of virtue.
"He's ready," reported the secretary.
"Let him enter."
Teacher Li entered on his own, without guards. His chains clinked as he bowed in ceremonial greeting. His gray hair was neatly combed, his robe clean despite a night in the dungeon.
"Do you understand what you've done?" - for the first time, Li Shi Min felt his voice trembling.
"I understand. I broke the system."
"You betrayed it! You, the best of the best!"
"No, Master Kun. I remained faithful to something higher than any system."
"And what is that?"
Teacher Li raised his eyes:
"The heart."
Li Shi Min turned to the window.
"The heart is deceptive. Only numbers speak truth."
"Then tell me, Master Kun, how many points is a child's laughter worth? What number measures a mother's love? By what formula do you calculate the price of a tear?"
"Stop!"
"I cannot. I was silent too long. We all were silent while your numbers devoured our humanity."
"The system is just..."
"The system is dead. As dead as flowers pressed in a herbarium. As dead as butterflies pinned to a board. You killed the living world, Master Kun, trying to make it perfect."
Rain began outside. Drops drummed on the roof tiles, as if counting down the final moments.
"You know the sentence?"
"I know. And I accept it."
"Even now you can fix everything. Publicly repent, admit your mistakes..."
"And betray the children I saved? The woman with the infant I helped escape? No, Master Kun. There are things more important than life and death."
"What things?"
"Love. Mercy. Compassion. All that cannot be measured by your numbers."
Li Shi Min clenched his fists:
"Do you understand what you're saying? This is... this is..."
"Truth? Yes, Master Kun. And you know it too. Deep inside, where your own heart still lives."
"Take him away!"
The guards appeared instantly. Teacher Li didn't resist as they led him to the door. But at the threshold he turned:
"You know what's most terrible, Master Kun? Not death. What's terrible is that you've created a world where a righteous man must become a criminal to remain human."
The doors closed. Li Shi Min remained alone.
An hour later the drum thundered in the square. A minute later all was finished.
The executioner worked cleanly - plus five points for professionalism. The scribes compiled the report - plus three for neatness. The gravediggers dug the hole - plus two for diligence.
The system continued to work. The numbers continued their endless dance.
Only in the evening, when Li Shi Min reviewed the final reports, his eye caught a strange entry: "An old man in homespun clothes threw a flower on the grave. Points not assigned - identity not established."
And at night he had a dream. He stood amid an endless field of numbers, and each number screamed with a child's voice, wept with a woman's cry, groaned with an old man's moan. He tried to cover his ears, but the cries penetrated directly into his brain.
Waking in cold sweat, he wept for the first time in many years.
And in the city they already whispered of a miracle - on Teacher Li's grave, despite the autumn cold, a lotus had bloomed. White, pure, beyond the power of any numbers.
But Li Shi Min didn't see this. He sat in his office, staring into emptiness while dawn slowly painted the sky the color of blood.
Somewhere in the mountains an old man in homespun clothes was brewing tea, knowing a guest would soon come. A guest with empty eyes and a full heart.
The path to wisdom always begins with pain. And this path cannot be measured by any numbers.
The empire held its breath. Changes were coming. Terrible changes.
And only the wind, eternal mocker, played with fallen leaves on the righteous man's grave, arranging them in patterns beyond any mathematics.
CHAPTER 7: THE LOST PATH
"Not lost is he who strays from the path, but he who believes there is only one path"
- First Minister in his final note
The bronze mirror shattered when Li Shi Min hurled it against the wall. Fragments scattered across his office, reflecting his distorted face.
"Lies!" - his cry echoed off the walls. "It cannot be!"
The morning report scroll lay on the floor. Numbers danced before his eyes: suicides - up eighty percent. Flight from the capital - five times above normal. Denunciations - drowning the chancellery.
And most telling - people had stopped smiling. Completely. As if they'd forgotten how.
"Master," - a young scribe froze in the doorway. "There... there's more..."
"What?!"
"Lord Yang. The First Minister."
"What of him?"
"Hanged himself. Left a note: 'I can no longer count others' sins. My own tally is too heavy.'"
Li Shi Min collapsed into his chair. Yang had been his right hand, the system's most devoted follower.
"When?"
"At dawn. After he had to... had to execute his own son. For helping fugitive children."
Silence rang in his ears. Somewhere deep in the palace, drums beat - another execution. Another righteous man turned criminal.
"Wine," - Li Shi Min rasped.
"But... that's minus five points..."
"OUT!"
Alone, he pulled a worn scroll from his sleeve - his personal diary. Recent entries jumbled together, numbers crawling over each other:
"Day five after Teacher Li's execution. System showing failures. People learned to deceive the accountants. Parents distrust children, children fear parents. Anyone might inform on anyone.
Day six. Underground point market discovered. Merchants selling virtue like rice. Poor selling last points to buy food.
Day seven. Temples empty. Monks say gods don't keep score. First refugee communities in mountains. They call themselves 'free from numbers.'"
Fingers trembling, staining silk with wine:
"Day eight. Caught scribe falsifying reports. Before death screamed - system perfect, only humans err. Why do these words sound like mockery?
Day nine. Walked city in secret. Whispers everywhere, fear everywhere. Writings on walls: 'Numbers lie.' Guards can't erase fast enough.
Day ten. Dreams of dead. Teacher Li, Lord Yang, nameless executed. All smiling. Why are they smiling?!"
Last entry ended in a blot.
Li Shi Min raised his head. Sunset light poured through the window, painting the room the color of old blood. Below, accountants conducted evening inspection.
"Wang Junior! Minus ten for unkempt appearance!"
"But I was up all night caring for my sick mother..."
"Minus five for arguing!"
Shouts, weeping, coin clinking. Ordinary evening in a perfect world.
Suddenly his gaze caught on a strange figure in the crowd. An old man in homespun clothes stood motionless, looking directly at the office window. Their eyes met.
And for the first time in many years, something stirred in the great reformer's soul. Something ancient, forgotten, alive.
He rushed to the door, ran down stairs, pushed through guards. But the square was already empty. Only wind chased paper scraps with columns of numbers.
"Where?" - he grabbed the nearest accountant's collar. "Where's the old man?!"
"What old man, sir?"
"In homespun clothes! With a gray beard!"
"Saw no such person, sir. Perhaps you imagined it? Many report visions lately..."
Li Shi Min shoved the accountant away. Sky darkened to black. First stars emerged through smog above the city - cold, distant, indifferent to human calculations.
"Emperor!" - decision came suddenly. "Must see emperor! He'll understand, he must understand..."
But when he burst into throne room, knocking aside guards, shouting of crisis and catastrophe, surprise awaited.
Throne was empty.
"His Majesty... departed," - palace guard captain avoided his eyes. "Three days ago. To mountains. Seeking some hermit..."
Something broke inside. System cracked at seams. World crumbled.
And in throne room's far corner, in column's shadow, stood old man in homespun clothes. Smiled knowingly. Waited.
"Who are you?" - Li Shi Min whispered.
Old man didn't answer. Turned and walked away, his steps echoing under hall's vaults.
Li Shi Min rushed after. Around first corridor turn old man vanished. But on wall remained writing - fresh ink still gleaming:
"When you lose all answers, come to mountains. Where numbers end, path begins."
First time in life great reformer didn't know what to do. His perfect world proved mirage. Empire sank into chaos.
And somewhere in mountains kettle boiled in hermit's hut. Old man in homespun clothes laid out cups - two cups, as if knowing exactly guest would soon come.
Guest who must learn anew simplest thing - being human.
Night descended on capital. In darkness statue eyes seemed alive. They watched reformer pacing empty palace with ancient, inhuman wisdom.
Path was lost. But perhaps therein lay salvation.
Li Shi Min froze midst throne room. His fingers found sharpened writing brush in sleeve.
Choice was simple: either follow Yang to noose, or...
He tore off ceremonial robes. Ripped off rank insignia. Messed perfectly arranged hair.
And in palace darkness quick footsteps sounded - away from lantern light, away from guard shouts, away from dead perfection of numbers.
To mountains. Where numbers end.
Where path begins.
CHAPTER 8: NIGHT OF DOUBTS
"Doubt is first crack in wall of perfection"
- Li Shi Min, looking at broken mirror
Rain turned mountain path to slippery serpent. Li Shi Min climbed upward, grasping wet stones. His once-perfect hands bled from sharp outcrops, soaked homespun shirt clung to body.
"Halt!" - pursuit cries came from below. Guard torches danced in darkness like fireflies.
He pressed into crevice, holding breath. Boots tramped past, weapons clinked.
"Upward! He couldn't have gone far!"
"Careful! Easy to fall here!"
"No matter! Thousand gold pieces for his capture!"
Li Shi Min closed eyes. Yesterday these men bowed before him. Now hunted him like wild beast.
Pursuit moved away. He carefully emerged from hiding and moved upward, now slower, trying to stay silent.
Thoughts tangled. Recent days seemed fevered dream. System, his perfect system, devoured itself. And he fled, like lowest criminal, from laws he himself created.
Foot slipped, he barely held edge of cliff. Below darkness gaped. Somewhere there, in void, lay capital - city he wanted make perfect.
New slip. Fall. Last moment hands found root. Hung over abyss, gasping.
"Can't keep balance?" - voice sounded so close Li Shi Min startled. "Amusing. You, who wanted balance whole empire."
On ledge, two steps from him, sat that same old man in homespun clothes. Calmly drank tea from tiny cup, as if noticing neither rain nor night.
"Help!" - Li Shi Min breathed. Fingers numbed, root cracked.
"Why? You have system. Calculate optimal pulling angle. Compute friction coefficient. Determine..."
Root cracked harder.
"Please!"
"Ah, what's this? Asking? Not demanding, not ordering, not citing laws?" - old man set cup aside. "Well, that's progress."
Strong hand grabbed Li Shi Min's collar, pulled onto ledge. He collapsed on stones, gasping air.
"You... you followed me?"
"No. Just knew you'd come. Sooner or later all come."
"Who - all?"
"Those lost in own labyrinths. Who tangled in nets they themselves wove. Who lost path trying plot straightest route."
From below came shouts - pursuit returned.
"Come," - old man rose. "If, of course, you don't want test how many points they award for catching fugitive reformer."
They entered crevice Li Shi Min would swear wasn't there moment ago. Passage twisted, grew wider then narrower. Sometimes they had to squeeze sideways.
"Where are we going?"
"Wrong question," - old man didn't turn. "Right one - what are we leaving?"
"I know what! Chaos, madness..."
"Truth?"
Li Shi Min stumbled.
"What truth?"
"That life can't be caged in numbers. That soul can't be measured with ruler. That love can't be factored into components."
"But there must be way... System... Order..."
"Look up."
Passage led to open platform. Rain stopped. Sky blazed with stars - countless, bright, absolutely chaotic.
"See order?" - old man sat on stone. "It's there. But not kind you can write in numbers. Living order. Dancing. Breathing."
"I don't understand..."
"Of course. You unlearned understanding, trying explain everything. Unlearned feeling, trying measure everything. Unlearned loving, trying control everything."
Somewhere below lightning split sky. For moment illuminated city - tiny, toy-like from such height.
"I wanted best," - Li Shi Min's voice broke. "Wanted justice..."
"And created prison. Turned living people into number columns. Strangled mercy with laws. Killed compassion with paragraphs."
"Not true!"
"Truth. And you know it. Why else flee to mountains?"
Li Shi Min covered face with hands. Before eyes rose faces - Teacher Li, Minister Yang, nameless victims of system.
"What have I done..."
"Now right question," - old man smiled. "First step to wisdom - admit own foolishness."
"What now?"
"Now? Now you'll learn anew. See with heart, not eyes. Listen to silence, not words. Understand life, not explain it."
"But empire... People..."
"Empire will manage. People will survive. They always survive when perfect systems crumble."
Lightning again. Again for moment illuminated city. But now Li Shi Min saw it differently - living organism, not scheme, body, not blueprint.
"I must return. Fix..."
"Must," - old man nodded. "But not now. First must find what you lost."
"What exactly?"
"Humanity."
They moved on along mountain path. Ahead light glimmered - tiny hut under spreading tree.
"Welcome to school of incalculable," - old man pushed door. "Tea almost ready."
Li Shi Min crossed threshold, leaving his collapsed world behind. Ahead waited different abyss - abyss of true wisdom.
And somewhere in valley drums still thundered, numbers rang, people rushed about. But here, on peak, only wind reached - ancient as world, free as life itself.
First night of new path began.
CHAPTER 9: ESCAPE TO THE MOUNTAINS
"The hardest thing to fix is what your own genius has broken"
- Girl with a doll
"First, you must die," the old man handed Li Shi Min a cup of steaming brew. "Completely. To the last thought."
The firelight cast strange shadows on the hut's walls. Li Shi Min sniffed the drink - a strange aroma, both bitter and sweet.
"What is this?"
"An antidote to numbers."
The first sip burned his throat. The second spread warmth through his body. After the third, the hut's walls began to melt.
"Am I... am I dying?"
"No. You're just ceasing to be who you never were."
The world spun. In the whirl of visions, faces flashed by - events, missed opportunities. Each wrong decision blazed like a burning brand.
There he was as a child, first trying to count flower petals instead of enjoying their beauty. There as a youth, composing his first tables of virtue, not noticing how love left his heart. There as a mature man, signing death sentences, convincing himself he served higher justice.
"Watch until the end," the old man's voice came as if through water. "Every mistake. Every betrayal of yourself."
The visions grew brighter. He saw his soul - a scorched desert where columns of numbers grew instead of flowers. Saw his heart - a mechanical clock, long forgotten how to beat in rhythm with living life.
"I'm a monster..."
"No. Just a lost child who was too afraid of life's chaos."
A new whirl of images. Now he saw others - all those broken by his system. Mothers separated from children due to low virtue indices. Lovers divided across provinces for wrong numbers. Elderly dying alone because their children feared losing points.
"Enough! I can't bear it!"
"You can. Because they bore it."
Pain twisted his insides. He fell to the earthen floor, clawing at the clay. Each breath came with difficulty.
"That's it," the old man sat beside him. "Die. Completely. To the last drop of your former self."
Convulsions shook his body. Foam came from his mouth. In his agony, he saw them all - victims of the perfect system. They watched silently, without reproach. Just watched.
And then came darkness. Absolute, infinite.
And in this darkness, for the first time in many years, he heard his own heartbeat. Living. Real. Free from numbers.
"Breathe," commanded the old man. "You are born anew."
The first breath burned his lungs with dawn's freshness. The second brought the smell of wet earth and mountain herbs. The third... the third breath was the sweetest in his life.
"Now you're ready to learn."
"What?"
"Everything. Anew. From a clean slate."
Li Shi Min opened his eyes. The world had changed. Every dust mote in the sunbeam danced its own dance. Every crack in the clay floor told its own story.
"I don't understand anything..."
"Finally," the old man smiled. "Now you can truly become wise."
Outside, dawn was breaking. The first day of a new life. The first step of the real path.
And somewhere below, in the valley, the empire of perfect numbers continued to crumble. But now it didn't matter anymore.
Only one thing mattered - learning anew to be alive.
"Come," the old man stood. "I'll show you my garden."
They walked out onto a mountain terrace where treetops floated in the morning mist. Here were no straight lines. No exact forms. Nothing perfect.
Only life. Beautiful in its free dance.
"Let's start with something simple," the old man plucked a flower. "Learn to look without counting petals."
And Li Shi Min, the great reformer, scourge of the empire, creator of the perfect system, wept like a child.
Because for the first time, he saw beauty that couldn't be measured by any numbers.
CHAPTER 10: ON THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS
"Sometimes you must look into the abyss to see the sky"
- Old man, offering the cup of brew
Mountain mist swirled at their feet, concealing the bottomless chasm. Li Shi Min stood at the very edge of the cliff, feeling stones crumbling beneath his sandals. One step - and end to everything. End to doubts, end to pain, end to the unbearable clarity of new vision.
"Jump, if you've decided," the old man didn't even turn, continuing to weed a bed of strange plants. "Just remember - it will be your final count."
"I must return," Li Shi Min's voice rang with tension. "People are dying because of me."
"And you think your death will save them?"
"No. But it will free them from having to forgive."
The old man straightened, wiping earth from his hands:
"So you're still counting. Only now not others' sins, but your own."
A gust of wind swayed Li Shi Min. The abyss beckoned, promising peace. Eternal peace without thoughts, without memory, without this new merciless wisdom.
"You know what's most terrible?" he didn't wait for an answer. "Not that I created a monstrous system. But that I still... still somewhere inside believe I was right."
"Of course you believe. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing here."
"What?"
"True repentance doesn't seek easy paths. It's ready to live with pain. Grow through it. But you... you're still seeking absolutes. Absolute guilt. Absolute redemption. Absolute death."
Li Shi Min looked down. The clouds parted, revealing dizzying depth. Somewhere there, in the valley, the capital's lights flickered. His capital. His prison.
"I can't anymore..."
"You can. You just don't want to. It's easier to die a hero than live a sinner."
"I'm no hero."
"Finally truth," the old man came closer. "The first real truth in this entire conversation."
The stone under his feet treacherously shifted. Li Shi Min swayed, losing balance. In this moment he saw everything with piercing clarity - every tear, every cry, every broken destiny. They flew past like falling stars.
And suddenly - like illumination:
"I must see them all. Each one. Personally."
"Why?"
"Not to ask forgiveness. Not to seek redemption. Just... to see. Really see."
The old man nodded:
"Now you begin to understand."
"Understand what?"
"That real wisdom isn't in finding all answers. But in learning to live with questions."
Li Shi Min slowly stepped back from the edge. His legs trembled, but his gaze grew firmer.
"I don't know how to fix what I've done. Don't know if it's even possible. But..."
"But?"
"But I want to try. Day by day. Person by person. Without system. Without goal. Just... to be with them. See them. Hear them."
The old man silently handed him a hoe:
"Start with this bed. Here grows an herb that cures blindness. All kinds of blindness."
The sun rose over the mountains, painting clouds the color of hope. Not absolute, not perfect - simple human hope, stronger than despair precisely because it demands no guarantees.
Li Shi Min knelt before the flower bed. The earth smelled of future. Unknown, frightening, but real.
And somewhere in the heights an eagle soared, obeying no laws except the law of flight. And in its free dance was that truth which fits into no formulas.
The path began anew. Not from the mountain's peak, but from its foot. Not from a great goal, but from a small deed. Not from seeking perfection, but from accepting imperfection.
And this was right. Truly right.
Without numbers.
PART THREE: THE ENCOUNTER
"Don't ask the way from one who knows the path,
Ask from one who walks beside you"
(Zen Parable)
CHAPTER 11. THE SECRET TEACHER
"Wisdom begins where explanations end"
- A butterfly on Li Shi Min's shoulder
"Tell me about the butterfly," the old man pointed to a moth that had landed on a lotus flower.
"Lepidoptera, wingspan approximately..."
The strike of the bamboo stick burned his shoulder. Li Shi Min choked on the memorized formula.
"Again. Look. Don't count, don't measure - look."
The butterfly fluttered its wings. Dewdrops scattered like rainbow sparks. For a moment, it seemed the whole world paused, admiring this simple miracle.
"It's... it's dancing?"
"Better. Continue."
"Each movement is like a new song. No, not a song... a poem? And the wings aren't just a pattern - they tell a story. About wind, about sun, about..."
A second strike of the stick.
"What for?!"
"For trying to turn the living into literature. Just look."
The butterfly took flight, spinning above the pond. Its reflection shattered in the rippling water, creating a kaleidoscope of fleeting images.
"I don't understand," Li Shi Min rubbed his bruised shoulder. "What do you want?"
"Me? Nothing. It's you who wants something. Always wanting. To explain, to understand, to put into words. But life simply is. The butterfly simply flies. The flower simply blooms."
"But then how..."
"Be quiet. Close your eyes."
Darkness crashed like a stifling wave. Somewhere in the depths of consciousness, numbers, formulas, and definitions continued to flicker.
"Now listen."
At first, there was only emptiness. Then - the distant sound of a mountain stream. Rustling leaves. Birdsong. The sounds layered upon each other, creating a symphony impossible to transcribe in notes.
"What do you hear?"
"Music... no, not music. Life?"
"Open your eyes."
The world exploded in colors. Every leaf, every blade of grass glowed with its own inner light. The butterfly still circled above the pond, but now its dance seemed part of an enormous pattern whose meaning eluded understanding.
"This is how I see the world," the old man sat on a stone. "Not through the eyes of a sage, not through the mind of a philosopher - but through the heart of a child."
"But how can one govern such a world? How to understand its laws?"
"Why govern it? Why seek laws in dance? Rules in flight? Formulas in love?"
Li Shi Min opened his mouth to object but stopped. Something new stirred in his soul - like a sprout breaking through cracked earth.
"All my life... all my life I tried to make the world better. Build a perfect system. And now..."
"And now you see that the world is already perfect. In its imperfection. In its fluidity. In its resistance to any system."
The butterfly fluttered from the flower and landed on Li Shi Min's shoulder. He froze, afraid to frighten away this moment of trust.
"Look how it trusts you," the old man smiled. "Not your regalia, not your wisdom - just you. Living. Real."
"But I don't know how to be alive. I've forgotten."
"Untrue. You've just forgotten. Like forgetting your native tongue in a foreign land. But it's always within, you just need to listen."
The butterfly fluttered its wings, tickling his skin. And suddenly Li Shi Min laughed - for the first time in many years simply laughed, as children laugh, without reason, without purpose, from pure joy of being.
"There," the old man nodded. "You've learned your first lesson."
"What lesson?"
"Joy cannot be measured. It can only be felt."
The sun was setting over the mountains, painting the clouds gold and purple. Somewhere in the valley, the empire of perfect numbers continued to crumble. But here, on the mountain terrace, something new was being born - fragile as butterfly wings, and strong as life itself.
"Now," the old man lifted a simple clay cup from the ground, "learn to drink tea."
"I know how to drink tea. There's a special ceremony..."
"Forget ceremonies. Just drink. Feel the taste. Each sip - like the first in your life."
Li Shi Min raised the cup to his lips. The aroma of mountain herbs hit his nostrils. The first sip burned his tongue with unexpected flavors.
"What do you feel?"
"Sun... Wind... The whole world in one cup..."
"Now you're beginning to see."
Night descended on the mountains. Stars ignited one by one - not according to schedule, not by system, but simply because their time had come to shine.
And somewhere deep in Li Shi Min's soul, a star was also igniting - small, but real. A star of new wisdom that cannot be measured by numbers or fit into formulas.
The path was just beginning.
CHAPTER 12. THE DIFFICULT STUDENT
"Easier to learn a thousand formulas than unlearn counting petals"
- The Old Man, looking at the sword at his neck
The sword blade sliced through the air a millimeter from the old man's neck. Li Shi Min recoiled, dropping the weapon.
"I could have killed you!"
"You could have," the old man didn't stir, continuing to sort herbs. "But what's more important is why you didn't."
"I don't understand..."
"Your hand trembled. Not from fear, not from pity. From what?"
Li Shi Min sank to his knees beside the garden bed. His fingers automatically reached to sort the stems.
"Leave it. Look at me. Why didn't the sword reach its target?"
"Because... because you reminded me of someone."
"Who?"
"My father. On the last day I saw him alive. He sat just like that, among his scrolls, and I thought - what ugly handwriting, it should be corrected..."
The old man nodded:
"Continue."
"And the next day they found him dead. In his hands the final scroll - poems. Terrible, incorrect poems. I burned them without reading. Decided that imperfection had no place in the world."
"And what did you feel?"
"Nothing. Then - nothing. I was busy creating a system of calligraphy. Calculating the ideal proportions of characters."
Wind swept through the garden, ruffling the herbs. Somewhere in the treetops a bird wept.
"And now?"
"Now..." Li Shi Min's voice broke. "Now I want to read those poems. To know what he was thinking. What he felt. I want..."
"What?"
"To ask forgiveness. For trying to fix his life instead of simply loving it."
The old man reached out, touched his forehead:
"Now you truly could have killed me. But didn't. Because you've begun to learn the most important thing."
"What?"
"To see beauty in imperfection. Life in mistakes. Dance in chaos."
Lightning split the sky. The first drops of rain fell on the parched earth, turning dust to clay.
"Come," the old man rose. "I'll show you something."
In the hut he pulled an old scroll from under the mat. Unrolled it. Half-faded characters danced across the yellow paper.
"This..."
"Your father's poems. I kept them."
"But how?"
"Doesn't matter. Read."
Trembling fingers touched the silk. The lines tangled like roots of an old tree:
"In the hour when the moon sheds tears,
My son counts stars in heavens high.
But can one weigh upon the scales
Love that breaks the heart with prose?
Forgive me, my stern accountant son,
For living wrongly, strangely so.
For drinking dawns from morning mist
And believing in butterflies' dance by streams.
You'll build a perfect world, I know,
Where no mistakes or folly dwell.
But remember - in divine constraint
Lives chaos' freedom, sweeter than all..."
The paper blurred with tears. Li Shi Min didn't notice how rain lashed through the open window, how thunder shook the hut's walls.
"Now do you understand?" the old man took back the scroll. "He knew. Knew everything. And loved you - as you were. With all your thirst for perfection."
"And I... I didn't even say goodbye..."
"Untrue. You're saying goodbye now. And meeting him anew - already different. Able to see beauty in uneven lines."
Storm raged over the mountains. Lightning wove patterns that defied any geometry. Thunder sang a song that knew no notes.
And in the small hut, the great reformer learned the most difficult art - the art of being imperfect.
And somewhere in the heights, among the clouds, flew a lonely heron - not in a straight line, not by calculation, but by heart's calling. Simply because that's what its wings desired.
The lesson continued. The most important lesson in life.
Learning to love the incorrect, the impossible, the alive.
CHAPTER 13. TRIAL OF PRIDE
"Not he who knows all answers is wise, but he who has learned to live with questions"
- A girl telling a story
"Look," the old man held out a living firefly to Li Shi Min. "What do you see?"
"A firefly... a lantern... no, more like a star fallen into a palm..."
"Now tell the truth."
Li Shi Min froze. In the flickering light of the tiny creature, he suddenly saw his reflection - distorted, painfully bright.
"I see... myself. As I was. Always trying to be a light for others, while going dark inside."
"Good. Now go."
"Where?"
"To the city. To the people. It's time."
His heart skipped a beat. The city. Down there, in the valley of mist. Where everyone knows his face. Where everyone remembers.
"I'm not ready."
"Of course you're not ready. That's why it's time."
"But..."
"No conditions. No plans. Just go and be."
The descent took a whole day. With each step, the air grew heavier, thicker with human suffering. At the city's edge, he encountered the first inscription on a wall: "Death to the Counter!"
By a ruined tavern sat an old woman, sorting through broken pottery shards. She recognized him. Screamed:
"There he is! Seize him!"
But no one rushed to catch him. Only silence - more terrible than any scream.
"I... I brought food," Li Shi Min held out a bundle of rice.
"Choke on it!" a shard whistled past his temple.
"Forgive me..."
"Forgiveness? You want forgiveness?" the old woman stood, her eyes burning with madness. "Who will forgive my son? Hanged himself because of your points! And my grandchildren? In orphanages because I'm supposedly not virtuous enough!"
Each word like a whiplash. But he stood, unmoving. Accepting the pain.
"Beat him! What are you waiting for?" the old woman turned to the gathered crowd. "It's him! The very one!"
Silence. Only wind chasing dust across the empty square.
And then a child's voice:
"Is it true that you're different now?"
A little girl. Barefoot. A tattered doll in her arms.
"I... I don't know. I'm trying to become."
"He lies!" a shout from the crowd. "Made up another system!"
"No system," Li Shi Min knelt before the girl. "Just us. Here. Now."
"Prove it," the girl held out her doll. "She's broken. How many points to fix her?"
His fingers trembled as he took the fragile toy. Torn arm, tangled hair. Before, he would have calculated repair costs, determined an index of feasibility...
"I'll just try to help. Without counting. Without reason. May I?"
The girl nodded. The crowd drew closer. A seamstress from the crowd offered thread and needle.
Each stitch like a prayer. Each movement a confession of guilt. Sweat stung his eyes, but he continued sewing, binding not just fabric, but the torn fabric of life.
"Done," he handed the doll back. "Now she can hug you with both arms."
"Thank you," the girl hugged the toy to her chest. "Would you like to hear a story?"
"What kind?"
"About a man who counted stars until he forgot how to shine."
The crowd gasped. The old woman dropped her shard.
"Tell me," his voice trembled.
"Once there was a boy who very much wanted to make the world better. He invented many clever rules and decided that now everyone would be happy. But he forgot the most important thing..."
"What?"
"That happiness lives not in rules, but right here," she placed her little hand on his chest. "And that sometimes you just need to fix dolls. Without reason. Just because."
The first tear traced a path down his cheek. Then a second. A third.
"You're crying," the girl marveled. "They used to say you couldn't."
"I unlearned. Long ago. But it seems I'm remembering."
A woman stepped forward from the crowd:
"I also... have something to fix."
"And I!"
"And I..."
By sunset, the entire square was filled with people. Someone brought a broken spinning wheel, someone - torn clothes. He fixed everything he could. Without counting, without system. Simply because he could help.
And the girl sat nearby telling stories. About stars that need not be counted. About trees that grow crooked but reach for light. About birds that sing not by notes.
At night, as he climbed back to the mountains, the old woman caught up with him at the gates.
"Here," she thrust a bundle at him. "Eat. You didn't even try your own rice, gave it all away."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just... live. For real."
Above, by the hut, the old man waited:
"How was your first trial of pride?"
"I understood."
"What exactly?"
"That fixing the world is possible only through love. Not through system, not through rules - through love."
"Not bad for a beginning," the old man smiled. "But it's only the beginning."
And in the city, in the empty square, the girl cradled her mended doll and whispered stories to her. About a man learning anew to be human. About a path that begins with the first step. About light that returns.
And somewhere in the heights, fireflies danced their eternal dance, obeying no laws except the law of love.
The path continued.
CHAPTER 14: THE BROKEN MIRROR
"In the shards of the past, the future becomes clearer"
- The Old Man, throwing a stone into the pond
The water in the pond trembled in the wind, shattering the moon's reflection into thousands of pieces. Li Shi Min sat by the shore, trying to catch even one complete fragment of his face.
"Looking for yourself?" the old man appeared soundlessly, like a shadow. "You won't find it there."
"Where then?"
Instead of answering, the old man threw a stone into the water. Ripples spread across the surface, finally destroying all reflections.
"Why?"
"So you'll stop hiding behind others' faces."
"I'm not hiding..."
"No? Then who was distributing food in the city yesterday, playing the saint? Who allowed himself to be beaten in the square, playing the martyr? Who..."
"Enough!"
"Does it hurt? Then it's true."
Li Shi Min jumped up, clenching his fists:
"Do you have any idea what it's like? Every day seeing the eyes of those who I..."
"I do. That's why I broke your reflection. Enough admiring your own repentance."
"What?"
"You've turned your guilt into a new mask. More elegant than your former reformer's mask, but just as dead."
The moon hid behind clouds. In the sudden darkness, the old man's voice rang like a gong:
"Tell me, do you truly feel others' pain? Or are you reveling in your own suffering?"
"I..."
"When that woman told of her lost son yesterday - did you hear her grief, or were you calculating how beautifully you could fall to your knees before her?"
"Stop!"
"When children ran after you, shouting 'murderer' - were you thinking of their broken lives, or of what magnificent atonement awaited you?"
His fist sliced through the air. The old man didn't even flinch. Li Shi Min collapsed to his knees, gasping:
"Yes, yes, yes! I turned my repentance into a performance! I reveled in my pain! I... I don't know how else..."
"Finally."
"What?"
"Truth. The first real truth in all these days."
The clouds parted. Moonlight illuminated the garden, turning dewdrops into scattered diamonds.
"What should I do?"
"Stop doing."
"I don't understand."
"Just be. Not a saint, not a sinner, not a penitent - yourself. With all the pain, all the dirt, all the truth."
"But what about atonement?"
"Forget that word. It's also a mask."
"Then what?"
"Live. Really. Messily, painfully, honestly. Don't try to be better - try to be real."
Reflections appeared again in the pond. But now Li Shi Min saw not his face, but stars. Endless stars, indifferent to human games.
"I must return to the city."
"Why?"
"Not for atonement. Not for repentance. Just... to be there. With them. In the dirt, in the pain, in the truth."
"Now you begin to understand."
At dawn, he descended from the mountain. Without grand gestures, without lofty words. Just a man, walking toward other people.
And in the pond floated shards of the broken mirror, no longer able to reflect anyone's face. And this was right.
Because a true face cannot be seen in reflection. It can only be lived.
In dirt, in pain, in truth.
To the end.
CHAPTER 15: THE PRICE OF WISDOM
"True wisdom costs one broken life. Yours."
- Teacher Li from the realm of shadows
The paper lantern flared in the darkness, dispersing night shadows. A little girl in a dirty kimono held it out to Li Shi Min:
"Take it. Tonight will be frightening."
The crowd in the square grew. Torches danced, illuminating faces distorted by anger. At the foot of the Perfect Order statue loomed a mountain of scrolls - thousands of records, thousands of destinies reduced to numbers.
"Burn them! Burn them all!"
The first torch flew into the paper mountain. Flames shot skyward, devouring pages with neat columns of numbers. The shouts grew louder. People threw their personal records into the fire, score tablets, badges of distinction.
"Stop!" - a woman's voice cut through the crowd's roar. On the statue's pedestal stood a gray-haired old woman - the same one who had thrown pottery shards at him yesterday. "Not like this! Not with fire!"
"Why?"
"Because fire leaves ashes. And from ashes, a new system can rise. I know another way."
She pulled a handful of seeds from her sleeve:
"Here! Let's plant a garden on these ashes. Let life grow from dead records!"
The crowd froze. Someone snickered:
"The old woman's lost her mind..."
"No," Li Shi Min stepped forward. "She's right. Fire purifies, but only life heals."
"And who are you?"
"Nobody. Just a man who wants to help plant trees."
The flames illuminated his face. Someone gasped:
"It's him! The system's creator!"
"Seize him!"
"Wait," the old woman raised her hand. "Look at his eyes. This is no longer that man."
"You lie! People don't change!"
"They do," the girl with the lantern stood beside Li Shi Min. "I've seen it. He's alive now."
The square hummed like a disturbed beehive. Some reached for stones, others lowered their hands uncertainly.
"Prove it," a tall man with a scarred face stepped from the crowd. "Prove you're no longer a monster."
"I can't."
"What?"
"I can't prove it. Any proof would become a new system. I just... just want to plant trees. With you. If you'll allow it."
The scarred man stared long and penetratingly. Then slowly nodded:
"Give him a spade."
By dawn the square had transformed unrecognizably. Seeds nestled in earth still warm from the fire. People worked silently, shoulder to shoulder. Former enemies passed water to each other, wiped sweat from strangers' faces.
The Perfect Order statue towered over the square, a silent ghost of a departed era. Someone suggested tearing it down.
"No," the old woman shook her head. "Let it stand. As a reminder. And we'll plant climbing roses around it. Let the living embrace the dead."
The sun rose over the horizon as the man in homespun clothes appeared in the square. Silently watched Li Shi Min plant the last seed.
"Do you understand?"
"What?"
"The price of wisdom."
"I think so. It costs one broken life. Mine."
"No. It costs one sprouted life. Your new one."
The girl with the lantern tugged Li Shi Min's sleeve:
"Look! Already!"
From the black earth pushed a tiny sprout. Reaching stubbornly, persistently toward the light. Alive.
"Now you're ready," the old man turned to leave.
"For what?"
"For the main lesson. But it won't be here. Time to return to the mountains."
"But..."
"The garden is planted. It will grow on its own now. Without your help, without your guilt, without you. That's also part of wisdom - knowing how to leave."
Li Shi Min looked back at the square. People continued working, but now without him. Their own way. Their own truth.
"Time," the old man walked toward the mountain path. "The final lesson awaits."
They climbed higher, leaving the awakening city below. And above the square circled a flock of birds, examining the new garden.
Life was returning. Without numbers, without system, without plan. Simply because its time had come.
And this was right. Truly right.
Now remained the most difficult part - the final lesson. The lesson Li Shi Min had been walking toward his whole life, without knowing it.
Ahead waited the mountains. And the dawn of new wisdom.
PART FOUR: THE STRUGGLE
"Day is a little life,
And each awakening is a little birth"
(Arthur Schopenhauer)
CHAPTER 16: RETURN TO THE PALACE
"An empty throne weighs heavier than a full one"
- The Emperor, gazing at the empty throne
The Emperor stood at the window of the throne room, watching the strange garden that had grown in the main square. Roses entwined the statue's pedestal, transforming the once-fearsome symbol into a whimsical arbor. Children darted between flowerbeds, gathering the first fruits from young trees.
"Report," he didn't turn to the entering minister.
"Taxes are coming in... voluntarily. Without accountants, without overseers. People bring what they can."
"Crime?"
"Almost vanished. Thieves are caught and... sent to work in the gardens. No murders for two months now."
"Incredible. And the system?"
"Dead. The last accountant burned his tables a week ago. Now he grows medicinal herbs."
The Emperor ran his palm over the cool marble windowsill:
"And all this without a single decree, without a single law?"
"People themselves... They call it 'the path of the living heart.'"
"Who thought of it?"
"They say some old man in the mountains. And that... former reformer."
"Li Shi Min?" the Emperor turned sharply. "Where is he now?"
"Here," a voice from the shadows made them both start.
A man in simple homespun clothes stood by the column. Barefoot. With a staff of mountain plum. Only his eyes remained the same - but now they held not steely certainty, but living light.
"You..." the Emperor stepped forward. "You dared..."
"Yes. I've come to surrender. For everything."
"Surrender?" the Emperor laughed. "To whom? To the system you created and destroyed? To laws that no longer exist?"
"Then why did you call?"
"I? I didn't call."
"But the note with the imperial seal..."
"A lie. I myself received a note three days ago. With your seal."
They fell silent. Fresh wind flew in through the open windows, bringing the scent of roses and ripe apples.
"So..." Li Shi Min closed his eyes.
"So we were called," the Emperor nodded. "Both letters - forgeries. It remains to know..."
"Why?"
A gust of wind extinguished the candles. In the throne room's twilight, new shadows emerged - dozens, hundreds of people. Silent figures filled the space, surrounding the throne in a living ring.
"That's why," a man with scars on his face stepped from the crowd. "We called. The people called."
"Why?" the Emperor and Li Shi Min asked in unison.
"So you would see. So you would understand - we are no longer subjects. Not cogs in the system. Not numbers in tables."
"Then who are you?"
"People. Just people. Alive."
The crowd parted. A girl with a paper lantern stepped into the center of the hall:
"Look."
The lantern flared, illuminating faces. Ordinary faces - with scars and wrinkles, with smiles and tears. Living faces.
"We haven't come for revenge," the scarred man raised his hand. "Not to judge. Not to ask. We've come to show - the world is alive. Without system. Without fear. Without you."
"What do you want?" the Emperor's voice trembled.
"For you to leave. Both of you. To the mountains, to the forests, wherever you wish. The empire no longer needs emperors. The garden no longer needs gardeners."
"And if we refuse?"
"You won't," the girl raised her lantern higher. "You see - the light has returned. To eyes, to hearts, to souls. Can one rule light?"
Li Shi Min looked at the Emperor. He slowly removed his crown, placed it on the empty throne:
"Where should we go?"
"To the mountains," the old man in homespun clothes stepped from the shadows. "There's a hut there. And much work."
"What work?"
"Learning to be alive. Truly."
They left the palace at dawn. Barefoot, in simple clothes - the former Emperor and former reformer. The old man followed, softly humming something.
And in the sky, birds circled, greeting the new day - the day when power returned to where it belongs.
To living hearts.
And this was only the beginning.
CHAPTER 17: BATTLE FOR SOULS
"The only battle worth winning is the battle with one's own righteousness"
- The Old Man, stopping a war with a word
The mountain hut burst into flames instantly. The dry wood ignited like gunpowder, transforming the hermits' refuge into a funeral pyre.
"Come out!" - the fanatics' leader's voice echoed through the gorge. "In the name of Perfect Order!"
Li Shi Min and the emperor pressed against the rock, sheltering behind a boulder. The last guardians of the old system had found them. Three hundred accountants who had secretly fled the capital, unwilling to part with the power of numbers.
"We know you're here! Traitors! Defilers of sacred mathematics!"
"What shall we do?" - the emperor gritted his teeth, watching the hut's roof collapse.
"Where's the old man?" - Li Shi Min peered into the smoke.
"Don't know. Disappeared before dawn."
The flames leaped higher, licking away the last remnants of their shelter. In the firelight, blades gleamed - the fanatics had begun climbing the mountain path.
"They'll find us."
"I know."
"And kill us."
"Perhaps."
Footsteps drew closer. The cries grew fiercer:
"Death to the system's destroyers! Death to chaos!"
"I have a plan," - Li Shi Min gripped the emperor's shoulder.
"Don't tell me..."
"Yes. I'll go out to them. Alone."
"Why?"
"Because they're right - I created this monster. It's up to me to stop it."
Without waiting for objections, he stepped from behind the boulder. The flames outlined his silhouette, turning him into a living target.
"There he is! Get him!"
"Stop!" - his voice cut through the roar of fire. "You seek truth? I'll show you truth!"
The fanatics froze. A murmur passed through their ranks - some demanded immediate execution, others wanted to hear the system creator's final words.
"Speak, traitor."
Li Shi Min raised his hands to the sky:
"Look! What do you see?"
"Stars," - someone shouted. "What does that..."
"How many?"
"Millions! But..."
"Count them."
"What?"
"Count the stars. Now. Immediately. Divide into groups, compile tables, derive patterns. Well!"
Silence fell. Only the crackling of flames disturbed the night's stillness.
"Can't do it?" - Li Shi Min stepped forward. "Now count the dewdrops on the grass. Or the grains of sand beneath your feet. Or the heartbeats in your chest."
"Silence!"
"No. You wanted truth - here it is. We cannot count even the stars we see. How dare we try to measure souls we cannot see?"
The first blade lowered. Then the second.
"I know what you feel," - he spoke more softly now, but each word struck like a bell. "Fear. When familiar order crumbles, when reality slips through your fingers like water. I went through this myself."
"You lie! You simply turned coward!"
"No. I saw clearly. And now I see what I missed before - the beauty of disorder, the wisdom of chaos, the strength of imperfection."
He stretched his hands toward the nearest fanatics:
"Look at your palms. At the lifelines - do they follow geometry? At your fingerprints - do they obey the law of symmetry? We were born imperfect. And therein lies our perfection."
The clang of falling weapons echoed. Someone in the back ranks fell to their knees.
"You fear losing control? But it never existed. You fear chaos? But life is born from it. You fear uncertainty? But only in it does true freedom live."
The flames behind him began to die. The first raindrops fell on the glowing embers.
"I don't ask you to believe me. I ask you to believe yourself - that part of your soul that remembers the taste of dew, a child's laughter, the whisper of leaves. That part that lives not by numbers, but by miracles."
The last blades rang against the stones. In the ensuing silence came weeping - the soundless sobs of former accountants who had lost their chains.
And on the mountaintop stood the old man in homespun clothes, smiling at the dawn. The battle for souls had been won. Without a single drop of blood. Only with words, flowing from heart to heart.
The rain intensified, washing away ash, soot, and fear. People embraced, wept, laughed. Someone began singing - an ancient songless tune, coming from the depths of ages.
The emperor emerged from hiding, wiping tears:
"How did you know this would work?"
"I didn't know. I simply believed - in them. In myself. In life."
By noon, they began building a new hut on the ashes. Now working together - former enemies shoulder to shoulder, learning anew to feel, trust, love.
And the old man on the peak kept smiling, watching a garden of human souls bloom below - irregular, imperfect, alive.
Real.
CHAPTER 18: THE CHOICE OF PATHS
"Sometimes we must part ways to understand - we've always walked the same road"
- The Old Man in homespun clothes, smiling at three diverging trails
The mountain lake flashed crimson as the sun fell behind the ridge, turning water to blood. Three figures stood motionless on the shore: the old man, the former emperor, and Li Shi Min.
"It's time," the old man pointed to a path disappearing into the mist. "Choose."
"Choose what?" the emperor squinted.
"Your path. Each his own."
From the mist emerged three roads. The first led upward to snow-capped peaks where eagles soared in thin air. The second descended to the valley, to village lights and the murmur of human voices. The third vanished into forest shadows, winding between moss-covered trunks.
"But we..." Li Shi Min faltered.
"You've walked the whole way together. Now each must take his own road."
"Why?"
"Because truth is one, but paths to it are many."
The emperor was first to step toward the fork:
"I choose the mountains."
"Why?"
"To see my former empire from afar. To remember - true power lies not in commands, but in the ability to rise above oneself."
The old man nodded:
"A worthy choice. And you?"
Li Shi Min hesitated, gazing at the three paths:
"What if I choose wrongly?"
"There are no wrong paths. Only those not taken."
"Then... then I choose the forest."
"Why?"
"Because it's dark there. Frightening. Unknown. And I've lived too long in the illusion of clarity."
"Good. Go."
"And you?"
"I choose the valley. Someone must tell children stories about the sage who learned not to be wise."
They embraced - three travelers at the crossroads of destiny. The sun set, stars emerged in the ink-black sky.
"Farewell."
"No. Until we meet again."
"Where?"
"Where all paths end. By the final lake, beyond the final mountain."
Their shadows dissolved in twilight - each in its own direction. Only ripples on the water spread long after from a stone someone had thrown.
At the crossroads remained only the wind, eternal wanderer, keeper of all roads. It caught a fallen leaf, whirled it in the air and carried it away - to where a new dawn is born.
The choice was made. The paths diverged.
But this is not the end of the story.
It is only the beginning.
Because each path is a new story. Each step - a new line in life's book. Each choice - a new chapter in the endless tale of finding oneself.
And somewhere, beyond the horizon, their paths will converge again. But that will be another story.
For now - only the rustle of footsteps in darkness. Only the echo of farewell words. Only the memory that any path begins with the first step.
And each step is a choice.
Always.
CHAPTER 19: THE PRICE OF DECISION
"Easy to die for truth. Harder to live for it together"
- Li Shi Min, watching hostages at the cliff's edge
The sword blade froze at the old man's throat. A drop of blood trickled down the steel, seeping into the earth.
"Either they die, or the empire perishes," the rebel leader snarled. "Choose, sage."
A thousand hostages knelt along the mountain precipice. Women, children, elderly. Behind them stood archers, arrows aimed at defenseless necks.
"Time is running out," the blade trembled. "Restore the system. Revive order. Or they'll all plunge into the abyss."
The old man remained silent, watching the rising sun. His long beard swayed in the wind like a white flag.
"I ask for the last time!"
"No."
"What?"
"Kill them. All of them. Me first."
The rebel staggered back:
"You... you wouldn't dare..."
"I already have. Because there are things more terrible than death."
"What things?"
"Unfreedom. Lies. The dead justice of numbers."
The blade shook harder:
"They'll die! All of them!"
"Perhaps. But their children will be born free."
"You're a monster..."
"No. A monster is one who believes paradise can be built on bones."
The first rays of sun struck the rebel's eyes. He blinked, losing concentration for a moment.
That was enough.
A gust of wind whipped up the old man's white robes. His arms rose like wings. And suddenly all the hostages surged forward as one, knocking down the startled archers.
"Seize him!"
But it was too late. People poured forth like a flood, sweeping away the guards. Without planning, without conspiring - simply feeling the moment of truth.
The rebel swung his sword. The blade whistled through the air.
And stopped a millimeter from the old man's neck. Because it was held by hundreds of hands - the hands of those very people he had wanted to save at the cost of their freedom.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "They should be afraid..."
"Afraid?" the old man smiled. "Of what? Death? There are things stronger than fear."
"What things?"
"Life. Real life. Without numbers, without cages, without chains."
The sword fell from loosened fingers. The rebel collapsed to his knees:
"What have you done? Now there will be chaos everywhere..."
"No. Now there will be life everywhere."
The sun rose over the mountains. People embraced, wept, laughed. Someone began singing - that same ancient song of freedom, knowing no notes.
And the old man stood at the cliff's edge, watching a new world awaken below. A world where each chooses their own path. A world of living hearts.
"Stop!" the rebel raised his head. "One last question. Did you know? Did you know they would choose freedom?"
"No. I believed."
"In what?"
"That the living is always stronger than the dead. Even if one must die to prove it."
The wind caught his words, carrying them to distant horizons. There, where the dawn of a new era was breaking.
An era of free souls.
The price had been paid. The decision made.
And this was only the beginning.
Because real life begins where fear ends. Even if one must look death in the eye to understand this.
And in the sky, birds soared, knowing neither borders nor laws. Simply because their hearts commanded it.
And this was right.
Truly right.
Without numbers.
Forever.
CHAPTER 20: THE FINAL STAKE
"A crown becomes lighter when dropped together"
- The Emperor, throwing the crown at the people's feet
Thunder split the sky. Lightning illuminated the valley where thousands gathered - from every corner of the empire, from every village, every city. The great exodus to the foot of the sacred mountain.
"The time has come," the old man stood at the peak, watching the sea of lights below. "Not everyone has enjoyed living without decrees. They seek an answer."
"To what question?" Li Shi Min peered into the darkness.
"To the most important one. How to live on?"
People walked all night. Mothers carried children, elders leaned on staffs, warriors had removed their armor. No more ranks, titles, degrees. Only souls seeking their path.
At dawn, the valley transformed into a living sea. A million eyes turned to the peak, where three silhouettes were visible in the morning mist - the old man, the former emperor, and the former reformer.
"Speak," the old man nudged Li Shi Min forward. "Your final lesson."
"What should I tell them?"
"The truth."
Li Shi Min stepped to the cliff's edge. Wind tugged at his simple clothes. His voice, amplified by mountain echo, carried across the valley:
"I don't know."
The crowd stirred. A murmur rolled through the ranks.
"I don't know how to live on. And this is the only truth I now believe."
He raised his hands to the sky:
"We created a system to hide from uncertainty. Built walls of numbers to shelter from life's chaos. But life cannot be caged. It will always find a way."
Lightning split the sky again. In its light, the faces below seemed masks, frozen in anticipation.
"I no longer offer you rules. No longer dictate laws. No longer count your virtues."
"But how? How to live without order?" a cry from the crowd.
"Like trees in the forest - each reaches for the sun its own way. Like birds in the sky - each flies to its own call. Like rivers in the mountains - each finds its own course."
The first raindrops fell on parched earth.
"You ask about order? Look at your hearts. They beat without commands, without rules, without count. Simply because they hold a truth that cannot be measured."
The rain intensified, but no one moved.
"I stake the last thing I have left - my life. If you want to restore the system - here's my head. But if even a drop of living truth remains in you..."
He squared his shoulders:
"Disperse. Right now. Return to your homes. And begin to live. Without me, without decrees, without the crutches of others' wisdom. Just live."
Silence covered the valley. The terrible, ringing silence of choice.
And then... then the miracle happened.
People began to disperse. Without shouts, without arguments, without hurry. Simply turned and left - each to their own road, each to their own destiny.
By noon the valley was empty. Only grass, flattened by thousands of feet, slowly rose under the rain.
"That's all," the old man placed his hand on Li Shi Min's shoulder. "The final stake is played."
"Did we win?"
"No. Life won."
They descended the mountain in pouring rain. At the crossroads they stopped.
"Where now?" the emperor looked at the diverging paths.
"Everywhere," the old man smiled. "And nowhere. Like the wind."
"And you?"
But the old man had already dissolved in the rain, leaving only quiet laughter and the barely perceptible scent of mountain herbs.
And somewhere in the heights, above thinning clouds, a rainbow ignited - a seven-colored bridge between heaven and earth, between past and future, between fear and freedom.
The path ended where life began.
Real life.
Without end or beginning.
Like eternity itself.
PART FIVE: TRANSFORMATION
"All rivers flow to the sea,
Yet the sea is never full"
(Ecclesiastes)
CHAPTER 21: FIRE AND WATER
"Miracles are not seen with eyes - they are seen together"
- The Old Man, pointing to a bush burning in the rain
The downpour caught them in the bamboo grove. Heavy drops drummed on the leaves, transforming the world into a blurred watercolor. Li Shi Min and the former Emperor took shelter under an overhanging cliff, watching as streams of water turned the mountain path into a churning torrent.
"Look," the Emperor pointed downward. A ball of fire rolled down the slope - a torch, a tumbleweed engulfed in flames, driven by wind through the rain.
"Impossible," Li Shi Min leaned forward. "Fire cannot burn under such a downpour."
"Yet it burns."
They watched the dance of flames pushing through the water curtain. The bush rolled lower and lower, leaving behind a trail of sparks instantly extinguished in the streams of water.
"What do you think it means?" the Emperor shivered from the cold.
"I no longer think. I just watch."
Suddenly from around the path's bend appeared a procession - dozens of people in soaked clothes, carrying a palanquin on their shoulders. Inside, something glowed with a soft golden light.
"Stop!" Li Shi Min's shout was lost in the rain's noise.
The procession approached. Now they could see that an old woman lay in the palanquin. Her face glowed from within, as if having absorbed sunlight.
"Where are you carrying her?"
"To the final sunrise," answered a gray-haired bearer. "She saw the first. She must see the last."
"But there's a cliff ahead!"
"We know."
They passed by without slowing. The woman in the palanquin smiled, her eyes were closed, but she seemed to see something beyond this world.
"We must stop them," the Emperor stepped forward.
"No," Li Shi Min held him back. "Watch."
The procession reached the cliff's edge. The rain suddenly stilled, as if holding its breath. The bearers lifted the palanquin above their heads.
And then the incredible happened.
The burning bush, still rolling down the slope, crashed into a stone outcrop, exploding into hundreds of burning fragments. They soared into the air, swirled around the palanquin, transforming it into a chariot of fire.
The woman opened her eyes. They reflected the flames.
"It's time," her voice sounded like song.
The bearers stepped into emptiness. But instead of falling, the palanquin soared upward, drawn by the fiery whirlwind. Higher, higher, until it dissolved in the low clouds.
Then the clouds parted. For a moment, the starry sky showed through the gap - but not ordinary, rather like an inverted ocean of light, where each star was a reflection of someone's soul.
"Now do you understand?" a voice behind made them turn.
The old man in homespun clothes stood on a rock, having appeared there somehow.
"What does all this mean?"
"Fire and water. Heaven and earth. Life and death. All one in the dance of being."
"But how..."
"No 'how.' Just watch. Feel. Live."
He stepped to the cliff's edge, spread his arms:
"Do you hear?"
"What?"
"The music of the spheres. The song of stars. The symphony of souls."
And indeed - an inaudible melody rang in the air, making the heart skip. As if the world itself sang an ancient hymn of unity of all things.
The rain ended as suddenly as it began. The sun rose over the mountains, painting the wet stones the color of molten gold.
And somewhere in the heights, fiery sparks still circled, like falling stars. Or rising souls.
The boundary between heaven and earth thinned to transparency. For a moment it seemed - the whole world was one, everything connected to everything by invisible threads of light.
And this was more than miracle.
This was truth.
The only truth needing no proof.
The old man disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. Only a faint scent of mountain herbs remained and an echo of otherworldly music.
And below, in the valley, a new day was dawning. And this was the beginning.
The beginning of a path without path.
A road without map.
Truth without words.
Simply life.
In all its fullness.
CHAPTER 22: THE BROKEN SEAL
"Even seals of power are more beautiful when broken together"
- The Emperor, gazing at the jade garden
The jade seal split in two when the last official threw it at Li Shi Min's feet. The fragments scattered across the marble floor of the throne room, ringing like tiny bells.
"There's no one left to count," the official removed his tasseled hat. "All are free."
Footsteps of departing system servants echoed hollowly in the empty hall. Each left their seal on the floor - symbol of power granted by numbers. The pile of jade at the throne's foot grew, transforming into a green mountain of unfulfilled ambitions.
Li Shi Min picked up half of his former seal. Veins emerged on the break like rivers on ancient maps. Maps of an empire of order that no longer existed.
"You know," the former emperor ran his finger along the sharp edge of the break, "they're more beautiful broken."
"Why?"
"Inside the stone emerges what was always hidden. Patterns of life, concealed behind power's facade."
The setting sun pierced through narrow windows, transforming the fragments into scattered jewels. Each piece caught light uniquely, creating an unrepeatable play of shadows.
"What shall we do with them?"
"What if..." the emperor paused, peering into the light's shimmer. "What if we make a garden from them?"
"A garden?"
"Yes. Lay paths. Build fountains. Let what divided people become what unites them."
By nightfall, word had spread through the city. People streamed to the palace - first timidly, one by one, then in whole families. Each brought something - flowers, saplings, seeds.
The old gardener, who came first, knelt before the pile of seals:
"Here will be a pond. The jade will infuse the water with light, and stars will reflect in it."
A woman with an infant in her arms pointed to a far corner:
"And there - a pavilion for children. Let them play among fragments of old power, knowing no fear."
By dawn, work was in full swing. Seals, broken into small pieces, formed intricate patterns. First sprouts already pushed through them - life hurried to occupy freed space.
Li Shi Min worked alongside everyone, laying stones in the future fountain's foundation. His hands, once holding a brush to count others' sins, now were in earth and clay.
"Look," called a boy digging through the pile of fragments. "This one looks like a butterfly!"
The seal fragment indeed resembled a winged creature frozen in flight. Li Shi Min carefully took it from the child's hands:
"Where shall we place it?"
"Let's make a flock! Find similar ones and let them fly together!"
By noon, an amazing mosaic appeared on the main alley - hundreds of jade "butterflies" soaring skyward. Sunbeams, refracting through stone, created an illusion of movement.
The former emperor, watching the work from the balcony, descended:
"Now I understand..."
"What?"
"Why the system was doomed. You can't cage a butterfly. Even if the cage is pure jade."
By evening, first guests came to the garden - just to sit, look, think. Someone brought a flute, and soft melody floated over the former throne room.
The old man in homespun clothes appeared quietly, sat by the newborn pond. Dipped his hand in water:
"Well done."
"Did you know?"
"That seals are more beautiful broken? Of course. Like people."
Night descended on the garden, igniting first stars. Their reflections trembled in the pond's water, mixing with jade's greenish glow.
And at dawn, first lotus bloomed in the fountain - white, pure, beyond any seals' power. Its petals opened to the sun, greeting a new day.
The day when power finally transformed into beauty.
And this was right.
Absolutely right.
CHAPTER 23: TRUE POWER
"Real power lies not in holding together, but in letting go together"
- The Old Man among warring people in the square
The crystal bowl shattered when the Emperor hurled it against the wall. Fragments rained down on the marble floor, shimmering in the rays of the setting sun.
"They're killing each other," his voice trembled with rage. "Slaughter in the southern provinces. Famine in the northern ones. We gave them freedom, and they..."
"Freedom doesn't come instantly," Li Shi Min picked up one of the shards. "Like a child learning to walk through falling."
"How many more must die before they learn?"
"Not one more," the voice of the old man in homespun clothes rang like a gong. "If you finally understand."
"Understand what?"
"That true power lies not in leading people. But in believing in them."
He stepped to the window, pointing at the sunset sky:
"Look. What do you see?"
"Clouds. A storm approaches."
"I see birth. Each lightning - a new thought. Each thunder - an awakening soul."
First raindrops drummed on the roof. In their monotonous rhythm rang a strange melody - as if the earth itself sang a lullaby to its lost children.
"Come," the old man headed for the exit. "It's time."
"Where?"
"Where everything is decided."
They descended into the city under pouring rain. On the main square gathered a crowd - two warring factions ready to tear at each other's throats. The air rang with hatred.
The old man walked to the circle's center. Lightning illuminated his figure, transforming him into a living silhouette of pure light.
"What are you dividing?" his voice carried across the square. "Power? It's gone. Gold? It's worthless. Truth? Each has their own."
"They killed my son!" a cry from the crowd.
"And they burned our homes!"
"Revenge! We demand revenge!"
The old man raised his hand. In the sudden silence came audible a child's cry.
"There," he pointed to an infant clutching its mother. "There's your future. What will you leave it? Ashes of hatred? Poison of vengeance? Or..."
He knelt, cupped rainwater in his palms:
"Or this - pure water of life, able to wash away any pain?"
Drops trickled between his fingers, sparkling in lightning flashes like tiny stars.
"Choose. Right now. But remember - this choice isn't for yourself. It's for them," he nodded to all the children, quiet in the crowd. "For those who will sing new songs on the ruins of your hatred."
The first sword fell on the wet cobblestones. Then the second. Third.
"What should we do?" a voice from the crowd. "How to live on?"
"Together," the old man stood. "Not for each other, not against each other - simply together. Like trees in a forest - each has its own path to the sun, but roots intertwine in common earth."
The rain intensified, but no one left the square. People looked at each other - for the first time in ages seeing not enemies, but simply people. Wet, confused, alive.
By dawn, fires burned in the square. Someone brought bread, someone wine. The ancient ritual of breaking bread united what laws and decrees could not join.
Li Shi Min and the Emperor watched from a hill as first sunrays gilded the faces of people gathered around fires.
"Now do you understand?" the old man smiled. "True power lies not in rulers' hands. It's in people's hearts. One must only help them remember this."
A song rose over the square - hesitantly at first, then stronger. An ancient tune knowing no words, but understood by every soul.
And somewhere in the heights soared an eagle, wings spread in air currents. Free. As it should be.
As it will be now, always.
CHAPTER 24: NEW DAWN
"When snowflakes glow - it means we're almost ready to walk separate paths"
- A boy catching the first snow of freedom
The boy stretched out his palm, catching the first snowflake of winter. Instead of melting, it transformed into a tiny star, radiating its own light.
"Look!" his cry echoed through the valley where thousands had gathered to celebrate the first year of freedom.
The snow fell silently, but each flake glowed from within, turning the valley into a sea of floating stars. People stood motionless, enchanted by the unprecedented spectacle.
Li Shi Min stood by a mountain stream when a girl ran up to him with a basket of glowing snowflakes:
"You did this, didn't you? You're the chief wizard!"
"No," he knelt beside her. "I'm just the first who stopped interfering with miracles happening."
In the valley, they lit fires - not for warmth, but for beauty. The flames danced with the falling snow, creating an amazing ballet of light and shadow. Someone began to sing, others joined in - not a learned anthem, but simply voices weaving into a living melody.
The former Emperor, leaning on a staff of mountain apple wood, climbed a low hill. No guards surrounded him now, no regalia gleamed - just a simple wanderer among other wanderers.
"A year ago," his voice was quiet, but the valley fell silent, listening, "we thought we had lost everything. System, order, meaning. But today I see..."
He gazed across the sea of faces illuminated by living snow:
"I see children who aren't afraid to laugh. Elders who share not lectures, but stories. Men who have forgotten about war. Women creating new songs."
The snow fell thicker, but brought no cold - each flake warmed like a tiny sun.
"And you know what's most amazing?" the Emperor smiled. "We no longer wait for miracles. We have become them."
At that moment, the incredible happened. The snowflakes began joining in the air, forming luminous threads. The threads wove into patterns, patterns formed into pictures - the story of the past year, told in light.
People saw themselves - confused, frightened, having lost their foundation. Saw the first tentative steps toward freedom. The first embraces of yesterday's enemies. The first garden sprouts on prison ruins.
"Look!" someone shouted. "Look up!"
Above the valley appeared an enormous luminous figure - that same boy who caught the first snowflake. But now he was woven from pure light, his eyes shining with all colors of the rainbow.
"Hello, child," the voice of the old man in homespun clothes sounded like song. "I've been waiting for you."
"Who is that?" people exchanged glances, not understanding.
"The future," the old man bowed to the luminous figure. "What is born when fear dies."
The boy of light smiled - and suddenly everyone felt that smile in their heart. As if the very joy of life had taken form and voice.
"Are we ready?" asked the old man.
The glowing child nodded - and began to grow, expand, encompassing the entire valley in his radiance. For a moment, everyone saw the world through his eyes - infinite, beautiful, full of unimaginable possibilities.
When the light faded, the snow stopped glowing. But something had changed irreversibly - in the air, in hearts, in the very fabric of reality.
"Now we see," whispered Li Shi Min.
"What?"
"That any dawn is a miracle. We were just too busy counting before to notice."
The celebration continued until morning. People danced, sang, shared stories. Children built snow castles that somehow didn't melt and glowed softly in the darkness.
And somewhere in the heights flew that boy woven of light - or perhaps it was just an especially bright star, fallen into earth's embrace.
A new dawn was breaking over the world. A dawn that had never existed in human history.
And this was only the beginning.
CHAPTER 25: THE ETERNAL PATH
"At the end of all roads awaits one trail. And it can only be walked once we've learned to walk apart"
- A Butterfly from the Mist, spreading rainbow wings
The first butterfly was born from the mist - woven from dewdrops, it spread rainbow wings and paused on a blade of grass. Then came a second, a third - soon the air filled with living shimmer.
Li Shi Min stopped counting after the seventh. Now he simply watched as miracle was born - here, atop the mountain where they had climbed to meet the final dawn of their path.
The Emperor silently extended his hand - a butterfly the size of a child's palm alighted there. Its wings pulsed with all colors of the rainbow, as if reflecting time itself.
"It's time," the old man pointed east, where the sky had barely begun to lighten. "Today you'll see what changes everything."
They waited for dawn at the very edge of the precipice. Below, mist swirled, transforming the valley into a milky sea. Somewhere in its depths loomed outlines of cities and villages - the world of people who had learned to live without rules.
The sun's first ray touched the neighboring peak - and suddenly all butterflies soared skyward simultaneously. Their wings ignited, becoming living flame. A fiery whirlwind spun above the precipice, rising higher.
And then the impossible happened.
The mist below began taking form - ghostly figures rising from it. Thousands, millions - all who had lived here before them. Ancient sages and simple peasants, emperors and beggars, warriors and poets. An endless river of souls flowing through time.
"Watch carefully," the old man sat on a stone. "Now you'll see yourselves."
A familiar face flickered in the stream of ghosts - young Li Shi Min, creating his system. Beside him - the Emperor, issuing first decrees. And suddenly - themselves today, sitting at cliff's edge.
"But how..."
"Time is not a line," the old man smiled. "It is a circle. An eternal dance of transformations."
The sun rose, painting ghostly figures gold. Now the future was visible too - those who would come after. Their faces glowed from within, as if having absorbed light of all lived lives.
Fiery butterflies descended, swirled around the ghosts. And suddenly each soul gained wings - rainbow, burning, alive.
"There it is," the Emperor exhaled. "That's why all this was..."
"Yes," the old man stood. "Every path leads to flight. Even if one must crawl through darkness."
The vision began fading. Ghosts dissolved in air, leaving only gleams of light. Butterflies extinguished one by one, becoming dewdrops again.
Only dawn remained - pure, clear, endless. And a trail leading beyond horizon.
"Now you're ready," the old man stepped toward cliff's edge.
"For what?"
"For the real beginning."
His figure began glowing from within, becoming more transparent. After several moments, only a handful of morning dew remained on the stone.
And in the sky flew the last butterfly - no longer fiery, simply alive. Its wings reflected sunlight, showing the way.
The eternal path, knowing no end or beginning. A path that had always existed - one needed only to remember.
Li Shi Min and the Emperor exchanged glances. Wordlessly bowed to dawn. And walked forward - where the trail disappeared beyond world's edge.
They say they were seen afterwards in many places - in a mountain village, in a bustling port, in a lost temple. Or perhaps not them - just similar wanderers, walking without purpose or term.
Or maybe they were already different travelers, carrying in their hearts reflection of that dawn. For everyone seeking truth eventually finds that same trail.
The trail leading to infinity.
Where all paths end.
And real life begins.
EPILOGUE: Two Streams
"The end of the path is always
The beginning of a new journey"
(Lao Tzu)
Time flows in two streams - one visible, measured by sunrises and sunsets. The other - secret, flowing in hearts' depths.
In the visible stream, the empire lives its life. Cities grow without plan, villages arise where soul desires. People learn freedom's art - through mistakes, through pain, through joy of discovery.
In the secret stream, the old man in homespun clothes still sits by mountain brook, smiling at each who finds way to him. And somewhere along dusty roads walk two wanderers - former reformer and former emperor, transformed into living legend.
But there is a place where streams converge - there, atop the mountain, in the hour when butterflies are born from mist. If one climbs there at dawn and truly wishes to see - one might discern a trail leading beyond horizon.
They say it leads to beginning of all beginnings. Or to end of all endings.
Or simply to one's true self.
The End.
FROM THE AUTHOR
This book was born on the borderlands between two worlds - where the human heart meets the crystalline logic of artificial intelligence. Just as ancient masters used brush and paint to convey the ineffable, I used neural networks to explore the depths of the human soul.
To skeptics, I say simply: I am not trying to convince anyone. This book is neither a manifesto for technology nor a hymn to progress. It is a story about the search for wisdom, told in a new way. Like a tea ceremony master who does not create tea but helps reveal its essence, I was merely a guide, helping manifest a story that already existed somewhere between lines of code and heartbeats.
Artificial intelligence became for me what horsehair brushes were to ancient artists - a tool for touching the invisible. Nothing more. But also nothing less.
Every word here has passed through the crucible of the human heart. Every image has been suffered for and refined. Algorithms helped expand the boundaries of the possible, but the choice of path always remained with the human.
For those who believe only their own eyes, I have no proofs - only an invitation to journey. For those who fear losing their humanity in the digital world - a story about finding yourself on any road. And for those simply seeking their path - perhaps this book will become another star in the night sky of seeking.
Beyond this begins the story itself. And it belongs neither to human nor machine - only to your heart.
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Copyright © 2025 Oleh Konko
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First Edition: 2025
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First published on mudria.ai
Blog post date: 20 January, 2026
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This is a work of imagination. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Age Rating: 12+
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Oleh Konko works at the intersection of consciousness studies, technology, and human potential. Through his books, he makes transformative knowledge accessible to everyone, bridging science and wisdom to illuminate paths toward human flourishing.
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