different—no longer a gentle invitation, but a probing interrogation, as if the world were waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. Li Yuan sat at his usual desk, a silk scroll spread before him, yet the words on the paper were blurred, unable to hold his attention. His mind drifted to the subtle tremor he had felt since yesterday.
The silence within the House of Words feels different today, he mused, touching the worn surface of the wooden desk. It's not the usual peaceful quiet, but a held-breath silence—like the sky before a storm.
Inside his Zhenjing, the Understanding of Existence vibrated at an unusual frequency. Not a strong or urgent tremor, but one like a string plucked by an almost imperceptible breeze—a resonance that told him something in the world was beginning to… shift.
"Qingshan."
The sound of Master Shen's voice made him turn. The old man stood in the doorway with an expression Li Yuan rarely saw—a mix of worry and confusion, like someone trying to understand a foreign language he had suddenly been forced to learn.
"Good morning, Master Shen. Can I help you with something?"
Master Shen walked toward Li Yuan's desk with a slower step than usual, carrying a tea pot and two small cups. "Sit for a moment. There's… there's something we need to talk about."
This is about yesterday's news, Li Yuan realized as he watched Master Shen pour the tea with slightly trembling hands. About the plague in Yunshan.
"This morning," Master Shen began, handing a cup of tea to Li Yuan, "some people came here. Not to look for books or to ask for help writing letters. They came to… ask questions."
"Ask about what?"
"About what to do. About whether they should flee Hexin. About whether it's a good idea to close their shops and lock themselves in their homes." Master Shen sighed, the sound like a weary wind. "And most worrying of all… some of them asked if we should… refuse foreigners who might come from the direction of Yunshan."
Li Yuan felt something cold touch his spine. Fear, he recognized. Fear that was beginning to turn good people into those ready to shut their doors on fellow humans who might need help.
"What did Master Shen tell them?"
Master Shen stared at the surface of the tea in his cup, as if searching for answers in the small whirlpool that had formed. "I told them that… I didn't know. And that was an honest answer, Qingshan. In all my years, I have never faced a situation like this."
Honesty about not knowing, Li Yuan appreciated. Better than giving a fabricated answer just to give a false sense of certainty.
"But there's one thing that keeps bothering me," Master Shen continued, looking at Li Yuan with searching eyes. "Yesterday, when you spoke about that plague in the garden, there was… there was something about the way you responded that made me feel you weren't… you weren't as surprised as the others."
Li Yuan felt a moment of wariness. Master Shen, like Lin Sao, was a keen observer. "What do you mean, Master?"
"I mean… when Lin Sao told you the news from Merchant Liu, your expression wasn't that of someone hearing something shocking. It was the expression of someone who had… who had already considered such a possibility."
How do I explain that the Understanding of Existence has given me a sense that something is shifting in the world, without revealing my true spiritual nature?
"Perhaps," Li Yuan said carefully, "it's because in my travels, I became accustomed to… uncertainty. To changes that come without warning. So when I heard about a problem somewhere else, a part of my mind immediately went to how it could affect this place."
Master Shen nodded slowly. "Like… like a person who is used to reading the weather from a small cloud in a clear sky."
"Something like that."
"Then," Master Shen leaned back, "what would you do if you were in my position? What would you say to the people who come looking for answers?"
Li Yuan was silent, feeling the weight of the question. Inside his Zhenjing, his fourteen understandings vibrated with a complex resonance—eleven wrapped tightly like waiting seeds of light, and three exposed ones trying to find a way to respond to this situation without revealing too much.
I feel this burden—not the burden of hidden power, but the burden of a love that is too great for a heart that is only just learning to be human. How does one provide guidance when one is still learning the limitations that come with living a normal human life?
"I would say," Li Yuan answered slowly, "that fear and panic will make us make poor decisions. But ignoring a real threat is also unwise."
"And the middle path?"
"Rational preparation. Cooperation rather than isolation." Li Yuan felt the Understanding of Existence tremble with subtle agreement. "When a storm comes, the trees that stand alone fall more easily than a forest whose roots are intertwined."
Master Shen looked at him with eyes that began to twinkle. "You're talking about community."
"I'm talking about the strength that comes from healthy interdependence. From sharing a burden rather than bearing it alone."
Inside my inner space, I felt something shift—not a new understanding, but the application of an old understanding in a context I had never faced before. How does one protect a community without becoming a dominant leader? How does one give strength without taking control?
That afternoon, the House of Words became a kind of informal center for people seeking… not certain answers, but a calming perspective. Li Yuan observed how Master Shen, with quiet wisdom, began to facilitate small conversations among the people who came with different worries.
An old merchant was worried about whether he should close his shop. A young mother asked if she should send her children to their grandmother's house in a more distant village. A middle-aged man questioned whether he should join a patrol being organized by some residents to "guard the city gates."
Fear taking on different forms, Li Yuan observed. But it all came down to the same question: how to protect what we love when we are unsure where the threat will come from?
What was interesting to Li Yuan was how Master Shen's presence—and, he began to realize, his own presence—provided a kind of point of stability amidst the spreading anxiety. Not because they gave definitive answers, but because they provided a space for people to process their fears without judgment.
"Master Qingshan," a woman in her forties called from a corner of the room, "Lin Sao said yesterday you gave good advice on how the community can prepare for… this situation."
Li Yuan felt all eyes in the room turn to him. This moment, he realized, is a chance to provide something useful without taking on the position of a leader or authority.
"What I suggested yesterday," Li Yuan said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear but not to dominate, "is that we meet as neighbors to discuss practical steps. Not to make decisions for others, but to share thoughts and perhaps… coordinate efforts."
"You mean like a mutual aid effort?" the middle-aged man who had asked about the patrol asked.
"Something like that. But a mutual aid effort to face something that is… uncertain."
Master Shen rose from his chair, and Li Yuan could see that the old man already understood where this conversation was headed. "Perhaps," Master Shen said in a dignified but not forceful voice, "we can use the back courtyard of the House of Words this evening. For an open meeting. Whoever wants to come, can come. Whoever wants to share their thoughts, can share."
Nods and murmurs of agreement began to sound throughout the room.
"However," Li Yuan added carefully, "this is not a meeting to make binding decisions for everyone. It's a meeting to… share the burden of our worries and perhaps find ways to support one another."
Within myself, I felt something warm and strange—not the power that comes from controlling a situation, but the power that comes from helping others find their own strength. This was a type of influence I had never learned in my three hundred years of spiritual seeking—an influence that arises not from superiority, but from a genuine presence.
That evening, the back courtyard of the House of Words was filled with about twenty people—a mix of residents from Li Yuan's alley and people from other parts of Hexin. They sat in an irregular circle on mats borrowed from various homes, with an atmosphere that was… not panic, but also not a casual indifference.
Li Yuan sat slightly to the back, letting Master Shen facilitate the discussion as the owner of the place and a respected elder. But he could feel how his presence provided a kind of anchor—a point of calm that allowed the conversation to flow without devolving into argument or a spiral of fear.
"First," Master Shen began, "let's admit that we all don't know for sure what will happen. The plague in Yunshan might spread here, it might not. It might be severe, it might not. This uncertainty is a part of the reality we must face."
"Then what's the point of meeting if we can't know anything?" a young man asked with a slightly frustrated tone.
Li Yuan felt the urge to answer, but he held back, letting others respond first.
"Because," an old woman whom Li Yuan recognized as Lin Sao's neighbor answered, "not knowing doesn't mean we can't prepare. And preparing together is better than preparing alone."
A simple yet profound wisdom, Li Yuan appreciated. It came from lived experience, not from theory.
The discussion began to flow in a productive direction. People started to share their worries, but also practical ideas. Someone suggested organizing an information system so that news about the situation's development could spread quickly and accurately. Another proposed collecting a stock of basic medicines. Someone offered to coordinate aid for families who might not be able to prepare for themselves.
This, Li Yuan observed with a growing warmth, is how a healthy community responds to a crisis. Not by ceding responsibility to an authority figure, but by activating the collective capacity to care for one another.
"There's one more thing," Li Yuan finally spoke when the discussion began to reach a point where people were thinking about concrete steps. "About… how we treat the people who might come from the direction of Yunshan or other affected places."
A momentary silence fell over the group. Li Yuan could feel that this was a question that was on many people's minds, but no one had dared to raise it.
"You mean refugees?" someone asked.
"Or merchants who might be carrying… carrying disease," another person added in a cautious voice.
Li Yuan felt a complicated moment. How to talk about the balance between compassion and caution without sounding naive or hard-hearted?
"What I mean is," he said slowly, "that fear can sometimes make us forget that the people who might come here are also… people like us. Who might also be looking for safety for their families."
"But what if they bring the disease?" the inevitable follow-up question.
"Then we need to find a way to… to provide help while still being careful. Not to close the door, but to open the door wisely."
Inside my heart, I felt the echoes of all the understandings I possessed—Water that taught about flowing to where it's needed most, Existence that reminded me of the value of every soul, the Veil that provides protection without isolating. These were the moments when spiritual wisdom had to become practical compassion.
Master Shen nodded in agreement. "Perhaps we can think about… a temporary reception point. A place where people coming from affected areas can rest, get food and water, and… have their health checked before entering the city."
"And if they are sick?" the inevitable next question.
"Then we treat them," Li Yuan heard himself say. "Carefully, but we treat them. Because that is what we would want others to do for us if we were in their position."
The silence that fell after those words was not a silence of disagreement, but a silence of contemplation. I could feel how people were processing this difficult moral question—a question about the extent of our responsibility to fellow humans, and how to balance self-preservation with compassion.
When the meeting ended two hours later, Li Yuan felt something different in the air of Hexin. No longer a tension of pure anxiety, but… a quiet determination. People didn't go home with certain answers, but they went home with a plan and, perhaps more importantly, with the feeling that they were not alone in facing this uncertainty.
As people began to disperse, Master Shen approached Li Yuan with an expression that was… full of gratitude.
"Qingshan," he said in a low voice, "thank you for what you did today."
"I didn't do anything special."
"Precisely. You didn't try to be a leader or provide answers you didn't have. But your presence… gave people the space to find their own strength."
Presence, Li Yuan pondered the word. Not action or intervention, but a simple presence that allows others to grow.
"Master Shen," Li Yuan said after a moment of silence, "what happened today… this will change something in Hexin, won't it?"
Master Shen looked at the now-empty courtyard, where twenty people had just shared their worries and hopes. "Yes. But perhaps it will change for the better. Maybe this crisis will show us that we are stronger together than we thought."
Inside the Zhenjing, I felt something shift—not a new understanding, but a deeper application of an existing one. Today, for the first time since becoming Li Qingshan, I felt how spiritual wisdom can become community service without losing its authenticity or sacrificing humility.
This was a form of cultivation that was never in the ancient books—cultivation through serving the community, through becoming a calm anchor in a collective storm, through helping others find their strength without taking over or dominating.
That night, as Li Yuan sat in his home feeling the subtle vibrations of his fourteen understandings resonating with the day's experience, he realized that the plague in Yunshan—though its development was still unclear—had already begun to teach him something valuable:
That being human is not about hiding spiritual power, but about finding a way to use that power in its most human and most serving form.
And that a strong community is not one led by a single powerful person, but one composed of many people who feel empowered to care for each other.