In the West, writers like Oscar Wilde or Byron mocked hypocrisy with wit and sorrow, hiding their truths in laughter and wine. In ancient China, Ruan Ji lived the same struggle—his defiance wrapped in drunkenness, his wisdom veiled in madness.
Wei–Jin Transition, around 260 CE
The sun was sinking over Luoyang when Ruan Ji heard the imperial summons. A messenger waited at the gate, bowing low. "His Majesty invites you to serve as adviser to the court."
Ruan Ji looked up from his wine, eyes heavy yet sharp. Around him, bamboo leaves rustled softly, their shadows dancing like ghosts of the past. He did not answer. Instead, he poured another cup, the wine spilling over the edge, dark as ink.
"Tell your emperor," he said at last, "that my words flow freer in wine than they ever would in chains."
That night, he joined his few remaining friends beneath the bamboo grove. They spoke of loyalty, corruption, and the strange burden of being awake in a world that worships sleep. The others tried to console him—one urged compromise, another silence—but Ruan Ji only laughed.
"To serve without truth," he said, "is to drown standing up." Then he raised his cup to the stars and drank deeply.
Later, when the moon climbed high, he took up his flute. A low, trembling melody drifted across the grove—at first tender, then wild, then vanishing into the wind. The guards sent to retrieve him stopped at the forest's edge. None dared step inside. It was said that his music made men weep without knowing why.
By dawn, Ruan Ji lay sleeping in the grass, the flute beside him, the wine jar empty. The messenger had long departed, and so had the chance of glory. But the world, for one more night, had been honest.
When morning broke, the bamboo cast long shadows across the earth, tracing the delicate line between solitude and peace. The age of restless spirits was fading; in its place would come a gentler rhythm—one of soil, sunlight, and quiet labor. For among those who sought truth, some would find it not in rebellion, but in the turning of seasons and the harmony of the land.