Chapter Sixty-One: The Song Man Curses in the Street

Liu Xian was a native of Lingling in Jingnan.
His clan and relatives all resided in Lingling.
Historically, he wished for his nephew, Zhou Buyi, to study under the renowned scholar Liu Ba of Lingling.
However, Liu Ba declined, and so after his brother-in-law’s death, he brought his sister and nephew to Xiangyang.
A few years later, when Liu Biao dispatched Liu Xian on a diplomatic mission to Xuchang, he took his nephew Zhou Buyi along as well.
Zhou Buyi developed a close friendship with Cao Chong, and after Cao Chong’s death, Cao Cao, fearing that Cao Pi would be unable to control Zhou Buyi, decided to have Zhou Buyi killed.
This alone spoke volumes of Zhou Buyi’s brilliance.
Of course, Shen Chen had no idea he was dealing with a prodigy, so when Liu Xian made his request, he agreed without hesitation.
He soon witnessed what it meant to be a child prodigy: after returning to the academy, Liu Xian brought Zhou Buyi to meet Song Zhong, who promptly arranged for Shen Chen to become Zhou Buyi’s primary tutor.
By now, Shen Chen was no longer who he once was; after two years at Mount Xian Academy, his reading, coupled with the knowledge he brought from the future, had even earned praise from Wang Can, who hailed him as the most talented man in Jingchu.
Yet, when he began instructing Zhou Buyi, he discovered that the boy, barely five years old, had already mastered all the elementary classics by heart.
With no other option, he began teaching him works such as the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Analects, and the Book of Changes—only then could he barely keep Zhou Buyi challenged.
Within less than a month, Zhou Buyi could also recite those works fluently; fortunately, though he could read and recite them, the commentaries would take him at least another year or so to absorb, so Shen Chen simply continued, knowing he could never truly exhaust the boy’s potential.

It was June 14th, already the height of late summer.
That day, the weather was fair. Wang Can invited his friends—Shi Sunmeng, Pan Jun, Shen Chen, and several other students of Song Zhong—to seek out recluses in the Zhonglu Mountains, northwest of Xiangyang.
The group joked and laughed along the way, and by early afternoon they arrived at the foot of Zhonglu Mountain. Their visit today was to pay respects to a great scholar named Handan Chun.
Later generations often assumed that the famous scholars of Jingzhou were limited to Pang Degong, Huang Chengyan, and Sima Hui, but in reality, compared to the chaos in the Central Plains, Jingzhou was relatively stable, attracting a flood of esteemed scholars and literati.
Wang Can and his friend Shi Sunmeng were among them, as well as Handan Chun himself, now sixty-four, a renowned calligrapher of the late Han. He enjoyed incredible longevity, living into the Cao Wei era, and was counted among Cao Zhi’s “Four Friends” alongside Ding Yi, Ding Yi’s cousin, and Yang Xiu.
Although the late Han valued classical texts, poetry, painting, and calligraphy were also flourishing. Emperor Ling of Han, Liu Hong, was a devoted patron of the arts, establishing the Academy of Hongdu to train calligraphers and painters, and even the least accomplished graduates received at least a county magistrate’s post.
As in all things, the emperor’s example set the trend, and so calligraphy and painting gradually became mainstream.
Poetry too was on the rise—Wang Can himself was a celebrated poet of the time. Handan Chun also wrote poetry, though his was not as accomplished as Wang Can’s, just as Wang Can admired calligraphy but could not match Handan Chun’s skill. Thus, the two held each other in high esteem, and today’s visit was a deliberate meeting of like minds.

At the foot of Zhonglu Mountain, clusters of houses and courtyards could be seen from afar. As a retainer of Liu Biao and a native of the Handan clan of Yingchuan, Handan Chun’s residence was anything but humble—equivalent to a countryside villa of the Han.
Approaching, the group saw a giant banyan tree dominating the courtyard, its branches lush and dense. Beneath it, an elderly man bent over a desk, writing on paper.
Paper was a rare commodity for ordinary folk, but for noble families, it was easily obtained. In fact, Shen Chen himself was researching papermaking technology, hoping to make his fortune from it.
The old man wrote for a while, and before the group could approach, he suddenly burst into hearty laughter, clutching his belly and sitting on the mat in utter delight.
His servants, accustomed to such outbursts, simply stood by silently, asking no questions.
This left Wang Can and his companions utterly perplexed.
Watching the old man laugh for no apparent reason, Shen Chen thought to himself, “What kind of ailment is this? In modern times, you’d be sent to a psychiatric ward.”
When the old man was nearly out of breath from laughter and climbed to his feet for a drink, the group finally approached and greeted him, “Master Zishu.”
Handan Chun turned around, surprised. “And you are?”
“My name is Wang Can, styled Zhongxuan,” Wang Can replied with a smile and a respectful bow. “We have heard you live in seclusion here and have come especially to pay our respects.”
Handan Chun’s eyes sparkled. “So you are Wang Zhongxuan! I have long heard of your renown. Anu, fetch a few more mats.”
The servants hurried off for more seating.
Wang Can introduced the others: “Master, these are my friends. This is Shi Sunmeng, son of Lord Junrong.”
Shi Sunmeng bowed. “Meng, at your service, Master Zishu.”
“These are students of Master Zhongzi.”
“I am Pan Jun, styled Chengming. Greetings, Master Zishu.”
“I am Wang Han, styled Derong. Greetings, Master Zishu.”

“I am Zhou Sheng, styled Hongguang. Greetings, Master Zishu.”
“I am Shen Chen. Greetings, Master Zishu.”
Each of them paid their respects in turn.
By now, the servants had brought more mats, and Handan Chun said, “Please, young friends, be seated.”
“Thank you, Master.”
The group sat in order, as the servants set up a table and served wine and fruit.
Once everyone was comfortable, Wang Can, full of curiosity, asked, “Just now, I saw you laughing heartily, Master. May I ask what brought you such joy?”
Handan Chun’s face still bore a trace of mirth as he waved his hand dismissively. “I just remembered a funny story and couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh?”
All were curious and pressed him for details.
“Well, let me tell it,” Handan Chun began cheerfully. “This is how it goes:
A certain man from Chu lived in poverty, and while reading the Huainanzi, came upon the line, ‘the mantis lies in wait for the cicada, concealing itself behind a leaf to remain unseen.’ Wishing to replicate this, he went out to collect such leaves under a tree. The mantis, holding a leaf, would wait for the cicada; when the man picked the leaf, it fell to the ground, joining many other fallen leaves, making it impossible to distinguish. So he gathered several baskets of leaves and took them home. He held the leaf in front of himself and asked his wife, ‘Can you see me?’ At first, she always answered, ‘Yes,’ but eventually, weary of the game, she lied and said, ‘No, I can’t see you.’ Overjoyed, he took the leaf to the market, believing himself invisible, and began taking things in plain sight. He was promptly seized and brought before the magistrate. After explaining the whole story, the officials burst out laughing and let him go without punishment. Tell me, is this not hilarious?”
“Ha ha ha ha!”
Some in the group were easily amused and burst into laughter, pounding the table. “That man from Chu is a real fool!”
“Isn’t it funny?”
Handan Chun laughed anew at his own story.
Only Shen Chen, off to the side, laughed awkwardly, smiling on the outside, cursing on the inside.
Damn it!
So it was you, old man, who invented the story of ‘One Leaf Blinds the Eye’—the very same tale from the third-grade language textbook?
Because of you, I not only had to memorize it word for word, but also copy it out before I could go home from school.
You monstrous whale!
Shen Chen cursed inwardly while his friends continued to laugh, but he felt no amusement, only tears welling up in his gut.
Poor children of the future!
“Young friend, why aren’t you laughing?”
Handan Chun looked at Shen Chen in puzzlement. “You’re Shen Chen, known for your talent these past two years in Jingzhou. Did you not find my story funny?”
After a moment’s thought, Shen Chen replied, “Your story is indeed funny, Master, but I have one even more amusing.”
“Oh?”
All eyes turned to Shen Chen as Handan Chun asked, “What funny tale do you have?”
Shen Chen began, “During the Spring and Autumn period, on the eve of the Battle of Hongshui, a man of Song cursed in the street, saying, ‘Zifu of Song is as stupid as a piglet.’ He was arrested and brought before the county magistrate, who asked for the reason. The man explained the incident, and was sentenced to twenty-two years—two years for insulting Duke Xiang of Song, and twenty years for divulging a state secret.”
Divulging a state secret of Song...
The group took a moment to savor the joke, exchanged glances, and then erupted into a roaring laughter. “Ha ha ha ha ha!”
Handan Chun laughed until tears streamed down his face, rolling on the mat like a delighted child.
“Enough—enough! You’ll be the death of me!”
“This is too good!”
“So now the stupidity of Duke Xiang of Song is considered a state secret! Ha ha ha ha!”
“From today, the world has a new Song joke—Chen, you are truly a genius!”
Wang Can and the others were convulsed with laughter. Unlike Handan Chun’s rather plain joke, this one grew funnier the more it was pondered.
When the laughter finally died down, Shen Chen, with utmost seriousness, added, “Gentlemen, don’t laugh too soon—the story isn’t over yet.”
“It’s not?”

Handan Chun wiped his tears and sat up, asking, “And then?”
Shen Chen continued with a smile, “Shortly after, following the Battle of Hongshui, the man was released. When asked why, the county magistrate replied, ‘The world now knows Zifu of Song is as stupid as a piglet; it is no longer a state secret.’”
“Ha ha ha! After the Battle of Hongshui, the stupidity of Duke Xiang of Song was common knowledge, and thus no longer a secret!”
“Ha ha ha ha! Chen, are you trying to kill me with laughter?”
“My sides ache from laughing!”
“One day, I swear, I’ll die of laughter at your stories, Chen!”
The group once again burst into fits of laughter.
Watching these ancients, so easily entertained, Shen Chen just smiled: a bunch of country bumpkins, really.
But it was hard to blame them.
At the time, such jokes were plentiful. Ever since the Spring and Autumn period, the great men of various states delighted in crafting jokes to ridicule enemy nations.
Stories like “The Man from Zheng Buys Shoes,” “Learning to Walk in Handan,” “Cao Shang Licks Sores,” and “Waiting for a Hare by the Tree Stump” abounded.
Song jokes were especially famous: “Seeking Pearls in the Dragon’s Lair,” “Waiting for a Hare by the Tree Stump,” “Pulling Up Seedlings to Help Them Grow,” “Cao Shang Licks Sores”—the protagonists were always men of Song.
Thus, the compilation of Song jokes became a unique cultural phenomenon.
The Han, tracing their ancestry to the Zhou, considered themselves of a different stock from the Song, descendants of the Shang; even in Han times, this sentiment persisted, giving rise to endless ridicule.
While there were many jokes, few were truly funny—most, like “Waiting for a Hare” or “Pulling Up Seedlings,” simply portrayed foolishness.
Shen Chen’s joke, in contrast, was rich in flavor and full of biting satire, naturally prompting a response from those unaccustomed to such sharp wit.
There was another reason as well.
The joke Shen Chen had adapted was set around the Battle of Hongshui, a well-known historical event.
Duke Xiang of Song insisted on fighting as a “righteous army,” waiting until the Chu army had crossed the river and drawn up their ranks before attacking—only to be soundly beaten and made a laughingstock.
Moreover, the crime of leaking state secrets dated back to the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods; Han law called it “divulging secrets,” along with “spying on the Secretariat,” and the two combined made for a deliciously satirical punchline.

The laughter continued for some time.
Handan Chun, wiping his tears and clutching his belly, finally sat up and waved his hand. “Enough, enough, or I’ll die of laughter. This story must be recorded!”
Wang Can was surprised. “It’s just a funny tale—must it really be written down?”
Handan Chun explained, “I am currently compiling a book, which I intend to call The Forest of Laughs. I am gathering all sorts of amusing stories, and Shen Chen’s tale is so profound—how could I not include it?”
This Forest of Laughs would become the very first joke book in Chinese history, and the story “One Leaf Blinds the Eye” would be included in it, later appearing in the language textbooks.
Clearly, Handan Chun intended to record Shen Chen’s joke as well.
Upon hearing this, Shen Chen shuddered, thinking, “Uh-oh, I’m about to add to the burdens of future schoolchildren.”
There would soon be a new classical text, “The Man from Song Curses in the Street,” for students to memorize.
Should he try to stop the old man?
But after some careful thought, he let it go.
What did it matter to him?
He’d already traveled through time; there was no going back to elementary school.
And so he left it at that.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere had become lively thanks to Shen Chen’s storytelling.
Everyone, host and guest alike, was in high spirits. Wang Can and Handan Chun delved into discussions of scholarship, calligraphy, and poetry, with Shen Chen participating enthusiastically and earning their admiration.