Chapter 14: An Honored Guest Arrives

The difficulties encountered during the process of writing a book far exceeded Luan Yi’s expectations.

At first, Luan Yi thought that since he had decided to plagiarize "The Wealth of Nations" into the Han Dynasty, he must consider the ease of dissemination. Therefore, vernacular language was not suitable; classical prose was necessary. Thus, Luan Yi renamed "The Wealth of Nations" as "The Origin of Wealth."

Next came the task of translating the vernacular text he remembered into classical prose.

Although Luan Yi had accumulated a solid foundation in classical Chinese, it was only at this moment that he realized: translating classical prose into vernacular was easy, but translating vernacular into classical prose was exceedingly difficult. As the saying goes, it is easier to move from simplicity to complexity than from complexity to simplicity. Returning to the original form is always thus.

Each sentence required Luan Yi to ponder for a long time to find a concise expression, often leaving him scratching his head in frustration. However, as time went on, this sense of discomfort gradually faded, and Luan Yi’s translation work became increasingly proficient.

In his plan, Luan Yi’s version of "The Origin of Wealth" was divided into five sections, just like the original. It began with the source of national wealth—labor, then discussed the means to enhance labor productivity—division of labor, which leads to exchange, then addressed currency as a medium of exchange, then explored the price of commodities, and finally the components of price—wages, rent, and profit. The book detailed a series of socio-economic phenomena including opportunity cost, inflation, supply and demand, and, referencing the current surge in grain prices, pointed out that overall social demand far exceeded supply, with severe inflation posing a huge threat to the long-term stability of the Han Dynasty.

At the same time, Luan Yi, drawing upon over forty years of knowledge and insight from both his previous and current lives, asserted that the economic foundation determines the superstructure: “When the granaries are full, people know propriety; when clothes and food are sufficient, they know honor and shame.” Therefore, to strengthen the nation, production must be vigorously developed; to improve production, division of labor must be refined, more efficient production methods created, and talents cultivated...

Luan Yi had originally intended to use this book to elevate the status of artisans and merchants, but after some thought, he decided against it. It was impossible to change traditional thinking that had persisted for hundreds of years overnight, and writing about it might not only fail to achieve the desired effect but could even bring trouble upon himself.

At first, Guo Jia and the others saw Luan Yi constantly writing and assumed he had come up with another new story. As time went on, they happened to notice that the manuscript was unusually lengthy and grew curious, coming over for a look. What they saw astonished them—it turned out Luan Yi was composing a treatise.

Picking up a scroll of bamboo slips, they saw an opening statement: “From ancient times to the present, the strength of a nation is measured by the wealth of its people; and to enrich a nation, nothing but the enlightenment of its people and the proper management of its finances will suffice.” In other words: throughout history, the strength of a nation has always depended on its wealth. To enrich a nation, one must open the minds of the people, teach them independent thinking, and instruct them on the proper use of assets—these are the only methods.

Guo Jia and his companions read carefully, discovering that none of the theories had ever appeared in the classics—they were new creations by Luan Yi. The more they studied, the more they found the book filled with wisdom, brimming with knowledge and profound reasoning. They looked at each other in amazement, exclaiming in unison, “Yi, are you writing a treatise?”

“Mm... Ah!” Luan Yi, eyes wide, grunted twice in admission. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: There was really no way to deny it! He certainly couldn’t tell his brothers he was plagiarizing the work of the father of modern economics from 1,500 years in the future!

Guo Jia, Xi Zhicai, Shan Fu, and Mao Jie had already guessed as much, but upon hearing Luan Yi’s confirmation, they were even more astonished, as if witnessing a miracle... They eagerly competed to read the first two completed chapters of "The Origin of Wealth," delving into the text. Whenever they encountered passages they didn’t understand or disagreed with, they sought Luan Yi’s guidance.

Luan Yi always explained in detail. When the content diverged from mainstream Han values and was difficult to understand, he revised it, striving to make the theory fit the prevailing ideas. Thus, "The Origin of Wealth" grew increasingly refined through constant revision.

What Luan Yi did not expect was that Guo Jia and the others not only read "The Origin of Wealth" at home, but also took it to school, sneaking it into their classes. This inevitably caught the attention of Master Cen, who confiscated several scrolls.

Luan Yi would never forget the look on the old man’s face when he learned that "The Origin of Wealth" was written by Luan Yi himself. His eyes opened wider than lanterns, and he yanked out a tuft of his beard in disbelief. The gaze he cast upon Luan Yi was filled with astonishment; he summoned Luan Yi before him and interrogated him in detail about the contents of the book. Luan Yi responded fluently, explaining logically and coherently, clearly marking himself as the true author of "The Origin of Wealth." Awe shone in Master Cen’s eyes.

Truth be told, it would be strange if the old man had not been awed. Throughout China’s long history, there have been many prodigies, such as Gan Luo, who became Chancellor of Qin at the age of seven, but even he merely held office. Compared to holding office, composing a treatise is much more difficult, especially when it involves creating an entirely new ideological system. Luan Yi was barely over eight years old, and though "The Origin of Wealth" dealt mostly with the lowly affairs of merchants, to research these matters so thoroughly, to analyze the relationship between land, rent, and tenants so incisively, and to tie it all back to national affairs—this was nothing short of a miracle.

After his initial shock, Master Cen was ultimately reassured. Luan Yi was a prodigy, the "divine talent" spoken of in Yingchuan; for such a prodigy to accomplish such wonders seemed only natural. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: “With Luan Yi as my pupil, I have no regrets in this life!”

Henceforth, Master Cen began assisting Luan Yi in correcting grammatical errors in "The Origin of Wealth." The book gradually became flawless and, thanks to Master Cen’s influence, circulated widely throughout the academy.

During the dissemination of "The Origin of Wealth," it received both praise and criticism, but one point was unanimously agreed upon: Luan Yi truly deserved his reputation as a prodigy.

As time passed, autumn rains brought cold, and in the blink of an eye, the melancholy of autumn was gone. The first snow of the fourth year of Xi Ping in the Han Dynasty arrived quietly.

At night, there were few guests in Qifeng Pavilion. Most people were probably in the county town’s Mujin Residence enjoying steaming hotpot. Luan Yi hid in the office at the north end of the courtyard, writing busily with the snowy scene outside the window. "The Origin of Wealth" was now three chapters complete, with only two remaining. He expected to finish them completely after the Spring Festival, sometime in February or March.

In the office, Guo Jia and Xi Zhicai were playing chess. In terms of skill, Xi Zhicai, two years older than Guo Jia, was clearly inferior, but after all these discussions about the book, his naturally gifted eloquence had grown even sharper. He played to his strengths, distracting Guo Jia with constant chatter as they played, and managed to gain the upper hand, leaving Guo Jia wailing in frustration, while Mao Jie could barely keep painting amid the commotion.

Shan Fu sat in the corner, reading by the fire. After reading the chapter on division of labor in "The Origin of Wealth," he had a sudden insight. He realized that each of his brothers had their own strengths: Luan Yi excelled at management and was a diligent reader of "The Book of Master Guan"; Guo Jia was quick-witted and adept at strategy; Xi Zhicai was sharp-tongued, with the legacy of the ancient debaters; Mao Jie was gentle and admired non-action. Shan Fu decided he, too, should have his own focus, and thus became deeply interested in military tactics, never letting go of his books on warfare.

After a while, Luan Yi raised his hands to gently massage his sore palms, his gaze unconsciously drifting out the window. There, he saw someone timidly watching him from outside. When he met their gaze, the person quickly lowered their head, shy and bashful.

Luan Yi grew curious and studied the figure carefully. The person looked to be about twelve or thirteen, wearing a scholar’s cap and robe, appearing as a boy. But beneath the delicate face, pale skin, distant eyebrows, and the autumn-water gaze under long eyelashes, Luan Yi instantly recognized her as a girl. She must have dressed as a boy for convenience while traveling.

Accompanying her was an elderly man. In the depths of winter, they had come to Qifeng Pavilion for a meal, yet instead of seeking warmth in a private room, they insisted on sitting outside in the courtyard, forcing the attendant nearby to shiver with tears streaming down his face. Seeing this, Luan Yi quickly instructed Xiao Wu to send over several charcoal braziers.

While speaking, Luan Yi felt another gaze sweep over him. He looked up—it was still the same young lady. Upon noticing Luan Yi’s attention, she instinctively lowered her head again, focusing intently on the bamboo slips clenched in her hands, refusing to look up.

Luan Yi couldn’t help but chuckle. He thought, "Could it be that my charming figure has bewitched her?" He shook his head with a smile and continued writing.

He had barely written three more lines when Luan Fu came in to report: the county magistrate, Lord Ding, had arrived. At that moment, Lord Ding was at the street corner, and would be at the door within moments. Luan Yi was surprised—since the beginning of winter, Lord Ding had not come to Qifeng Pavilion, spending most of his time at Mujin Residence enjoying hotpot. Why had he chosen this freezing day to visit?

As the county head, Luan Yi naturally greeted him with proper courtesy, immediately instructing his brothers to stop their work and join him in welcoming the guests. But as he stepped out the door, he saw dust swirling in the street. Not only had Lord Ding brought his entourage, but there was a whole crowd following behind. Luan Yi even spotted Xun Shuang and Xun Yu among them.

Luan Yi was puzzled. He wondered what major event had brought all the famous figures of the county together. Unable to figure it out, he decided to face the situation calmly and stepped forward to bow. "Lord Ding and esteemed gentlemen, your presence graces humble Qifeng Pavilion!"

Lord Ding was out of breath, his demeanor anxious and flustered. Tugging at his trousers, he urgently questioned Luan Yi, "I heard that Grandmaster Cai has arrived in our county, and is at Qifeng Pavilion! Have you seen him?"

Lord Ding spoke at the speed of a machine gun—no, a repeating crossbow—so Luan Yi could barely make out what he was saying, catching only the gist. He asked blankly, "Grandmaster Cai? Who is Grandmaster Cai?"

"Aiya!" Lord Ding wiped sweat from his forehead, hurriedly bypassing Luan Yi and heading straight for the courtyard, muttering as he went, "You don’t know Grandmaster Cai? Grandmaster Cai is Master Bo Jie!"

"Master Bo Jie?" Luan Yi murmured, "Bo Jie... Cai Bo Jie..." His half-closed eyes suddenly snapped open, "Cai Yong, courtesy name Bo Jie, Cai Feibai. Oh! My God!"