Chapter 2: The Rescue #yuefei #shuoyuequanzhuan #岳飞传 #说岳全传

So let's start maybe with this proverb that the text gives us right away. It means something like, it's better to resolve enmities than to form them, which really sets the tone, doesn't it? This idea of karma, retribution, unresolved stuff. So what's the spark? What ignites this whole massive story? All right. So right at the beginning, we meet this being called a ku dragon or horned dragon. It's this powerful serpent spirit. And importantly, it had already escaped an immortal sword, which is, you know, pretty impressive. Okay. So powerful to begin with. Very. And it spent over 800 years, think about that, 800 years cultivating its power near the Yellow River. It eventually gets this title, Nere No, the iron-backed horned dragon. Shows its strength, its resilience. Wow. But then completely out of the blue, this incredibly sudden, brutal thing happens. A tull, a great rock, sometimes called a golden-winged rock, often seen as this divine powerhouse, swoops down and it pecks out the ku dragon's left eye. The left eye specifically. Ouch. Yeah. And what's really key here is that this isn't just a physical attack. It's not just animals fighting. In these kinds of stories, an act like this between powerful beings, it's a major cosmic foul. It disrupts everything. The text explicitly says it leads to many future troubles. It establishes this deep, deep enmity, this vendetta for the great rock, and it calls it Ta, which is more than just fate. It's like a huge cosmic debt has just been created. Something that has to be repaid or rebalanced. Got it. So it's not just a squabble. It's like a cosmic IOU that's going to shape everything that follows. And it's amazing how quickly these things seem to connect to the human world. We meet a figure, Chen Tuan Lao Tzu, an ancient sage. Yeah. How does he fit into this? Does he see it coming? He absolutely sees it coming. Chen Tuan Lao Tzu is known for this kind of foresight. And crucially, the text says he was worried about the great rock losing its spiritual foundation, its roots, because of this violent act. Okay. So consequences even for the powerful rock. Right. So to try and help or maybe prepare it, he gives the great rock a name. We aren't told what it is though. And he teaches it this. These are like profound mysteries or the secrets of how things work. Celestial mechanisms. So he's trying to mitigate the damage almost or prepare the rock for what's coming because of its own actions? That's how it feels. Yeah. It suggests that even these incredibly powerful beings aren't totally free agents. They're part of a bigger system and their actions have ripples. They might even need guidance sometimes. Fascinating. Okay. So we had this cosmic setup and the story shifts quite dramatically down to earth, to a human household. Yuen Wai's home. It's also called Yuhi. How does this celestial stuff connect down here? Well, we find Chen Tuan Lao Tzu, the sage, actually visiting Yuhi in his courtyard. And it just so happens Yuhi has these two big, brand new flower jars. He's planning to put goldfish in them, but they're empty. No water yet. Okay. Flower jars. Seems pretty mundane after cosmic dragons and rocks. Right. But Lao Tzu notices them, praises them, and then he does something really specific. Kind of strange. He takes his staff and draws these spiritual symbols, Si Ri, inside one of the jars. He's muttering incantations, performing this like solemn ritual. It's clearly not just decoration. He's charging the jar with something. Spiritual engineering, as you put it earlier. That's a good way to think about it. Okay. So why the jars? Why just one? And this ritual? What's it all for? What's he telling you here? Well, as he's leaving, Lao Tzu gives Yuhi this incredibly urgent, very precise instruction. He says, basically, look, in the next three days, if your newborn son is fine, great. But, and this is the key part, if there's any fright or fear, you must have your wife, the lady, take the baby and sit inside the left large flower jar. Only then will his life be guaranteed. Remember this. Absolutely do not forget. Wow. The left jar. So specific. And fright or fear. What kind of danger is he anticipating? It sounds serious if a baby needs to hide in a jar for safety. Exactly. It implies something more than just a loud noise. It's just maybe a spiritual threat. Something targeting the specific child, perhaps linked back to that whole cosmic drama somehow. The urgency is palpable. Okay. So fast forward, we get to the third day after the baby's birth. It's supposed to be a celebration, right? The house is decorated, friends, family, everyone's admiring the baby. The text mentions his features, high forehead, broad forehead, straight nose, square mouth, all signs pointing to a great future. It seems like a happy moment. Does the prophecy kick in? It does. And very suddenly, everything seems fine. And then this young man, probably just being friendly, maybe a little careless, he walks up, gently squeezes the baby's hand, his tender little hand, and says something like, oh, what a fine young master. Just a casual remark, a gentle touch. Okay. Seems harmless enough. You'd think. But immediately the baby starts crying, which means crying strangely, uncontrollably, won't stop, won't even take milk. It's not just a normal baby cry. It's a profound, almost unnatural distress. Ah, so that's the fright or fear the sage warned about. It seems so. The guests are instantly upset, blaming the young man. You know, the baby is this pearl in the palm, a cherished treasure. The whole celebration just fizzles out. Everyone leaves awkwardly. Yufei, as this tiny infant, just three days old, and he's crying. And his father suddenly remembers this really crucial warning he got from a Taoist priest. You know, those figures in these legends who always seem to have some kind of otherworldly insight. The prophetic figures, yeah. They often appear at key moments. Exactly. And the priest had given them these super specific instructions. He said, if your child gets any kind of fright within three days of being born, his mother, Yao Xi, needed to immediately grab him, take him outside, and sit with him inside a large flowerpot to keep him safe. Talk about specific guidance. It sounds almost bizarre out of context. It really does. But it's lucky they listened, right? Absolutely. Because the story says, no sooner had Yao Xi actually settled herself and the baby into that flowerpot, there was this absolutely earth-shattering roar. Whoa. Yeah. The ground literally split open, and this huge, colossal flood just surged out. Their whole village, Yojia village, was just gone. Turned into an ocean almost instantly. Everyone swept away. That is devastating. An instant transformation. Completely. So that image is incredible, but it makes you think this wasn't just some random, you know, freak natural disaster, was it? What does this story say is the real reason behind this cataclysm? Ah, good question. And you're right. The source is very clear. This was not an ordinary flood. This was the work of the Yellow River's iron-backed, scaly dragon. A very powerful water deity. And he was out for revenge. Revenge. Against who? Against the Great Rock. Or Dapeng. Who, by the way, the story tells us, is believed to have reincarnated as Yufei himself. Ah, okay. So there's the connection. Exactly. So this dragon, absolutely consumed by rage, seeking payback for some past slight text, calls it a peck from the rock, gathered all its underwater forces and just unleashed this apocalyptic flood, wiped out the village, caused immense loss of life. It's portrayed as direct cosmic warfare spilling right into the human world. Wow. A peck leads to that. That's intense. Well, these cosmic beings operate on a different scale, it seems. Clearly. And this is where all those threads start to really weave together, isn't it? This act of revenge by the dragon, it wasn't just destructive, it was apparently a violation of heavenly rules. Precisely. It provoked an immediate divine response. The supreme deity, the Jade Emperor himself, orders the dragon-slaying warrior to execute this iron-backed, scaly dragon. Takes him to the, uh, dragon-beheading platform. Justice is swift, at least in theory. But the story doesn't just end with the dragon's death, does it? There's more to it. Not at all, no. The dragon's spirit, its essence, remained unappeased. It was still seething with resentment, even after execution. And so, it reincarnated back into the human realm. Right. This is where the cycle really becomes clear. It shows these conflicts just keep going, lifetime after lifetime. Exactly. And that unappeased spirit, reborn as a human, became none other than Qin Wei. Yes. The very same Qin Wei, who, much later in the story and in history, infamously recalls General Yufei from the battlefield with those 12 gold plaques. And conspires to have him murdered at Windwave Pavilion? Correct. It's depicted as the ultimate long-game fulfillment of that ancient grudge, centuries in the making, playing out through reincarnation. It's an incredible setup. So, back to the flood. Baby Yufei, he survives because of the priest's warning and that flowerpot. Miraculously, yes. His father, Yuhi, actually managed to cling onto the flowerpot for a little while, trying desperately to protect them. But eventually, the current was just too strong. He was swept away, vanished into the water. A really personal tragedy, right in the middle of this huge cosmic event. So tragic. And the story then follows Yuhi and the baby just floating in this flowerpot for miles. For miles, yes. Just carried along by the current. Imagine the ordeal for a mother who'd given birth only three days before. Unbelievable. Eventually, they drift and come to rest near a place called Quellin Village in Napalm County, Quibi Province. Okay. And in this village lived a wealthy man named Wang Ming. And as these stories often go, Wang Ming had a very interesting dream the night before they arrived. Ah, the prophetic dream element, of course. What could he dream? This raises that classic question, you know, about omens in these tales. How much are dreams actual predictions? Right. So Wang Ming dreamt of fire. A huge fire. Just blazing, reaching right up into the sky. It will come up. Okay, fire. How was that interpreted? Well, he asked a servant, a man named Wang An, what it meant. And Wang An, who apparently fancied himself a bit of an expert in dream interpretation, confidently told him, Oh, a dream of fire means you're going to meet a noble person. A noble person. Wang Ming must have been surprised. He was skeptical. Very skeptical. He basically accused Wang An of just making it up to avoid having to walk into town to find a proper fortune teller. Ah, fair enough. But Wang An stuck to his guns. He even apparently pulled out his copy of the complete dream interpretation book to prove it. He had the book? He did. And sure enough, the book backed him up. Fire signifies meeting someone noble. So just as Wang Ming is sort of pondering this, still doubtful, but maybe a little intrigued. Let me guess, commotion outside. Exactly. Perfect timing. A huge noise erupts from the riverbank. These narratives love that kind of immediate validation, don't they? They really do. It reinforces the sense of destiny. So Wang An rushes out to see what's going on. It's mostly villagers, you know, pulling stuff out of the floodwaters, salvaging what they can. Right. Standard procedure after a flood. But then Wang An spots something really extraordinary floating towards them. It's the flowerpot. The flowerpot? Yes. But here's the detail. It's strangely covered by this canopy of birds, eagles and others, all spreading their wings like a natural sunshade over the pot. Wow. That's not subtle symbolism, is it? Divine protection. Loud and clear. Not subtle at all. It's a powerful visual. So Wang An, realizing this is something incredibly unusual, shouts for Wang Ming to come look. And when they get closer? They see Yao Shi inside holding the baby. And while everyone else is just grabbing, you know, furniture or whatever junk is floating by, Wang An has the insight, or maybe just the presence of mind, to shoo the birds away gently. And he exclaims, isn't this the noble person? Ah, connecting it back to the dream immediately. Right. Wang Ming is confused at first. He just sees this distressed older woman. But Wang An insists. He points out, look, anyone who survives a disaster like this, especially with this kind of obvious sign, the guardian birds, they must be destined for something great. It really speaks to that idea of fate, doesn't it? That the signs are there if you know how to read them. It absolutely does. It's that classic literary and mythological idea. Great calamity precedes great destiny. You survive something impossible. You're marked for greatness. And poor Yao Shi. What was her state? Well, understandably, she was completely disoriented. Remember, she'd given birth just three days ago, then endured this horrific flood, lost her husband. Of course. When Wang An tries to talk to her, she's weeping. She's dazed. She actually asks him if she's arrived in the underworld. Oh, bless her. That's such a powerful human reaction amidst all this, well, cosmic drama. It really grounds the story for a moment, doesn't it? Shows the human cost. Absolutely. Wang Ming, the Yuan Wei, and Yuan Wei means he's like a local squire, wealthy, respected. He gets it straight away. He sees she's not deaf, just completely disoriented by the whole ordeal. So he tells Wang An, quick, go get her some hot soup from the village nearby. That immediate reaction, that practical help. What does that tell us about Wang Ming right off the bat? Oh, it says a lot. I mean, this is a disaster zone. Most people will be looking out for number one. But Wang Ming's first thought is empathy and actual aid. Hot soup. It sets him up as genuinely benevolent right from the start. It's a key trait the author wants us to see. OK, so she gets the soup, starts to recover a bit. Then Wang Ming asks her story. And it just pours out this tragic tale. Yao Anren says she's from Tangyin County, Jiangsu. The flood, she says, it swept her husband away. She doesn't even know if he's alive or dead. Lost everything, all their property, gone. Her only chance was grabbing her baby son, Yufei, and scrambling into this big vat as the waters rose. Just pure survival instinct. Just think about that journey. Floating in a vat from Tangyin County all the way to Qilin Village. That's quite a distance, isn't it? It's incredible. What does that say about her desperation? Or maybe just sheer luck, sheer will to live, to do that with a baby. Well, it really underscores how vulnerable people were back then facing these kinds of natural disasters, especially floods. They often had this symbolic weight, too. You know, like heaven being angry or just chaos reigning. Her surviving isn't just luck, maybe. It sort of hints at this deeper resilience, maybe even fate. And relying on chance, or like we see next, the kindness of strangers, that was often all they had. Which brings us right back to Wang Ming and his, well, pretty amazing compassion. Yeah, because Wang An, the servant, suggests, hey, you want a wife? Why not do a good deed? Save them. They could stay here, do some chores. And Wang Ming barely pauses. Just nods and says, that makes sense. Reasonable. Just like that. Simple as that. But it wasn't simpler for everyone, was it? The neighbors. Right. That's what's really interesting. The text makes a point of showing his compassion contrasts sharply with others. The villagers apparently laughed at him. Like, look at Wang Ming taking in people who cost him money instead of grabbing useful stuff from the flood like us. Wow. So his kindness was actually seen as, what, foolish by some? Exactly. It paints his action as deeply unselfish. Almost countercultural in that moment of crisis. It's a real moral standout. And his wife, Wang Yunjun, she's on board, too. Yes, she seems just as compassionate. She welcomes Yao Anren. And once Yao Anren shares her whole sad story, the two women become, the text says, like sisters. Which is quite touching, considering how they met. So time passes. Yao Anren settles into this new life. And she apparently fits in really well. Yeah. The book says she's very harmonious, gets along with everyone, earns their respect. Wang Ming even tries to help her find family back in Tangyin County. Sends people to look. Any luck? Sadly, no. The floodwaters went down, but there was just no trace of anyone from her family. So she has to finally accept that loss and move forward in this new life. Such a heavy burden to carry. Definitely. But then something interesting happens. It shows Yao Anren isn't just passively receiving help. She's got wisdom. See, Wang Ming, for all his wealth, doesn't have a son. And back then, that was a huge deal. Family line, ancestors, all that. Right. Incredibly important. So Yao Anren, recognizing this, actually persuades Wang Ming's wife. Wang Wanjun, who was, the text hints, maybe a little bit jealous about the idea at first to let Wang Ming take a concubine. Wait, Yao Anren suggests this? Yeah. It's quite a turn, isn't it? She, the guest, advising her rescuer on something so personal, so culturally significant. And does it work? It does. Wang Ming take a concubine. The very next year, a son is born. Wang Gay. Ah, okay. So Wang Ming must have been... Immensely grateful. Yeah. The text says he felt a huge debt to Yao Anren, not just for saving his potential legacy, but for her thoughtful counsel. It really shows her character, how she became part of the family's future, not just its present. It shows she wasn't just a survivor, but someone actively contributing, repaying kindness with, well, wisdom and foresight. Exactly. Solidifies her place. Shows her gratitude and loyalty in a really profound way. Okay, so Yao Anren's found a place. The Wang family has an heir. The story then shifts focus a bit, right? To the kids. Yes. Fast forward a few years. Yufei is now seven, and Wengi, the new son, is six. And Weng Yuanhui, being a responsible, wealthy man, hires a tutor for them. Reading, writing, the basics. Just for those two? No, actually. His friends, also local notables, Teng Yuanhui and Zhang Yuanhui, send their sons too. Teng Yuanhui and Zhang Yan. So it's a little group of four boys. Ah, a little classroom setup. How does that go? Well, this is where you start to see differences emerge. Maybe a bit of foreshadowing. Yufei is described as diligent, attentive, really focused on learning. And the others? Wengi, Teng Yuanhui, Zhang Yan? Let's just say they're less studious. The text paints them as pretty mischievous. Always playing around with sticks, getting into little scraps, fists flying. Apparently, they even pulled the tutor's beard. Oh boy. That couldn't have gone over well. No. The source says they were such a handful that tutor after tutor quit. They just couldn't manage these boys. So typical wealthy kids may be hard to discipline. But Yufei stands apart even then. Right. And that contrast is important. The author isn't just telling funny stories about kids misbehaving. They're subtly setting up Yufei's character. His seriousness, his focus, these treats will be crucial later. He's different from his peers, even at seven. It's like a little hint of the discipline to come. Interesting. So after the tutors keep quitting, what happens? Well, Wang Ning has a chat with Yao Anren. He suggests that, you know, since Yufei is getting older, seven now, maybe it's time for them to move out of the main house. Oh, why? The implication is sort of propriety. Maybe it's less convenient having a growing boy living so closely within the main family quarters. He offers them some separate empty rooms just outside the main residence. But he promises to keep supporting them. Absolutely. He assures her he'll provide for all their daily needs, food, everything. And how does Yao Anren take this? She accepts very gracefully, apparently even picks an auspicious day to make the move. Shows her continued respect, her gratitude. But she doesn't just rely on his charity, does she? No, and this is really compelling. Yeah. She immediately starts doing needlework for the neighbors to earn extra money. She built up a little bit of savings. Wow. That shows incredible independence and frugality too. It does. But it's more than just being thrifty. You know, for women back then, especially someone who'd lost everything, skills like needlework were vital. It was about self-reliance, about securing a future, however small, for her and her son. It's really an act of, well, determination. Yeah, absolutely. Building security where there was none. Exactly. And then comes this really, really poignant moment. What's that? Yao Anren talks to Yufei, he's seven. She tells him, basically, playtime's over. You're old enough now. She instructs him that he needs to start gathering firewood every day. Firewood? Why? To show Wang Yuanwei their diligence, she says. To show they're grateful and hardworking, not just taking handouts. Okay. A practical lesson, maybe. Responsibility. Yes. But the really heart-wrenching part happens right after. Yufei goes off to get the firewood, the door closes, and Yao Anren just breaks down, crying. She laments that if his father were alive, Yufei wouldn't be doing this. He'd be studying at this age, not doing manual labor. Oh, wow. That's, that's tough. It's raw. It shows the depth of her own sorrow, her dreams for a son that life hasn't allowed, the quiet sacrifices she's making, the reality she's facing. It really makes you pause, thinking about the silent burdens mothers carry in impossible situations, decisions that echo.