Eighty-seven eggs

The owner of the vessel moored at Sanjiangkou Port was a man surnamed Zhou and given the name Yi, styled Xuande, who then served as magistrate of Luoyang. The office of magistrate of Luoyang sounded formidable enough—after all, it governed the imperial capital itself—but in truth it was no more than a lowly post, only one rank above the senior secretary that Luan Yi’s father, Luan Miao, had once held in the state of Jinan. In later terms, his authority was akin to that of the district head over the political center of Beijing, yet the people he had to manage were princes, dukes, ministers, and the highest officers of state. To rule such a host with so slight a hand was a task whose difficulty need hardly be imagined.

Fortunately, Zhou Yi was no ordinary man. Two of his ancestors had served as Grand Commandant, one of the Three Excellencies, during the reigns of Emperors Zhi and Huan. Thus his house had produced three generations and two dukes, falling only a little short of the Yuan clan’s four generations and three dukes. His disciples and former subordinates were scattered throughout the realm, and his influence within Luoyang was considerable. Moreover, Zhou Yi was adept in the art of the mean: in the shifting currents of the Luoyang bureaucracy, he sided neither with the scholarly aristocracy nor with the powerful eunuch clique. As magistrate of Luoyang, he conducted himself with propriety and restraint, winning steady praise, to the extent that even Yuan Kui of the Yuan family gave him some measure of respect.

Luan Yi had first met Zhou Yi at a birthday banquet held by Yuan Kui. At that time, Luan Yi had dazzled the entire hall with a rendition of Bright Moon, When Will You Come?, and had been besieged by so many toasts that he could scarcely respond; most of the greetings were from important court ministers, leaving him little chance to speak at length with the man who truly wielded authority in the capital. Now, by a fortunate turn, they had encountered one another on the bank of the Yangtze, precisely matching Luan Yi’s wish to cultivate this magistrate’s goodwill. After all, Luan Fu still managed several Luan family businesses in Luoyang, including churches and restaurants, and often required the protection of Zhou Yi, as magistrate of the city.

So when Luan Yi came before Zhou Yi by the riverbank, his manner was especially respectful and sincere. He bowed deeply and said, “Luan Yi pays his respects to Lord Zhou!”

Zhou Yi was greatly startled. He leapt down from the deck in a few quick steps, bent low, and said, “What merit have I, Zhou Yi, that I should receive such a profound bow from Sir Ziqi? Please, do not be so ceremonious, or you will shame me!” He then helped Luan Yi to his feet.

Luan Yi smiled and asked, “Two years have passed since we last met in the capital. I trust Lord Zhou has been well?”

“Well, well indeed!” Zhou Yi was overjoyed to see him. Grasping Luan Yi by the hand, he led him toward the cabin. “The wind is strong by the riverbank; this is no place for conversation. Let us go inside and speak at our ease!”

Dian Wei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei followed behind. Attendants busied themselves with the luggage, and there was no need to dwell on that.

The vessel chartered by Zhou Yi was no fishing boat, but rather a riverside pleasure craft typical of the Han era. It did not fish at all, serving only as a boat for wealthy families to charter for excursions along the river; in slack seasons, it occasionally carried goods north and south of the river. It was very much like what later ages would call a cruise boat. For that reason, its decoration was elegant, luxurious, and spacious.

Parting the curtain and entering the cabin, one found in the main chamber, some sixty square meters in size, bronze candlesticks set at all four corners. They bore slight traces of rust, clearly showing their age, and were engraved with reed motifs—simple yet dignified. With their cold metallic bodies they bestowed a poetic warmth upon the early spring cabin.

Inside, the furnishings had already followed the fashion of the times: the large couch and low tables were gone, replaced by the writing desk, master’s chair, and bookcases that Luan Yi had “invented.” Regrettably, these were not products of the Luan family carpentry workshop, but copies made by a local woodshop. The grain of the wood was decent enough, yet in the art of carving they fell far short of Luan family furniture.

A thick felt carpet covered the floor, soft beneath the feet, like treading on fresh snow. Looking along the felt toward the far end of the main cabin, one could see a guqin by the wall. At that moment, a handsome youth in white scholar’s robes was seated beside the instrument. Beside him stood another youth in green, his waist bound with a warrior’s belt.

The two boys formed a sharp contrast, one refined and scholarly, the other valiant and martial. Though they appeared to be only eight or nine years old, both were strikingly handsome. Even Luan Yi, who had always taken some pride in his own looks, could not help feeling inferior after seeing them, and silently praised the pair as true “present-day heartthrobs.”

Besides the two little heartthrobs, there was also a burly man with an imposing build, as well as an elder with white hair and a childlike countenance, and two girls whose features were alike yet each possessed her own distinct charm.

When everyone saw Zhou Yi and Luan Yi arrive, they hurriedly rose to pay their respects.

Luan Yi returned the courtesy and asked Zhou Yi, “Might I ask, Lord Zhou, who these people are?”

Zhou Yi introduced them one by one. “This elder is Qiao Xuan, present Grand Music Minister, styled Bolu. Those two girls are the Grand Music Minister’s daughters. This sturdy gentleman is the foremost warrior of Jiangdong, surnamed Sun, given name Jian, styled Wentai. In the first year of Xiping, the rebel Xu Chang from Kuiji Commandery rose in Gouzhang, falsely proclaiming himself the August Emperor of Yangming, and his wicked son Xu Shao stirred up several nearby counties, gathering a band of over ten thousand bandits. Wentai, serving as commandant of the commandery, recruited brave men and gathered more than a thousand, then joined forces with the provincial and commandery troops to defeat them. The Inspector Zang Min reported his merit, and His Majesty first appointed Wentai county assistant magistrate of Yanducounty, and has now transferred him to the same post in Xiapi County. The one in green is Wentai’s son, named Ce. The one in white is my own son, Yu.”

Zhou Yi’s introduction struck Luan Yi like a thunderclap. He silently repeated the names in his heart. Zhou Yi... surname Zhou, son named Yu. Zhou Yu... it was him? So Zhou Yi was actually Zhou Yu’s father... and not only that, there was Sun Wentai, and his son, famed throughout the world and honored in the Records of the Three Kingdoms as the Little Overlord, Sun Ce... Good heavens! Wait... Sun Ce, Zhou Yu... and besides them there was Qiao Xuan on this boat—who exactly was this Qiao Xuan?

Luan Yi had never heard of Qiao Xuan’s name before, but after observing the pair of beautiful girls behind him, both only seven or eight years old yet already showing a tendency toward beauty, it was not hard to guess their identities: Qiao Wei and Qiao Qian—namely, Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao. As for this so-called Qiao Xuan, he was none other than Qiao Gong, the old statesman of later tales.

At once Luan Yi understood. So Sun Ce and Da Qiao, Zhou Yu and Xiao Qiao—these two future couples had already crossed paths at the ages of seven or eight! Yet this bond of destiny had never appeared in the historical record. One could not help but sigh: how many beautiful moments had history itself failed to preserve?

What he did not know was that, according to the true course of history, before the year 189 there had indeed been no intersection among the families of Zhou Yi, Sun Jian, and Qiao Xuan. The reason reality differed from later history was the presence in the world of one extra person—himself, Luan Yi. At the age of nine, he had composed a work called On Original Wealth, and after continual revision and refinement had it printed and circulated, spreading forth economic theories of later centuries imbued with philosophical color. Though the book drew much controversy for its treatment of commerce and trade, the advanced ideas within it quietly guided its readers and thereby influenced the world.

Just as with Zhou Yi, Sun Jian, and Qiao Xuan before him, all of whom had possessed considerable land at home yet disdained to engage in practical enterprise, once they had read On Original Wealth they came to greatly approve of Luan Yi’s saying that a gentleman loves wealth but acquires it by proper means. They began to think that using surplus fortune to conduct business, letting profit roll into profit, and planning for the blessings of future generations was no bad thing.

Thus each of them undertook a few ventures of his own, and it was while doing business that the three came to know one another.

Once all had taken up commerce, the subjects of their conversations naturally extended far beyond On Original Wealth.

Zhou Yi took his cherished handwritten copy of On Original Wealth from the bookshelf and, in one breath, flung at Luan Yi the questions he had accumulated over the years. Luan Yi answered each in detail.

He spoke of the ancient practice of barter, then of money as a medium of exchange; from there he moved to the efficient production made possible by social division of labor, and afterward used plain and simple language to expound at length upon monopoly, oligopoly, free competition, and many other concepts.

Zhou Yi, Sun Jian and his son, and Qiao Xuan with his daughters listened with rapt attention, finding it all deeply satisfying. Dian Wei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei, by contrast, were utterly lost. Zhang Fei yawned one after another, not understanding what on earth Luan Yi was talking about.

Unnoticed, the painted pleasure boat had been gliding along the great river for quite some time. As the sky gradually darkened, Luan Yi and the others dined and conversed in the main cabin. In the course of their casual talk, Luan Yi learned that Zhou Yi’s family and Qiao Xuan’s family had crossed the river to return home for the New Year and pay respects to their kin. Now that the holiday had passed, they were preparing to head north back to the capital, and had also invited Sun Jian to the riverbank to enjoy the spring scenery for a while. They in turn asked Luan Yi why he was traveling south.

Luan Yi lied and said, “A friend of mine has an old acquaintance who lives in Changsha. His son has fallen gravely ill, and his life may be in danger. So he wrote to me, hoping I would go and find a way to save him.”

On hearing that life and death hung in the balance, Zhou Yi sighed deeply. “With so grave a matter, why did you not say so earlier, Sir Ziqi?” Having said this, he immediately rushed out of the cabin and instructed the boatmen to row faster, heading straight for Luo County.

Luan Yi was greatly moved and thanked him repeatedly, offering many toasts.

By the time the wine was flowing warmly, Zhou Yu, seated in a corner of the banquet, suddenly spoke and asked Luan Yi, “Today, Sir Ziqi’s discourse resolved many doubts in my heart. I am most fortunate. Yet I still have one question, and I do not know whether it would be proper to ask.”

Luan Yi curved his lips in a smile. “Young Lord Zhou, please speak without hesitation.”

“May I ask, Sir Ziqi, in this world, did exchange come first, or did division of labor come first?”

At Zhou Yu’s question, Luan Yi’s face remained as calm as still water, yet ripples stirred faintly within his heart. He secretly admired him: talent is talent indeed. Zhou Yu’s question seemed merely to ask the order of exchange and division of labor, simple enough on the surface. In truth, however, it touched the essence of the most crucial stage in human development. Clearly, Zhou Yu had indeed read On Original Wealth from beginning to end, and more than once, or he could never have posed such a profound question.

Luan Yi nodded with satisfaction. Rather than answer, he countered, “Before I answer Young Lord Zhou’s question, I too have one. Pray, answer me this: in this world, which came first, the egg or the chicken?”

As the words left his mouth, Zhou Yu froze at once, unable to reply. Sun Ce, beside him, blurted out impatiently, “Naturally the chicken came first!”

“Then where did the chicken come from?” Luan Yi asked with a smile.

“Why, it hatched from an egg, of course!” Sun Ce answered, only to realize afterward that his reply was gravely mistaken. He quickly changed course. “Then it must have been the egg first!”

Luan Yi asked again, “Then where did the egg come from?”

“Why, it was laid from the belly of a chicken!” Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao, having sorted out the logic, looked at the embarrassed Zhou Yu and Sun Ce, and at once began to stifle soft laughter.

Luan Yi himself was secretly amused. He thought to himself that, for the ancient philosophical puzzle of whether the egg came first or the chicken, he refused to believe even handsome Zhou Yu could defeat it. He straightened his expression and said, “Let us set aside the matter of chickens and eggs for the moment, and first speak of whether division of labor came before exchange, or exchange before division of labor.”