The Principle of Using One's Enemy Against Another, or Killing Two Birds with One Stone
Gongsun Zan personally believed his ideology had arrived far too early for this world, yet in truth it was hardly a novel philosophy. Roughly four hundred years earlier, the philosopher Mozi had already proposed that the earth was round. He had emphasized pragmatism and preached that aesthetic pursuits—what one might roughly call entertainment—should not be monopolized by a handful of the powerful but were instead necessities for all the people under heaven. At the same time, Mozi had insisted that one must faithfully explain and make others understand one’s own ideas, while also investigating and researching anything that could not yet be understood. He was the first in the East to advocate the concepts of sufficient condition, necessary condition, and necessary and sufficient condition. Finally, the agape love that Gongsun Zan had believed in during his previous life had already been asserted by Mozi under the similar concept of jian’ai, universal love. Therefore, the researchers and farmers could simply nod and say, “So our lord was actually following Mohist thought,” and move on.
While Mozi’s ideas were rather radically progressive even by modern standards and might differ in some respects from the thinking of Gongsun Zan, who had lived through the era of democracy, modern democratic thought itself had grown considerably red while fighting genuine reds. Moreover, because the First Emperor of Qin had personally buried the orthodox Mohist texts and scholars, proper fact-checking had become impossible. As a result, people simply accepted the matter with a shrug.
In truth, China up until the pre-modern era had indeed been a magnificent civilization. Had its intellectual currents continued uninterrupted, they could have produced something truly extraordinary. Yet the philosophical foundation that had blossomed during the Hundred Schools of Thought had been overturned once by the First Emperor of Qin, again by Xiang Yu, once more by the golden age of the Tang, then by Dong Zhuo, and every time a foreign nomadic state rose to power. The Qing had done so on a massive scale, and Mao Zedong had done it on a scale unprecedented in history. After all those upheavals, the Chinese had lost their brilliant past and become ordinary. But at this particular moment in time, the land had only been overturned three times—by Qin Shi Huang, Xiang Yu, and the golden age of Tang. Therefore, it was fair to say that enough seeds of thought still remained in this continent to bloom once more.
The Han Dynasty was a state that followed Confucian principles, yet Mohist thought was itself a branch that had grown from the same Confucian root. Since its foundation lay in love for the people, even the Confucian scholars of the current age found it difficult to criticize outright. If Gongsun Zan had practiced tyranny, they might have taken up axes in accordance with their tradition and demanded trial by combat, but since he had never resorted to violence except to compel scholars to prove their own ideas, they had even less ground to object. One might argue that using a body strong enough to subdue tigers to compel others was no different from violence, but the fact that the other party remained alive marked a vast difference. If one interpreted it in the most favorable light for Gongsun Zan, he was merely asking them to verify whether he was right or wrong—a request Confucian scholars found difficult to refuse.
Besides, no fool would reject inventions such as the threshing machine, and preparing new standards of measurement was the very dream of scholars in this era. It was research that essentially meant “my work will become the world standard.” Anyone who claimed they did not want to do it had no right to call themselves a scholar.
However, because the institute was researching concepts that did not even exist yet in this age, the number of researchers was woefully insufficient. Gongsun Zan therefore wrote personal letters to the “reliable” scholars among his acquaintances, both to distribute some of the wealth obtained through the international salt trade (which was technically illegal) and to show off a little. Those who responded and made the journey all the way to Liaodong were left dizzy by a level of prosperity rarely seen anywhere in the Han Empire.
“Welcome, welcome! You’ve arrived safely!”
“Is this… the place that supposedly follows the teachings of Mozi?”
“Indeed it is. The Lord of Liaodong follows Mohist thought. We are the ones tasked with verifying whether his ideas are sound.”
“O-oh… ooh!”
By the standards of this era, Mohist doctrine was regarded as something like “a truly profound field of learning… though we don’t understand it well because the First Emperor smashed its head in.” Even Confucius and Mencius, who had opposed him, had praised Mozi by saying he “truly loved the world.” It was only natural that people fell into such romantic illusions.
Those whose eyes had already spun several times from excitement turned their gaze once more to the bookshelves lining the walls of the institute. When they saw the organized treatises on natural science and mathematics—fields long thought buried in antiquity—their eyes spun again. To these people whose heads were still reeling, Jia Xu, who had been kidnapped before experiencing the true storms of the world and thus found himself in the miserable position of a graduate student, quietly offered a rather venomous remark.
“Well? It certainly seems as though the seed of kings, marquises, generals, and ministers is quite distinct, doesn’t it?”
It was a cynical comment that the max-level Jia Xu—who had escaped the Xiongnu through his own wits, survived among Dong Zhuo’s faction (a modern fourth-world warlord by 21st-century standards), lived through Li Jue’s camp (a warlord of the era’s standard level), and eventually made his way through Diaochan and Zhang Xiu to pledge himself to Cao Cao—would never have uttered. But at this point in time, Jia Xu was still a talented youngster. Having not yet lived through an era where mere survival was the only thing that mattered, he still carried the dream of achieving “something great,” as befitted his relatively youthful age.
Had Gongsun Zan heard it, he would have roared that Jia Xu was trying to get him killed. Yet among those present, not a single person denied the statement. The prosperity of Liaodong visible before their eyes was proof. The stacks of books in the institute were proof. The “problems” they themselves had to solve were proof. The fortresses lining the Bohai Bay were proof. The lively trade ships moving along the coastline were proof.
The chronic disease of history had been the intervention of a modern man, yet history was attempting to cure itself by throwing that modern man into the seat of a rebel. Gongsun Zan wished to escape that yoke and live a quiet life, but the situation in the Central Plains, which was hurtling toward a cliff in real time, refused to allow it. Such was the way of the world.
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Although He Jin had resolved to purge Jian Shuo, a purge was not something that could be accomplished overnight. Unless one slit the man’s throat in the middle of the night, there were few assassins capable of killing the master swordsman Jian Shuo. And if the assassination failed, the backlash would be catastrophic.
In any case, time was on He Jin’s side. Once the next emperor ascended the throne and Imperial Prince Liu Xie departed for Bohai as its king, Jian Shuo—who was responsible for the prince’s well-being—would have no choice but to leave with him.
In that case, the Colonel of the Left… no, Baigyu will take care of it himself.
During his days as General of the Left, Gongsun Zan had been a man who simply did his own job. He had written military manuals for the training of the Western Garden Army and personally looked after those who sought his instruction, but he had never stepped forward to seek merit beyond that, nor had he exploited soldiers to fill his own belly. According to Cao Cao, who had been close to him, the man seemed to follow Mohist principles even without speaking of them. He Jin had let the matter pass as inevitable, but it was still a shame.
He could not wield the piece himself, yet Gongsun Zan was a piece that could not coexist under the same sky with Jian Shuo, who loved to exploit others to fill his own stomach. When two people who could not share the same heaven were placed beneath it, the weaker one would inevitably be devoured. That was the way of the world. And among all the people He Jin knew, Gongsun Zan was the strongest.
“Truly a chaotic age.”
It was exactly as the saying went—an utterly dizzying world. He Jin’s true heart wished to leave behind a slightly better world for his nephew and his two sons, yet the world would not allow him to live the life of an ordinary man.
“I must meet Elder Guo Sheng. Prepare my things.”
“Yes, General.”
The Ten Eunuchs’ Guo Sheng was a man from the same hometown and the benefactor who had helped both He Jin and his younger sister reach their current positions. Among He Jin’s many political allies, he possessed the longest and most solid connection. Purging Jian Shuo was already a settled matter in He Jin’s mind, but for the matter to proceed smoothly, Guo Sheng’s assistance seemed necessary.
He straightened his clothes, took a jar of fine wine and a treasured sword, and left his residence. Of course, he did not forget to wear the hosimgap that Yuan Shao had given him.
---
Yuan Shao was not at all pleased with the current situation. The plan to eliminate Jian Shuo, deal with the Ten Eunuchs, and open an era of the Clean Stream faction alongside the new emperor had a high chance of success. However, what Yuan Shao had secretly been hoping for was that the old fox and the old serpent would tear into each other, plunging the world into chaos once again.
Although serving two consecutive three-year mourning periods had freed him considerably from the handicap of his humble origins, that shackle had not yet been completely removed. His younger half-brother Yuan Shu, despite being called the Ghost of the Streets or the Wild Ghost of Luoyang, had still managed to obtain the position of Colonel of the Huben Warriors. At present, as Colonel of the Central Army of the Western Garden, Yuan Shao held a position that did not fall short of Huben Colonel Yuan Shu. Yet once the new emperor took the throne and the Western Garden Army was disbanded, he would once again be reduced to flattering that damned scoundrel.
“I don’t like it… I really don’t like it at all.”
“Colonel?”
“There’s a lot of dust here. You should put more effort into cleaning. As the former Colonel of the Left used to say, only by training in a clean environment can you all return home in good health, no?”
“We are sorry!”
“It’s fine. I’ve troubled the platoon leader by speaking unnecessarily. Make sure you forget what I said and do not punish anyone later. I apologize.”
“N-not at all! It is I who am sorry for making you worry over such a thing!”
I suspected as much, but it seems the Grand General has chosen to take the long way around. In that case, I suppose I must use a different move on my end…
Suddenly, a good idea flashed through his mind. Using one’s enemy against another, or killing two birds with one stone. The phrases seemed contradictory, yet it was a method that could be employed simultaneously. In the current political climate, there were two people whose existence threatened his future plans. All he needed to do was create an opportunity for those two to clash.
If the two fought, it would be using one’s enemy against another. If the two joined hands, the danger would increase and he would gain an excuse to subdue them. It was killing two birds with one stone.
“Let’s head back. It’s been a while since I last saw my younger brother. I should pay him a visit.”
A smile formed on his lips. It was the same smile he always wore, yet this one was just a little deeper. Of course, almost no one could tell the difference.