Everyone’s gaze shifted in unison to Chen Zui.
Hearing those words, Chen Zui’s drowsiness vanished instantly.
He opened his eyes to find himself the center of attention. Among the dozens of eyes watching him, some were curious, some were contemptuous, and others were simply waiting to see a good show.
Lu Qinghe frowned slightly and was about to stand up to bail him out, but he saw Chen Zui stretch lazily and stand up from his seat with a leisurely air.
“Since Young Master Zhou has so graciously invited me, I’ll say a few words.”
He walked slowly down the steps and arrived at the center of the debating platform, standing opposite Zhou Yuanhao.
One wore azure scholar’s robes, refined and elegant.
The other wore a coarse cloth tunic, a red-tasseled spear propped against his shoulder.
No matter how one looked at it, the contrast was jarring.
A few of the old instructors exchanged glances, and Old Master Cheng stroked his beard, observing him with great interest.
Chen Zui looked around the room.
“To be honest, I didn’t understand most of what you all were just saying.”
A wave of snickering immediately broke out in the hall.
“However,” Chen Zui’s tone shifted.
“Listening to it all, I can’t help but feel you’ve all overlooked a certain problem.”
“What problem?” an instructor asked.
Chen Zui looked at Zhou Yuanhao and smiled slightly.
“You keep talking about valuing righteousness over profit; it sounds beautiful, of course. But there’s one question I can’t figure out, and I’d like to ask Young Master Zhou.”
Zhou Yuanhao puffed out his chest. “Speak.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened at the docks yesterday. That old porter whose wrist was stepped on by the Tang family guards—his load of oranges wasn’t worth more than two taels of silver. But to him, that was a month’s worth of food for his entire family. If he valued righteousness over profit, he should have just given all those oranges to others and gone home to watch his family starve.”
Chen Zui’s smile remained unchanged, but his tone grew heavy.
“May I ask, Young Master Zhou? This old porter didn't give the oranges away; instead, he risked his life to pick them back up. Would you say he was acting out of righteousness or profit?”
The Debate Hall suddenly fell silent—so quiet that the rustling of bamboo leaves outside the window could be heard.
Zhou Yuanhao opened his mouth, but for a moment, he didn't know how to answer.
Without waiting for a response, Chen Zui continued.
“You sit here in this bright, clean academy, eating what your families provide and wearing what your families provide. You’ve never had your wrists stepped on in the street, and you’ve never had to humble yourselves for a few scraps of silver. So, you think the debate between righteousness and profit is just about tossing around a few anecdotes from books. You think valuing righteousness over profit is a simple thing. But have you ever considered that for those commoners who can’t fill their bellies, profit is their righteousness?”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across all the students present, as he spoke each word deliberately.
“Where does the food you eat and the clothes you wear come from? If no one in the world farmed the land, wove cloth, or conducted trade, would you scholars just drink the north wind while reading the books of sages? And then, would you tell the starving people that even though they died of hunger, they upheld morality? Is this the Benevolence spoken of in your books? To ensure the common people are fed and warm, that the children of the poor can afford school, and that the elderly can afford medical care—that is the greatest Righteousness under heaven. If you can’t even understand this, then all your debating is nothing more than mere words on paper.”
He patted Zhou Yuanhao on the shoulder with a weight that was neither too heavy nor too light.
“Don’t spend all day putting Righteousness and Profit on opposite sides. Ensuring the people are fed is the greatest Benevolence. Ensuring peace under heaven is the greatest Righteousness.”
As his voice fell, a deathly silence filled the Debate Hall.
The faces of several students flushed and paled in turns; some lowered their heads, not daring to meet Chen Zui’s gaze.
Zhou Yuanhao was frozen in place, his lips quivering as if to say something, but in the end, not a single word came out.
Chen Zui suddenly couldn't help but let out a short laugh.
This laugh was exceptionally clear in the quiet hall, and everyone could hear the dismissiveness within it.
“And you people, stop talking so easily about sacrificing life for righteousness. The self-sacrifice you speak of is certainly respectable. But if good people always retreat while the wicked keep pushing, is there any justice left in this world? Why should the good be the ones to suffer? Didn’t you Confucians establish schools and teach people just so there would be more good people and fewer bad ones?”
Everyone present was left speechless by his unorthodox debating style.
Yet, every one of Chen Zui’s words struck at the very points they cared about most.
Human hearts, moral transformation, and the responsibility of the academy—these were all the core tenets of Confucianism. Yet he had turned them around and used them like a hammer, striking precisely and ruthlessly.
“This… this is simply being argumentative,” one old instructor stammered, his beard trembling, though his voice had unconsciously softened.
Chen Zui didn't press his advantage. Instead, he dropped his mocking expression and cupped his hands toward the old instructor, his tone becoming more sincere.
“Old Master, I truly didn't come here to cause trouble. I just feel that while it’s not wrong for you to teach students to value righteousness over profit, you should also teach them to distinguish priorities. When people are hungry, fill their stomachs first. Once no one is starving, then sit down and slowly talk about righteousness.”
He thudded his long spear against the floor. His voice wasn't loud, yet it made everyone in the hall perk up their ears.
“What is the greatest Righteousness? It is when all the people under heaven are fed and warm, for when the granaries are full, the people will know etiquette. When that day comes, you won't even need to teach them; they will practice righteousness on their own.”
The Debate Hall remained silent for several breaths. Then, a very faint sigh drifted from the back row.
A young scholar set his brush down on the inkstone, not even noticing as the ink soaked through half a sheet of paper. He simply stared blankly at the figure carrying the spear in the center of the hall.
He stood up and bowed toward Chen Zui, then sat back down.
A second, a third...
Before long, at least twenty students in the hall had performed the same gesture.
It wasn't a cheer or empty praise, but a form of respect far heavier than applause.
None of them spoke.
Because in their hearts, they all understood that in today’s debate, Zhou Yuanhao wasn't the only one who had lost.
Lu Qinghe sat in the corner, watching Chen Zui’s back, his eyes shimmering with an indescribable light.
Meanwhile, Zhou Yuanhao stood before his chair, his face a mess of pale and ashen hues. The classmates beside him also kept their heads down, not daring to look up.
Old Master Cheng stroked his white beard and took a long, deep look at Chen Zui.
A strange light flashed in his cloudy old eyes—surprise, relief, and more than anything, a complex emotion that was hard to define.
He slowly rose and raised both hands to signal for silence.
He remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he picked up the copper bell before him.
“What a fine ‘profit is righteousness’.”
He looked at Chen Zui as if he were looking at a piece of uncut jade that had suddenly been unearthed. It was rough, yet it glowed from within.
“Young Hero Chen, this old man has sat in this Debate Hall for thirty years and has seen all kinds of debating talent.”
He paused, his voice carrying a hint of poignant sentiment.
“In today’s lesson, it wasn’t us who taught you, but you who taught us.”
He picked up the copper hammer and struck the bronze bell lightly.
“This bell, this old man rings for you.”
Rate on N.U.
