The Fable of Lao Wang

Once there were two kingdoms, separated by the Misty Mountains of Relativism. These mountains were so high and impenetrable that almost nobody believed there could be a kingdom on the other side. Once in a great while, however, someone would make the journey and return to tell of it. Sadly, these travelers’ journeys were discounted in public discourse as the ravings of madmen.

Lao Wang was a merchant who yearned for wealth and power. In reality, he yearned for unconditional love, but never acknowledged it to himself, and believed when he had wealth and power he would be complete. His ambition robbed him of all creativity and imagination, so that, try as he might, he could but remain an average merchant, in a kingdom filled with average merchants.

Lao Wang awoke troubled one night. He had been dreaming of his long-dead mother cradling him, when he was an innocent youth, and whispering, “You are my only precious Xiao Wang.”

But on awakening, he forgot the dream, and was left with only a physical ache for wealth and power. So sharp were his pangs that he decided in the early morning hours to undertake the perilous journey across the mountains, for though he knew wealth and power were out of grasp in his kingdom, who knew what might lie on the other side?

So bundling up his wares the next day, he set off into the mountains, his ambition and excitement warming him against the chill. Old Wang had led a sedentary lifestyle, valuing wealth and power far more than health. Great were his hardships, then, as he struggled through the rarefied air along steep and stony paths. Even greater was his fear of being robbed; yet greatest of all was his fear of returning to his kingdom without wealth and power. Thus he trudged on.

At last he clambered down out of the mountains and onto a vast plain, the shiny towers of a great city just visible ahead. Encouraged, Lao Wang redoubled his step, and reached the city gates by nightfall. Once inside, Lao Wang discovered that all the markets had closed for the evening. Disheartened but by no means resigned, he found a restaurant near the market.

Not until he had sated his hunger did Lao Wang realize that, for a restaurant close to the market place at the supper hour, the establishment was very poorly attended. So too, he recalled, had been the other restaurants whose windows he had peeked in. Curious, he called over the waiter.

“Where are all the patrons?”

“They have long since supped and departed, master.”

“But the sun has only recently gone down, and the moon barely risen.”

“Apparently you are a visitor to this kingdom, master. Here, we seldom linger over our meals.”

“Then what on earth does everybody do with their leisure hours?”

“That depends, master.”

“A merchant staying in the city, far from home, then.”

“Ah. Such a one would no doubt be with a courtesan.”

“Impertinent youth! How dare you insult me!”

“Forgive me, master. No offense was intended. I only tell you of our customs here. Have you no courtesans where you come from? If I may inquire, master.”

“Certainly. But no one of good breeding talks about them in public.”

“And why is that, master?”

“Because their profession is a shameful one. Is it not so here?”

“Hardly, master. Here, a courtesan makes a comfortable living, good ones even more so, for do they not provide a valuable service?”

“Remember your ancestors, boy! How can you speak of such service as valuable? They must be horribly exploited, with no husbands to guard their honor.”

“Again, master, I only wish to instruct when I tell you that all courtesans join a guild which regulates and protects them. We are a numerous people, and there are few opportunities for young women to secure well-paid work, especially for young women from the countryside. Perhaps things are different in your land?”

“Never mind that. Where can I observe these shameful courtesans, for I tell you I still believe you are simply lying to a traveler for your own amusement!”

“Heaven forbid, master. Do see for yourself, on the east side of the marketplace. You need not search hard.”

Indeed he did not, since before even crossing the marketplace, Lao Wang fell upon a group of men making for the House of Courtesans, knowing so because they themselves were talking loudly of their favorites and their planned escapades.

After sulking around the House of Courtesans for some time, Lao Wang could no longer reign in his curiosity, an almost forgotten yet familiar desire slowly possessing him, driving out even his supreme yen for wealth and power.

Imagine his dismay! He was shuffled from one courtesan to another. Each one in succession would turn him out, repulsed by his self-consciousness and hangdog expression. At last he found a kind-hearted, if not nubile, woman who understood his fumbling movements and sidelong glances, for she had been in the trade long enough to have had visitors from the other side of the mountains. So tender and patient was she with Lao Wang that he passed seamlessly from crisis to slumber. He awoke in her arms in the early morning hours, greatly troubled.

“My wares! Are they safe?”

“They are in the corner. Sleep and do not be troubled.”

Reassured and relaxed, Lao Wang felt an overwhelming affection for this woman, although he would never have admitted it back in his kingdom.

“You are indeed a wonderful woman.”

“And you are my only precious Xiao Wang.”

Did Lao Wang find wealth and power at last? Nobody in his kingdom can say, for no one has heard from him since the morning long ago that he bundled off into the mountains.

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