Zhang Jiuling: Prodigy, Poet, and Pliable Sage

A bust of Zhang Jiuling.
The talented Zhang Jiuling suffered setbacks while creating lasting works of governance, civil engineering, and poetry, but he never suffered fools. (Image: Zhuwq via Wikipedia)

The talented Zhang Jiuling suffered setbacks while creating lasting works of governance, civil engineering, and poetry, but he never suffered fools.

One day, about 1,300 years ago, an imperial official known to be a literary master was traveling through the lush Chinese countryside when someone handed him an essay written by a little-known scholar. The elder statesman was struck by the composition’s eloquence and accurate grasp of and unique insights into politics. He stopped his trip and asked to meet with its author, 25-year-old Zhang Jiuling. The only thing that impressed him more than the essay was this young man’s intellect, startling maturity, and composure. After decades of experience evaluating courtly people, the official believed Zhang Juiling would alter the course of history.

Zhang Jiuling was a descendant of those who founded the Han and Jin dynasties centuries earlier, and he went on to be a just and intelligent governor. But history views him like a multifaceted sapphire, valuable from many angles. He built a mountain pass for his countrymen out of the kindness of his heart, and composed poetry about the fullness of the moon, the workings of plants, and the quiet mystery of existence. His words still pepper Chinese conversations today.

The ancient Mei Pass, one of China’s vital thoroughfares, was constructed by Zhang Jiuling circa A.D. 700.
The ancient Mei Pass, one of China’s vital thoroughfares, was constructed by Zhang Jiuling circa A.D. 700. (Image: via Zhangzhugang)

He was considered a child prodigy at age seven when he wrote his first essay and won over local leaders in a poetic, point-counterpoint verbal spar. From then on, he bounded toward his heart’s desire with enormous ambition, but always kept a clear conscience, even if that meant risking his neck or walking away from a life in governance, something he wanted so badly.

Even as a low-ranking clerk, Zhang Juiling never compromised his principles. He sparred frequently with Prime Minister Yao Chong; when his advice went unheeded, Zhang Juiling resigned and returned home to the countryside.

On his way, he struggled as all travelers did through the steep and treacherous Lingnan Pass in the Daiyu Mountains. In his mind, a wide road appeared, a practical solution, and he rushed back to the imperial court to plead for the funds to execute his idea.

The funds were granted and the talented literati became a road builder. He gathered farmers while the fields were fallow to do the work, and scaled cliffs to survey the route. He camped for months in the wild and shivered in the cold winds. The Mei Pass that he built — 17 meters wide in parts and a dozen kilometers long — made the Daiyu people dance and cry with gratitude when it opened. One of the first significant north-south arteries, it became a boon to Chinese traders, farmers, peasants, and merchants forever after.

Zhang Jiuling.
Zhang Jiuling. (Image: via Wikimedia)

Word of Zhang Jiuling’s quiet accomplishment reached the capital. He was called to serve his country again, but, like before, his post did not last long. His accurate insights and convictions were never silent ones, and though some in the court recognized his genius, others conspired to have him thrown out. New leaders rose and fell, and Zhang Juiling became like sea kelp, pushed out or pulled back in, but fixed at the root and nourishing China’s development.

During stretches when he was homebound, Zhang Jiuling’s unstoppable heart and mind found an outlet in poetry:

Zhang Jiuling becomes the Emperor’s counsel

Years passed and the tides ultimately brought Jiuling into the mighty Tang emperor’s counsel. By this time, Emperor Xuanzong had grown complacent and began to neglect his duties. Zhang Jiuling tried to intervene, but Emperor Xuanzong was deaf to reason. Instead, he whiled away the evenings playing chess.

During a chess match, Zhang Jiuling had an idea. He stopped playing. He allowed the emperor first to capture his horse, then ravage his other pieces. The emperor’s chariot was soon threatening Zhang Juling’s general — and yet he didn’t move, or seek to protect it. Emperor Xuanzong asked: “Why don’t you move? You’re about to lose the game!” Zhang Jiuling smiled and said: “Your Majesty, this game of chess is like managing state affairs. If the general is motionless, and the other pieces fail to protect it, of course, the game will be lost.” The emperor immediately realized his fault.

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