Dad, Please Try a Little Harder

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Chapter 91: Chapter 81 Insights into Training: A Letter to

Dad_1

Translator: Inschain Editor: Inschain

Compared to the awkwardness of Qian Quan’s magazine discovery among classmates, Qian Wenlin openly brought the magazine to his office. After noticing that his colleagues weren’t paying any attention, he purposely said something.

“After passing the manuscript review, ‘New Story Monthly1 sends out sample copies. Did any of you receive one?’1

Two colleagues, who had also been published, acknowledged they had and took his magazine to see, asking, “Which one is yours, Mr. Qian?”

Qian Wenlin mentioned the title of his work.

His colleagues gave a knowing smile before flipping to the indicated page. After a short while, one commented with a grin, “Mr. Qian, have you read the story that follows yours?”

“I did. It seems there’s a bit of a counterpoint going on, doesn’t it?” Qian Wenlin chuckled.

Having initially read his own piece, he inevitably noticed Qian Quan’s article titled “A Father’s Mountainous Love.”

While his own story dealt with infidelity, the following piece portrayed a son killing his father’s mistress. Clearly, the editorial team had done this intentionally.

“So, when are you treating us?” a colleague asked while browsing through the magazine.

“As soon as I get the payment,” responded Qian Wenlin, who had been eagerly awaiting this moment.

After a day of teaching, Qian Wenlin returned home. Over dinner with his wife, he inquired, “Has Rocky mentioned how his driving test went?”

“He passed the theoretical exam and has scheduled his Vehicle Control and Parking Test.”

“He seems in a rush. The Vehicle Control and Parking Test can be tricky. He should practice more before attempting it.”

“Then talk to our son and share your experience with him. Don’t expect me to ask everything for you.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss it later.” Lately, Qian Wenlin felt a growing distance between him and his increasingly mature son.

It seemed that as children grow up, the “all-knowing, all-capable” aura of a father fades.

After dinner, Qian Wenlin washed the dishes. He went for a walk with his wife, after which she went to have some fun with Linlang’s mother, while he returned home to practice his writing.

Now, every morning he would practice Wing Chun on a wooden dummy, and in the evenings, he’d write calligraphy and practice the “Wudang Secret Circulation Skill,” which had become a routine.

The “Wudang Secret Circulation Skill” with its annotations was increasingly captivating – a truly beneficial method for self-cultivation.

However, recently, perhaps due to work pressures or the emotional turbulence from the magazine’s publication, he found it challenging to calm his mind during practice.

For instance, while sitting in tranquility, his body motionless, his mind as still as water, his thoughts followed his smooth inhalations and exhalations…

Peaceful, calm, focused – everything seemed perfect.

Suddenly, some thoughts surfaced:

“What did Principal Chen mean by that? Was he hinting at me?”

“I really crave the noodles my mom used to make.”

“Should I call Yuhua back?”

His practice was interrupted. He wrestled with these thoughts and tried to refocus on his breathing. But soon enough, new thoughts emerged:

“Now that I don’t have to pay Rocky’s tuition, I’ve saved so much money.”

“Maybe I’ll become a renowned author nationally.”

“Will the gas prices drop?”

It seemed like a tug-of-war, caught in a vicious cycle, which quickly agitated him.

He paused his practice and asked in the family group chat, “Has anyone tried that ‘Wudang Secret Circulation Skill’ that Rocky shared?”

Shortly after, his uncle replied, “Why bother? With that time, you might as well play a couple rounds of Pai Gow Poker.”

Then Qian Quan’s Aunt’s husband commented, “Wenlin wants to become immortal. I skimmed it, that technique isn’t for us ordinary folks.”

“I initially wanted to try it, but after reading that it prolongs life, I thought better of it. I’ve had enough of this world and want to leave early,” a cousin who was working responded.

Seeing their reactions, Qian Wenlin felt deflated, realizing that nobody took the document seriously.

Well, no matter, he thought. It’s just a wasted effort on Rocky’s part.

Just then, Qian Wenlin received a private message from his son, “Dad, why did you suddenly ask about the practice?”

“Just wanted to discuss with everyone. Seems like nobody cares,” Qian Wenlin sighed.

“They probably think I’m just fooling around.”

“I heard from your mom that you’ve scheduled your driving test. How many times have you practiced?” Qian Wenlin swiftly changed the subject.

“I practiced two or three times. The instructor said I’m doing well and can take the test.”

“Just remember, during the test, drive steadily and slowly. No matter how the instructor rushes you, follow your own pace.”

“Okay.”

Their chat ended.

Qian Wenlin decided against forcing himself to continue his practice and spent some time playing Go.

By 9 p.m., he received an email. It was from Rocky. Curious, he opened it.

Dear Father,

I’ve been practicing the “Wudang Inner Peace Practice” recently and have some insights I’d like your opinion on:

Firstly, regarding the attitude of entering meditation, I no longer want to set expectations or look forward to outcomes. I merely follow my pace and direction, suppressing illusory thoughts and proceeding naturally;

I don’t want to force it or be overly tense but rather maintain a relaxed and stable demeanor;

I don’t wish to rush or cling to anything, nor reject any phenomena. Whether good or bad, I accept and observe it with an equanimous heart;

I accept my distracted nature and reconcile with myself. I question everything, not simply believing something because an influential person said it, or it sounds right. Yet, I don’t become cynical;

I treat every experience, good or bad, as a challenge and training. I embrace the good and delve into the bad, exploring its depths;

Lastly, I don’t compare myself to anyone, in appearance, achievements, intelligence, or popularity, nor do I harbor animosity due to social disparities.

Secondly, on handling distractions, before entering meditation or during, I often get flooded with negative fantasies, worries, and ambitions. The more I try to banish them, the stronger they become;

So, I’ve stopped suppressing them and started carefully observing them. Instead of blaming myself for these distractions, I keep a distance, slowly redirecting my focus to breathing.

Thirdly, regarding misconceptions about the practice, the document my friend gave me was titled “Wudang Secret Circulation Skill”. It had the word “secret”, but as I practiced, I realized it’s not mysterious but rather very down-to-earth. Suitable for both the elites and commoners;

It’s a simple act. During the practice, one might have profound realizations or merely superficial contentment. Whatever arises is just that, with no right or wrong answer;

Practicing meditation isn’t about escaping reality nor can it solve all problems. Its benefits are subtle. In the short term, there won’t be drastic changes, but I feel my patience gradually improving.

In the end, after long-term practice, was it possible to attain some form of “transcendence” or “supernatural power”? My friend never mentioned it in relation to the Ming Dynasty, and I didn’t hold any expectations. If it ever manifested, I’d be thrilled, but if not, I’d be indifferent.

Fourthly, regarding the relationship between practice and life. For a long period, I consistently chose a specific time and place for my practice. However, I later realized that meditation didn’t necessarily require a serene environment; it could also be integrated into daily life.

For instance, during my walks, I’d lift my head, puff my chest, relax my neck, and proceed naturally with the slowest and most comfortable pace. All my attention would be on the sensations from my feet and legs. I’d recall every detail about each foot’s movement, discerning the minute differences between actions and feeling every subtle touch…

Similarly, I’d always be mindful of my breathing, not just during practice but throughout daily activities. I’d sync my breath with every action, adding rhythm to movements, stabilizing emotions, experiencing and feeling nature in motion or stillness.

I also seized every spare moment to practice, while waiting for the bus, standing in line at the cafeteria, during class breaks…

Additionally, I tried to incorporate every tiny event or emotion from daily life into my practice. Regardless if these emotions were positive or negative, beautiful or shameful, it didn’t matter. I simply wanted to observe and notice them in their truest form. freewebn ovel.c om

Even in moments of boredom, I sought to understand the essence of this feeling: how it worked, how it impacted my mindset, and what constituted it.

The same went for anger and despair.

I believed that once I refined these thoughts and was able to effectively handle every sudden stray or delusive thought, I would freely concentrate my attention on breathing and the flow of Qi during meditation.

At that point, could it be said that I’d advanced to the next level?

Some disorganized musings; looking forward to Dad’s guidance.

Respectfully,

Fu’an

From a son,

November 30th

After reading the email, Qian Wenlin was silent for a while. Setting aside the feasibility of the methods proposed in the email, the points addressed were precisely those he had doubts or confusions about. In many instances, just reading the text provided moments of clarity.

What’s more impressive was that the methods suggested weren’t lofty but very concrete and feasible.

Just for that alone, could one say that it’s the deep bond between a father and son?

Feeling both proud and slightly ashamed, Qian Wenlin felt that his son had made rapid progress in various aspects since attending college.

After thinking for a bit, he gave his reply.

“Read it. Not bad..”