Chapter Fifty-Eight: Liberating the Women of Greece

Yan Luo and the Arcadians had not come to blows, after all, they were in Hermes’ temple, and the old clerk was there to keep the peace. Of course, Cornelius, who now bore deep five-fingered marks on both sides of his chest, was nearly beside himself with rage and even uttered some harsh words, promising payback during the wrestling match.

Returning to their lodgings, Yan Luo found not only Wang Dongwei and Zhu Xiaoyong, but also a large group of guests. Herodotus and Thucydides; Euripides and Sophocles; Democritus and Hippocrates; and, astonishingly, Athens’ own gadfly, Socrates himself was there!

Was this a gathering of the greats, a council of legends? Yan Luo recognized these faces, and there were even more present—some who seemed mere supporting cast compared to the illustrious figures before them, yet each had left a resounding mark upon history. Among them was the young father of comedy, Aristophanes. Altogether, over ten people sat around the table.

Such a gathering, if immortalized in a painting, would surely rival the famous “Last Supper.” In truth, there was indeed a similar work: Raphael’s “The School of Athens,” one of the masterpieces of the Renaissance.

As Yan Luo entered, everyone rose.

“Haha, we meet again,” Socrates greeted him with a hearty laugh.

“Aren’t you busy with the Church of Laozi?” Yan Luo teased. “Hippocrates, weren’t you recruiting heroes in Athens for your journey east? And you, Democritus, have you given up your qigong training? Euripides, Sophocles, aren’t you working on your mortal cultivation stories? Herodotus, aren’t you studying values? Thucydides, weren’t you researching who is stronger, Zeus or the Jade Emperor? Why are all of you here?”

The luminaries were momentarily speechless.

“Ah, well…” Hippocrates was the first to explain. “It’s impossible to recruit strong warriors in Athens right now. The Olympics have drawn all the most robust and fit men to compete. I thought, why not come here and recruit athletes from various city-states? Surely among them are those who, like me, are determined to seek true wisdom from China.”

“So here I am.”

“Then I wish you luck,” Yan Luo said.

The father of medicine smiled gratefully, then hesitated. “Actually… west of Greece are only barbarians. They lack Athenian democracy and will find it hard to accept Chinese civilization. You will face grave dangers there.”

“For civilization, what sacrifice could be regrettable?” Yan Luo tried to put on a fearless expression.

“Truly a sage from the East,” Hippocrates sighed, then said with some regret, “If you would return to China instead of spreading civilization further, I and the three of you could form a team without needing to hire others. I thought about it: Yan Luo, you’re a powerful hero; Zhu Xiaoyong would be the tank, drawing the enemy’s attacks; Wang Dongwei would carry the load; and I’d hold the bowl. Isn’t that a perfect team for journeying east? But alas…”

Zhu Xiaoyong: “…”

Wang Dongwei: “…”

Democritus spoke up, “I’ve been practicing qigong hard lately, and I can even sense qi now… When Hippocrates decided to come, we thought, Yan Luo, since you’re not returning to Athens after the Olympics, we might never see you again… We’ve witnessed your erudition and your physical prowess.”

Socrates continued, “We’re curious to see if you’ll win the Olympic championship, so after some discussion, we all decided to come support you. After all, you are an honorary citizen of Athens.”

“We came by chariot, and just barely made it,” Herodotus interjected.

“My old bones were nearly shaken apart!” Sophocles, the eldest among them, leaned on a staff, playing the senior. In truth, he would live to ninety, and was still quite robust.

“Hel-hello…” Among the crowd, the youngest—a boy of about ten with chestnut hair and a delicate, refined face—looked at Yan Luo with the starry-eyed expression of a fan meeting his idol. He stammered, “It’s… it’s an honor to meet you.”

Socrates, a bit helpless, introduced him, “This is my youngest disciple, Xenophon.”

“Xenophon?” Yan Luo was not unfamiliar with the name. Wang Dongwei had previously given him a brief overview of the sages of Greece in this era, though he couldn’t recall the exact birth dates for each. He hadn’t yet met the philosopher Plato or the artist Phidias.

This child, Xenophon, would become a renowned historian, as famous as Thucydides. He would be counted among the greatest historians of ancient Greece, authoring “Hellenica,” and he would have deep affection for his teacher Socrates, composing “Memoirs of Socrates.”

“This boy admires you greatly. Back in Athens, he was too shy to ask me to take him to meet you, and after you left he cried several times. This time, hearing we were coming to Olympia, he insisted on joining us, so I brought him along.”

“I-I…” The ten-year-old’s face flushed red.

“Oh?”

Yan Luo nodded, “Would you like me to sign something for you?”

“Sign?” Xenophon didn’t know this word or its meaning.

In this era, the idea of a signature hadn’t yet taken hold, but Yan Luo didn’t mind. He took a stick, dipped it in smoky ink—essentially just ash—and wrote his name in Chinese script on Xenophon’s snow-white linen robe.

“This is… Chinese writing, your name?” The boy was so moved he nearly burst into tears. “Your name, written on my clothes? Wuwuwu…” And then he truly did cry. “I will protect this robe carefully, keep it in a chest, as my most precious belonging… Even when I die, I want it buried in my grave.”

Zhu Xiaoyong: “…”

Wang Dongwei: “…”

If this robe could survive in a tomb for two thousand five hundred years, one wonders what Western scholars in the future would think upon excavating a Greek robe marked with two Chinese characters… Perhaps they would suspect a time traveler…

Of course, that was mere fancy. Linen cloth could never last that long, unless sealed in a vacuum.

“Yan Luo, regarding the competition, I’ve had some thoughts,” Wang Dongwei said. “I’ve just been discussing them with these scholars.”

“Naked competition has been the practice in the Olympics for centuries, but it wasn’t always so—it began as an accident during the fifteenth games. Now, it’s time to return to the original path…”

“Of course, trying to persuade people that naked competition is uncivilized, using arguments of shame, won’t work. We three are foreigners, and even invoking Athens wouldn’t change the rules.”

He paused, then said to Yan Luo, “There’s a word you may not know.”

“What?”

“Feminism!” Wang Dongwei declared solemnly. “My idea is to spark a movement for the liberation of Greek women…”

“Oh?” Yan Luo was utterly lost—how could preventing naked competition at the Olympics be connected to emancipating women in ancient Greece, two and a half millennia ago?