One autumn morning, as leaves scattered across the temple courtyard, several new founders gathered to mock young Wei, who had named his startup after a single afternoon of work.

“Such carelessness!” they scoffed. “While virtuous Ping spent seven days in meditation, consulting ancient texts before selecting his domain.”

Master Ryo, who had been arranging stones in the garden, observed silently.

“And what of Ping’s venture?” he finally asked.

“It withered before winter,” they admitted reluctantly.

Master Ryo picked up a smooth river stone and began polishing it meticulously with his sleeve. The founders gathered closer, expecting profound wisdom. After several minutes of careful polishing, he muttered “Wu,” and suddenly tossed it into his bucket of ordinary stones.

“Master!” they exclaimed. “Why discard it after such attention?”

“Tell me,” he said, lifting the bucket, “which one was it?”

They stared at the identical stones in confusion.

“Ah,” said Ryo, “so the attention I put into naming it made no difference?”

The founders bowed their heads in understanding.