Li Gang could speak freely with the Mount Tai elders because their ages, positions, and learning were all roughly equal. No matter how they spoke to each other, it was their own business. Though it was humiliating, the Mount Tai elders would only consider this Li Gang’s method of getting the four of them into the academy and wouldn’t feel particularly insulted. But if Yun Ye did the same, that would be a display of poor upbringing. No matter what conflicts existed, proper etiquette absolutely could not be lacking.
So when Yun Ye got onto the platform, he immediately performed a grand bow to the four old men. Until the old men spoke, he didn’t dare straighten his back. If he was disrespectful today, the Yun family would thereafter be branded with the title of uncivilized barbarians.
The old man called Wen Hai was the most amiable. Smiling, he said, “Li Wenji spouts nonsense from his mouth—don’t pay him any mind. Since he said you’re specialized in the path of poetry, then it definitely won’t be wrong. Though his mouth lacks virtue, he won’t speak nonsense. Don’t be alarmed. Today, let’s discuss poetry and prose together. Young people always have thoughts that surprise us old men. Speak boldly—it doesn’t matter if you’re wrong. This is about learning. Those who understand come first. Don’t worry about those wagers. We old men live too lonely lives and are just looking for some entertainment.”
Only after hearing the old man speak did Yun Ye straighten his back. Learning from Li Tai’s manner, he knelt and sat down, his hands naturally folded on his knees—extremely uncomfortable.
The more hot-tempered Elder Kua Yang asked first, “Tell this old man—what is poetry?”
“When student previously read the poetry of predecessors, I always thought that only by experiencing all suffering could one speak words from within, that words are the voice of the heart, and only then could good writing emerge. Later, when reciting Zhuangzi, I discovered a passage. Student believes this is the best explanation of poetry. From then on, I felt suddenly enlightened—the narrow winding path became a broad thoroughfare.”
“Zhuangzi? In this book, what could be connected to poetry is nothing more than this passage: ‘Fish traps are for catching fish; once you’ve caught the fish, you can forget the trap. Rabbit snares are for catching rabbits; once you’ve caught the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words are for expressing meaning; once you’ve grasped the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find someone who has forgotten words to have a word with!’ This passage discusses the relationship between language and thought. You rely on this fragmentary phrase to comprehend the essence of poetry? Though somewhat far-fetched, it has two points of reason. Qu Yuan was exiled and wrote ‘Li Sao,’ Han Feizi was imprisoned and wrote ‘Shui Nan,’ Sima Qian was castrated and wrote ‘Records of the Grand Historian.’ You treat suffering and hardship as poetry’s primary condition—this is biased, just like Li Tai wanting to use copper balls to prove his understanding of qi is correct. Looking at a leopard through a tube—ultimately it’s difficult to achieve greatness.”
Yun Ye had only quoted one line from Zhuangzi, and the old fellow immediately found the corresponding passage correctly. Wasn’t it said that old men in their seventies and eighties would all have some symptoms of dementia? Why were they still so mentally sharp?
“Student believes that our lives are ultimately limited. We cannot be comprehensive in all things. Even if we manage to do so, our lifespans are already nearing their end. The contributions we can make to this world are too few. Therefore, borrowing certain tools is necessary. Each word is the foundation of our poetry. Combined together, they become poems that either move people’s hearts or bring them to tears. Since everyone understands poetry differently, why don’t we first create the model and let those who read the poetry fill it with their own thoughts? What’s wrong with that?”
“Complete nonsense! What do you take poetry for? According to your words, wouldn’t even street vendors carrying baskets and selling beverages be able to compose excellent poetry? Preposterous! Since ancient times, have you ever heard of anyone composing poetry this way?”
“This old man will tell you what poetry is. From ancient times to now, there are only a few variations. I’ve never heard such strange and bizarre theories. Four-character form—mellow, simple, honest, ancient, and elegant. Five-character ancient poetry—deep, simple, lush, natural, with blended imagery and profound artistic conception. Seven-character ancient poetry—unfolding freely, changing unpredictably, with cadence and modulation. Five-character regulated verse—elegant, lofty, clear, leisurely, distant, grand, and expansive. Seven-character regulated verse—flowing smoothly, meandering and turning. How could merely stacking individual characters produce a good poem?”
“Poetry expresses aspirations. Words are the voice of the heart. With feeling and sensation, with spirit and intention—only then can you compose a good poem. Perhaps having such strange notions isn’t entirely your fault. Li Wenji, as a teacher, is also suspected of misleading his students.”
Hearing Elder Nong Mei’s words, Li Gang wasn’t the least bit offended. Laughing strangely, he said, “Whether it’s a mule or a horse, take it out for a walk. Among ten thousand great paths, I prefer the small roads—what’s it to you? As long as you reach the destination, that’s what matters. You pose a question and test this unworthy disciple of mine. Won’t right and wrong be clear at a glance? My disciple composes one poem, and you must also compose one. Let everyone judge. This old man won’t take advantage of you.”
Elder Li Zhang slowly stood up and said to Yun Ye, “You compose a five-character poem about autumn reflecting this old man’s state of mind. You said poetry is merely a model that can have meaning added freely. This old man will listen to how you compose a good poem that makes this old man convinced.”
Wang Gui, Zhangsun Wuji, and the Emperor were already in despair at this moment. After themselves, there would be several more famous masters who would never discuss poetry again for the rest of their lives. Zhangsun’s eyes were bright and sparkling as she waited for Yun Ye to compose poetry. Even now, she didn’t believe Yun Ye could compose a good poem that would make the Mount Tai Elder admit defeat.
Yun Ye didn’t think so. Wang Wei was called a generation’s Poetry Buddha. If he couldn’t beat the Mount Tai Elder, that would be too much. Elder Li Zhang insisted on challenging Wang Wei—what could he do? Autumn? Writing five-character poetry about autumn—who could surpass “Autumn Evening in the Mountain Dwelling”? Both being recluses, let him beat Wang Wei first before speaking.
“Yesterday after the rain, student went to the back mountain and saw that autumn was approaching. Suddenly, I also wanted to dwell confined in the wilderness. During leisure time, I composed a poem. I imagine it will suit your state of mind, Elder.”
“Recite it. This old man can’t even write out his own state of mind. Let’s see if the young man can. This old man is all ears.”
Yun Ye first wrote it down on paper, modified a few characters, then holding the slip of paper, gently recited: “After fresh rain on the empty mountain, weather brings evening autumn. Bright moon shines through the pines, clear spring flows over stones. Bamboo rustles with returning washerwomen, lotus moves as fishing boats descend. Let spring flowers fade at will, this nobleman may stay. What do you think? Just these forty characters—I don’t know if they match your artistic conception, sir.”
Elder Li Zhang said nothing. He took the brush and paper, the brush dancing like dragons and snakes. In an instant, he had copied down these forty characters. After reading it once, he closed his eyes and slowly savored the poem.
The poem’s meaning, bones, and heart were all present. Previously, poems written about autumn invariably carried sorrowful meaning, but this poem—every word was peaceful and joyful. The entire poem established a spiritual and pure tone. The whole poem combined motion and stillness, complementing each other perfectly. Moonlight shining on the pine forest was static; clear spring overflowing was dynamic. The first four lines wrote the quietude of the autumn mountain’s evening scenery; lines five and six wrote the clamor of washerwomen and fishing boats. The poem’s four couplets respectively wrote sensation, vision, hearing, and feeling. From imagery came delight, from scenery arose emotion. A poem written to this degree could truly be called uniquely standing through past and present. Elder Li Zhang looked once more at the page on his knee, cupped his hands toward Li Gang and said, “Brother Wenji, you spoke correctly. This old man truly cannot match your disciple’s poetic talent even on horseback. This old man admits defeat and will go to the academy to await your orders.”
Li Gang’s smile appeared increasingly detestable. Arrogantly, he said to the other three, “You four are united as one, always advancing and retreating together. This old man said he wouldn’t take advantage, and he won’t. I’ll give you another chance to hear good poetry, lest you say this old man took shortcuts. Back then, you treated this old man the same way. Even when I surrendered and admitted defeat, you wouldn’t accept it. I drank most of a vat of wine by myself and lay in bed for three full days, nearly drinking myself to death. The feeling of a splitting headache—I still remember it vividly. The ancients spoke well! ‘Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river’—not wrong at all. Today, this old man will take revenge.”
Elder Kua Yang suddenly pointed at Zhangsun Wuji, indicating he should also come up. Zhangsun Wuji stepped forward. Before he could bow, Elder Kua Yang asked, “Yun Ye writes such good poetry—why aren’t you surprised?” Zhangsun Wuji smiled bitterly and said, “In answer to senior’s question, this junior was shocked to pieces long ago, so regarding today’s events, I’m accustomed to the strange.”
“He’s been writing poetry this way for a long time? Could it be that those widely popular poems like ‘Grass on the Ancient Plain’ and ‘Liangzhou Ci’ were all composed by him? Why have we only heard the poetry but not known the poet? What’s the reason?”
“Senior, you should broaden your mind. Those characters were written by him, but the artistic conception is not his. It belongs to each person who reads the poetry—their own feelings. It has nothing to do with him. Just like this ‘Autumn Evening in the Mountain Dwelling’ just now—do you think such clean poetry could be composed by him? So, he just wrote forty characters. Everything else has nothing to do with him. Why should these poems be attributed to his name? This is the greatest insult to our thousand years of literary culture.”
“You’re saying this young man has character problems? This old man observes that he has dignified features, follows etiquette flawlessly—he could almost be called a model among young men. It wouldn’t be too outrageous, would it?”
“Senior, his appearance was given by his parents. Things like etiquette were beaten into him by Her Majesty the Empress, who tied him to a chair and whipped him into practicing them. The Three Scourges of Chang’an, with him as the leader—he frequently visits brothels and pleasure quarters with my worthless son and other wastrels. Fighting and brawling are daily occurrences. Ordering him to go to Goguryeo to retrieve the remains of fallen soldiers from the previous dynasty—hehe, this battle broke through four Goguryeo cities, completely annihilated the Goguryeo navy. Beisha City disappeared from the map. I heard the Royal City still reeks of corpses to this day. Cangyan City—he forcibly scraped off three feet of topsoil. On the return journey, he even robbed one hundred thousand taels of gold from the Princess of Wa. To this day, the Princess of Wa still has no recourse for her grievances. Do you still think this young man is a wholesome youth striving upward?”
“Then why don’t you discipline him? Just let him run wild like this?” The four old men including Kua Yang looked at each other in astonishment. Elder Wen Hai, who most loved seeing young people strive for improvement, couldn’t help but voice his reproach.
“Several seniors, if you want to discipline him, you must be smarter than him. His honored teacher is practically an immortal among men. Only an immortal could teach such a disciple. In the path of mathematics, he can be called a generation’s master. He also understands many chaotic yet extremely important miscellaneous subjects. Potatoes were presented by him, corn was presented by him. Not to mention anything else, just these two new crops can free the Great Tang from worry about famine. Therefore, in Chang’an, His Majesty and the Empress have always indulged him. As long as he doesn’t commit major errors, these small matters—no one manages them.”
“Monster?” The four old men cried out together.