Waves surged endlessly in his heart, roaring like a storm.
Reading these words, Tao Yuanbai felt as though he were once again facing the great classics he had studied in his youth.
Yes, upon reading this "Literature as a Vehicle for the Dao," he felt as if he were learning from the sages of old.
Though now a respected professor, regarded by many as a master, Tao Yuanbai had long forgotten what it felt like to be taught by a true great mind.
But at this moment, before this article, he realized just how small he still was.
With the mindset of a student listening to a master, Tao Yuanbai continued reading.
"The looseness of prose is not boundless disorder, nor is it aimless expression without theme. True masters of prose may disregard formal structure, but within them resides a vast, righteous energy. When they write, their thoughts surge forth like the Yangtze River, unstoppable. This is what is meant by 'when qi is abundant, words naturally follow.'"
"When qi is abundant, both the length of words and the tone of expression are appropriate."
This meant that when a writer's moral and intellectual cultivation reached a certain level, every word and tone would naturally fall into place.
This was different from merely "moving when one should move and stopping when one must stop."
Because at that level, one had transcended writing itself.
And this was why literature could illuminate the Dao, convey the Dao, and carry the Dao.
By this point, Tao Yuanbai was trembling.
"Literature illuminates the Dao, literature conveys the Dao, literature carries the Dao."
These three ideas alone were enough to shame countless writers who treated prose as mere "beautiful writing."
Only now did Tao Yuanbai truly understand the purpose of writing.
It was not to attack others.
Nor was it to serve as decorative art for admiration.
It was to reveal truth, to connect principles, and to carry philosophy.
"I never thought that after more than sixty years of life, I would still make a fool of myself before a true master."
With a bitter smile, Tao Yuanbai called Gao Hong.
"Gao Hong, stop. We've lost."
...
Just like Tao Yuanbai, once "Literature as a Vehicle for the Dao" appeared, those who had previously attacked Qiushui found themselves speechless.
What was left to say?
The principles had already been made crystal clear.
Everything in the world follows its own laws. Flowing water and drifting clouds do the same. Writing, too, must follow its own rules.
Without rules, writing becomes like a wild horse without reins, a kite without a string, a ship without a compass, destined to lose its way.
"Loose in form, unified in spirit" was precisely that rule.
What shocked them even more was Qiushui's depth of knowledge.
Previously, "All under heaven bustle for profit" had already demonstrated his talent. But talent and scholarship were not the same. Talent could produce clever lines, but scholarship revealed deeper truths.
And now, beyond "loose in form, unified in spirit," he had introduced ideas like "unity of literature and Dao," "eliminate stale expressions," "write smoothly," and even "when qi is abundant, words naturally follow."
Most absurd of all, "when qi is abundant, words naturally follow" sounded almost ridiculous.
What did writing have to do with moral character? What did it have to do with the inner spirit?
And yet, it somehow made perfect sense.
It was so convincing that no one could refute it.
In fact, this very effect seemed to prove the theory itself.
No matter what was said, no matter the length or tone, if the writer possessed an overwhelming inner force, their words would carry undeniable authority.
By this point, even if someone had counterarguments, they would be crushed by the sheer momentum of the piece.
This had gone beyond a normal literary debate.
It opened their eyes.
They realized that writing, at a certain level, could generate a kind of overwhelming presence.
Even without seeing Qiushui in person, just through his words, they felt as if they were being crushed by an unstoppable force.
Defeated.
Yes, defeated.
Even if they suspected Qiushui was bluffing, what could they write in response?
Could they present a theory as convincing?
Could they match his depth of knowledge?
Could they overpower others through sheer literary force?
No.
Absolutely not.
If not, what else was there to do but surrender?
If Qiushui had truly gone all out, his writing could probably make them cough up blood. Were those ancient battle manifestos just myths? When armies clashed, a well-written manifesto could shake spirits and sway the tide.
Though that might sound exaggerated, this "Literature as a Vehicle for the Dao" had indeed left them shaken, unable to muster any will to fight back.
Still, some refused to back down.
Despite being overwhelmed, their pride, built over decades, refused to yield.
So they changed tactics.
They stopped debating "loose in form, unified in spirit."
After all, they weren't fools. They knew they were already losing badly.
Instead, they targeted Qiushui's weakness.
"You're a master of theory, right? A great scholar, right?"
"Fine. Scholars may have knowledge, but their actual writing is often mediocre."
That was why the greatest prose masters were scholars, yet the best-selling works came from popular authors.
"If you're so capable, then write a truly classic prose piece following your own 'loose in form, unified in spirit.'"
"If you can, we'll admit defeat."
"If you can't, then everything you said is meaningless."
It was a clever plan.
After all, literature had no absolute standard. Even if Qiushui wrote something decent, they could simply claim it wasn't good enough.
Even if he produced a masterpiece, they could refuse to acknowledge it.
At worst, it would end in a draw.
But unfortunately for them, their plan failed.
When Huang Yifan saw their challenge, he couldn't help but laugh.
My friends, do you have any idea how much effort it took me to piece together those theories? I pulled them from the Eight Great Prose Masters of Tang and Song, refined and repackaged them.
And now you want me to write a classic prose piece?
Fine.
I'll just copy one.
"As you wish:
'I have not seen my father for over two years. What I can never forget is his back as he walked away…'"
Thus, the classic prose piece 'Back View,' known to nearly every person in his previous world, was officially published.
==========
Unlock up to 50 advanced chapters on Patreon!
patreon.com/Childish_Patriarch