Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Hou Fangyu, who had been waving his folding fan, suddenly gripped it tightly:

"Dingsheng (Chen Zhenhui's courtesy name)'s words may be rough, but they make a valid point."

"Back when the Jin dynasty moved south during the Yongjia era, didn't the elegant and refined lifestyle of the Wang and Xie families still flourish in Wuyi Lane?"

Having said that, he laid the fan handle across the table.

"In my opinion, the moon over the Qinhuai River lasts much longer than the sun over the Forbidden City."

A sudden night wind arose on the Qinhuai River, causing the gauze curtains in the pavilion to flutter like white dragons.

Bian Yujing's zither music flickered in and out of focus in the wind.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Cilang suddenly stood up, his robes fluttering in the wind:

"These two gentlemen seem to have a deep understanding of the customs and traditions left behind by the Southern Song dynasty!"

"When the Southern Song Dynasty fell, a folk song still circulated in Jiangnan: 'The Zhao family emperor and the Yang family generals, even when the barbarians replaced them, they still sang it.' But what was the result...?"

His gaze swept over Hou Fangyu and Chen Zhenhui, and he continued:

"Back then, the Yuan dynasty classified southerners as the lowest class."

"Did those Song dynasty loyalists who sang 'We'll sing the same songs even if the barbarians change' ever expect to have to kneel and give way to the Semu people?"

He took a step forward.

"There used to be a saying: 'Eight prostitutes, nine scholars, ten beggars.' Today, two scholars in scholar's robes and wide sleeves are laughing and talking about 'changing vermilion for love.' Do you know that under the Mongol Yuan dynasty, you scholars were ranked below prostitutes?"

He looked at the wide band around Hou Fangyu's forehead.

"Now the Jurchens want to shred more than just your hair ornaments; they want to shred all the sage books you hold in your hands into straw paper to wrap your horses' hooves."

As Zhu Cilang finished speaking, the night wind blew through the corridor, and the candlelight suddenly burst open.

Hou Fangyu's folding fan landed with a "thud" on the blue brick, and Chen Zhenhui's half-tilted wine cup trembled slightly. The two were speechless for a moment.

At this moment, Gu Yanwu, whose eyes had been slightly closed, suddenly opened them, a sharp glint in his eyes.

As the gauze curtains billowed, Bian Yujing's zither strings suddenly emitted a piercing, cracking sound.

Mao Xiang, carrying a plain porcelain wine pitcher, walked slowly over and, to ease the atmosphere, first filled everyone's wine cups:

"Gentlemen, look at the scenery of Qinhuai, which reminds me of the elegant gathering at the Orchid Pavilion by Wang Xizhi in those days."

Even if the land of China were to fall, didn't Wang Xizhi still leave behind the calligraphy, "Those who come after will view the present as we view the past"?

He turned to Bian Yujing and bowed very respectfully:

"Please, Miss Yujing, continue playing the melody of 'Orchid in the Valley'."

"Like an orchid in the deep mountains, it still exudes fragrance even when no one comes to admire it. Doesn't that perfectly reflect tonight's insightful remarks?"

Bian Yujing lightly plucked the strings of the zither, and the music flowed out like water, yet it carried a hint of sorrow.

Accompanied by the melodious fragrance of orchids, Gu Yanwu suddenly turned to look at Zhu Cilang, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes, and smiled with a touch of drunkenness:

"Excellent! I have traveled throughout the nine border regions and met many scions of noble families."

"Who would have thought that such a discerning person as Young Master Zhu, with his keen insight, would be hidden among these women!"

The candlelight illuminated Zhu Cilang's lips, and the smile was fleeting, so quick that it seemed like an illusion.

He straightened his clothes and began to speak:

"Mr. Gu is too kind."

"I have long admired your profound scholarship, especially your emphasis on practical application of knowledge, and I admire it greatly, but I have never been able to find the right approach."

Zhu Cilang bowed slightly and clasped his hands in greeting:

"Would you be so kind as to offer some guidance and dispel my doubts, sir?"

Gu Yanwu's expression suddenly hardened; this young man had accurately pinpointed the most important subject of his life.

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He stared at Zhu Cilang for a moment, then smiled wryly:

"It was my mistake that I compared you to an ordinary playboy. I was very presumptuous."

"The fact that you, sir, asked this question reveals your intentions."

He paced slowly.

"It should be understood that the two words 'governing the world' are neither lofty discussions in the imperial court nor the search for and excerpting of passages in the study."

"It is hidden among the rivers and mountains, concealed in the alleys of the city, and rooted in every inch of soil under this world."

"If you don't experience it firsthand, how can you talk about governing the world? If you don't practice it yourself, how can you make it useful?"

Zhu Cilang listened intently, his body unconsciously leaning forward.

Even Hou Fangyu and Chen Zhenhui, who had been speechless just moments before, had long forgotten their embarrassment and were listening intently.

Gu Yanwu's tone gradually deepened, as if he were recounting all the knowledge he had acquired throughout his life:

"Practical application of knowledge does not mean seeking fame through writing or using clever words, but rather taking real learning as its foundation and keeping the world in mind."

He bent down to pick up a fallen leaf that had drifted in from outside the window, and examined its veins closely by the candlelight.

"If you haven't personally witnessed a river embankment collapse due to an ant hole, how can you know that the key to flood control lies not in classical texts, but in the actions of ants?"

Zhu Cilang's voice was filled with respect:

"Your words are like a gentle breeze to my heart, and they have enlightened me."

"Although I am dull and incompetent, I am willing to follow your teachings with this heart and ambition, and do my part for the world."

Gu Yanwu's eyebrows twitched slightly, and his eyes, reflecting the candlelight, suddenly flickered.

He stared at Zhu Cilang's solemn face.

After a moment, he tapped his knuckles lightly on the edge of the table:

"Since you have this idea, I will explain it to you in more detail."

He casually picked up the folding fan that Hou Fangyu had left on the table, unfolded it with a "whoosh," and then snapped it shut with a "snap."

"The so-called practical application of knowledge can be summed up in four words: reality, observation, action, and change."

"Realism means being pragmatic."

"To observe is to discern clearly."

"To practice is to put it into action."

"Change means adapting to change."

He released his grip, and the folding fan fell back onto the table with a "thud."

"If you can understand these four words, then you have already found the key to success."

Just then, Bian Yujing's zither music subtly changed, the sorrowful feeling gradually fading, turning into a deep and melancholic tone, faintly containing a tenacious vitality.

The song ended.

Bian Yujing's slender fingers lightly pressed the strings, and the lingering melody echoed in the silent air.

She raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over Gu Yanwu and Zhu Cilang, and said slowly:

"What Mr. Gu and Young Master Zhu said reminded Yu Jing of an old saying: 'The greatest truths are the simplest, and the greatest sounds are the most inaudible.'"

"The knowledge of governing the world is right here in the mundane world, but people always like to cloak it in a mysterious guise, which obscures its true nature."

Mao Xiang swayed the plain porcelain wine cup in his hand, squinted at Bian Yujing, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips:

"When Miss Yujing finished playing her music, she remained silent, which startled me. I thought her music had silenced her."

He slapped his palm with his folding fan.

"Now that I hear it, I realize that the young lady was just preparing some profound theories."

"It almost made us common folk think that the young lady was really going to become that 'proper zither immortal'!"

"In hindsight, we were overthinking it."

A knowing chuckle suddenly broke out in the room, easing the tense atmosphere.

Bian Yujing's eyebrows suddenly rose, and she retorted sharply:

"I remained silent just now because I saw that Young Master Mao was more busy drinking than talking, which made my irrelevant remarks seem superfluous."

"Mr. Gu's mention of 'personal experience' reminds me of the fire that broke out on a pleasure boat on the Qinhuai River last month. The drunken guests rushed to pour wine to put out the fire, but instead turned the flames into a fiery tornado."

Her fingertips lightly brushed the strings.

"Some things are better said with wine, but some things are better said without wine."

"I kept quiet just now because I was afraid that you would get carried away with your enthusiasm and ruin the important matter by wasting your time."

A smile suddenly spread across Mao Xiang's eyes, and he deliberately drew out his words:

"What truly valuable advice!"

"Only such genuine temperament is worthy of the most intense rouge color of the Qinhuai River."

Before he finished speaking, he had already raised his wine glass and given a perfunctory toast in Bian Yujing's direction.

"Come, let's drink to the lady's invaluable words!"

After saying this, he raised his wine glass alone and drank it all in one gulp.