A live-streamed Chinese language lesson under the sky—the ancients were taken aback.

But the story doesn't end there.

The voice, which had been hesitant to speak, became serious.

"Because after being demoted, Fan Zhongyan did something that lasted longer than those ten reform measures and was more immortal than the new policies that lasted for one year and four months."

He wrote an article.

The scene shifts, and the misty waves of Dongting Lake once again fill the entire sky.

The text of "The Yueyang Tower Inscription" slowly appeared on the sky:

In the spring of the fourth year of the Qingli era, Teng Zijing was demoted to the position of prefect of Baling County. The following year, the government was efficient and the people were harmonious, and all neglected matters were revived. He then rebuilt Yueyang Tower…

"At the beginning, Fan Zhongyan specifically wrote that Teng Zijing rebuilt Yueyang Tower during his 'exile' period."

Teng Zijing himself was demoted from the central government to a local position due to impeachment by his political enemies.

This seemingly mundane beginning is actually quite profound.

Two exiled individuals, a rebuilt building, a record awaiting completion.

Unable to stop speaking, I continue reading:

"I have observed that the most magnificent scenery of Baling lies in Dongting Lake. It embraces distant mountains and swallows the Yangtze River, its vast expanse stretching to the horizon; its appearance changes with the morning sun and evening shadows, displaying a myriad of breathtaking sights."

"Fan Zhongyan used the words 'hold' and 'swallow' to bring Dongting Lake to life."

The mountains are held in the mouths of the lakes, and the Yangtze River is swallowed by the lakes.

This grandeur transcends mere description of scenery; it paints a picture of a vast and all-encompassing world.

These two words are used very well.

Fan Zhongyan's writing style, like his actions, was bold and unrestrained.

Therefore, later generations said that there was Yueyang Tower and then Dongting Lake.

……

"But then, Fan Zhongyan changed the subject, saying, 'The accounts of our predecessors are comprehensive.'"

The ancients have already written it all, so I will not write it.

So it jumps directly to "Exiled officials and poets often gather here; their feelings upon viewing the scenery are surely no different."

"This is where Fan Zhongyan's brilliance lies."

If one continues to describe scenery, but cannot surpass Meng Haoran's "The mist rises from the Yunmeng Marsh" or Du Fu's "The southeast of Wu and Chu is torn apart," then why bother writing anymore?

What he truly wanted to write about was the human condition.

Under the sky, Fan Zhongyan, in the Dengzhou government office, nodded slightly.

"The next two paragraphs are the famous contrast of 'feelings upon viewing objects'."

The scene darkens, cold rain and a chilling wind fall, the surface of Dongting Lake is gloomy and oppressive, turbid waves surge into the sky, distant mountains are hidden, merchants dare not travel, masts are broken and oars are destroyed.

A lone traveler stood on the top of the building, his clothes soaked by the rain, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"If the rain is incessant and continues for months without stopping, and the wind howls angrily, and the turbid waves surge into the sky;

The sun and stars are hidden, the mountains are concealed; merchants cannot travel, masts are broken and oars are destroyed;

As dusk fell, the sounds of tigers roaring and monkeys howling filled the air.

Ascending this tower, one feels a longing for one's homeland, anxieties about slander and ridicule, and a desolate scene before one's eyes, leading to overwhelming sorrow.

He seemed to want to say more, so he slowed down his speech.

This passage describes "sadness".

Officials who have been demoted are far from the capital, miss their hometown, and worry about being talked about behind their backs.

Everything looks gray.

The weather was bad, the water was treacherous, and even the roars of tigers and monkeys seemed to mock you.

"The key is the four words 'worry about slander and fear of ridicule'."

She paused for a moment.

These four words were written for Teng Zijing, but even more so for myself.

After all, one of the reasons for the failure of the Qingli New Deal was that it was accused of "factionalism" by political enemies.

In that era, the word "clique" could be used to kill.

Therefore, "worrying about slander and fearing ridicule" was not the affectation of intellectuals, but the real fear of survival in that era.

The scene shifts to a gentle spring breeze, vast blue waves, soaring seagulls, swimming fish, lush green orchids and irises on the banks, and a bright moon in the sky, with fishermen's songs echoing back and forth.

"When spring is warm and the scenery is bright, the waves are calm, and the sky and water are one vast expanse of blue."

Seagulls soar and gather, fish swim; orchids and irises grow lush and green on the banks.

Or perhaps the long smoke clears away, the bright moon shines for a thousand miles, the floating light leaps like gold, and the still shadow sinks like jade.

Fishermen's songs echo back and forth; what boundless joy!

Ascending this tower, one feels refreshed and invigorated, forgetting both honor and disgrace, raising a cup to the breeze, and experiencing boundless joy.

This passage describes "joy".

The weather was fine, the scenery was beautiful, and the demoted official, ascending the tower, was in high spirits, forgetting both honor and disgrace. He raised his wine cup, beaming with joy.

The landscape descriptions are also superb.

[Fleeting glimmer of light, those four words—light—whose lifetime is it?]

……

"Fan Zhongyan's skill is evident in the fifth section."

The voice, which seemed to want to say something, suddenly changed.

"Alas! I have sought the heart of the ancient virtuous men, and their actions may differ from those of these two."

Why? Because he is not elated by external gains, nor saddened by personal losses.

"These two lines represent Fan Zhongyan's transcendence of all literature about exile."

"From Qu Yuan to Jia Yi, from Liu Zongyuan to Liu Yuxi, all the exiled literati wrote about their sorrow and resentment."

But Fan Zhongyan said, "I have explored the hearts of the virtuous people of ancient times, and they are fundamentally different from those two kinds of people."

They were not happy because of good circumstances, nor were they sad because of their misfortune.

"So what do they care about?"

"When one is in a high position at court, one should worry about the people; when one is in a remote place, one should worry about the ruler."

"Whether we advance or retreat, we will both be troubled."

"Serving as an official in the imperial court, one worries about the well-being of the people."

When serving as an official in a local area, one worries about whether the monarch's decisions are wise.

In short, regardless of whether we advance or retreat, we are filled with worry.

Tang Dynasty, Yongzhou, by the Yuxi River.

Liu Zongyuan was sitting on a large rock, with an unfinished travelogue beside him.

He heard the sky list him and Liu Yuxi together, categorizing them into the list of names that "write about one's own sorrow and resentment".

He wasn't angry; he simply put down his pen, raised his head, and gazed at the sky in a daze.

"Sorrow and resentment..."

When he wrote "River Snow" and "Record of the Little Stone Pool," he truly depicted coldness and solitude, as a lonely soul cast into the mountains and rivers, talking to himself.

Tianmu wasn't wrong, but he was still somewhat unwilling.

"I, Liu Zongyuan, am not only capable of writing these kinds of things. I wrote 'On Feudalism' in order to find a stable way of governing the world."

I wrote "The Snake Catcher's Tale" to speak for those people who cannot afford to pay their taxes.

"Which of these things wasn't I doing while I was in Liuzhou: promoting education, building roads, reclaiming wasteland, and freeing slaves?"

He paused, his voice as cold as a stream.

"But... trapped in this landscape, the unease in my heart needs a place to rest."

Liu Zongyuan thought of his friend, "Tianmu shouldn't have used me and Mengde as mere foils. If Mengde saw this, he would surely be furious."

In the Tang Dynasty, Langzhou was a place of exile.

Liu Yuxi stood under the corridor, looking up at the few lines of words on the sky, his expression growing increasingly strange as he read.

He clicked his tongue and threw a bamboo leaf he was fiddling with onto the ground.

"Nonsense."

The old servant who was squatting down next to him, helping him tidy up the medicinal herbs, was startled and looked up at him.

Liu Yuxi, however, had already put his hands behind his back and walked around the pillars for a short distance, as if he wanted to argue with Tianmu face to face.

"Do I, Liu Yuxi, only write of sorrow and resentment?"

He sneered, "It's one thing to talk about Liu Zongyuan, but to include me in that too? Tianmu clearly hasn't read many of my poems."

He stopped, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud:

"Since ancient times, autumn has been associated with sorrow and desolation, but I say that autumn days surpass even spring mornings. A crane soars into the clear sky, its flight inspiring poetic thoughts that reach the heavens."

After he finished reading, he made a slight bow towards the sky: "Did you hear that? In autumn, everyone else is sad, but I insist that autumn surpasses spring. Is that what you call sorrow and resentment?"

The old servant didn't quite understand, but he knew that his master was being stubborn again, so he quietly shrank back.

Liu Yuxi, however, got more and more excited as he spoke: "Furthermore, a thousand sails pass by the sunken ship, and ten thousand trees bloom before the withered tree."

I am like that sunken ship, that withered tree, but I do not speak discouraging words.

A thousand sails pass by, and ten thousand trees are bathed in the spring light.

"I, Liu Yuxi, was demoted for twenty-three years. If all I could write about was sorrow and resentment, I would have cried myself to death in Langzhou long ago."

He spoke loudly, but Tianmu ignored him and continued talking.

Then, Fan Zhongyan asked a question that all scholars and officials should ponder: "When will we find joy?"