Chapter Thirty-Three: Grandiloquent Words Aflame

Xu You was well aware of the character of the people of this era: they valued romanticism and authenticity, and the more reserved one was, the more one would be looked down upon. So he did not put on any airs, simply cupped his hands and said, “Greetings, Feiqing!”

Gu Yun was quite pleased, took his arm, and led him toward the rear garden, saying, “There is little diversion in Qiantang save for the beauty of its landscape, which is always pleasing to the eye. Before me, each county magistrate of Qiantang may have been inept in governance, but each showed remarkable ingenuity in the appreciation of mountains and waters. After a decade of renovations, the rear garden of the yamen has become a delightful place for leisure.”

Xu You recalled from his readings of history that, when speaking of the four great families of Wu Commandery—Gu, Lu, Zhu, and Zhang—there was a saying: “Zhang for learning, Zhu for martial prowess, Lu for loyalty, Gu for kindness.” Today, upon meeting Gu Feiqing, in just a few words and moments, he already sensed the man’s virtue and benevolence.

It was evident then: though the world and its times may have changed, these great clans, standing firm for centuries, continued to pass down their traditions and family values without interruption.

The rear courtyard of the county office covered an area of over three thousand square meters. Within the garden, springs tinkled into a lake, over which two arched bridges, modeled after Han dynasty white jade, spanned gracefully like a rainbow after rain. At the center of the lake, an island held a six-sided pavilion with vermilion pillars and a painted roof, exquisitely carved. Facing the pavilion was an artificial mountain; a winding stream climbed ruggedly from the back and then tumbled down the front, splashing onto pebbles below, sending droplets dancing—turning the tranquil island into a lively scene.

Beyond the lake island lay a bamboo grove, where the wind stirred the leaves in waves like a surging sea. Further on, a thousand plum trees stood proudly against the frost, their blossoms vying in fragrance and splendor—a breathtaking sight.

Xu You praised, “The main hall is grand and rigorous in its design, yet within, the environment is serene and enchanting—a world apart. For you, Feiqing, to have such a place for leisure beside your official duties, it is truly the life of an immortal!”

Gu Yun sighed, “You jest, Weizhi. Were it not for the burdens of my family, urging me into officialdom, how could I bear to put aside my brush and become entangled in worldly affairs?”

People like Gu Yun enjoyed both the material and spiritual benefits bestowed by their aristocratic lineage, but with that came great responsibilities to their family. Take, for example, the famed Gu Rong of the Gu clan: after Jin conquered Wu, he journeyed from Jiangdong to Luoyang not for personal glory, but to secure status and power for his family in the new dynasty, ensuring its continuity. So, not all scions of noble families are idle and decadent; on the contrary, they are often outstanding and fiercely driven.

To put it in the words of future generations: those more handsome, wealthier, and of better family than you are striving with all their might—what right have you to complain, instead of giving your utmost effort?

Upon hearing mention of the brush, Xu You was stirred. Anyone who had undergone nine years of compulsory education would know of the Gu family’s “Three Perfections”—namely, Gu Kaizhi. He probed, “Are you skilled in painting, Feiqing?”

At the mention of painting, Gu Yun’s face lit up. “I dabble a little, but dare not claim mastery. Weizhi, do you, perchance, have an interest in painting techniques as well?”

Xu You smiled, “You may have heard, Feiqing, that I am but a man of arms. Not only can I not paint, I don’t even know how to hold a brush. Besides, painting is about capturing the spirit through form, about conjuring wonder through imagination—my own abilities fall far short, unworthy of true appreciation.”

As he finished, he noticed Gu Yun remained silent. Turning, he saw Gu Yun staring at him wide-eyed, as if he had seen a ghost. Xu You could not help but laugh softly, “Feiqing, Feiqing…”

“Ah?”

Gu Yun only came to his senses when Xu You gave his shoulder a gentle push. Forgetting all decorum, he grabbed Xu You’s arms with both hands and exclaimed, “What did you just say, Weizhi? Could you repeat it?”

Xu You instantly understood: Gu Feiqing had not yet reached the level of Gu Kaizhi, or rather, the art theory of this world had not evolved beyond the vague notions of the Han and Wei dynasties and had not experienced the artistic awakening of the Six Dynasties. The concept of capturing the spirit through form and conjuring wonder through imagination was first put forth by Gu Kaizhi—a major aesthetic proposition marking a new era in Chinese painting.

“Capturing the spirit through form, conjuring wonder through imagination…” Gu Yun pressed eagerly, “What does it mean to capture the spirit through form, and to conjure wonder through imagination?”

“People have their heights and proportions; once distance and perspective are set, they cannot be altered at whim… To paint the spirit through form and yet leave the essence empty is to betray the purpose of art and lose all spirit…” Xu You recited, quoting the famous remarks from Gu Kaizhi’s “Praise of Eminent Painters of Wei and Jin.” In other words, a painting must not only strive for outward likeness, but for inner spirit as well.

He continued, “How does one paint the spirit? It is through inner comprehension and thought, pouring the images and feelings of one’s mind into the painted scene, so that figures, birds, plants, and landscapes are all endowed with life—only then can true resemblance and vitality be achieved.”

Gu Yun was speechless, but his eyes shone like a lamp kindled in the darkness; as he repeated the words to himself, the light grew ever brighter, until it blazed like a raging fire.

“Weizhi, wait here—I shall return at once!”

This time it was Xu You’s turn to be dumbfounded. He had never imagined that Gu Yun would actually abandon him in the garden, lift his robe, and dash off toward the main building like an unruly child.

At Yuan Mansion, where Zuo Wen resided, Confucian ritual was paramount and every gesture precise—never had he seen such uninhibited behavior from a scion of the gentry, let alone a magistrate and official. Xu You watched Gu Yun’s figure vanish into the distance, covered his mouth, and coughed. “Now that is the bearing of a true scholar. Fenghu, you ought to learn from this!”

Zuo Wen replied awkwardly, “Master, I am rough and clumsy. If I were to imitate Lord Gu’s manner, you might find your meals hard to swallow for days to come…”

Xu You burst out laughing, “I give that jest full marks!”

“Full marks?”

“Er, I mean—top grade!”

While they bantered, Gu Yun came running back, holding an unrolled painting flat against his chest. Several times, the wind nearly plastered it to his face. Fearing he might trip, Xu You hurried forward to meet him. Gu Yun halted before him, panting, and said, “Weizhi, look at this painting—can you offer any advice?”

He unfolded the scroll himself, his jade-like face filled with hope. Xu You demurred briefly, then focused on the image: a man in red stood beneath a tree by the roadside, with two or three attendants behind him, gazing longingly at a woman in blue at the distant end of the road. Above his head, a solitary lark circled, its neck drooping, beak slightly open as if in plaintive song—its cry full of sorrow and grief. The woman, as if sensing something, suddenly turned her head; even the folds of her collar and skirt were delicately rendered, the lines graceful, her figure slender and elegant. Only her hair and hem were touched with color, eschewing shading for a quiet and refined effect. Yet, regretfully, though her lips and nose were finished, her eyes were left blank.

“With intention preceding the brush, the painting achieves meaning; the brushwork is meticulous, taut and unbroken. Though I know little of painting, I can see that your technique, Feiqing, is nearly flawless. There is only one thing—though I am unsure if I should speak…”

Gu Yun’s eyes were full of earnestness. “Weizhi, I feel as if we have known each other forever. Please, say whatever is on your mind. I will not hide it from you: this painting was completed over a year ago, yet it has never satisfied me. If you can point out its flaw, I will be eternally grateful!”

Xu You pondered a moment. “In this painting, the figures are true to form, but their spirit is not as lively as the lark in the sky…”

“Yes, I first studied landscapes, then birds and beasts, and only recently attempted figures, but I have never truly grasped their essence! Only after hearing your words about capturing the spirit through form did I realize: the people in my paintings are always lifeless, never truly alive.”

“In painting, figures are the most difficult, then landscapes, then dogs and horses.” This was Gu Kaizhi’s opening remark in his “On Painting.” Quoting it, Xu You displayed the poise of a master. “Feiqing, your confusion is understandable. But seeing that you left the eyes unfinished, you are already at the threshold of a breakthrough.”

“The eyes…the eyes?”

“The spirit is revealed in the countenance, and emotion is expressed through the eyes. Whether the body and limbs are well painted hardly matters—the soul of a portrait lies in the pupils! If, in your painting, you could, at the moment of adding the eyes, convey that look of longing and sorrow—the tender feeling of a heart reluctant to part, flowing through her gaze—what spirit, what vitality that would be!”

“Pupils” here refers to the eyes. Gu Yun’s whole body shook. He looked at Xu You, his handsome eyes filled with a depth of emotion that was almost unnerving, and murmured, “My parents gave me birth, but Weizhi knows my heart! My parents gave me birth, but Weizhi knows my heart!” He repeated this again and again, then looked at the painting in his hand—and, before Xu You could react, tore it in two!

“Today, in just a few words from you, I have learned what it is to speak with blazing eloquence!” He threw back his head and laughed. “How exhilarating!”

The phrase “blazing eloquence” comes from Zhuangzi’s “Discussion on Making All Things Equal,” meaning words that accord with the Way, forceful and persuasive as a prairie fire. Gu Yun thus praised Xu You, clearly awestruck by his insight.

Xu You quietly wiped a bead of cold sweat. His knowledge of painting came only from brief biographies of Gu Kaizhi and Zhang Sengyao; all his grand-sounding theories were either direct quotes or lightly adapted from those works, unlike his more confident grasp of calligraphy. Luckily, Gu Yun’s own skills were already superb, at the pinnacle of technique, lacking only a coherent theory. Xu You’s words broke through his final barrier. Though Gu Yun might have reached this point on his own in time, the impact was entirely different—now, in his eyes, Xu You was both mentor and confidant, a true kindred spirit!

“Weizhi, it grows late. Stay the night—I will have wine and food prepared. Let us drink beneath the moon and talk till dawn—would that not be splendid?”

Xu You had not expected his performance to have such consequences. Fearing Gu Yun might dash off again, he quickly grabbed his wrist—and, truth be told, it was smooth as silk, a most pleasant sensation.

Bah!

Xu You chided himself inwardly—had he really been in this world so short a time, only to be turned by the endless parade of handsome men in Jiangdong? He forced a bitter smile. “Feiqing, I have friends and family waiting for me at the Zhibin Inn—I truly cannot stay. Let us take care of business first; we are both here in Qiantang now, and there will be plenty of chances to meet again.”

Gu Yun was eager to spend the night in lively conversation, but he knew Xu You had just arrived, with countless affairs to settle. Being a man of free and easy nature, he could let go as easily as he took up. He laughed, “Very well! Just leave your registration documents with me; you need not worry about the rest. Oh, and I almost forgot—some ten days ago, an envoy from the Capital Inspectorate arrived, conveying a secret order from the sovereign himself, instructing me to ensure your safety in Qiantang. So you may rest easy—as long as you do not commit treason, you will have no trouble…”

Xu You could only smile wryly. To leave such a matter unmentioned until now, and call it a “minor” thing—how large-hearted could one possibly be?