Chapter 20: Principle before Literature, Dao above Confucianism [Monthly Votes Requested]

That evening, just as Fang Xinghe was heading to the cafeteria for one last free meal, he was dragged away by Chen Danya to attend the farewell dinner for the *Mengya* organization.

"Since you’ve come to the Magic City all by yourself, your auntie has to treat you to a good meal. Come on, don't be shy."

Fine, might as well go.

Upon arriving at the restaurant and surveying the room, he realized he was the only student invited; even the "Big Brother" wasn't there.

Of course, not all the teachers were present either—only about twelve or thirteen had shown up.

Among them, the only person Fang Xinghe recognized was Yu Hua; that cheeky, smiling face was truly familiar.

There were also names the Z-generation had never even heard of: Wang Meng, Ye Xin, Han Shaoyuan...

Well, in truth, he didn't know enough about any of them.

To avoid saying the wrong thing, he turned himself into a wooden fish—only making a sound when struck.

Everyone knew Fang Xinghe’s situation, so they assumed the boy’s writing style was just rebellious, while his actual personality was introverted and shy.

That was until Yu Hua praised him: "Fang Xinghe, your essay was written so well, how could it be that good? It’s f*cking awesome!"

Fang Xinghe smiled for the first time: "Thank you, Mr. Yu Hua. Your writing is excellent too; I’m a big fan of your *Red Sorghum*, *The Wine Land*, and *Big Breasts and Wide Hips*..."

The table fell abruptly silent. Everyone looked bewildered, and when they finally reacted, a roar of laughter erupted.

"Damn! I’m going to drink you under the table!" Yu Hua moved over, wrapping his arm around Fang Xinghe’s neck, howling to scare the kid: "Only one of us is walking out of here alive today!"

"Fine."

Fang Xinghe set out two glasses and calmly reached for the bottle: "I can drink at most two jin. Today’s quota is all yours."

"How much?!!!"

Yu Hua’s expression visibly panicked. He hurriedly snatched the bottle back, clutching it to his chest: "I was just joking with you, can't you tell? How could I possibly drink with a child!"

"Hahahahaha..."

The group laughed until they were slapping their thighs, teasing Yu Hua from all sides. He didn't get angry, instead rambling on about how writers dodging drinks didn't count as cheating. The atmosphere was incredibly joyful.

After this incident, they had a new impression of Fang Xinghe—the kid was indeed wild; beneath his polite exterior lay a heart that didn't shrink or fear trouble.

Thus, everyone began to chat about Fang Xinghe’s essays, extending the topic to family life and related issues.

"Actually, it’s just that little bit of stuff, nothing fresh."

Fang Xinghe brushed off their sympathy with a light touch, though he welcomed any criticism or discussion regarding his writing.

It was a gathering of writers, after all; they loved to hold forth and never spared anyone with their tongues.

Most of the people at today’s gathering were capable of sticking to the facts, though two or three were acting like arrogant elders, their words dripping with condescension.

Fang Xinghe could tell the difference, and he had the patience to endure it.

That was until Mr. Wang Meng asked: "Why are you so familiar with Daoist scriptures?"

Fang Xinghe put down his chopsticks, picked up his utensils, and drew a line on the table.

This was how he explained it—

"In my personal opinion, modern Chinese intellectuals will, in the end, likely return to the Dao, rather than to Confucianism.

The current limit of Confucianism is either Zhang Zai’s 'Four Sentences of Hengqu' or Wang Yangming’s 'Unity of Knowledge and Action.' The former projects influence outward, the latter disciplines the heart and mind inward. Both are powerful and grand, but I fear they are not suited for the future development of our society.

In the next century, the world will change very rapidly—so fast that every country must strive with all its might to keep up with the tide. The importance of science, IT, and research will skyrocket. The future belongs to the science students; it will no longer be driven by men of letters.

Since politics is no longer the stage for intellectuals, and merely cultivating oneself is too passive, our generation will inevitably face a dilemma: 'having some influence, yet unable to clearly define our own position.'

Is literature still important? Yes, but it must come after development.

Once we have developed a certain strength and begin to satisfy spiritual needs, will literature definitely win out over film, television, games, and music? That is also questionable.

Such is the era; what can an individual do?

Therefore, our generation of intellectuals is destined not to be pure, and destined to face various confusions. At this time, Daoism is very fitting.

Free and unrestrained, wandering between engaging with the world and transcending it, one can be pragmatic, pursuing the realization of personal value in the mundane world, or one can be gracefully idealistic, tracing back to the fundamental spirit of the Chinese nation.

Confucianism is not comfortable; it is rigid and conventional. Daoism is true to nature; it is unrestrained and free. In that future, which will be freer and more romantic, Principle comes before Literature, and Dao is above Confucianism. Of this, I am deeply convinced.

That is why I love the *Dao De Jing* more than the *Analects*.

I also don't think I will be a traditional Chinese intellectual, and I fear there will be no more traditional intellectuals among the new generation."

For a long time after his voice faded, the table was deathly silent.

Yu Hua widened his eyes, twisting his neck in an awkward posture to look at Fang Xinghe.

Chen Danya crossed her arms, gently rubbing the goosebumps on her skin.

Ms. Tie Ning and Mr. Shaoyuan looked at each other, their mouths hanging open.

Li Qigang held his glasses in his hand, trembling as he wiped them over and over.

Was it deafening?

It was, yet not to the point of being impossible to argue against.

But, when such profound insight came from a young boy not yet 14 years old...

No one could clearly describe the shock in their hearts, even though they were all top-tier writers most skilled at playing with words.

"Little Fang, you..."

Wang Meng smacked his lips, unable to continue.

"Damn..."

Ye Zhaoyan muttered something; aside from the profanity, the rest was inaudible.

And *Mengya* editor-in-chief Zhao Changtian thought particularly deeply: You seek the Dao, we cultivate literature—is this a subtle way of saying we aren't on the same path at all...

He squinted, scrutinizing Fang Xinghe, but could see nothing.

That was until Wang Yali carelessly ruffled Fang Xinghe’s hair, excitedly praising him: "As expected of my little brother, you really saved face for your sister!"

The atmosphere at the table finally began to loosen.

Then, everyone started arguing about the topic of Dao and Confucianism for nearly two hours, until their faces were red and their necks thick.

Some believed Daoist ideas were indeed excellent, while others insisted that the core thoughts of Confucianism still held positive significance.

Regarding the attitude toward the development of literature, they were generally pessimistic, yet harbored an inexplicable hope.

Fang Xinghe, however, did not participate again, burying his head in eating and drinking. Today’s Huaiyang cuisine was very fresh—the most delicious meal he’d had since his rebirth.

The gathering broke up around 9:30, and everyone left their contact information for Fang Xinghe.

They had a second round to go to: karaoke.

Yu Hua kept pulling at Fang Xinghe, refusing to let go, but he didn't want to attend anymore, so he said his goodbyes and went back to pack his things.

Chen Danya took him back to the hotel. As they parted, she solemnly urged: "Keep studying, keep writing, don't waste your talent. If you need help with anything, you must call my number."

Fang Xinghe gave this good auntie, who was like a mother, a grateful hug and whispered: "I will. It was a pleasure meeting you, Auntie Chen."

Chen Danya replied: "I am even happier to have discovered you through this competition."

Fang Xinghe smiled, waved his hand, and turned to go upstairs.

At the same time, in an extremely trendy KTV, Wang Meng asserted: "Fang Xinghe will definitely be an extraordinary person in the future."

"Damn!" Yu Hua rolled his eyes in frustration. "He’s already extraordinary right now, okay!"

Chen Sihe let out a long sigh: "He is not of our generation, nor is he of his peers'. He is more of the future."

Wang Yali’s excitement had lasted until now, and it was still rising.

She declared: "I am looking forward to his long-form work even more now. I have a feeling it will be a completely unexpected piece—not necessarily the best, but definitely special!"

Everyone felt this guess was very reliable, and they even placed bets, guessing a few possible directions.

It was rare and unusual for a group of great authors and top-tier intellectuals to talk so intently about a child.

But they didn't feel it was strange, because with some people, you only need to talk to them for a few minutes, and that extraordinary aura will take root in your mind, lingering for a long time, impossible to forget.