Chapter Sixty-Eight: "Recommendation for Exceptional Admission"

Zhang Peiheng closed Xu Chengjun's notebook and tapped the cover lightly with his fingertips. "Interesting. Instead of getting caught up in the authenticity of the supplement, you focused first on the word 'use.' That's a nimble way of thinking."

Xu Chengjun smiled and lowered his head. "It was your guidance, Professor Zhang—'adapt and transform.' First we understand the roots of 'concealment and brilliance,' then we can let them sprout new branches today."

Zhu Dongrun nodded in agreement.

When faced with the scholarly puzzle of the supplement's authenticity, Xu Chengjun didn't obsess over textual details and evidence. He went straight to the heart of the matter: "Regardless of whether those lines were penned by Liu Xie himself, the phrase 'concealment for recovering meaning, brilliance for standing out' is precise." That was clever.

He used examples from Dream of the Red Chamber—"the hidden thread of the grass snake" (concealment) and "Daiyu burying flowers" (brilliance)—to make abstract concepts concrete. This showed both his command of the text and his ability to avoid getting trapped in dead-end arguments about textual variants, handling heavy topics with effortless grace.

He was also attuned to the pulse of the times.

That was academic skill.

Xu Chengjun not only pinpointed the shortcomings of contemporary literature, but also used classic cases to prove the guiding value of traditional literary theory for current creative practice. He answered Zhang Peiheng's subtle question about "adaptation and transformation," achieving the principle of "using the old for the new."

Wang Shuizhao thought the young man was bright. His answer, if not dazzling, was so well-rounded that even he couldn't have responded better himself. Did that mean he was inferior? That didn't seem right. Damn it, he was caught in the trap of comparative literature—floating logic!

Xu Chengjun's closing remark, "Understand the roots of 'concealment and brilliance,' so they can sprout new branches today," managed both to avoid offending the elders and to show sharp academic insight. No matter the era, it is always the clever who go farthest!

Wang Shuizhao glanced at Xu Chengjun's youthful face, feeling a pang of admiration for youth. He picked up his pen and wrote "Strongly recommend exceptional admission" on Xu Chengjun's application form.

Beside him, Su Liancheng glanced over, his mouth twitching, and drew a checkmark as well.

It was done!

...

After Zhang Peiheng's question, the other professors were eager to join in. The interview transformed into a lively discussion, blurring the line between debate and examination.

Yet Xu Chengjun's answers were consistently excellent. Although each of the five professors focused on their own areas—classics, comparative literature, literary theory, academic history, and contemporary criticism—and directly addressed the core contradictions of literature in 1979: tradition versus the West, trauma versus roots, inheritance versus innovation, Xu Chengjun always answered with the logic of "tradition as root, the West as instrument, responding to the times."

He both cited authorities and grounded his answers in reality, showing foresight while maintaining academic rigor.

How rigorous? He didn't deny the value of any side, only discussed "how best to use them." Some might call this academic "muddying the waters."

For example:

Zhu Dongrun asked, "Xu, you say traditional culture is a 'living tree.' Qu Yuan in 'Li Sao' vents his emotions in grief, and contemporary scar literature expresses pain with pain. Both seem to be emotional catharsis, yet the ancients advocated that 'venting emotions' should be accomplished through poetry, analogy, and metaphor, whereas modern works often resort to direct accusation. What significance do you see in traditional restraint in lyricism for healing the wounds of today’s literature?"

Zhu Dongrun compared Qu Yuan’s "venting emotions" in 'Li Sao' with the direct pain of scar literature, pinpointing the core contradiction between traditional lyric wisdom and contemporary expressions of trauma.

How to answer?

Bridge the essential difference between "restrained lyricism of the past" and "direct accusation of the present."

Xu Chengjun replied, "Professor Zhu, you've gone straight to the root. Qu Yuan's 'venting emotions' was never raw emotion. The pain in 'Li Sao,' such as 'the bitterness of longing,' is wrapped in the imagery of fragrant herbs and beautiful women—like fire encased in orchids. The pain is real, but when clothed in cultural texture, it is not merely rending, but leaves a lingering sweetness."

What is the essence of "traditional restraint in lyricism"? Emotion wrapped in cultural texture—pain with an aftertaste.

"Today's scar literature bravely confronts trauma, and that's courage, but it lacks the lingering flavor of restraint."

"For example, when writing about the hardship of the sent-down youth, if we borrow 'Chuci’s' analogies—use 'wild grass buried the hoe' instead of 'youth buried in yellow earth,' use 'a broken bowl holding frost' instead of 'meals hard to come by'—we retain the sense of pain, but let the reader savor deeper suffering through association. This doesn't weaken emotion; it gives trauma the weight of culture."

And finally, he slyly respected scar literature’s courage but pointed out its room for improvement, maintaining a dialectical, non-extremist attitude.

Jia Zhi asked, "You say comparative literature needs to 'dialogue with our own treasures.' When Voltaire adapted 'The Orphan of Zhao' into 'The Chinese Orphan,' he added a romantic subplot and removed the revenge ending, claiming it embodied 'Chinese benevolent governance.' Is this 'mis-comparison'? How should we treat outsiders’ interpretations of 'Chinese stories'?"

Since you mentioned floating logic in comparative literature, let’s see where your cultural stance truly lies.

Xu Chengjun answered, "Professor Jia, your example is excellent. Voltaire's adaptation isn't 'mis-comparison,' but it is 'dialogue through a filter.' He used the Chinese story to express his own rationalism, just as I used the Western 'Iceberg Principle' to discuss 'concealment and brilliance.' Each side takes what it needs."

First, praise—thanks to Professor Zhang’s teaching!

"The key is that we need to clarify the root of our own treasures: the core of 'The Orphan of Zhao' isn’t 'benevolent governance,' but the loyalty and righteousness of 'the scholar dies for the one who knows him,' and the complexity of humanity revealed in revenge."

"Whether outsiders adapt well or not is irrelevant; what matters is that we can explain what the original is. For example, Western studies of 'Dream of the Red Chamber'—some call it a 'family novel,' others a 'tragic love story.' We don't need to rush to deny their views; we just need to articulate the indigenous textures—that the Garden of Grand View is imbued with Chinese family ethics. Then, through comparison, they will naturally discover a more complete China. This is true 'dialogue,' not merely 'being interpreted.'"

The core here is to refine the methodology.

Xu Chengjun used Western studies of 'Dream of the Red Chamber' as an example, advocating the principle of "not hastily denying outsider interpretations, but articulating the local texture" in dialogue. He elevated comparative literature to "equal dialogue" instead of "passive interpretation," echoing the concept of "dialoguing with our own treasures."

This did not betray Jia Zhifang’s ideals or intentions.

One word: Brilliant!

Wang Shuizhao asked, "'Academic genealogy chart'—how should contemporary literary studies position 'Western theory' and 'traditional literary theory'?"

Xu Chengjun answered, "Treat Western theory as a 'tool,' traditional literary theory as the 'foundation.' Western theory should be placed in the 'methods layer,' clearly marking 'which ones can address Chinese questions'; traditional literary theory in the 'root layer,' marking 'which ones constitute the aesthetic baseline of the nation.'"

Su Liancheng asked, "How can literature both 'seek roots' and 'eliminate dross'? Surely we can't cherish the worthless as treasures?"

Xu Chengjun replied, "Seeking roots is not 'revivalism,' it’s 'gold prospecting.' Traditional culture has never been pure gold, but 'gold sand mixed with silt.' Confucius' 'the benevolent love others' is gold; the rigidity of 'Three Bonds and Five Constants' is silt. The 'utter devotion' of 'The Peony Pavilion' is gold; the oppression of 'parental decrees' is silt. Literature's role is to 'sift gold from sand'—when writing about roots, we must both transmit the gold, as Shen Congwen did with the simple kindness of Xiangxi, and remove the sand, as Ba Jin did with the feudal shackles in 'Family.'"

...

With that, the interview was essentially over.

What else could be asked? Academic depth? Vision? Fundamentals? Hadn’t all been thoroughly displayed?

The young master scored big points!