I'm not a literary giant

Chapter 260 The Last Dance

After Prince Xu finished speaking, the black dog scratched its head in confusion: "What the heck? Even gods have come? What is all this about?"

“Apollo and Dionysus,” Wang Zixu patiently explained, “are a pair of mutually generative concepts in Nietzsche’s aesthetic philosophy.”

"Apollo, the sun god, represents the dreamlike order. He is calm, wise, and pays attention to form, with strict requirements for the clarity and beauty of structure. Rules, laws, etiquette, and morality—these forms have enabled humanity to escape primal chaos and endowed it with spirit and soul."

"Dionysus, the god of wine, symbolizes the reality of drunken frenzy. Ecstasy, indulgence, instinct, self-forgetfulness, desire, chaos, impulse and destruction, revelry and confusion—these are the creative forces that are closest to the true nature of life."

Everyone was completely confused and looked at each other blankly.

The black dog frowned and asked, "Oh, I think I understand. But what does this have to do with writing scripts?"

Prince Xu walked slowly in front of everyone with his hands behind his back: "Nietzsche believed that artistic creation comes from the mutual pull of these two forces and is the product of their combination."

"The origin of creation must be instinctive, innate human desire, which forms the basis of all human thought. Beauty, on the other hand, is born from transcendence—love transcends lust, courage transcends the will to survive, and dedication transcends the desire for fame and fortune. Literary creation always extracts the sublime from the origin of life."

“Use the precise form of Apollo to carefully guide the primal impulse; at the same time, use the intoxication and vitality of Dionysus to drive the core of creation. The birth of a great work requires the power of both.”

Cheng Xing suddenly realized: "I understand! When I was young, I wrote entirely based on intuition, which was well received by my friends, but it was too personal and not up to standard—that's the power of Dionysus. Later, I systematically studied literary theory and researched structural techniques, and my works became more refined—that must be the spirit of Apollo."

“Absolutely right.” Prince Xu nodded. “A drunken state may be wonderful for the person in question, but to others it is just a drunkard; a meticulous structure, lacking instinct and impulse, is merely a boring test-taker. True art is born in the state between being half-drunk and half-awake.”

Xiao Mengyin had returned to Prince Xu's side sometime earlier. She crossed her arms, seemingly pursing her lips indifferently, but her eyes revealed that she was listening attentively.

Cheng Xing asked, "Teacher Little Prince, did you assign me to the Dionysian group because you felt that the Dionysian spirit was more prominent in my work?"

Wang Zixu shook his head: "Everyone has different creative ideas, but they will always lean towards one of them. The purpose of grouping is to encourage you to make more conscious use of the corresponding forces."

He paused, then suddenly asked, "During the last training session, I taught you the four principles of poetics. Does anyone still remember them?"

The believer raised his hand first: "Conflict, Defamiliarization, Transcendence, Return."

The veterans at the base knew these four principles like the back of their hand, while the newcomers were completely baffled. Xing Sheng raised his hand and asked, "Wait a minute, what does this mean?"

Prince Xu looked at the believer, who immediately understood and vividly explained the four principles, including their meanings and examples. Xing Sheng listened with great interest.

"You remember it very accurately," Prince Xu praised.

"It's etched into my DNA, okay?" The believer said smugly, flipping his bangs.

“But after the last training, I discovered a problem,” Wang Zixu looked around at everyone, “sometimes your scripts just mechanically apply these theories—conflict for the sake of conflict, transcendence for the sake of transcendence, clumsily imitating my examples, resulting in awkward and embarrassing effects, and receiving a lot of negative reviews.”

The believer immediately looked around, adopting the innocent expression typical of someone who has just farted.

“That’s just form without passion and libido,” Wang Zixu concluded. “So this time, you need to harness the power of Apollo and Dionysus respectively to make the work more dynamic.”

The believer raised his hand: "Teacher Little Prince, I know I'm not doing well in the Dionysian group, but isn't being in the Apollonian group just making things worse?"

Prince Xu's dark eyes swept over him: "You think you've done a good job in the realm of the Sun God?"

"Uh..." The believer was speechless.

"The spirit of Apollo is a rational beauty of composure, elegance, and refinement, not a rigid and inflexible application of formulas," said Wang Zixu. "I hope that the Apollo team can bring rationality to its extreme, write the most exquisite structure, and elevate craftsmanship into art."

"The Dionysus group aims to maximize the development of sensuality. I want to see lion-like desires, to overwhelm and conquer users with vitality."

"If you can't independently manage the tension between the two emotions, then you'll have to pull each other together, each pushing yourselves to the limit. I need to see your two groups interacting every day, attacking each other's mental world from your own perspectives."

"To reiterate: in the final distribution, the winners will receive an extra 2%, and everyone will receive an extra 2%. I hope you will put in the effort and not hold your teammates back."

Black Dog looked around and noticed that everyone looked excited but not quite understanding. He secretly asked Xing Sheng, "Did you understand?"

"No," Xingsheng answered honestly.

"Then why are you so agitated?"

Xing Sheng smiled mysteriously: "Although I don't understand it, it just... sounds really cool."

"..."

The black dog was speechless for a moment, then raised its hand. Everyone's eyes turned to it.

“I have a question,” Black Dog said. “Aren’t we in the world of text-based chatbots? What does artistic and aesthetic creation have to do with us?”

“Voice chat is a form of creation,” Wang Zixu said.

"But does it have to be like a literary work?" Black Dog asked, puzzled. "Does this industry need to be so highbrow?"

Wang Zixu pondered for a moment: "You can attend classes first, and I'll give you a reading list later. Since you've missed a lot of classes, I'll make up for them separately."

The black dog wanted to say something, but Ye Lan impatiently interrupted him: "Just listen to what he says! He's the little prince!"

The black dog was resentful and thought bitterly, "Who told me to be just a poor boy with no influence? How can I compare to the rich and powerful little prince? If I become rich and powerful one day, no one will dare to disobey me."

Wang Zixu observed his expression and guessed most of his thoughts. He knew perfectly well what a young man in his early twenties like Black Dog was thinking.

But he wasn't angry. New people had arrived at the base, and for them, their authority wasn't yet established, so they might not be able to command respect. Besides, Xiao Mengyin had mistakenly joined this year. It was normal for their words to carry little weight.

With a sudden thought, he clapped his hands and said, "I originally planned to have class tonight, but since we've come this far today, let's just have a live class."

After saying that, he dragged out a long-forgotten whiteboard from the corner, lifted the cloth on it, and wrote "Apollo" on the left side of the whiteboard and "Dionysus" on the right side.

Prince Xu stood in the middle, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of people with varying expressions.

"Just now, the believer spoke of the method of forging sentences. With a sharp tool in hand, many people can only swing it mechanically, and what they create is still an inanimate object. Now, let's infuse it with a soul—the power of Apollo and the fire of Dionysus."

Having said that, he turned around and wrote the simplest sentence in the center of the whiteboard:

"I miss you."

A slight commotion arose from the audience. Black Dog was puzzled, wondering what he was going to do. Xiao Mengyin raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms with interest, and wanted to see what tricks he could come up with.

Wang Zixu looked to the left: "Come on, Dionysus Group, your task is to inject your most primal and passionate emotions into it, and let those emotions erupt without restraint."

Cheng Xing, Xiao Ba, and the others exchanged glances. Wang Zixu encouraged them, "Come on, give it a try. First, visualize the emotion in this sentence. Who wants to go first?"

Cheng Xing pondered for a moment and then said, "I miss you so much—my very insides are screaming for your name."

“Very good!” Wang Zixu said, then looked at Xiao Ba and said, “Come on, how far have you thought about it? Open yourself up, I want your deepest impulse!”

After hesitating for a long time, Xiao Ba timidly added, "It's like having ten thousand ants crawling in the cracks of my bones; only you can stop the itch."

“Yes,” Prince Xu affirmed. “Can you feel it? This is the intoxication of Dionysus; it transforms this phrase into a visible, resonant physiological experience. This is what we need. But it’s not enough.”

Then, he turned to the other side and said, “Apollo Group, your mission has come: to forge an elegant and exquisite vessel for these burning, primal, and rough emotions. Use your reason to shape this fire.”

He stared at the believer, who immediately felt immense pressure. Prince Xu prompted, "'My internal organs are clamoring for your name,' remember the four principles of poetics? Modify it." "My internal organs... have turned your name into a song..." the believer stammered, then paused, a flash of inspiration, and said, "It's not that I intentionally thought of it, it's that my internal organs have taken it upon themselves to compose your name into an endlessly looping chorus."

After saying that, he covered his mouth, unable to believe that he had written that sentence himself.

"Very good." Prince Xu nodded approvingly, then looked at the black dog and said, "Why don't you give it a try?"

The black dog was speechless, so Xiao Mengyin spoke first: "If longing had a form, I guess it would turn into a swarm of ants marching between my bones. Only your voice is the only antidote."

Prince Xu nodded: "Very good! As expected..."

Xiao Mengyin wasn't finished yet. She continued, "...After you left, my world became a silent desert. I sat quietly, and even the funeral of dust seemed noisy."

After saying that, Xiao Mengyin still crossed her arms, her eyes seemingly saying, "This is too easy."

“Very good!” Prince Xu turned to the Dionysus group. “This is Apollo’s ‘Awakening’. It has built a magnificent stage for primal impulses, but it’s not enough!”

His voice suddenly rose, filled with a highly seductive fervor: "Now, let the two forces begin to pull! Dionysus Group, feel the beauty of these sentences, and then, with your even more powerful emotions, challenge their formal boundaries!"

Cheng Xing's competitive spirit was completely ignited. He looked at Xiao Mengyin and fired back at her sentence: "No! It's not a desert! It's a silence like a rising tide, drowning my breath! I need you, like the next breath!"

"Excellent!" Prince Xu encouraged loudly, "Sun God Group, respond to him! Use your strength to control this torrent!"

Xiao Mengyin's eyes were sharp, not even glancing at Cheng Xing, but instead staring at Wang Zixu: "You are the only legal stowaway in my oxygen-deprived world. We are separated by a sea, and your gaze offers no salvation. In order not to drown in it, I can only keep diving deeper and deeper until I learn to breathe in the silent seabed."

boom--

It was as if something exploded in the air; although the room was silent, everyone felt the presence of this force.

That simple phrase, "I miss you," still lingers in the center of the whiteboard, but after being burned by Dionysus and cooled by Apollo, it has been transformed into a magnificent and powerful line of poetry.

The black dog's mouth was half-open, his disdain replaced by shock. For the first time, he had so directly experienced how the arrangement and combination of words could produce such a tremendous chemical reaction.

Xing Sheng's eyes flickered incessantly—as an observer, he had witnessed the Little Prince's "refining" of words in their entirety, which was precisely his purpose in coming here, the human drama he wanted to witness.

The believer was still immersed in excitement. He was still ruminating on how he had just written those sentences, wishing he could write them down on the spot.

Ye Lan smiled slightly, quietly left, and went to the kitchen to arrange what dishes the cook should prepare.

Although she didn't understand the meaning of those sentences, just by looking at the expressions on everyone's faces, she knew that Prince Xu had succeeded again.

The Little Prince won everyone over once again. He no longer needed her assistance to establish his authority.

Prince Xu surveyed the crowd below the stage, now engulfed in flames, and said in a deep voice:

"This is true creation. Let the flame of Dionysus flow in your veins, and then use the ruler of Apollo to forge it into an immortal masterpiece. This is what we are doing here."

"From today onwards, forget your identity as voice chat operators. You are scriptwriters, alchemists. You must forge every sentence into pure gold."

After he finished speaking, no one questioned him anymore, and Prince Xu continued:
"So, with the Wen'ai Club reopening, I want to reiterate our rules once again."

"The first rule of the Wen'ai Club is: Don't talk about the Wen'ai Club."

"Once you step out of this door, everything that happened here must be completely erased from your world. No discussion, no trace—that's the bottom line for survival."

"The second rule of the Wen'ai Club is: We have no names."

"Here, you are a believer, you are a black dog, you can be any code name, but you are no longer defined by society."

“I don’t care if you are writers or online novelists, forget your education, background, or gender. You must first empty yourselves of everything. Only when you become ‘empty’ can you accommodate countless souls and play the role of all living beings.”

"The third rule of the Wen'ai Club is: everyone must read. Read at least 10,000 words every day."

"The books on the bookshelf in the corner are your sustenance for the next month. They are not for you to admire, but for you to devour. This is the only method for building your foundation."

"The fourth rule of the Wen'ai Club is: you must write four thousand words every day."

“Everyone must write, write down the crystallization of your soul. I want to see your thoughts, your pain, your resentment, and your desires. Every word you write in a perfunctory manner is a betrayal of yourself.”

After saying that, Wang Zixu glanced at everyone and said, "Finally, this operation may be the last one for Wen'ai Company, and for us as people in the voice chat industry."

After he finished speaking, everyone in the room fell silent.

Prince Xu continued, “In this final operation, I require each and every one of you to obey me and trust me until the very last day.”

"The name of our event is: The Last Dance. I hope you will not just see yourselves as commodities. Use your bodies and souls to offer a dance that is uniquely yours to this era."

Xiao Ba felt a shiver, a mixture of fear, excitement, and a sense of the sacred, starting from his tailbone and running through his spine.

They were no longer a mob. He sensed it; the "Last Dance" team was born from a very peculiar opening.

……

The crowd dispersed, leaving only the hum of the incandescent bulbs in the hall.

Wang Zixu stood alone in front of the whiteboard, looking at the words that had not yet been erased, his gaze falling on the four words in the center—"I miss you."

Suddenly, the power of Dionysus stirred up a storm within him, roaring and turning the blood flowing through his veins into alcohol. He suddenly remembered someone.

“I am a ruin. You once paused briefly before me that year, and then I collapsed and became the ruin I am now.”

At 17, the corridor she turned into came into view, followed by her image on television.

My chest tightened, and the physical sensations I hadn't felt for over a decade returned to my body.

“I have become a site, a site about you, and I am the archaeologist.”

An irresponsible mother, a father he could never understand. All he could find in his memory were these broken bricks and tiles, all painful recollections.

He is a ruin.

Fortunately, her presence allowed him to continuously identify the cultural relics named "Chen Qingluo".

...Thinking of this, he suddenly came to his senses and stopped polishing these sentences.

It was his bad habit; he would always subconsciously begin to refine his longing. But he never managed to refine it completely. Because he dared not.

Even if it's polished up, so what? That person is separated by an ocean, and these words can never be spoken.

In the end, it can only become a new artifact related to her.

He faced the kitchen and walked toward the crowd.

(End of this chapter)