I am not Ximen Qing.

The sunset is infinitely beautiful, and my heart is still captivated by the path to the bamboo forest in Yaoli. There must be Lin Daiyu and Shi Xiangyun in the bamboo forest. The Xiaoxiang Concubine is actually a picture of a beautiful woman in a landscape. The noble character of bamboo not only symbolizes the high moral integrity of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove in the Wei and Jin Dynasties, but also symbolizes the purity and elegance of a beautiful woman.

Perhaps only bamboo, along with lotus, can embody the pure beauty of nature's creation. Romantic and elegant, Qu Yuan was undoubtedly the most virtuous poet. Myths exist; the goddesses, beauties, and mountain spirits in Qu Yuan's imaginations are real beauties existing in mythology. At least the beautiful legends of the mountain spirits are real, not just fantastical illusions.

Here, one can find both the ethereal spirit of Li Bai and the sentimental nature of Jiangzhou Sima. It is as if one can hear the image of a beautiful woman, half-concealed behind her pipa, stirring up feelings of longing and yearning. Love transcends mountains and rivers!

Jingdezhen is the outward beauty of blue and white porcelain, while the distant mountains and rivers are its inner essence. What we see is merely a fleeting glimpse into the millennia-old history and culture of blue and white porcelain; the existence of beauty and the instantaneous sense of time travel are the wellspring of artistic soul and sparks of inspiration.

The magnificent spectacle of blue and white porcelain displayed in Jingdezhen reveals at least a glimpse into the town's past, present, and glorious history. Like the beauty of a beautiful woman, the beauty of blue and white porcelain, rooted in history and culture, is understated and reserved. Just as ancient beauties in their chambers could not conceal their charms, the beauty of Yaoli can only be truly appreciated after traversing the bamboo forest, like cleansing the dust from the depths of one's soul with the Diamond Sutra.

Now I understand Tao Yuanming's sentiment of "picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, gazing leisurely at the Southern Mountains," a sentiment that can only be found in the Zhongnan Mountains of Jiangxi, overlooking the Lushan Waterfall. "The sun shines on the incense burner, creating purple smoke; it seems as if the Milky Way has fallen from the ninth heaven." Qu Yuan, Tao Yuanming, and even the poet Li Bai, at least, can demonstrate the breathtaking beauty of Yaoli and how to appreciate the charm and elegance of Yaoli blue-and-white porcelain—it requires a transcendent poetic spirit and sentiment.

Life should at least have a Jia Yucun-style romantic impulse, a soul-stirring moment, otherwise wouldn't it be like gorging oneself on the beautiful myth of blue and white porcelain? At least in Yaoli, one can understand and appreciate the preciousness of mythology, truly the best way for human beauty to exist. Ah! At least in Jingdezhen, some of the elegance and refinement of blue and white porcelain has been subtly revealed, washing away some of the vulgarity and filth of the marketplace.

The beauty of Confucius's Book of Poetry is like a mirror in my heart. It seems I yearn not for the precious jade in the poem "West River Moon," but for the beauty of the Xiaoxiang region in the bamboo groves of Yaoli. A slight sense of loss, a pity indeed. Oh, Goddess of Wushan, the mountains and rivers of the South possess a spirit.

Song Yu, not wanting to be swayed by the beauty of the women in Deng Tu Zi's lustful ode, kept bringing up mysterious ancient legends, like the Xiangxi corpse-driving tale. He'd rather go to Fenghuang Ancient Town to find Cui Cui. Zhang Sheng, on the other hand, felt that the aura of Yaochi was like a world of beautiful women amidst towering mountains and towering buildings. Looking at the mountains before him, almost all of them soared into the clouds, and the waters of Yaochi, flowing from the heavens, were no less romantic than the Miluo River of Qu Yuan.

Artistic youths might imagine Xi Shi washing silk and the Seven Fairies playing in the water, but Zhang Sheng's heart is filled with the image of the Ghost of Zhongshan from the Chu Ci, fantasizing about her beautiful appearance.

He was tall and slender, dressed in brocade robes. He was the son of the Marquis of Qi, the wife of the Marquis of Wei, the younger sister of the Crown Prince, the aunt of the Marquis of Xing, and the private consort of the Duke of Tan.

Her hands were like tender shoots, her skin like solidified cream, her neck like a cicada's, her teeth like melon seeds, her forehead broad and her eyebrows arched. Her smile was enchanting, her eyes bright and captivating.

A tall and imposing man, speaking eloquently in the countryside. Four sturdy horses, their red tassels fluttering, arrive at court in pheasant-feathered robes. The high officials retire early, for the Emperor is busy with his duties.

The river flows wide and deep, surging northward. Nets are cast with a swishing sound, sturgeon and tuna leap and splash, reeds and rushes sway and rustle. The women are beautiful and graceful, the men are valiant and spirited.

The fury and sound of mind and body within the soul seem to possess a magical healing power. When the mind becomes part of poetry and painting, the objective and subjective interact and merge into a dreamlike state, finally understanding that all things have a spirit and can attain enlightenment. Zhuangzi's carefree wandering, its wickedness is self-evident, and its wondrous nature lies therein.

At least in Yaoli, one can experience a sense of time travel, as if across countless generations from the Wei and Jin dynasties. There's no longer the helplessness of oppressive government. At least this brief sense of detachment evokes the feeling of encountering Qu Yuan's Mountain Spirit—a love and romance that is unpredictable and unattainable. The romantic fantasy of the Mountain Spirit allows one to understand the birth of the beauty of flower fairies. In Yaoli, every flower, grass, mountain, river, pine, cypress, and bamboo possesses a spirit. Love myths and legends, all dream elements, are serenely silent. How to describe it? Time stands still, youth is eternal, the legend of immortals never aging is alive. Here, one can be completely isolated from all human civilization, from restlessness and clamor, from soul and body. "Mountain Spirit, Mountain Spirit, Mountain Spirit!"

"Don't shout nonsense, or fox spirits and ghosts might really sneak into your house tonight."

"Don't you know the Mountain Spirit? Qu Yuan's Mountain Spirit, you fool."

"Am I a fool? I've seen the Venus de Mérimée. Watch out! You're starting to like ghosts. Don't try to cheat when it comes to love and romance. Brother, wake up, you're crazy, wake up!"

"I'm not crazy. The mountain spirit is like the god of love in ancient Greek mythology."

"Little Li, your brother has been seduced by the mountain spirit! My God, it hasn't even started yet, how come you're already so infatuated?"

"What did I see the giant holding up?"

There is a waterwheel spinning ahead.

"That's definitely a waterwheel."

"Are you going to be artsy young people or crazy knights?"

"Alright, stop pretending. What's the point of being a crazy knight? Fighting the demons in your head? Just be an artsy youth."

The waters of Yaochi flowed quietly, crystal clear. Zhang Sheng recalled the crystal-clear waters of Tianchi Lake in Changbai Mountain near his aunt's house—water several meters deep where one could see right to the bottom—water that seemed like the Milky Way falling from the heavens! He had played and splashed in the great rivers as a child. But he wasn't particularly familiar with river water. He had seen the mountains and rivers of his motherland from the windows of green trains, and his knowledge was limited to that. He was intimately familiar with river water, and he felt that no one in the world could compare to the poetic imagery of Zhuangzi's "Autumn Waters."

From riding the wind and breaking the waves, after the clouds and rain of Wushan, the cries of monkeys on both banks, the beautiful landscapes of Li Bai and Du Fu, the romance of Yuan Zhen and Bai Juyi, and the Song of Everlasting Regret, love and the joys and sorrows of love.

An old man in a straw hat and raincoat, fishing alone on a snowy river, embodies the ethereal, Zen-like beauty of Liu Zongyuan's poetry. The crystal-clear water reflects the charm of the bamboo bridge and flowing water, with bamboo rafts floating on the surface like verdant leaves. On both banks of the Jade Pool, the ancient Hui-style Ming and Qing dynasty architecture and courtyards, with their otherworldly beauty reminiscent of blue-and-white porcelain, are simply breathtaking. In an instant, it's like a mirage of a small bridge, flowing water, and traditional houses. How I long to step onto a bamboo raft, drift downstream, and sing praises! Oh, little bamboo raft! The Zen spirit of Chinese landscape painting perfectly blends the objective and subjective, the dynamic and the static.

Ancestral halls symbolize the existence of Chinese etiquette and culture; the mysteries of Chinese poetry, literature, and rituals can be glimpsed in the very existence of ancestral halls. Similarly, in the meditation rooms where the evening bell and morning drum resound, the soft sounds of chanting and reciting Buddhist scriptures and mantras permeate the air.

The Wu Clan Ancestral Hall and the Cheng Clan Ancestral Hall stand on either side of the Yaochi Lake, once the residences of prominent local clans and wealthy families. The traditional Chinese clan culture still retains a strong local flavor in the south. The rise and fall of these large families is remarkably similar to the themes in *Dream of the Red Chamber*, with Ning and Rong symbolizing prosperity and decline. The past and present are all condensed in the ancestral halls and rows of antique Ming and Qing dynasty Hui-style buildings before us. It feels as if we've returned to the fields and farmlands, yet Yaoli is the birthplace of blue and white porcelain, whose legend is like a mythical beauty, attracting wealthy merchants to linger here.

Blue and white porcelain is a global luxury. Where blue and white porcelain exists, romance is never lacking. The glory and prosperity of Yaoli are unimaginable; it can be compared to the grandeur and prosperity of Chang'an during the Tang Dynasty. Yaoli is a captivating place in the world, demonstrating the rarity and beauty of blue and white porcelain. Its global influence stems from the fact that both Emperors Yongzheng and Qianlong were enamored with blue and white porcelain, personally involved in its production. This reflects their pursuit and cultivation of aesthetic art. Because blue and white porcelain held such an important place in the lives of emperors, in the palace, jade and blue and white porcelain were almost synonymous—for every hairpin, there was an eyebrow pencil; beauty was inseparable, like a shadow. Substance over form is rustic, form over substance is pedantic. In Yaoli, the refined and cultured are the epitome of a gentleman.

The beauty of blue and white porcelain is not simply the beauty of the object itself. It shares similarities with the beauty of calligraphy and painting. Perhaps paintings such as "Ladies' Portraits," "Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River," "The Night Banquet of Han Xizai," "The King of Shu's Amusement," and "The Twelve Beauties of Yongzheng" can also be considered part of the beauty of blue and white porcelain.

The significance of blue and white porcelain lies in its ability to transcend time and space, breaking through the constraints and limitations of the past. It embodies the passion, spirit, and cultural and historical accumulation of time, carrying the birth and existence of thought, spirit, and artistic beauty. Blue and white porcelain is a symbol, representing figures like Green Pearl and Flying Swallow, Wang Zhaojun and Diaochan, Xi Shi, Fan Susu (by Bai Juyi), Yang Guifei, Lady Li, and Yingying (by Yuan Zhen).

Blue and white porcelain is a display of beauty, its eternal luster and color concealing a rebirth. Forged in the fiery sulfur of hell, it emerges from the asura's battlefield, beautiful, free from the cycle of reincarnation—blue and white porcelain, at least like the beauty preserved in the Mogao Caves of Dunhuang. Because beauty itself is easily lost and destroyed, the birth of the beauty of blue and white porcelain is somewhat like the beauty existing in the Dunhuang caves, a beauty that was stolen, now in the British Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the United States. In museums in the United States, Japan, Germany, and the United Kingdom, what we see is not blue and white porcelain, but rather the ancient charm of the Huizhou-style houses along the banks of the Yao River, where merchants once lived. The marks of time, moss reflecting the ancient cultural heritage, the muted gray-white exterior walls, the flying eaves, gray tiles, and blue bricks, the ingenious hook-and-pole hanging structures. The river, the blue porcelain boat bridge, the ancient trees, the fish swimming freely in the crystal-clear waters of the Yao River, and the waterwheel turning and churning in the distance, stirring up surging waves. Not far downstream, above the stone bridge, a water channel spans the air, supported by slender, white reinforced concrete pillars. There are countless of these pillars, forming a neat and symmetrical structure that firmly anchors this eye-catching water channel that seems to transcend time.

Perhaps the spirit of blue and white porcelain, like the waters of the Yao River, flows from the distant Yaochi (Jade Pool) atop the high mountains, from the Queen Mother's Yaochi, down to the human world. Among the world's objects that possess a beauty that transcends worldly pursuits, blue and white porcelain certainly belongs to this category. Jade, after being carved, acquires spirit and destiny, while blue and white porcelain possesses a beauty born of creation. Though lacking a breath of life, blue and white porcelain is born of artistic beauty in the flames, pure and clean, untouched by worldly pollution. A goddess must have emerged from blue and white porcelain! Goddess, goddess of the homeland of blue and white porcelain, come forth! The beauty of Yaoli allows restless souls and wandering thoughts and spirits to arrive here, immersed in the small bridges and flowing water, the morning bells and evening drums on both banks, and the beautiful ancient architecture of Jiangnan. They are captivated by this alternative Peach Blossom Temple, this alternative Peach Blossom Spring, this alternative golden utopia. This is a paradise, far from the hustle and bustle of the world, a paradise far removed from the illusions of love and desire. Entering the Buddhist kingdom of Mount Xumi, far from the fear of the Great Iron Mountain, one finds peace in the four continents.

For artistic youths, the process of experiencing beauty is also a process of subjective and objective collision. The South is what Zhang Sheng yearns for. At least before boarding the train at the West Station, Zhang Sheng thought that he should be like Qu Yuan and not worry about the water of Yaochi. Zhang Sheng did not want to pollute the divinity of Tianchi with his dirty body. Zhang Sheng is an outsider and appreciates what he knows, encounters, and sees from another perspective. Because no goddess appears, there is naturally a lack of spirituality.

Three bridges span the Yao River. One is a reinforced concrete structure, which, upon reflection, must be the irrigation canal. A single-plank bridge and a magpie bridge span the clear, gently flowing water. Isn't this Yaochi (Jade Pool) a jade belt among the stars of the universe? Like the Milky Way's Cowherd and Weaver Girl, it's a dreamlike scene. The cicadas' chirping at dusk and the wisps of smoke rising from the houses by the stream will transport your soul from the divine back to the human realm.

Wanting to write poetry, I realized that poetry itself is limited, not something to be taken arbitrarily. It's a pity that the Tang and Song poets almost completely exhausted the realm of humanistic poetry, leaving only the ruins of this desolate blue-and-white porcelain tomb. Perhaps only the Bell and Drum Towers along Beijing's central axis still retain the cultural charm of an old and a young person—at least in Zhang Sheng's view, this charm and realm still exist.

It felt as if he had traveled back to the splendor of the capital, to the land of Bianjing (modern-day Tokyo), a scene straight out of a painting, or the Qingming Scroll. Jiangxi's literati were practically half the sky during the Song and Ming dynasties; the land was rich in talent and resources, and Zhang Sheng could feel their scholarly spirit. The beauty of Yaoli also possessed a certain spirit, like the magnificent view from Lion Hill. In the past, young ladies would observe the prosperity along the banks of the Yao River from their boudoir windows, their youthful dreams now empty. How many love stories were told here? Zhang Sheng could only imagine.

The waters of Yaochi flowed silently, like a clear, transparent mirror, reflecting everything around it, from the sky to the banks, becoming part of the aquatic world where fish swam. Where does the water of Yaochi flow to? Its final destination must surely be the vast ocean that Qiushuihebo lamented. This water seems to be different from others, indeed. The waters of Yaochi, belonging to the Queen Mother of the West in Kunlun, disdain the ocean. Yaochi resides in the Milky Way of the universe, while the ocean is merely a part of heaven and earth.

In truth, being born in the morning and dying at dusk is a kind of enlightenment. Going against the current, surrounded by distant, verdant mountains, the horizon merging into one—imagine Li Bai gazing at the Lushan Waterfall: "Sunlight on Incense Burner Peak creates purple smoke; from afar, the waterfall hangs like a curtain before the river; in the distant mountains, fish swim in the Northern Sea; the waters of the Southern Sea pour down from the gap between the distant mountains and the horizon, like the Milky Way falling from the ninth heaven." The water comes from the heavens, from the Queen Mother of the West! It is the jade nectar that nourishes the Heaven of Parting Sorrows. The love and passion in this water are like a waterfall plunging three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way were falling from the ninth heaven. Li Bai's poem about Lushan perfectly encapsulates the process of love in life; Li Bai's poetry on love reaches the highest level.

As Zhang Sheng was immersed in the secluded beauty of Yaoli, the sounds of children laughing and playing echoed from the schoolyard on the shore of Yaochi Pond. Their lively, carefree laughter, a celestial song of youth, sounded like a distant mountain echo. Because they had searched for a long time without finding the school, and because Xiao Ji, always the same clueless, darting-out Xiao Ji who loved to photograph hotspots, suddenly ran away in a panic, like a monkey trying to strike a thunderbolt but failing and instead clutching its bottom, its laughter a mixture of sorrow and tears. "Xiao Ji, did a snake bite your bottom?"

"Don't even mention it, I just ran around the campus taking pictures and this happened."

Did you travel through time?

"What time travel? A school? Didn't you realize it's a school inside?"

"which school?"

"That's so heartless."

It was only then that the artsy young people realized that the school gate was actually quite conspicuous, but only Yiren noticed it.

"Xiao Ji, have you gotten into trouble? Have you caused trouble at school?"

"No, I was filming the kids playing soccer, and then I went to the cafeteria..."

"Are you sneaking a bite?"

"Didn't you want to shoot some footage?"

"I understand, they thought a thief went in to steal food."

"I was very polite, calling him 'Grandpa' repeatedly, but the old man seemed only interested in my bottom. He gave me a few lashes with a whip, a pointer, but luckily I ran fast."

"Xiao Ji, you're lying. Nothing happened. We don't believe you."

"Why don't you go in and try? The old man is as fierce as a door god."

It was as if nothing had happened; the children's angelic laughter was like magpies, swallows, flocks of geese, or a choir singing a song of youth—pure, innocent voices emanating from their hearts.

"Xiao Ji, you should read the Book of Songs. Wild goose, you're just an ugly duckling trying to blend in with the swans."

"What swan? It's more like a duck trying to blend in with the wild ducks."

Song Yu likes to joke, and now he seems to regard Zhang Sheng and Xiao Ji as a pair of funny clowns, like a little duck and a clown.

"Shall we go back to the hotel?"

"It's still early, what beautiful mountains and waters!"

"No, it's such a beautiful landscape."

"No, it should be described as a charming paradise."

"This is neither Peach Blossom Spring nor anything else. This is Yaoli, the most beautiful hometown of blue and white porcelain. In the past, this place was a place of luxury and prosperity, as described in the Record of the Splendor of the Eastern Capital. It has Hui-style architecture, and only the rich and noble could live here. The blue and white porcelain here was used in the palace."

What palace is it?

"Of course, it's the palaces of the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties. What other palaces are there? The blue and white porcelain in the Palace Museum, as well as the blue and white porcelain from the Wanli period, all come from here, and the blue and white porcelain from the Northern and Southern Song dynasties are all from here."

"It would be great to bring a drone here. We could attach a camera to the drone and shoot from the highest mountain. We could definitely create a film that rivals the BBC."

"The BBC, there really isn't anyone who can produce something BBC-worthy, that's the BBC's signature material."

What about Dunhuang?

"Japan captured the beauty of Dunhuang in its photographs."

"It's more accurate to say that Japan stole the beauty of Dunhuang."

"After all that talk about not having drones, we're still not well-prepared."

"I am ready to climb that distant mountain."

"What distant mountains?"

"That's the highest point."

"How about we go up and take a look together?"

"That's great, and we can also enjoy the view from a high vantage point."