Chapter 40

Jiyun Yun has always lived at her aunt's house while attending school. Since her aunt's house is the housing complex behind the school, it only takes five minutes to walk to the teaching building of Fudan High School. Because she could return to her home in Jinan District after receiving her report card today, Jiyun Yun got up particularly early.

After eating the soy milk and fried dough sticks bought by Jixin, Jiyun Yun took a collection of essays by Murong Xue and went to the classroom, planning to read for a while to pass the time. When she reached the teaching building, two student council members were already posting the red bulletin boards.

Jiyun Yun stopped to look and saw that the bulletin board for the second year of high school had already been posted, with the name "Su Yuxi" prominently listed as the first place. The names following were merely supporting roles.

The next bulletin board was for the third year of high school. Jiyun Yun's grades were quite good, and she had even made it into the top twenty of the grade during the mid-term exams in the second half of the second year. She felt she had done well this time and wanted to see if she had a chance to make it into the top twenty of the grade.

After the two student council members finished posting, Jiyun Yun saw that the first place in the third year (2) class was Chen Haoran, which reminded her of the fat boy she somewhat resented. Scanning down, she didn't see her name, so she turned to head to the classroom.

As she was leaving, she saw the student council members posting a few more papers. Jiyun Yun was a bit curious and walked over to see the name "Cheng Xiaoyu" in the name column. The handwriting was so familiar and beautiful, and the score was 150, a perfect score.

Jiyun Yun was surprised. Chinese is arguably the subject where it's hardest to get a perfect score. Generally, if the essay is neat, the teacher has countless opportunities to deduct points. In the history of the Chinese college entrance exam, no one has ever gotten a perfect score in Chinese. The great writer Ji Xiancheng only scored 148 on the Chinese exam.

Looking at the second paper, Cheng Xiaoyu had lost two points for a misspelled word. By this point, Jiyun Yun was already confused. Why was it still a perfect score even with two points deducted? She continued to look at the back, seeing a row of red checkmarks, indicating no mistakes.

Until the last paper, the essay topic was "Dreams," a familiar title. Jiyun Yun herself had written about her dream of performing dance on the stage of the National Grand Theater.

Scanning over to Cheng Xiaoyu's paper, the sentences were clear and obvious, clearly a poem. Generally, poems are not allowed for essay topics, and Jiyun Yun knew this. Thinking of Cheng Xiaoyu's "The Furthest Distance in the World," she guessed he must have written a poem that even the teacher found stunning.

Jiyun Yun eagerly approached the bulletin board to read the lines of bold and free-spirited writing on the paper.

Someone was already reciting it loudly.

"Riding the Dream" — Poems Excluded

I want to be a loyal son of the distant land,

And a fleeting lover of material things.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I must walk the same path as martyrs and clowns.

Everyone wants to extinguish the fire,

But I alone will hold it high.

This fire is great, blooming and falling in the sacred motherland.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I use this fire to navigate the vast darkness of life.

This fire is great, the language of the motherland and the fortress built of stones.

Dunhuang, where dreams are soil — even in July, the bones are cold.

Like white firewood and hard strips of snow,

Laid across the mountain of the gods.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I throw myself into this fire, where the three are the lamps that imprison me, shining.

Everyone must pass through my blade to build the language of the motherland.

I am willing to start all over again.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I am willing to sit at the bottom of the prison.

Among the creations of the gods, I am the most perishable, with the irresistible speed of death.

Only grain do I cherish.

I will hold her tightly, bear children and raise a family in my homeland.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I am willing to be buried on the high mountains around, guarding the peaceful home.

Facing the great river, I am infinitely ashamed.

I have wasted my youth, with only a body full of fatigue.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

Time passes, leaving not a drop behind.

In a drop of water, a horse dies.

A thousand years later, if I am reborn on the banks of my motherland,

A thousand years later, I will again have the Chinese rice fields and the snowy mountains of the Zhou dynasty.

The celestial horse gallops.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

I choose the eternal cause.

My cause is to become the sun for a lifetime.

From ancient times to today,

It is incomparably brilliant and bright.

Like all poets who ride the dream,

In the end, I am carried by the gods of dusk into the immortal sun.

The sun is my name.

The sun is my life.

On the mountain of the sun, the corpse of poetry is buried — the thousand-year kingdom and I.

Riding the phoenix of five thousand years and the dragon named "horse" — I will surely fail,

But poetry itself, like the sun, will surely triumph.

Jiyun Yun read it in one breath, feeling a surge of emotions boiling and surging in her chest, but also a deep sense of powerlessness and sorrow. Behind the long section were the red-pen comments of the examiner, which took up more space than her own essay.

The poet is one who pursues grand and lofty goals, "I want to be a loyal son of the distant land"; in their lives, the firm and noble beliefs make the specific daily life barren and helpless, but they are not concerned about it. "Material is fleeting, it is not worth our constant pursuit and meticulous calculation." Therefore, the poet says, "I am only a fleeting lover of material things." The role models of the poet are the great figures who stand out in the great community of human poetry, those poetry masters who have a spiritual utopia. "Like all poets who ride the dream," the poet is not afraid to live in a world of suppression and misunderstanding. In the vast darkness of life, in a "second-rate era," the spiritual fires that have illuminated humanity, such as faith, purity, bravery, and love, have all been extinguished one by one. Many poets use this as an excuse to write poems about nothingness and absurdity, and many poems have even become defenses of nothingness and absurdity. But the poet does not agree, "Everyone wants to extinguish the fire, but I alone will hold it high / This fire is great, blooming and falling in the sacred motherland." Here, there is a re-recognition of the function of poetry. Poetry is a great elevation and redemption, bearing the weight of hell while standing high above. It must maintain an idealistic spirit and free dignity, and resist the decline of the spirit. In the process of redeeming the soul, the poet also achieves the sublimation of individual life: "I use this fire to navigate the vast darkness of life."

The poet is a deep thinker of language as "the language of the house of being" (Heidegger's words). The poet is aware of the situation where the essential characteristic of human language is obscured, the possibility of clarity and elevation, and the realistic basis for creating and developing the spirit through the salvation of language. Therefore, the understanding of language is related to the understanding of existence and life. Here, the poet writes about his deep attachment and conscious sense of belonging to the culture of his motherland, "The language of the motherland and the fortress built of stones / Dunhuang, where dreams are soil." The language here, in addition to its literal meaning, also extends to the broader "context" of the cultural atmosphere of the race. These are the "language lineages" that have been passed down through generations in the poet's spirit, and the poet wants to promote them, "throwing myself into this fire," "willing to start all over again," "to build the language of the motherland." But in a Chinese intellectual world shrouded by a sense of cultural failure, reactivating the past traditions is particularly difficult. It not only tests the poet's understanding and creativity but also tests his confidence and will. It is a self-imposed dilemma, and an attempt to survive in the dilemma.

"I have wasted my youth," without writing poems that match my abilities and ambitions, "facing the great river, I am infinitely ashamed." But when a person dies, the ambition does not disappear. Thus, the poet imagines his "rebirth." This "rebirth" is not due to a lingering attachment to earthly life, but only to continue the grand poem left unfinished in life. "A thousand years later, if I am reborn on the banks of my motherland," "I choose the eternal cause." This "eternal cause" is still to write "the great poem that combines the nation and humanity, poetry and truth!" Therefore, the prophecy also shows its brilliant side: "The sun is my name / The sun is my life / On the mountain of the sun, the corpse of poetry is buried — the thousand-year kingdom and I / Riding the phoenix of five thousand years and the dragon named 'horse'," the poet's spiritual atmosphere spreads, calling and inspiring living Chinese poets. Life is fleeting, "I will surely fail," — "but poetry itself, like the sun, will surely triumph!"

This poem is not long, but its realm is exceptionally broad. In the strong emotional impact, the poet steadily controls the train of thought, with three layers that echo, dialogue, and progress, with a strict and robust structure. In the tension between lofty ideals and humble sentiments, the sanctity and fragility of life, the poet's misfortunes and the great path of poetry... these intertwined tensions, a Chinese poet's sincere feelings are written.

This is not an exam essay, but the most splendid and profound lament in modern Chinese history.

This is not a high school student, but a great poet who is a totem of the era.

Jiyun Yun felt as if she was in a state of soul-shattering. She knew that Cheng Xiaoyu's writing was good, and from "The Furthest Distance in the World," she felt that Cheng Xiaoyu was a talented person. But she never expected that the teacher would already consider him a poet. The title of poet is so sacred, such a glorious praise.

Jiyun Yun then looked at the math paper posted next to it, which was a zero. She couldn't help but laugh, and seeing Cheng Xiaoyu answer with a poem, she felt that poets were eccentric geniuses. A combination of genius and eccentricity. She couldn't help but understand his cold attitude towards her. His overflowing talent indeed gave him the right to be proud.

At this moment, the young literary girl Jiyun Yun had elevated Cheng Xiaoyu to the status of an idol, not just a peer. After a moment of thought, Jiyun Yun decided to go back to her aunt's house and post "The Furthest Distance in the World" on the bulletin board.

It was just a moment of impulse, a simple belief that such a good poem must be shared with everyone.

But then things took an unexpected turn, and everyone assumed that this was a love poem Cheng Xiaoyu wrote for Jiyun Yun.

Jiyun Yun tried to defend herself a few times, but no one listened seriously, just laughing and saying she was covering up. In fact, she didn't really mind others' misunderstanding, and there was even some indescribable emotion in her heart.