Lingering sword energy in Jiangnan

Author: Xu Jing
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-02-01
Features: Opening the history of Jiangnan is like flipping through an ancient bound book, releasing an aura of both strength and gentleness. It sways with the gentle waves of West Lake and glitters with the cold light of Jianchi; it permeates the romantic allure of the mortal world, yet also carries the blood and storms of the era. It records the delicate and splendid tales of scholars and beauties, and portrays the mournful songs of heroes in turbulent times. The gentle ripples of the Qinhuai River, with its lanterns and boat sounds, overflow with tenderness, yet the sharp edge of the sword of Gan Jiang and Mò Yé cannot be erased... The sword, a weapon used for assassination, reached its peak of development in the Jiangnan water towns of Wu and Yue, combining the cold hardness of a weapon with the beauty of Jiangnan. The author of this book will uncover "Jiangnan with its Sword Qi Soaring."
Jiangnan produces fragrant grass, flowers, beauties, scholars, warmth, and tenderness. From when, I do not know, the various aspects of Jiangnan associated with romance and beauty have been reflected and entangled by the bright and clear waters of Jiangnan, blending together to enhance its charm of subtlety and beauty. When I was very young, I also recognized Jiangnan from this perspective: Jiangnan is prosperous, its customs are civilized, the way of its people is polite, its men are gentle, its women are tender, and its stories are about love. Because I was born in Jiangnan and identified with this scenery, my way of thinking also became accustomed to the Jiangnanized way (although such wording itself proves the existence of great prejudice). For example, when studying classical literature, I focused on the serene greatness of Tao Yuanming's "Seeing South Mountain at Ease" while overlooking the other side of the fierce Dharma of the Vajra, and another example is analyzing the lingering romance between the White Snake and Xu Xian while ignoring their heroic resistance. The judgment in the Zhuangzi about the Yue people with shaved heads and tattooed bodies who did not need hats or robes was once considered the prejudice of an outsider who believed himself civilized, mere fiction, not to be taken seriously. It was Lu Xun who prompted me to re-examine Jiangnan and the "Jiangnan-style" way of thinking.
Now, it is difficult to find the beginning of my re-examination of Jiangnan, but I can be certain that what gave me the strongest and most direct impact was not the connection between Lu Xun's combativeness and his birthplace, the water town of Shaoxing in Jiangnan, but rather his photograph with the British writer George Bernard Shaw. The tall Shaw and the short, thin Lu Xun stood together, with the latter appearing as someone being cared for by the former. Shaw's sharp intellect and his critical nature toward society were fully expressed in his "anti-thesis" style of drama, and his towering stature was in harmony with the grandeur of his works. But Lu Xun, his shortness and thinness, his sketch-like essays, and his combativeness formed an extraordinary connection. This combativeness was not only reflected in his direct confrontations with his opponents but also in his academic research and his way of thinking. The coexistence of gentleness and fierceness is evident in his prose "Snow." And his essay "Autumn Night" is also unforgettable, standing on the autumn night with to the spring scenery.
Following this line of thought, my eyes were washed clean as I saw the cold light of swords and daggers reflected in the shimmering waves, felt the howling wind, the thorns of flowers, the biting cold of snow, and the chill of the moon. Even in the spring with its abundant flowers, I felt the stern aura of the autumn night. Therefore, I began to explore the warriors and fighters born in Jiangnan or mainly active in Jiangnan, paying attention to the folk tales of bravery and revenge in Wu and Yue, the swords produced in Wu and Yue, and the sword qi that seemed to flow in the seemingly gentle and weak people. In my hometown of Jiading, I have come to the water of Hui Long Tan in front of the Confucius Temple many times and have thought about how, during the "Jiading Massacre," the flowers by the shore were also stained with the scent of blood. In outlining the characteristics of traditional northern and southern regional cultures, we tried to find a hybrid variation, a completely new vitality, an integration of outward weakness and softness that possessed great wisdom and courage. Perhaps, such great wisdom and courage, compared to ordinary wisdom and courage, carry a bit more suspense and mystery.
It was precisely in the continuous deepening of my understanding of Jiangnan customs and people that I, together with Xue Yi, a scholar who studies Lu Xun, planned the "Cultural Mutual View" series on Jiangnan. The intention was to hope that people would have a new understanding of Jiangnan culture, both correcting prejudices about the history and culture of a specific region and also reflecting on our way of thinking. After all, if before, our identification with the water of Jiangnan water towns was more inclined to its brightness, beauty, and weakness, and we had been nourished by it all along, then the strength and resilience of water had long been revealed by the sages. The Laozi has a saying: "In all under heaven, nothing is softer or weaker than water, yet nothing can precede it in attacking hard and strong things, because nothing can replace it." In this regard, the publication of this "Cultural Mutual View" series is merely sorting out a little information that people have long overlooked.