Mr. Meng's one sentence was truly brilliant.

Xiao Zhen was the first to speak.

Xiao Zhen spoke in a loud and clear voice, directly stating: "I, Xiao, agree with He Pingshu's words. Sages follow the laws of Heaven, which have constant course, existing neither for Yao nor for Jie. Sages should also be like this, with a heart as still as water, neither rewarding indiscriminately out of joy nor punishing arbitrarily out of anger. The Way of Heaven is without emotion, yet all things transform themselves. The sage's governance should be based on governing the people without emotion."

He paused briefly, then cited Lao Tzu as evidence: "The Tao Te Ching says: 'Heaven and earth are ruthless, treating all things like straw dogs.' Heaven and earth show no pity or care for straw dogs; they use them when they need them and discard them when they don't. Is this not heartless? Sages emulate heaven and earth, their hearts are vast and impartial, without bias or favoritism, only then can they see the principles of all things."

Chu Wenju smiled slightly and took over the topic: "Master Xiao just discussed the sages in terms of the Way of Heaven, and his words were very eloquent. However, I would like to ask a question: if the sages are purely emotionless, then how can the sages have feelings of 'worry,' 'joy,' and 'compassion' in the Five Classics?"

The Book of Changes, in its Appended Remarks, says: "The feelings of a sage are revealed in his words." A sage uses words to fully express his meaning; if there were no feelings in his heart, how could he have words? How could he have worries and anxieties? How could he use words to inform future generations?

Therefore, Wang Fusi's words resonated even more with the sage's heart. The sage is not without feelings; his feelings are for the public good, not for private interests, and for the world, not for his own. For example, spring thunder awakens all things, but the thunder is not for any particular thing; autumn frost withers all plants, but the frost is not for any particular thing.

The sage rejoices when the world is governed by the Way; the sage grieves when the people are not at peace. This is what is meant by "responding to things without being burdened by them."

Chu Wenju raised his voice slightly and quoted Zhuangzi as an example: "When Zhuangzi's wife died, Huizi went to offer condolences. Zhuangzi was sitting with his legs spread apart, drumming on a basin and singing. Huizi scolded him, and Zhuangzi said: 'When she first died, how could I alone not feel moved!'"

Even a sage is not indifferent to life and death. The difference lies in that he is moved without being overwhelmed, grieved without being devastated, like a mirror reflecting an object—the object is gone, and the mirror retains no trace. This is the true meaning of "not being burdened by emotions."

Chu Wenju's words were brilliantly written, with apt allusions, and flowed smoothly like clouds and water.

Many people in the pavilion nodded in approval.

Xiao Zhen frowned. He was not as knowledgeable in metaphysics as Chu Wenju, but he was upright and unwilling to back down.

His voice deepened: "Master Chu refuted me with the Five Classics, so I responded with the Five Classics. The opening of the Doctrine of the Mean in the Book of Rites states, 'Before the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused, this is called equilibrium.' The reason why a sage is a sage is that he can maintain this equilibrium, that he can preserve his state before the feelings are aroused. Pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy have already been aroused; once aroused, they become biased. How can a sage be biased?"

This rebuttal was delivered from a clever angle.

Chu Wenju responded, “The Doctrine of the Mean in the Book of Rites says ‘before it is expressed,’ and also says ‘when it is expressed, all actions are in accordance with the proper measure, which is called harmony.’ The sage does not refrain from ‘expressing’, but rather ‘expresses all actions in accordance with the proper measure.’ To rejoice in what should be rejoiced in, and to grieve in what should be grieve in, is harmony, and this is the realm of the sage.”

If one merely remains silent, how is one different from withered wood and cold ashes? How is one different from a clay or wooden puppet? This is precisely what Wang Fusi meant when he said that a sage has feelings. Having feelings yet being able to "maintain moderation," having joy and anger yet being able to "remain unburdened."

The two exchanged words, their rhetoric sharp and witty.

The people in the pavilion either smiled and nodded, or frowned and pondered, and the atmosphere gradually became more pleasant.

Sun Datian stood to the side, holding a cup, wanting to speak, but his lips moved and then he closed them again. His skill was far inferior to that of Xiao and Chu. He wanted to quote the compassion in Mencius, but the words felt inappropriate; he wanted to quote the seven emotions in the Book of Rites, but he felt it wasn't sharp enough.

He simply sipped his wine, nodding occasionally and shaking his head sometimes, but ultimately didn't utter a coherent sentence.

His son, Sun Yuangui, stood behind him, watching with growing anxiety, but dared not interrupt his elders.

At this moment, Fan Zheng coughed lightly.

All eyes turned to him.

Fan Zheng smiled gently: "Master Xiao and Master Chu each have their own perspectives, and each has reached their own extremes. I have benefited greatly from them. However, I believe that there is no need to sever ties between feelings and indifference. The Book of Changes has Yin and Yang; the interplay of Yin and Yang is called the Way. How can one know that the realm of a sage is not between feelings and indifference?"

I once heard a Buddhist saying: "The mind is inherently pure, but it is defiled by worldly dust." If we view this in the same light, the mind of a sage is like still water. Is still water without feeling? Still water possesses its own nature: clear and luminous. When the wind comes, waves arise; when the wind goes, the waves subside. Through the arising and ceasing of waves, the nature of water remains unchanged.

The feelings of a sage are also like this. He responds when things come, and remains still when they go. The presence or absence of feeling is not in the water, but in the wind. When there is wind, still water becomes waves, and the sage has feeling; when there is no wind, the waves return to still water, and the sage has no feeling.

Fan Zheng concluded, "From this perspective, having feelings and being indifferent are not the states of a sage, but rather two aspects of a sage's response to the world. What He Pingshu saw was still water without wind, the sage's true nature of tranquility; what Wang Fusi saw was waves with wind, the sage's responsiveness to things. Each saw a different state, and it is not necessarily one or the other."

Fan Zheng's words subtly introduced Buddhist principles into metaphysical discussions, offering a novel perspective and conveying a warm and profound tone.

His words largely dispelled the tension between Xiao and Chu that had just been building.

Chu Wenju sincerely praised, "Master Fan's interpretation, using Buddhism to explore profound mysteries, opens up a new perspective."

Xiao Zhenyi nodded and stopped arguing.

Seeing that everyone had expressed their opinions, Magistrate Chen Mao asked Zhu Tao to speak.

Zhu Tao waved his hand and turned to Meng Wenlang: "Mr. Meng, everyone has already presented their insightful opinions, and you should be able to teach me."

Meng Wenlang smiled slightly, and without refusing, calmly said, "Whether one has feelings or not, it all comes down to one's own mind. Even a sage is neither without feelings nor with feelings. Whether feelings exist or not does not depend on the sage, but on the observer."

Viewed with compassionate eyes, even sages possess emotions. The anxieties and sorrows expressed in the scriptures are clearly visible. Viewed with indifferent eyes, even sages appear indifferent. What does Heaven say? The four seasons proceed, and all things come to life.

Therefore, the question that Lord Zhu just raised has been debated by the He and Wang factions for a hundred years. In the end, the debate is not about how the sage was originally, but about where the observer stands.

For example, the lake outside Zhuyun Pavilion: when the wind blows, the waves rise; when the wind blows, the waves are calm. Both the waves and the calm are the same water. The mind of a sage is also like this. If the observer stands in the wind, they only see the waves; if the observer stands on the shore, they only see the still water. Has the sage ever changed?

These words, spoken in a gentle and unadorned manner, without piling up flowery language or aggressively quoting classical texts, transformed the dispute between the He and Wang factions into a single phrase, "the perspective of the observer," directly elevating the fundamental nature of the issue to a higher level.

Liang Shanbo knelt behind Meng Wenlang, secretly admiring him. He understood that the master's conversation was different from others. It wasn't about competing or showing off, but rather speaking freely and spontaneously, simplifying complex matters with just a few words, and using simplicity to govern complexity. This was true brilliance.

Zhu Tao remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Sir, your words can be considered definitive. Whether a sage is compassionate or not is not up to the sage but up to us. With your words today, this gathering of pure sounds in the cold of winter has lived up to the purpose of 'pure sounds'."

Chen Mao nodded repeatedly, raised his cup, and toasted Meng Wenlang.

Meng Wenlang returned the greeting, drank the wine, and remained calm, as if his words were just casual remarks.