Louis-Alphonse's words were met with a burst of malicious laughter and a few claps of agreement from the audience. His handsomely carved face was now etched with sarcasm.
On stage, Chen Jitong's smile instantly froze, but he did not lose his composure. Instead, it transformed into a calm born of offended dignity. He slightly raised his hand, stopping Professor Latour who was about to speak, and looked directly at Louis-Alphonse.
"May I ask who you are?" Chen Jitong did not rush to refute but politely asked for his name.
"Louis-Alphonse de Montferrand." Louis-Alphonse lifted his chin.
"Good morning, Mr. de Montferrand!" Chen Jitong's voice remained clear and steady, without a hint of anger: "Judging by your name, you are an aristocrat and should have received a good education, yet you so vividly demonstrate a lack of imagination.
You equate the 'freehand brushwork' of art with material scarcity, and crudely pit the pursuit of spirit against the demands of survival… I suddenly understand the reason why France insists on a republican system."
Chen Jitong's words drew laughter from some in the audience, while others' expressions changed.
He took a step forward, almost reaching the edge of the podium: "It is true that our country is not yet as prosperous as France, and our people do not yet have magnificent artistic venues like opera houses, but how does this contradict our generation's cherishment and inheritance of dramatic art?
Should we deny the artistic value of the Louvre, or ridicule the love of your people for Molière or Hugo's plays, just because your country suffered setbacks in the Franco-Prussian War?"
At these words, everyone's faces changed, and many roared in anger: "Get out! Chinaman! Get out!"
If it weren't for the professors from the Academy still present, someone might have jumped up to beat Chen Jitong.
Professor Latour stood up, turned around, and spread his arms: "Quiet! Everyone, quiet! Mind your manners!"
The scene quieted down, and he then turned to Chen Jitong: "Chen, I hope you can also remain rational!"
Chen Jitong nodded, retreated to the center of the podium, and after a brief pause, added: "The 'freehand brushwork' of Chinese drama is an artistic philosophy refined over thousands of years, stemming from our deep understanding that 'spiritual charm' is superior to 'physical resemblance.'
It requires not a splendid stage, but an open mind and wings of imagination from the audience. I deeply understand your pride in the Paris Opera House. But if you use this as a standard to deny other equally brilliant art forms, forgive my directness, but this is precisely a manifestation of narrow artistic appreciation."
Chen Jitong's counter-attack was well-reasoned and measured, leaving Louis-Alphonse somewhat embarrassed, and he could only sit down. Some of the students who were initially just watching the show now showed expressions of thought; Professor Latour also breathed a sigh of relief.
"Enough, Mr. Chen!" An old, authoritative voice suddenly rang out, and an elderly man with white hair and a gaunt face, leaning on a cane, stood up in the front row.
Lionel looked—oh, an old acquaintance, Ernest Renan, a member of the French Academy, an expert in ancient Middle Eastern languages and civilizations, and a specialist in Christian history.
"Academic discussion should be based on rigorous rationality and verifiable knowledge." Renan's voice was not loud, but it suppressed all the chatter, "Latour, you are too immersed in the 'exotic' superficialities of the Far East, neglecting a critical examination of its core values.
Just like this 'freehand brushwork' drama—" He suddenly turned to Chen Jitong: "It sounds more like a rhetoric invented to cover up the inability to achieve the psychological depth, social critique, and stage technical achievements of French drama.
An art that cannot profoundly analyze human nature or precisely reproduce reality is, after all, of limited value.
This perhaps explains why certain academic pursuits always struggle to reach the height of rationality required by the French Academy."
Renan's words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the hope that Professor Latour had just kindled. He not only completely dismissed Chen Jitong but also aimed his criticism at Professor Latour, hinting at the reason he was denied the honor of becoming a member of the French Academy.
This was almost a public humiliation of a scholar's academic career! Professor Latour's face turned pale, his lips trembling, yet he could not form any coherent words.
Lionel looked at Chen Jitong on stage, then at Renan, Latour, and Louis-Alphonse below, and suddenly understood something—evaluating titles, indeed, has always been the most intense battlefield in any school struggle.
The French Academy has a limited number of inductees each year. For whom was Professor Renan here to "snipe" Professor Latour?
"What a brilliant display of 'reason,' Professor Renan! And this… Mr. de Montferrand?" A clear voice, carrying undisguised sarcasm, rang out from the back of the auditorium. A young Eastern man, not tall, with delicate features, also dressed in Western attire, stood up.
He looked younger than Chen Jitong, and unlike Chen Jitong, he had no queue; his short hair was meticulously combed, and apart from his appearance, he was indistinguishable from a French student.
Ignoring everyone's astonishment, he walked from the back row towards the podium, speaking as he went: "Professor Renan, you act with arrogance in the name of 'reason.'
You use the ruler of Western drama to measure the palace of Chinese drama, and then declare that its dimensions are unsuitable, and therefore its value is limited? Do you not even understand the principle that different soils nurture different flowers?"
He stopped in front of Louis-Alphonse: "As for you, Mr. de Montferrand, your understanding of China probably remains stuck on street tabloid cartoons and the porcelain your ancestors looted from China, doesn't it?
You mock Chinese people for caring about 'filling their stomachs'? Then tell me, when Rousseau, in 'Discourse on the Origin and Basis of Inequality Among Men,' denounced the hunger and injustice brought by private ownership, did he also lack your so-called 'height of rationality'?"
This young man's sudden appearance, his sharp edge, even overshadowed Chen Jitong. The auditorium erupted in an uproar, students were dumbfounded, and even Renan frowned deeply: "Who are you? This is Sorbonne, not a marketplace!"
The young man turned in front of the podium and bowed slightly to everyone: "My name is Tomson, Tomson Ku, a Master of Arts from the University of Edinburgh, and I am also Chinese!
Sorbonne is certainly not a marketplace, but it is France's 'Agora'—or do you want Sorbonne to become a prison where only the same voices can be heard?"
The "Agora" is located at the foot of the Acropolis in Athens and was an important debate ground in ancient Greece.
Chen Jitong looked at the back of this unfamiliar compatriot's head, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, then immediately interjected: "Tomson is absolutely right! Mr. Renan, you pride yourself on the 'reason' of the French Academy, yet you refuse to understand the unique interpretations of 'reason,' 'truth,' and 'humanity' itself from different civilizations!
You hold your own standards as inviolable, rejecting other possibilities; this in itself is the greatest irrationality! It is a denial of human free will!"
He turned to the entire audience, his tone growing more impassioned: "Our civilization possesses a depth and wisdom you cannot imagine! Our philosophy, thousands of years ago, explored the origin of the universe and the order of human relations! The profound artistic conception and subtle emotions of our poetry are in no way inferior to your Hugo or Lamartine!
Our art, whether painting, calligraphy, or drama, pursues a state of unity with nature! What right do you have, based solely on your brief technological advantage, based solely on your understanding of a part of the world, to presumptuously deny the entire value of a great civilization with four thousand years of history?!"
Tomson Ku also loudly agreed, his words even more cutting: "Exactly! Look at these people who pride themselves as beacons of 'reason'! While their ancestors were still picking fruit from trees, our ancestors were already writing the 'I Ching' and contemplating the mysteries of the 'Dao'!
While their knights were still fighting for their lords, our scholars were already practicing the ideal of 'education for all'! Our civilization is a precocious giant, and you, you are merely children who have just learned to run. What right do you have to mock the giant's stride?!"
The two, working together, one echoing the other, with fierce words and generous attitudes, made the Sorbonne students and professors turn livid. Professor Latour completely lost control of the lecture he had initiated.
"Arrogant!"
"Ignorant!"
"Savage megalomaniac!"
Below, bursts of dissatisfied boos and accusations erupted.
Louis-Alphonse even jumped up and shouted: "Listen! This is their true face! Savage arrogance!"
Professor Renan's face was terribly grim, and he forcefully struck the ground with his cane, preparing to say something more.
At this moment, a figure rose high in the venue, suddenly standing like a pillar in the center of the space.
Everyone looked at the figure and realized it was Lionel Sorel, who had recently been making a big splash at the Academy.