In Chinese history, there has been only one person who rose through the military ranks, started as a warrior, and ultimately devoted himself to literary pursuits, becoming a great poet—this is Xin Qiji. This also destined the uniqueness of his poetry and of himself among scholars, as well as his distinctive position in history.\According to the information I have seen, Xin Qiji personally killed several people with swift and decisive blows. He was naturally tall and strong and practiced swordsmanship rigorously from a young age. Born during the chaotic Jin-Song era, angered by the Jin invasions, he raised a volunteer army of several thousand at the age of 22. Later, he merged with the army led by Geng Jing and also served as secretary general, managing seals and documents. On one occasion, a traitor in the volunteer army stole the seal, intending to defect to the Jin. Xin Qiji, wielding his sharp sword alone on horseback, pursued the traitor for two days, and on the third day returned with a human head. To restore the country, he persuaded Geng Jing to return south, personally linking up in Lin'an. Unexpectedly, within just a few days, unexpected troubles arose again. After completing the mission and returning, his subordinate rebelled, and Geng Jing was killed. Xin Qiji, furious, leaped onto his horse with sword in hand, led a few riders into the enemy camp, captured the treacherous general alive, and then charged a thousand miles to escort him to Lin'an for execution, leading tens of thousands south to return to the Song. Remarkably, he was still just a heroic youth at the time, full of passion, eager to punish the enemy for the court and reclaim lost territories.\However, life does not always go as planned. After returning south, he immediately lost his steel sword and sharp blade, left only with a soft brush made of goat hair. He no longer had the chance to run on the battlefield, to have blood splattered on his armor, but could only wield his brush with dragon-like lines, shed tears on the paper, leaving history with echoes of tragic cries, regretful sighs, and helpless self-mockery.\It could be said that Xin Qiji's poetry was not written with a brush, but carved with sword and blade. He is remembered in history and his poems as a battlefield hero and patriotic general. Even a thousand years later, when we read his works today, one can still sense a sharp killing aura and tremendous momentum. For example, in his famous poem "Breaking the Battle Formations":
Lighting lamps and looking at the sword while drunk, dreaming of bugle calls through linked camps; eight hundred miles under the flag are roasted meats, fifty strings play frontier tunes. Autumn drills on the battlefield. Horses like Lu gallop quickly, bowstrings sound like thunder. Completing the emperor's affairs, winning fame before and after. Pity the white hair.
I dare boldly say that aside from Yue Fei's "Man Jiang Hong," this poem is unmatched in China over the past five thousand years, and it is hard to find a second masterpiece with the sound of clashing swords and the power of arms.Although Du Fu also wrote: 'To shoot at a man, first shoot the horse; to capture a thief, first capture the king,' and the military poet Wang Changling also wrote: 'Wanting to chase with light cavalry, the heavy snow fills bows and swords.' But these are all imaginative, expressive, and descriptive from an outsider's perspective. Which poet has actually experienced rolling on the edge of a blade like he did? 'Columned ships,' 'throwing a whip to leap across,' 'sword pointing to the Three Qins,' 'the west wind seizes the horse'—his poetry is practically a military dictionary. He originally intended to dedicate his life to the country, ready to shed blood in the desert and die wrapped in his horse's hide. But after retreating south, he was forced off the battlefield and had no place to wield his skills. Like Qu Yuan, he looked to the heavens in lamentation; like Gonggong, he struck the Buzhou Mountain in anger. By the riverside, looking toward Chang'an, climbing a dangerous tower and pacing the railing, all he could do was shed tears freely.
The Chu sky stretches a thousand miles in clear autumn, the water follows the sky, and autumn has no bounds. Looking at distant peaks, offering sorrow and resentment, with jade hairpins in spiral coiffure. At sunset on the tower, amidst the cries of broken geese, the wandering sons of Jiangnan, having seen the Wu hook, pace the railing countless times; yet nobody understands the feeling of ascending ("Shui Long Yin").
Who can understand that this wanderer is actually the heartbroken soul of a lost-country exile? This was written when he climbed the Shangxin Pavilion in Jiankang City. This pavilion faces the ancient Qinhuai River, a place of refined pleasure for scholars of successive generations, but what Xin Qiji expressed here was a mournful cry. When he pounded the railing in grief, he must have recalled the days of urging horses with swords in hand, galloping across the battlefield. But today, with only his strength and ambition left, what could he do with them? I once specifically went to Nanjing in search of the place where Lord Xin banged the railing, but the people are gone, the building destroyed, leaving no trace. Only the river flows endlessly, like the poet's long sigh, flowing east without end.
What makes Xin's poetry fundamentally different from that of other literati is that his poems are not written with ink alone; they are smeared with blood and tears. Today, when we read his works, we can clearly hear a patriotic minister lamenting repeatedly and confessing over and over again; we cannot forget his image of supporting the railing and gazing into the distance at sunset, eyes straining.
Why was Xin Qiji so unpopular with the court after returning south? He wrote in a playful piece "Admonishing Alcohol": 'Grievances, big or small, come from love; things, good or bad, bring disaster if excessive.' This short piece vividly portrays his political frustration. His grievances arise from his patriotism, and his calamities from his dedication. He loved the country, the people, and the court too much. But the court feared him, found him troublesome, and refrained from employing him.He lived for 40 years as a subject of the Southern Song Dynasty, but nearly 20 of those years were spent idle on the sidelines. During the more than 20 years when he was intermittently employed, he was frequently transferred 37 times. However, every time he got a chance to serve, he worked with extreme diligence and dedication. Normally, having a bowl of rice to eat should have been enough, but his burning patriotism made him fervent all over. During those 40 years, no matter where he was, in any position, or even during the times he was unemployed, he never stopped submitting memorials and nagging, and whenever he had the opportunity, he would work hands-on, training soldiers, raising funds, managing affairs, always presenting himself as if ready to go to the front lines. Do you think this would not irritate a court that wanted peace and accommodation?
When he served as the Pacifying Commissioner of Hunan, which was essentially a local administrative post, he established a 2,500-man ‘Flying Tiger Army' with iron-armored horses, impressive and awe-inspiring, formidable in southern Jiangnan. At the initial stage of building the army, when constructing the barracks, continuous days of rain made it impossible to fire tiles. He then ordered the citizens of Changsha to provide 20 tiles per household and pay cash upfront; within two days, they were all collected. This shows a glimpse of his capable administrative style. Later, when he went to Fujian as a local official, he recruited troops there as well. Although Fujian is far from the northern deserts, it could not separate his concern for the people and his ambition to restore the nation. This scholar, this workaholic, was truly excessive—'going too far can cause disaster'—and ultimately drew much slander, even being accused of dictatorship and insubordination. The emperor used him occasionally, then abandoned him. In times of national crisis, he would be summoned for a few days; when the court faced slander, he would be idle for years. This was his basic life rhythm, and also the greatest tragedy of his life.
Despite being well-read and frequently using literary allusions in his poetry, to the extent that later generations mocked him for 'showing off his reading,' he never understood why the small Southern Song court was only concerned with survival and unwilling to reclaim lost territories. Xin Qiji's name means 'abandoning illness,' but that strong, tower-like five-foot frame, trained in sword and spear from childhood, never had any illness. He only had one ailment of the heart: the territory was incomplete, the moon was not full, the mountains and rivers shattered, leaving his heart restless.
‘Under Yugu Platform, the clear river flows, in the middle, how many travelers cry. Looking northwest to Chang'an, alas, countless mountains. Green hills cannot block it, eventually it flows east. In the evening, the river troubles me, deep mountains hear the partridge call.' This is the famous 'Bodhisattva Man' that we read in our middle school textbooks. He suffered from the ailment of a heavy heart. He even mocked his own surname: ‘Scorching sun and autumn frost, loyal liver and righteous gall bladder, family genealogy spanning a thousand years. When the surname was conferred, carefully analyze the character Xin, and laugh, I will let you hear. Hardship done, bitter experiences, are always sour and painful.'Even more so, it is pungent to people, crushed pepper and cinnamon are so bitter it's hard to spit out. In this world, there should be fragrant sweetness and rich beauty, but it never reaches my home. (From 'Yong Yu Le')
Look at 'hardship,' 'sour and pungent,' 'sorrowful and bitter,' 'spicy'—truly burning all within the body. So many sweet things in the world, the ambition to succeed, why do they never reach their place? He was either left idle or transferred like a revolving lantern. In 1179, when he was transferred from Hubei to Hunan, when colleagues saw him off, he was restless and finally sighed his political frustration in a very tactful tone. This is the famous poem 'Mo Yu'er': How many more storms can one endure, spring hurriedly returns once more. Cherishing spring's long, fearing flowers bloom early, let alone countless fallen petals. Spring stays long, as the saying goes, at the ends of the earth, fragrant grass has no way home. Resentment spring's silence. Supposedly, only the painted eaves' spiderwebs attract flying catkins all day long. Matters of the Long Gate, the planned meeting is delayed again. The beautiful eyebrows once had jealousy. Even if a fortune buys Sima Xiangru's poem, who can confide these feelings? Do not dance, do you see, the jade rings and flying swallows are all dust. Idle sorrow is the bitterest. Do not go to the perilous tower, the setting sun is falling, where the willows break the heart. It is said that Emperor Xiaozong was very displeased after reading this poem. Liang Qichao commented: "Stirring the heart, reaching such an extreme, unprecedented and unmatched." "The Changmen Incident" refers to Empress Chen of Han, who was suspicious and sent to Changmen Palace. Compared to this classic, Xin's loyalty and devotion mixed with all that bitterness, hardship, and spiciness truly overturn the jar of flavors. Today, as we read them, every word shocks us, making you feel like a drop of blood or a line of tears. Indeed, throughout history, the poems cherishing spring by literati could fill a mountain of paper. But which poem can so gently and indignantly transform the colors of spring into politics and interpret politics? The theme of a beauty's longing was also a subject overused by old literati; which poem could so deeply and accurately convey national affairs, comment on good and evil, and express sorrow and anger? But the Southern Song court ultimately left him idle for 20 years. Those 20 years allowed him to withdraw from politics, only to observe, not to intervene, not to speak. Xin humorously mocked himself in his ci: "Your grace is great, let me plant lotus flowers!" This is somewhat like Emperor Renzong of Song saying to Liu Yong: "Go sipping lightly and sing softly; why seek empty fame?" Liu Yong truly sipped and sang softly, and in the end, he sang as a pure lyricist artist. Xin was different from Liu. Think about it: he was someone who drank big bowls of wine, ate large chunks of meat, pounded the railing, and loudly discussed state affairs.With no way to serve his country, he built a lakeside villa in southern Jiangxi, savoring his own loneliness. I love Daihu very much, a thousand zhang of emerald doors unfold. The gentleman walks a thousand times a day, with staff and shoes at ease. All my allies with gulls and egrets, now that we have sworn together, come and go without suspicion. Where is the white crane? Try to come together in harmony. Breaking through green duckweed, parting green algae, standing on green moss. Peering at fish laughs at your foolish plans, not knowing how to raise my cup. Abandoned marsh and desolate hills of old, on this night of bright moon and gentle breeze, how many joys and sorrows in the world? On the east bank, there is little green shade; willows must be planted even more. (From 'Shui Diao Ge Tou') This time truly lives up to his nickname: 'Jiaxuan', he is returning home to farm. A politician in his prime, with rich experience and great ambition, strolls daily on hillsides and by the water, chatting idly with the people about farming and harvests, then talking to himself with birds and fish. Truly, "idle sorrow is the bitterest," "Who can I confide in this silent feeling?" Speaking of how profound Xin Qiji's writing was, whether carved with a knife or written in blood, his pursuit was never to be a ci poet. Guo Moruo said of Chen Yi: "A general's true nature is that of a poet." Xin Qiji's poet is a warrior, and a warrior's nature is a politician. His lyrics are like soy milk juice ground in the great political millstone. He went from martial to civil, then from literature to politics, always tormented by the conflict between detachment and engagement, tormented by being used or abandoned. As a feudal intellectual, he did not approach politics like Tao Yuanming, who only briefly touched it and refrained from politics; Nor did he serve as long as Bai Juyi, balancing both governance and culture. He had a heart that could not let go of the nation or the people, was greater than the sky and fiery in the world; He possessed a body that had been tempered early, could not be suppressed, and could never exhaust it. He did not care about "bowing at the waist for five pecks of rice," nor feared the flood of slander. Therefore, whenever the situation changed, he would be busy and leisurely, rising and falling greatly, advancing and retreating boldly. Any achievement in governance would invite slander and be discarded; When the nation faced danger, he would be summoned and employed. He personally organized troops and submitted famous governance strategies such as "Ten Essays on Celery." He was a constantly anxious politician like Jia Yi, Zhuge Liang, and Fan Zhongyan. He was like a piece of iron, sometimes struck red-hot with a hammer, sometimes thrown into cold water to be quenched. Some say he was a bold and unrestrained faction, inheriting Su Dongpo, but Su's boldness was limited to "the great river flows east" and the vastness of mountains and rivers. Su Zheng was in the peaceful and prosperous Northern Song dynasty, without national hatred or patriotism to temper his poetic soul, nor did he have the flying dust of the barbarians or the clash of metal to bolster his literary power.A true poet can only attain insights aligned with the flow of history and potentially become an embodiment of justice when pressed, twisted, wrung, refined, and hammered by major political events (including social, national, and military conflicts). Poetry, too, can only soar, burn, explode, and resound under the impetus of political winds. The skill of composing poetry lies outside the poem itself, and the effect of poetry also lies beyond the poem. We acknowledge the inherent charm of art, but we appreciate even more the explosive power of art combined with thought. Some say that Xin's lyrics are actually also part of the delicate, graceful school, with a depth of emotion as refined as Liu Yong or Li Qingzhao. Recently, sorrow seems as vast as the heavens; who understands mutual sympathy? Who understands mutual sympathy? Once again, sorrow is used to shape the heavens. All the endless matters of past and present are placed beside sorrow. Placed beside sorrow, yet it moves its home toward the spring of wine. ("Chou Nu'er")
Young people do not know the taste of sorrow, they love to climb high towers. They climb high towers to compose new lyrics and force themselves to speak of sorrow. Now, having fully experienced the taste of sorrow, they wish to speak but hesitate. They wish to speak but hesitate, yet say the weather is cool, what a fine autumn. ("Chou Nu'er")
Liu Yong's abundant emotions and sorrows are limited to "holding hands and looking with tearful eyes" or "the parasol tree accompanies fine rain," whereas the delicate expression of sorrow in Xin's lyrics, within its subtle artistic beauty, contains profound political and life philosophies. A true poet is most skilled in expressing grand emotions and principles with the heart of an ordinary person, able to produce thunderous impact in silence.
I often think, if one were to make a statue of Xin Qiji, the most fitting title would be "Striking Every Railing." Most of his life was spent in feelings of abandonment and helplessness. Those in power did not allow him to serve as an official but prepared for him the adverse environment that would temper his thoughts and art. He was steamed and baked nine times, boiled and fried in oil, hammered countless times. The storms of history, national hatred, the struggle between justice and evil, the entanglement of love and hate, the accumulation of knowledge, the forging of emotion, the sublimation of art, the hammering of words—all these churned and surged in his chest and mind, like magma rolling and swelling within the earth's crust, accumulating impact. Since this energy could neither be turned into military strength nor employed in governance, it could only be funneled entirely into poetry, transforming into poetry. He did not intend to become a lyricist, but the path of military and political service barred, history inadvertently pushed him toward the path of lyricism. In the end, he was cultivated to the point that even a single sigh became a good lyric. Ultimately, talent and thought form the foundation of a person's existence.Like a small tree growing in a crevice of a rock, although it is twisted and compressed and cannot become a flagpole, it can still become a strong dragon-head cane, which is a different kind of value. But the premise is that you must be a tree, not a grass. From 'autumn troop inspection on the battlefield' to 'how pleasant the autumn weather is'; from resolving to cure the illness for the country to finally breaking it apart, chewing it, understanding the meaning of the character Xin, and then adopting the name 'Jiaxuan', mingling with allied seagulls and herons, Xin Qiji went through the maturation of a patriotic idealist and poet. Can poetry be written by just anyone? Can any person become a poet who leaves a name in history? 'When a general achieves fame, thousands of bones wither' — the story of a military general requires the blood of countless sword-wielding warriors. Then, what about a poet who has both intellectual brilliance and artistic charm? For him to achieve recognition, it requires the motion of the times, like the collision of the Earth's tectonic plates: he is sometimes trapped in between and feels tormented, sometimes thrown aside and forced to think calmly. Thus, after accumulating the turmoil of the Northern and Southern Song dynasties over 300 years, a Xin Qiji was born.