Disclaimer: This post was originally written in Chinese and translated into English by GPT-5.2.
After finishing Jostein Gaarder’s most famous novel, Sophie’s World, Wang Zhengxiang still felt unsatisfied. Seizing a sudden burst of inspiration, he planned to hurriedly write a supplementary novel in English, called “A missing episode of Sophie’s World——Human Nature” (A Missing Episode of Sophie’s World—Human Nature). The beginning of the novel was intended to follow the ending of Sophie’s World—Sophie, under Alberto’s guidance, realizes that she and he are merely fictional characters fabricated by Hilde’s father while explaining the history of philosophy to his daughter. As the novel is about to end, she and Alberto no longer have a chance to escape from the world of the novel, so they run to near his home while Hilde’s father, or the major (the major), is not paying attention. —He writes to the point where Sophie sees the major and his daughter sharing a tender family meal at home, and she misses her family who are still pitifully stranded in the world of the novel, so she decides to go back (return), to start over and rewrite everything (restart and rewrite everything). Alberto can’t resist Sophie and agrees. Wang Zhengxiang writes “They disappeared in the shadows……”, as a way of accounting for the cause of this missing-episode piece. Then he writes the title,
Return: Sophie’s World Of Her Own
Chapter One Human Nature
as the entrance into the main text. As Wang Zhengxiang is writing, suddenly someone laughs beside him. He turns around to look and breaks out in a cold sweat—it’s Sophie!
Wang Zhengxiang is startled and says in a low voice: “Are you Sophie? How could you just sneak out of the book and show up?” (Sophie? How did you sneak out of the book and come here!?)
Sophie smiles and says: “It’s me, the real deal! Hey, the weather is so nice right now and you’re still hiding in the library pretending to be a top student (author’s note: in order to respect differences between Chinese and Western cultures, the original text here is supplied: playing nerd; no further explanation below), hurry and take me to stroll around your school!” After saying that, she drags Wang Zhengxiang out of the library.
Wang Zhengxiang still can’t believe what he’s seeing and stammers in reply: “O-okay, okay, okay, then let’s go to Yuelu Academy! It’s nearby.”
Sophie: “Yuelu Academy? Is it Plato’s Academy? Is there any difference? What makes Yuelu Academy Yuelu Academy?”
Wang Zhengxiang: “It’s different. Plato’s Academy is Plato’s Academy, and Yuelu Academy is Yuelu Academy. Plato’s Academy is like a school of philosophy; once you go in, it’s teaching philosophy and discussing philosophical questions. Didn’t Plato say, ‘Let no one enter here who is ignorant of mathematics’? (Let no one enter here who is ignorant of mathematics) That makes it even more like a purely knowledge-transmitting educational institution. As it evolved later, the functions of this institution expanded to conducting research and granting degrees, so it is the origin of the modern university. Yuelu Academy is a traditional Chinese teaching institution, used to cultivate the talent needed by the imperial examination system. Its origin is not as early as the Academy, because the imperial examination system only began to be gradually established in the Sui and Tang dynasties, roughly in the 7th–8th centuries AD, and it truly flourished in the Song dynasty, by which time it was already after the 10th century. Yuelu Academy was built precisely then—more accurately (to be exact), in AD 976. Different from the Academy, Chinese academies, besides teaching to cope with examinations—that is, those Confucian classical works—also emphasized students’ daily cultivation within the academy. There were all kinds of academy rules requiring students to do this and that from getting up to going to sleep every day. The students all lived together, living inside the academy, a bit like what you call a boarding school, but Chinese academies ultimately did not develop into Western-style research institutions and degree-granting institutions. The only similarity is that Chinese academies and your Academy both went through a development process in which private operation, private operation with official assistance, and coexistence of private and official operation all appeared—so it seems both China and the West value the inheritance of knowledge. But what Chinese academies pass down is not only knowledge, but also our traditional set of rituals, that is, the code of social behaviors (the code of social behaviors).”
Sophie exclaims: “You really know a lot! Interesting!” As soon as the words fall, Wang Zhengxiang has already taken Sophie, bought tickets, and entered Yuelu Academy.
Wang Zhengxiang forces a smile: “It’s most kind of you to think so, and thank you!” and continues, “Right! I forgot to tell you: Yuelu Academy is my university, that is, the predecessor of Hunan University. That’s why I brought you here first. So, in other words (in other words), Hunan University is a school with a thousand-year history! This may be nothing in your West, but in China it’s very remarkable!”
Sophie is already captivated by the patterns on the roof of Hexi Terrace and the text on the walls, and answers a bit absentmindedly: “OK. And what does that character mean? And how about this one?” Sophie points to the “寿” character on the left, and then to the “福” character on the right.
Pointing at the character “寿”, Wang Zhengxiang says: “Literally (literally), this character can be said to be life span, but here it refers to longevity (longevity). There’s an old Chinese saying: ‘Life at seventy has been rare since ancient times,’ and everyone wants to live a bit longer.” Then he points to the character “福” and says: “This one is hard to translate. You could say blessing, but Chinese people are irreligious (irreligious); they’re just superstitious (superstitious). I think it should be fortune, because Chinese people all want to have good luck or make a fortune (make a fortune). Literally, it’s luckiness or to be lucky—those unexpected benefits you can encounter in life. These two characters are written a bit strangely; they’re artistic character (artistic character), and ordinary Chinese people probably wouldn’t really be able to read them either. As for the pattern carvings on the roof you’re looking at now, they more or less carry these meanings too. It’s a long story and hard to explain—let’s keep walking and looking!”
Sophie says with great interest: “Interesting!”
As they speak, they arrive at the main gate of Yuelu Academy. On the gate hangs the plaque “岳麓书院”, and on both sides of the gate is the couplet “惟楚有才，于斯为盛”. Wang Zhengxiang proactively points to the plaque and explains: “Do you see those four Chinese characters on the gate? That’s the four-character form of Yuelu Academy, but you have to read from left to right, and the characters here are traditional character (traditional character) used in Chinese tradition; we don’t use them now—we use simplified character (simplified character). The couplet (couplet) on both sides below is composed of a pair of sentences linguistically corresponding to each other structurally and functionally (a pair of sentences linguistically corresponding to each other structurally and functionally). Literally, it means: Only Chu’s got talent and the case is excessively true right here.”
Sophie sighs: “Awesome! But is that actually true? In the West there’s a saying like this, It’s all Greece to me, meaning I don’t understand (make no sense). What I want to say is, It’s all Chinese to me and Chinese is even more complicated and twisted than Greece! Don’t fool me, okay! Also, why is there such a saying!”
Wang Zhengxiang says: “Haha, I won’t fool you. But that’s a long story too. Historically speaking, this statement isn’t without reason (some true); it may even be quite right. In the Qin dynasty, that is, when China first had a unified central big government, the other states were all destroyed, but only the people here said: as long as there are still three households in Chu land, then the ones who can destroy the Qin dynasty must be descendants of those three households! After the Qin dynasty fell, the Han dynasty was established, and the founding father (founding father) of the Han dynasty was indeed from Chu land! The most popular literary genres (genres) of the Han dynasty were indeed variations (variation) of the literary genres from before the state of Chu. Later, when academies were established, the one that was done best and still exists now is Yuelu Academy—right here! Moreover, in modern Chinese history there is a saying, ‘Of the ministers and generals who revive the dynasty, nine out of ten are from Huxiang.’ Although this was said in the 19th century, the 20th century was also like this. The founder of the People’s Republic of China was Mao Zedong from Hunan, and many of his famous followers were also mostly Hunan people!”
Sophie says: “Fair enough. It sounds like that’s something and it truly is. Anyway, it’s really impressive to know what you just said.”
Wang Zhengxiang smiles: “Indeed!”
Sophie walks through the main gate of Yuelu Academy, passes the second gate, and comes to the lecture hall. After carefully listening to the story Wang Zhengxiang tells about the Zhu-Zhang debates, she asks in confusion: “Why is it that the more I listen, it seems the focus of this academic discussion is that the two of them discussed for three days and three nights, rather than what they discussed? What exactly did they discuss?”
Wang Zhengxiang chuckles and says: “What an eye! Actually I don’t really know what these two people said back then, and no one told me. I myself don’t know much about this period of history and their academic positions either. I know a bit about their academic methods, but it’s not interesting—never mind. Some time ago, an American sinologist (sinologist) came here to give a lecture, called Hoyt Cleveland Tillman. Although he said he’s more like a historian (historian), what he said over and over was just that Zhu Xi and Zhang Shi were equals, exchanging and mutually promoting each other, unlike later people who deified Zhu Xi. But how significant this debate was, I still don’t understand. However, he accidentally expressed one viewpoint that was very interesting: he said that quite a few people think the history of Chinese philosophy is not as interesting as the history of Western philosophy—I think he probably thinks so too. Actually, I think so as well.”
Sophie is surprised: “Really? You don’t like your country’s traditional intellectual heritage? How so?”
Wang Zhengxiang explains: “It’s not that I don’t like it; it’s that after seeing too much of it, it feels boring. China has many very interesting ideas, but philosophical thought is not as interesting as the West. I’ve read several English originals of histories of philosophy, and the more I read, the more I found that when your Western history of philosophy is written out, the levels are distinct, and how each theoretical paradigm (paradigm) changes, and what it changes into, can all be explained clearly, as if history really progresses along the route of what Hegel (Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel) called the world spirit (world spirit) or a dialectic process—history keeps moving forward in a tortuous way through the transformation of Thesis-Antithesis-Synthesis, from the Subjective Spirit of individual self-consciousness to the Objective Spirit of group mutual recognition and illumination, and finally to the Absolute Spirit where the grand meaning of the world becomes self-evident. The historical thread gradually becomes clear at a glance. And the basis for this transformation is observant and logical, even though after philosophy developed past Kant, ethics became increasingly pronounced—but ethics is not the main body of philosophy. China is different. Reading Chinese philosophy history over and over is all about self-cultivation and temperament, governing the state and regulating the family, with far too much preaching (preaching). And what everyone says, over and over, is all about contending for orthodoxy—contending over whose annotations on the sages best match the sages’ original meaning; and that meaning has long been impossible to verify! Your Western Whitehead (Alfred North Whitehead) said that your Western history of philosophy is all footnotes to Plato, but this is different! Your thinking has clear levels; ours is not easy to think through even after thinking for a long time, and what we think about is mainly ethical—the more you think, the more tedious it gets. The scope isn’t big enough—though they ‘treat the people as their kin and all things as their fellows’ and ‘take the world as their own responsibility,’ they can’t do it; in fact, it may not even be that—frogs in a well still have a sky too. In short, I don’t like it.”
Seeing Wang Zhengxiang complain about Chinese tradition, Sophie thinks this topic is not suitable to discuss further: first, she worries it will never end; second, she fears she won’t be able to respond well. So she points to the Imperial Library Tower in front of them and says: “If we go further there’s no road; we have to go from the side, right? What is that building ahead?”
Wang Zhengxiang’s resentment is not yet gone, but he says with some emotion: “And you know what? The saddest fact is that, to a certain extent, China has almost broken with its tradition (hearing this, Sophie realizes that Wang Zhengxiang is not as opposed to tradition as she thought). Your Western philosophical thought can be passed down from generation to generation in an orderly, developing way, and its influence permeates all aspects. Last time I asked that American professor—he’s a professor at Arizona State University (Arizona State University). I said: at your university there is a very famous linguistics professor, Chomsky (Noam Chomsky), and his theory is influenced by Descartes (Rene Descartes), the philosopher Alberto talked about who doubts all day whether life is just a dream. I heard that Einstein’s theory was also deeply influenced by Schopenhauer (Arthur Schopenhauer) and Kant (Immanuel Kant). The theoretical starting points of many of your scientists can also find their basis in earlier philosophical theories. Today’s international linguistics, literary theory, political science, sociology, jurisprudence, psychology, and so on—all are permeated by the influence of that set of philosophy you’ve inherited since ancient times. But China is not like this. Our disciplines are all Westernized, or imported from the West. Aside from specialized work on ancient philosophical thought, or related research on ancient documents, we completely ignore that ancient philosophy set. If it’s like this in academia, you can imagine the public. We previously had the cultural revolution (cultural revolution), which brought a major rupture to our traditional culture. Now society is still so westernized (westernized), so I say that to a certain extent, China has almost broken with its tradition. Sigh.” Wang Zhengxiang sighs, comes back to himself, and asks: “Right, what did you ask just now?”
Sophie neither agrees nor disagrees with what Wang Zhengxiang said and didn’t really understand it, so she quickly repeats the previous question.
Wang Zhengxiang thinks for a moment and says: “That building is called Yushu Tower. Literally it’s royal library or royal study. It’s called a study because many of the books inside are rare version (rare version); only the academy’s graduate students can go in to read them, and they can’t borrow them out. Right, I forgot to tell you: Yuelu Academy is currently still running as a school as well; it has been re-run in the last ten or twenty years, and there’s only this one in China. Before, quite a few domestic newspapers reported on Yuelu Academy’s undergraduate tutor system and praised it lavishly. This is actually a myth of reminiscence (myth of reminiscence). Ancient academies may indeed have had high teaching quality, but that was elite education; it can’t be compared with today. You know, the media are biased (biased) and not trustworthy. Also, once you reach here, you’ve reached the end. Did you notice that from Hexi Terrace, walking straight all the way, it’s a straight line, and on both sides of this line, although not symmetrical, they both extend outward relative to the center. This is the basic pattern of traditional Chinese architectural complex layout. Did you notice that compared with your Western magnificent Gothic Architecture (Gothic Architecture), this kind of Chinese architectural complex is way too low-slung (way too low-slung). This makes me think of what a Chinese scholar said, named Li Zehou, also in America. In his early work, The Path of Beauty (The Path of Beauty), he said that Chinese architecture is made of wooden materials, warm and comfortable, spread out flat in plan, giving people a sense of layered planes, very pleasant and comfortable; it is secular (secular), and requires a long time to slowly experience deeply. Western Gothic architecture is built of cold stone, and is extremely tall and vast, giving people a towering feeling, shocking the heart, making people immediately feel fear and obedience—this is very religious. In addition, a building complex spread out on a plane trades space for time; that is to say, this place is worth savoring and touring carefully; it can be lived in and toured, and the longer you stay here, the deeper the savoring, and the easier feelings are to grow, producing an infinite gentle affection, expressing an idea of slow life and slow rhythm. These buildings are simple, the layout is neat yet staggered, forming a harmonious whole. Look, Yuelu Academy is built against the mountain, living in harmony with nature; the nature-human integration (nature-human integration) that China advocates—everything returning to one—is embodied here. I like it very much. Right, simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, is also a Western famous saying I like. But according to the spirit of what that sentence says, less is more should be even better, haha.”
Sophie looks puzzled and says: “What you say makes sense; Yuelu Academy really is constructed the way you described. But it would be best if I could climb up to that Yushu Tower and look down. I think this will let me better understand those things you said (which I suppose will provide with me good insights into what’s been demonstrated). If only a strong wind could blow me up there. I’m a character who came out of a novel; I’m a soul (soul). When the wind rises, I can fly up.”
Wang Zhengxiang bursts into laughter: “I think the fairy in Peter Pan that I’ve seen has that ability too. Chinese tradition has what’s called martial arts, and within it there’s a technique (technique) called Qing Kung (Qing Kung), which lets people leap onto eaves and walk on walls, treading on high places on walls as if on level ground. If you’re interested, maybe you can try it. Haha.”
No sooner have the words fallen than suddenly a gust of wild wind comes howling. Sophie is blown onto the roof of Yushu Tower! But right as Sophie suddenly disappears, what follows is that with a boom, Yushu Tower collapses.
Wang Zhengxiang feels as if his body is suddenly electrified and his head trembles for a moment; in a muddled way he becomes aware that a thick book is pressing on his left foot. Wang Zhengxiang’s cold, numb left foot, hit by this book that has fallen from nowhere, is smashed from sleep into deep sleep; it burns with numbness, like a mouth that, after eating extremely spicy food, then downs a bottle of carbonated drink. His two arms stiffly stretch out into the limited space on both sides with creaking squeaks, making blatantly grating noise. He raises his head and straightens his upper body. In his bleary eyes and under the dancing lamplight, he sees, in the center of a notebook with writing on it, a line of snaking foreign letters flickering, seemingly:
Return: Sophie’s World Of Her Own
Chapter One Human Nature
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