Perchance to Dream

30. Argument and Refutation

Classical Chinese dance wasn't a term Ling Fengxiao was familiar with. He knew the imperial palace had special court dancers while the ethnic tribes beyond the kingdom's borders also had their own traditions, but that was about it. In truth, the "classical" part of the dance form referred to the ancient past—a past that was now Mei Yanran's present, although she was too worked up to notice right now.

Ling Fengxiao's eyes flickered with interest before he steadied his gaze on her. "How so?"

"Because it expresses the soul!" Mei Yanran said as if it were obvious.

"As do paintings, calligraphy, and music," Ling Fengxiao pointed out mercilessly. If she wanted a debate, he'd give her a proper one. "Without the burdensome shell of a body, might I add."

"Hah?!" Mei Yanran stood up straighter at his remark. "How can you dance without a body? That's a paradox!"

"It is only a reminder," Ling Fengxiao said smoothly. "That the human form distracts as much as it attracts. Dance uses the common form that all people possess and shapes it into something exquisite, it is true—but its very presentation serves as a lure for wandering thoughts."

"Then that's the problem of the dancer or her movements—or even the viewers themselves," Mei Yanran argued back. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; you won't see beautiful things unless your thoughts are beautiful too!"

"Is that so? Then clearly, the other arts are superior," Ling Fengxiao nodded placidly. "Pure music elevates the senses, refined verse takes us to higher realms of thoughts, exquisite paintings cleanses our eyes."

"Dance can do those things too!"

"Ah but, as you've said, it is prone to shortcomings in its viewerbase and performers," Ling Fengxiao reminded her, before mercilessly adding on, "And as an art form holding common court with street performers and...the ones beneath red lanterns, it is far more difficult to distinguish its fair from its foul."

"That's a shortcoming of all arts, not just dance!" Mei Yanran countered. "There will always be ugly and beautiful parts to any kind of creative profession. The question is which kind a person prefers, and how much they try to improve the art, not ruin it."

"If dance is as elevated as you claim," Ling Fengxiao attacked next, using the same sort of relentless rhetoric that would paint his fierce reputation as Prime Minister in the future, "Why do the history books make no mentions of its virtues? Where are the scholars singing its praises, or the masterpieces left for future generations to consider? You and I could both be wrong, but what of a people and its past? Could generations ignore its merits since the time of our ancestors?"

T-that's because this is still ancient China! Mei Yanran realized at the same time she gave a jolt. The traditions of Chinese dance were scattered or passed on from teacher to students; they weren't systematically organized until contemporary times, and certainly rarely recorded in those dusty history texts beyond mentions of altar rituals, celebrations, or the like. It would take millennia before the art form matured to its current level of technique and precision, and even now the style was less well known than its distant neighbor, ballet.

Thus, Chinese dancers were typically associated with the highly regulated dances of the royal courts, the mixed and varied styles of its ethnic dances, or worse—performances of brothel courtesans that gave it a low reputation. Such dances were simply meant to entertain or distract, and served no higher purpose. Mei Yanran could imagine Ling Fengxiao thinking of all these as he spoke his arguments and knew it all made sense, but she didn't want to give up.

Dance was her life. Her first love—even before she read about Ling Fengxiao. She already swore to be true to herself to win his heart, and that meant holding fast to core beliefs.