信是慢的，要等，也因为心知等待的漫长，思考会变得深远、字句都斟酌；经典高而美，可站在门外时会觉得它们远，不知该怎样去接近。我们想通过书信构建一场长期的经典共读之旅，邀请您就喜爱的经典撰写书信，同某位陌生的笔友共同阅读经典、感受生命的丰盈。

活动参与流程

1、招募与报名：面向全校师生招募志愿者，需在2026年5月10日中午12：00前发送信息至公邮：gdxy_letter@163.com，主题格式：“书信共读报名+共读类型序号+真实姓名+学院+学号+拟选共读书籍（选填）”。例：书信共读报名+①+XXX+古典学系+202**********+《论语》。

2、信件内容：志愿者需选择指定书单内的书籍准备信件，指定书单为《“52经典悦读”书目》（2020版）》，见文末附图；信件包含原文节选与相应导读、感悟，参考文末《志愿者信件内容展示》。

3、信件去向：首封书信通过审校后将由主办方寄送，共有4种书信共读类型可供志愿者选择：

①面向中小学生：信件将寄送至合作中小学，形成短期结对、定期回信。

②面向大学生：信件将在川大校园内固定地点放置，供不同专业的同学自由取阅，不定期回信。

③面向社会书店访客：信件将在合作书店内固定地点放置，供社会访客自由取阅，不定期回信。

④面向海外读者：目前仅接收英文信件，将寄送至海外合作机构放置，不定期回信。

我们会将部分信件推荐至合作刊物，根据志愿者意愿在互动专栏以实名或匿名作品的形式刊登，志愿者可在提交信件时备注是否参与刊物推荐。

4、回信管理：读者回信优先反馈给原信作者；若作者退出项目或放弃回复，回信将进入待回信笺库，由其他志愿者接力回复。

5、信件提交办法：项目信件需要以word文档形式线上提交。发送报名邮件后，通过身份认证即可进入QQ群，本学期以及暑假期间的四次信件提交时段与通道将在群内公布，志愿者可根据自身安排灵活选择时段参与。

6、参与证明：项目为每封合格信件提供4小时基础志愿时长认定，根据信件质量有所增补，志愿时长采取集中录入的方式在“志愿四川”平台体现。

愿以文会友、慢慢快进，期待您的来信！

附：四川大学“52经典悦读”部分书目节选

一、中国经典著作（按成书年代排序）

二、外国经典著作（按成书年代排序）

附：志愿者信件内容展示

①面向中小学生

【原文共读】

子衿

诗经·国风·郑风〔先秦〕

青青子衿，悠悠我心。纵我不往，子宁不嗣音？

青青子佩，悠悠我思。纵我不往，子宁不来？

挑兮达兮，在城阙兮。一日不见，如三月兮！

【写给共读者的话】

同学小友：

展信佳！

能够作为一个四川大学的学生、古典学园的志愿者为你写这封信，我深以为幸，也有些惶恐。我们希望向高中生讲讲经典，因为经典的学问，归根究底乃是人学，读经典，乃是求通过学习获得道德、文明的生命。这是以心换心的事，如果任何一方心中所怀揣的是敌意，恐怕便成就“仁义道德吃人”这样的恶果。回想高中时代，我对未来和自己都充满不安，对许多“过来人”的话，往往十分警惕。倘若我的信件让这种警惕延伸到我将要谈及的经典之中，以至于你和经典距离更加遥远，那真是莫大的罪过。因此我要言明：我的话是不必然的。我希望能够为你展示我所看到的经典，同时向你承诺，如果有心，你一定也能看到它。假如你不能同意我下面的话，请不必对自己薄情，以为是自己出错，也不要急着一把推开，以为我所说的是不切身的陈言。我希望，比起课本上的文章，我和你的交流不必即有答案，因此能够作为敞开的、通向经典的门径。

这封信里，我想谈《诗经》郑风的《子衿》。

《诗经》在中小学的课本当中被称作“中国古代第一部诗歌总集”，这也是大部分大学的中文系、历史系会采用的讲法。这个讲法并没有大错，但是，如果仅仅以诗歌集看待诗经，看到的是它的文学价值、语言学价值、史料价值，作为“经”的部分却朦胧在后。“诗三百，一言以蔽之，思无邪”的好处，也就不容易读出了。《诗经》共三百一十一篇，六篇为笙诗。这是孔子删诗得到的成果。读诗经，则必将之当作一儒家开创的经典而读。如果这个说法有些不亲切，可以用顾随先生的话，“经”，“经典”，就是内涵不变易的意思。诗经当中的温柔敦厚之教，兴观群怨之志，哀乐不淫之情，都历千载而能人同此心、心同此理，故可以称为经。如此读诗经，方真正入经典之门，而不致以诗无达诂为迷雾了。

青青子衿，悠悠我心。縱我不往，子寧不嗣音？

青青子佩，悠悠我思。縱我不往，子寧不來？

挑兮達兮，在城闕兮。一日不見，如三月兮。

读《诗》必读毛传、郑注。毛传开篇言明诗旨：“子衿，刺学校废也。乱世则学校不修焉。”这里的学校和今天所说的学校，含义没有太大差异。刺，就是讽劝，和“面刺寡人者”中的“刺”含义也无大异。毛传认为，《子衿》这篇诗，是当时世道混乱，学校的活动荒废了，有人因作来讽劝这个时事的。这个解读和现代语文教学中的诗旨相差甚远。这首诗你想必并不陌生，老师会讲，这是女子思念男子，男子不来，她徘徊思念的诗。《子衿》言男女之情的讲法，是晦庵朱子在《诗集传》里首倡的：“此亦淫奔之诗也。”就是说这首诗是讲男子、女子偷偷发展感情。今天的学生更容易接受这个讲法，而对毛传比较陌生。因此，虽然董子明言“诗无达诂”，以我大学学生的功力，也绝不敢说要在两说之中争个高下对错，却要在你面前稍稍为毛传的讲法作一辩护。

诗经有赋比兴之艺。兴，“先言他物以引起所咏之物也”。《子衿》开篇言“青青子衿”起兴，以此引出后文，那么主人公的身份一定和青衿有关。郑笺和诗集传中都讲到“礼，父母在，衣纯以青”，就是说父母都在世，孩子就该穿青色的衣。诗里还有“衿”，也就是衣领。毛诗里说“青衿，青领也，学子之所服”，穿着青衣领的“子”，当然就是学子了。古人不同身份穿着的服饰有细致的讲究，学生衣服青领之制，至明清皆然。也就是说，这首诗所咏的人物是一位学子。固然也可以认为学子而有男女之情，但在解读上不免算是绕了远路，不甚恰切。

这样，一位老师呼唤学生的画面就跃然纸上了。国风中的许多篇目使用三章体，《子衿》亦然。三章体在组织情绪的递进时简单明了，可说是格式化，容易创作也容易接受。《子衿》刺学校废，先是“子宁不嗣音”，“嗣”，毛传释为“习”，学校学过的东西需要练习，虽然文理可通，与后文的呼应却不甚切。郑笺、诗集传均释为“续”，就是传来消息的意思。学生不来上课，甚至于连假也不请，所谓“医不顺路，师不叩门”，做老师的等不来学生，而竟要至于主动作诗讽刺，这是多么伤心！最后说出来的仍然只是一句“怎么能不给我来消息呢”，这是多么仁厚的君子风度，谆谆之态溢于语言。再进一章，就要说到老师的期待，等无可等，学生没有消息，难道要老师去请学生吗？肯定是不行的。书犹药也，师犹医也，学生不愿学，病人不知自己有疾病，怎么唐突施针施药呢？这一层也不直言，波折开来，说成“我不去，你就不知道过来吗？”，语极殷切，宛然是今天的学生也熟悉不过的老师语气。到第三章，前面所用的吟咏已经承载不了更多感情了，故而一转视角，直截写破：“挑兮达兮，在城阙兮”，“挑”“达”，往来相见貌，本该在学校里往来的学生走到了城楼上，兴致高涨，举止轻率。古代之“学”，最重在修身立人，而老师当然已经徘徊踟蹰坐立不安了，心忧如煎，甚于前两章之“宁不”，实在是已经按捺不下了。一日不见，如三月兮，最终忍无可忍，必须言之在口：老师是多么希望见到学生，士大夫是多么希望见到教育繁荣兴盛，“礼乐不可一日而废”，也就是所谓百年树人，教育一天的荒废难道不是意味着十天百天也补不上的漏洞吗？极有层次，娓娓道来而又不失情感之诚。

自朱子提“淫奔”说后，此诗乃写男女私情之论渐盛。然而朱子《白鹿洞赋》中也有“广青衿之疑问，宏菁莪之乐育”句，即用毛传意思。朱子信古学古之心，绝不能等闲视之，亦非意欲废毛传而自立。至于今日西学东渐，而使此诗在课本中沦为“爱情”等旨，前贤之说则一概不提，青衿教育之志遂不为学子知，是有志之学人尤为痛心的。

诗教之温柔敦厚，化物育民之德，历两千五百年而不减光辉。我只是大学学生，才疏学浅，在一封信中能够阐发的内容不敢说足以管窥其精神。但是我相信上文所讲，和小友在学校课本中曾学到的知识或有不同。如果这些不同能引起你探求之念，进而愿意怀好学之心更读诸种经典，则我至为幸慰。《诗经》中如有你愿意讨论的篇目，可以在覆信中谈谈。如果你对上文所讲有不解处，愿意和我探讨，我也濡笔相待。如果高中学习生活当中有困惑、难处，或是学有所得，愿意和我分享，当然同样欢迎。希望你相信，只要有好学心，对古典和经典的亲近绝不因为人生的阶段、学习的领域不同便不能发生。许多切身的问题，往往能够在当中找到最切身的答案。

祝好！翘盼回覆！

                                                                                              

白屋

丙午年三月初一于蓉城

④面向海外读者

Key Words: The Analects of Confucius; the Dao; the Meaning of Death

April 6, 2026

Dear Friend,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I am Xiao Chong, an undergraduate at Sichuan University and a volunteer at the Academy of Classical Studies. As I write, I feel both excitement and a certain hesitation. I have come to realize that while the Classics are timeless and open to all, each encounter with them depends on a particular καιρός (kairos)—an opportune moment. If this letter happens to be such a moment for you, I would be honored. If not, please take it simply as a reflection on my own growth.

For this first exchange, I would like to discuss a passage from The Analects of Confucius (4.8), " The Master said, 'If one learns of the Dao in the morning, dying at dusk is acceptable'" (zi yue: "zhao wen dao, xi si ke yi." 子曰: “朝闻道，夕死可矣。”)

The moment I truly grasped this passage was my own kairos. The literal meaning is straightforward, yet its starkness invites questions and doubt. My understanding of this passage has shifted over time, and I would like to share that process.

At first, I read it as an expression of tragic resolve—almost a form of martyrdom. I took the Dao to mean "righteousness" (yi义), as in Mencius' well-known statement, "Life is what I desire; righteousness is also what I desire. If I cannot have both, I shall forsake life and choose righteousness." Yet history is filled with martyrs of many kinds—those who died for religion, the state, love, wealth, or power. What, then, distinguishes the Dao of Confucius and Mencius?

Another difficulty also arose—Confucius says nothing about the interval between "learning the Dao" and death. Does one simply wait, detached and self-assured, for the end? Such an attitude would seem both passive and arrogant, leaving no room for action and reducing the Dao to a kind of self-satisfaction.

My perspective shifted when I encountered the following commentary:

Why is there life in the morning? It is for learning of the Dao. Once the Dao is learned, the meaning of life is disclosed. Why face death in the evening? It is for practicing the Dao. Though one may die in the course of practice, the death itself becomes immortal. Death is merely the cessation of the physical body (rou shen肉身); it does not diminish the Embodiment of Dao (dao shen道身). One who understands the Dao knows this Embodiment of Dao is undying, and thus can face death with composure... The bearer of the Dao holds fast unto death, perfecting the Dao without fear. Herein lies the truth of learning the Dao and the tenacity of upholding the Dao." (from Interpretations of the Analects)

In essence, "learning the Dao" is not the pursuit of an external goal, but the realization of life's inherent meaning. The acceptability of "dying in the evening" lies in what follows immediately—the practice of the Dao. What is "learned" is the generative Dao of life (sheng sheng zhi Dao 生生之道), present within each individual, rather than a doctrine that demands devotion to something external. It concerns how human life—and indeed all living things—comes to be fully established.

"Learning the Dao," therefore, is not merely the passive reception of information, which, however substantial, remains alien to oneself. Rather, it is the recognition of the Dao's connection to oneself and, through oneself, to the world as a whole. Because this Dao arises from within, once understood, it is enacted spontaneously, without the need for command or deliberation. Although Confucius speaks only of "learning," the dimension of practice is already implicit in the very meaning of the Dao.

This resolved my earlier doubts. At the time, I wrote in my notes,

Confucius—who traveled tirelessly through a fractured world—would never have chosen to sit quietly awaiting death, nirvana, or transcendence. Once the Dao is understood, it is practiced immediately. Learning the Dao does not lead to escape into another world, but to its realization within this one. To embody the Dao is to move through the world, contributing even the smallest good and alleviating even the slightest suffering. Confucians seek nothing outside reality.

There is now a claim that Chinese culture lacks "education about death," often citing Confucius' remark to Zilu, "Not yet understanding life, how can one understand death?" (wei zhi sheng, yan zhi si? 未知生，焉知死？). This is sometimes taken as an avoidance of death. Yet when read alongside our passage, a different interpretation emerges. Confucius does not avoid speaking of death.

The key lies in the word "acceptable" (ke 可). In The Analects of Confucius, this rarely implies necessity. "Dying in the evening" is not required, but presented as a powerful hypothetical: if one has fully understood and practiced the Dao, one can face even sudden death with composure. But if death does not come, one does not seek it out. Instead, one continues to practice the Dao in daily  life—becoming more kind, more resilient, and enabling others to live with greater tranquility. This is the true path to a meaningful life.

In this sense, "understanding life" (zhi sheng 知生) means learning and practicing the Dao, while "understanding death" (zhi sheng 知死) means that, after a life fully lived, death is no longer a source of fear, but the natural completion of life. Life and death are two aspects of a single whole—"one yet two, two yet one," as Cheng Yi (1033-1107), a neo-Confucian philosopher, puts it. Yet as long as we live, our focus should remain on life, so that we do not betray it even in small ways.

In reality, "dying at dusk" rarely happens. More often, we wake again the next morning. Life is gradual and extended, not brief and dramatic—and this can make suffering feel more persistent. At times, both you and I may feel overwhelmed by disorder or pain.

Yet it is precisely in such concrete living that the Dao is realized—not in grand gestures, but in small choices, such as maintaining a non-harmful attitude even when it is difficult, or preserving honesty and clarity when one is exhausted or angry. Conversely, once we are grounded in what is most essential and find inner support in the Dao, we become less anxious about gain and loss. This steadiness keeps us from being overwhelmed by external judgments or losing our way in the face of frustration. Our present circumstances may be marked by pressure and uncertainty, but perhaps it is precisely at such times that we should ask: what matters most in life? In this process of reflection, the Classics may offer genuine guidance.

I would like to close with the a quote from Zengzi, "I die in righteousness, and that is enough." (wu de zheng er bi, s iyi yi. 吾得正而毙，斯已矣。) To conclude one's life in righteousness—that is a life without regret.

This is my first letter to you, sharing my reflections on some quotes of classical texts and what they may offer us. If any part resonates with you, or if you wish to share your own thoughts, I would be very glad to hear from you.

Wishing you peace, steadiness, and something good in each day.

Your friend from afar,

Xiao Chong (小虫)