Chapter One: The Initial Covenant
At the very bottom of the composition lies a wooden bridge, beneath which a rushing stream flows; this small bay of water is the lingering wake of a waterfall gathered from the mountain peak. The rocks under the bridge piers bear two round, hollow eyes, resembling a mechanical giant frog silently exhaling water vapor. The rocks on the right transmute into a massive lion's head, where the sedimentary layers are arranged in neat, soft lines, appearing like a mane fluttering to the right: this is the very essence of the "Jie-suo" (Raveling Rope) brushstrokes. On the other side of the bridge, a cold, stern face composed of light-colored stones gazes at the visitor, its mechanically structured ears capable of precisely capturing the traveler's footsteps.
The one leaning on the staff has just passed through here, discovering that these "stone spirits" harbor no hostility. The moment he stepped into the mountain forest, he felt his body expanding and diffusing; this sense of "isomorphism of all things" dissolved his unease as an interloper. Fear usually stems from the rejection of the "strange other," but when he realized that the rocks before him could also move toward him through "transmutation," a covenant of coexistence was quietly reached. Safety here is built upon the realization: "I am the mountain stone, and the mountain stone is me."
Chapter Two: The Forest of Functions
Crossing the stream, the traveler enters a grove of six or seven giant trees. They grow against the rocks, and as the drop in the mountain face is vast, the trees in the back are hoisted quite high. The crowns there are lighter in color, possessing saucer-like cyber forms; the lower crowns are dense, like huddling monsters, some transmuted with complex wing structures, growing worm gears and cogs; lower still, the crowns transform directly into a cluster of factories, with brick blast furnaces standing side-by-side.
Walking through these "factory trees," the traveler feels no oppression from the industrial forest. He discovers that in this world, the boundary between the living and the non-living is blurred: those crowns of metal and cement breathe the air, while the beasts bearing the stress of the earth's crust must also conform to a stable and precise logic. They-including the traveler himself-are all indispensable parts of a landscape system. This shared responsibility grants him a sense of safety and certainty.
Chapter Three: The Deep Valley of Logic
The mountain path turns, entering the deepest valley of the entire painting, its top vanishing into the depth of field. There lie dark woods and pale distant mountains; before the woods, a few scattered houses form a village hidden deep within the valley. The furnishings within the houses are somewhat absurd-half Chinese architecture, half abandoned factory. Descending from the village is a long, winding flight of stairs, with the mountain rocks on either side appearing aggressive, like giant snakes or frogs, squeezing the steps into crooked shapes. This staircase is the "travelable" clue of the painting, winding around a fountain-like cluster of peaks before entering the foreground and transitioning into a mountain gallery road as the slope levels out.
He strolls upward amidst the turning and backward glances of several giant beasts. Those seemingly unintentional gestures precisely reserve a clear path, acting as a silent invitation from the great mountain itself.
Equally precise is the far-left side of the image: a majestic waterfall kicks up mist, causing the surrounding rocks to wrinkle like soft streamers. They are mingled with bearings and turbine chambers, fluttering disordered in the wind-but are they truly so "disordered"? No, exactly as he predicted: no matter how the rocks sway, they must leave a straight edge, allowing the waterfall to obey the laws of gravity.
Chapter Four: The Mooring at the Heights
The traveler pauses halfway up the mountain. Beside him, pale rocks surge upward from the bottom of the frame. The lines of the stones never break, reaching a spherical terminus at the top. Though made of stone, their waists are as soft as a fountain's spray. Observing the top structures closely, some resemble upturned faces, some like turning small beasts, and some like a mechanical ox head, with dark manes transmuted from shrubs.
Shifting the gaze further upward, as the "Jie-suo" strokes gradually lengthen, the brushwork depicting the steep mountain body transforms into a school of great fish surging toward the center. The crowding heads form a dark, patterned central seam that upholds the structure of the entire main peak. Looking closer, small fish are squeezed between the large ones, and the mountain is inhabited by dinosaurs, conches, corals, and "fish-men" who are part bird and part fish. Their silhouettes extend along with the great fish. The beasts on the outer rim of the mountain take various forms-some dragging octopus tentacles, others with elephant trunks. They all huddle toward the central seam, filling the mountain peak with centripetal potential energy.
This potential energy he can feel, and he can control. Though he is within it, he can judge by sensitive intuition: the pivot that moves the whole-the very center of the entire map-lies right at the tip of the long staff in his hand.
Chapter Five: The Monologue of All Things
A massive stone platform cuts the main peak in half. The platform is smooth, like a lid, and in the shadow it casts, small beasts hide, peeking out in all directions.
Above the platform, the final peak pierces deep into the clouds. Long "Jie-suo" strokes transmute the topmost rocks into six or seven layered spirit beasts. The sporadic shrubs between the rock crevices are their round, deep eyes. Their dark boundaries form a slightly tilted, metaphor-laden character for "King" (王). This main structure seems to be the primary theme of this landscape: a certainty "calculated" by a higher will.
In this moment, all visual "illusions" begin to recede. He no longer distinguishes between stone, beast, or cloud. The natural brushwork weaves all elements into an infinite web, leading him to realize that only the "dissolution of the self" brings ultimate safety: when all things are isomorphic, the individual is no longer an isolated island that could be erased at any moment, but becomes part of the whole truth. As long as the laws of this landscape do not collapse, the traveler, synchronized with the mountains and rivers, attains absolute eternity.
The Inner Wish Sings：
