"This is what literature is all about, Ba," Xiang Shan said loudly. "Literature, do you understand?"
Mr. Babbitt was somewhat confused, "The term sounds like something those lords in the Scientific Knight Order should be researching... the form of the word 'literature'..."
"No one has ordained 'what knowledge should be studied by whom.' Every discipline that is created exists so that anyone can learn from it," Xiang Shan stated.
"That story... is that literature? You mean, 'literature' is a kind of... a kind of sad and suffering activity?"
"That's what the creator of this story said." Xiang Shan closed his eyes, digging through the hard drive, "'Every moment, every chance word cast and lingering gaze, every deep or mocking thought, every subtle beat of the human heart, likewise, the fluff of poplars, or a glint of starlight reflected in a still pond at night—are particles of gold dust.'"
