在江汉水网与古楚山川之间，我追溯八百年文明的脉动，
将祖源、典籍、巫仪、乐舞编织成一幅新的楚文明图景。
In the waterways and mountains of ancient Chu I trace the pulse of eight centuries of civilization, weaving ancestry, manuscripts, rituals and music into a living tapestry of Chu Civilization.
本篇从毛家咀遗址的地景差异、纪南城宫殿台基的群组承托、楚考烈王墓的物质转化、以及九鼎八簋的礼器系统，重建楚文明的“起承转合”生成语法。本文指出：楚式营建学的稳定不是来自统一，而是来自差异之间的互相成全；是以“反辅”“纪纲”为底层机制，在变化中组织、在互托中站稳、在结构中成形的东方系统思维。
This chapter rebuilds the generative grammar of Chu-style construction through four key cases: the geomorphic divergence of Maojiajü, the cluster-based platform foundations of Jinan City, the transformative material logic of King Kaolie’s tomb, and the ritual system of the Nine Ding and Eight Gui. It argues that stability in Chu civilization does not arise from uniformity but from the mutual completion of differences—a system driven by “counter-support” (fanfu) and “chronometric ordering” (jigang), capable of organizing change, sustaining structure, and forming coherence within a dynamic world.
本篇探讨楚文明如何以 年度档位、季节换轨、节点巡航、行动校验
构成一套可操作、可判断、可校准的 时间治理系统。
楚人营建不是凭力度，而是凭 时间的节律；
不是依靠外在速度，而是依靠 对齐天文、节令、节点、筮法 的“时间许可”。
本文论证“时间是走出来的”，
并透过纪南城排水、二十八宿漆箱、楚帛书与楚简占验等物证，
展示“时间”如何以 制度、步骤、物质形态
在楚式营建中被显形、被执行、被踩踏出来。
This chapter examines how the Chu civilization engineered with time,
using a four-layer temporal system—annual gears, seasonal shifts, nodal checkpoints, and pre-action divination—
to determine when an action may begin, accelerate, pause, or halt.
Chu construction did not rely on force but on temporal alignment:
with astronomy, seasonal energy, nodal rhythms, and divinatory permissibility.
Through evidence from Jinan City’s hydrological layout,
the Twenty-Eight Mansions lacquer box,
and Chu manuscripts on time-checking practices,
this essay shows how “time was not recorded but walked,
and how Chu engineering made time visible, material, and actionable.”
在楚地，空间不是被规划出的，而是从湿地里一步一步“被看见”的。
本篇以三个关键考古实例——磨盘山楚城、举水–倒水–滠水墩台体系、季家湖楚城——解析楚人在湿地上如何以“生长式”方法营建城市；并以天星观、九店楚简与纪南城布局揭示楚人如何在动土之前，通过卜问、祭祀、择位与择时，让土地“点头”。
楚式营建不是建造，而是顺着水势、地势与时气，让城市从地景里长出来。
In the Chu heartland, space was not engineered into place—it emerged from the rhythms of wetlands.
This chapter examines three archaeological cases—Mopan Mountain City, the Jushui–Daoshui–Sheshui mound systems, and the Jiajiahu Chu City—to illuminate the “growth-based” logic behind Chu urban construction; and draws on the Tianxingguan and Jiudian bamboo texts, together with the spatial order of Jinan City, to show how every act of building required divination, ritual, site-reading, and the consent of the land.
Chu architecture was not imposed on terrain; it grew from water, earth, and time.
这一篇讨论一个看似简单、却指向楚文明深层结构的问题：
为何楚国拥有庞大的水系，却没有像郑国、李冰那样“被记名”的水利专家？
本文并非从“缺席的姓名”出发，而是从系统的存在方式去重新观察楚式营建：
湿地文明的工程往往“长”出来，而不是“筑”出来；
《参不韦》《汤在啻门》《恒先》《凡物流形》呈现的思想结构，
映照出楚人处理世界的方式：位・序・用；
纪南城、芍陂、鄂君启金节展现的，是一个能自行运作的营建系统；
而名字的沉静，与其说是“未被记载”，不如说是材料与叙事的断裂。
因此，本篇提出：
楚国不是没有工程师，而是工程本身不以个人划界；
楚式营建不是“英雄叙事”，而是一种系统性的文明语法。
本文尝试让那些沉入湿地、尘土与史轴偏差中的姓名，
在系统浮现的地方，重新归位。
This chapter addresses a question that appears simple yet reveals the deeper architecture of Chu civilization: Why did Chu—despite its vast water networks—leave behind so few “named” hydraulic experts, unlike Zheng Guo or Li Bing? The investigation here does not begin with the absence of names,but with the presence of a system. In a wetland civilization, infrastructures often grow rather than impose themselves. The Chu bamboo manuscripts — Shen Buhui, Tang zai Chimen, Hengxian, Fan Wuliuxing —outline a way of thinking structured by Position · Sequence · Function (Wei · Xu · Yong). Archaeological evidence from Jinan City, the Shaobei reservoir, and the E’jun Qi talliesreveals a highly integrated, self-operating water system. The silence of personal names reflects not a lack of capability, but gaps in material survival and historical transmission. Thus, this chapter proposes that Chu did not lack engineers; rather, engineering in Chu was not framed through individual authorship. Chu Yingjian Studies was never a hero narrative— it was a systemic grammar of civilization. This text seeks to bring back into visibilitythose names and structures that once sank quietly into water, soil,and the asymmetry of historical record.
本篇作为《楚式营建学》的第一篇，试图回答一个根本问题：
楚文明的底层操作系统从何而来？
为什么一条江可以决定一整个文明的心智结构？
在黄河与长江两种截然不同的水系中，
黄河以“度”构成文明——以边界、控制、修防为核心；
长江则以“时”组织世界——顺势、应节、因湿而成。
楚人正是在这样的水文节律中，
形成了“因水成城、因湿成势”的营建方式：
从早期的水缘聚落（尺山）、
到三面环河的楚城（磨盘山）、
再到“改造湿地、取料于水”的纪南城台基。
考古资料显示：
楚文明并非以力量压制自然，
而是以系统整合去“听懂”水的能动性。
楚简中的《太一生水》指出：“水反辅太一。”
水不是被动的环境，而是参与世界构造的力量。
因此，
水决定节律，节律决定文明。
第一篇从“听懂一条江”展开，
为整个楚式营建学奠定操作系统的底色。
This first chapter of Chu Yingjian Studies asks a foundational question: Where does the operating system of Chu civilization come from? And why can a single river shape an entire civilizational mindset? Between the Yellow River and the Yangtze lie two contrasting logics. The Yellow River builds civilization through boundary and control (Du, 度). The Yangtze organizes life through timing and rhythm (Shi, 时). Within this hydrological rhythm, the Chu developed a mode of world-building that “formed cities from water and shaped power from wetlands. ”From early water-edge settlements at Chishan, to the river-embraced fortifications at Mopan Mountain, to the newly excavated palace platforms at Jinan City—constructed through the unique principle of“transforming wetlands and sourcing materials from water. ”Archaeology shows that Chu civilization did not force nature into submission;it integrated systems by listening to water as an active agent. The bamboo text Taiyi Sheng Shui states:“Water counter-supports the Great One. ”Water is not passive terrain but a co-constructor of the world. Thus: Water sets the rhythm,and rhythm structures civilization. Beginning with “hearing a river, ”this chapter establishes the foundational operating logic of Chu Yingjian Studies.
《洞庭古声》不是关于歌如何被唱出，
而是关于一片湖如何逼人发声。
风向变得快，
水道换得频，
雾压下来连最近的岸都看不见——
在这样的洞庭湖上，
声音不是表达，
而是方法。
渔歌因此不是“艺术性歌唱”，
而是一种用来稳船、应答、确认方向的身体协同系统：
腰腹发力、手臂带气、拖腔落拍，
让一条船、一张网、一群人在同一节奏里活下去。
这一篇记录的，
不是某一首渔歌，
而是洞庭湖如何通过风、雾与水的性格
塑造了“声音的生存逻辑”。
声音在这里不是向外扩散，
而是向内凝聚——
让人知道自己在哪、
同伴在哪、
前方的路是否还能继续。
《洞庭古声》写的，
是洞庭湖的方式，
也是人在不确定里继续行走的方式。
“Voices of Dongting” is not a study of folk songs.
It is an exploration of how a lake forces people to speak.
On Dongting Lake,
wind shifts abruptly,
water routes redraw themselves overnight,
and fog descends so quickly
that even the nearest shoreline disappears.
Here,
sound is not an expression—
it is a method.
Fishermen sing not to perform,
but to steady the boat,
align the crew,
and locate one another in a world
where vision fails and hearing becomes survival.
Their voices rise from the waist,
travel through the shoulders,
and only then reach the throat—
a full-body coordination shaped
by the physics of an unpredictable lake.
This essay does not document a single song.
It documents a logic:
how Dongting Lake, through its winds, fog, and shifting waters,
created a culture where sound became
orientation, memory, and movement.
In Dongting,
a voice is not something cast outward.
It is something that keeps a person
from losing themselves
in a landscape that moves.
“Voices of Dongting” is about the lake’s way of shaping rhythm—
and the human way of continuing forward
when the world refuses to stay still.
《麻城花挑》是一支在湖北大别山坡地上长成的行路舞。
它把劳动步与爱情身绑在同一段节奏里，
让“走路、做事、喜欢一个人”
在同一个动作系统中成立。
花挑的三人结构——妹、嫂、哥——
是一套能在任何场地启动的小型协作算法：
妹定方向，嫂调节位置，哥稳住节拍。
步是地形教的，形是三人维持的，
动作则在村落的日常路径中不断被更新。
随着武合铁路贯通、麻城北站投入使用，
花挑并未因外来速度而改变。
高铁带来的是可抵达性，
让更多人能走进这些动作原本就存在的生活场景。
在麻城，路到了，舞就能被看见。
“Macheng Flower Dance” is a walking-based folk choreography shaped by the slopes of the Dabieshan region.
It binds two seemingly unrelated movement logics—
the steps of labor and the gestures of affection—
turning everyday walking, working, and loving
into a single bodily system.
Its three-person formation—the younger girl, the elder sister, and the brother—
functions as a portable cooperative algorithm.
The girl sets direction,
the sister adjusts spacing,
and the brother stabilizes rhythm.
The steps come from the terrain;
the formations emerge from shared movement;
the dance survives by adapting to whatever space it enters.
With the opening of the Wu–He High-Speed Railway
and the operation of Macheng North Station,
the dance has not changed.
High-speed rail does not alter tradition—
it only increases access,
allowing more people to walk into the landscapes
where these movements have always lived.
In Macheng,
when the road arrives,
the dance becomes visible.
《峡江古声｜长江峡江号子》以节奏叙事重访纤夫在急水中协作的方式，记录号子如何在雾气、浪声与断续视线里完成“瞬间对齐”，让几十副身体在同一时间点落力。三峡蓄水后号子退出生活现场，但协作的算法仍留在声腔的骨架里。本篇呈现平水、见滩、冲滩与滩后的四段节奏结构，让一种来自险滩的集体智慧在当代被重新听见。
This article revisits the rhythmic logic of Xiajiang work chants—
a coordination system that enabled Yangtze boatmen to align their bodies through sound in rapids, fog, and broken visibility. Although the chants disappeared after the Three Gorges impoundment, their underlying algorithm of synchronization remains embedded in the structure of the sound. Through the four-part rhythm of calm-water, pre-rapid tension, rapid-force alignment, and post-rapid release, this piece renders visible an ancient form of collective intelligence within a contemporary frame.
《云梦古舞》从云梦泽的湿地节奏出发，
追索楚舞的动作语法：
长袖的展开、细腰的三道弯、贴地的绕步与激楚的节奏。
本文将身体视为感知环境的工具，
并以武汉三座高铁枢点——武汉站、汉口站、武昌站——
对应“向前、向地、向回”三种节奏结构，
让楚舞的动势在当代城市中重新显形。
这不是对古舞的复原，
而是一种动作在时间里持续重复后的文明回声。
Cloud-Dream Ancient Dance begins with the rhythms of Yunmeng Marsh
and traces the movement grammar of Chu dance—
the expanding sleeves, the three-curved waist,
the ground-bound circling steps,
and the sudden surge of Ji Chu rhythm.
The body is treated as a sensor of environment,
while Wuhan’s three major railway hubs—Wuhan, Hankou, and Wuchang Stations—
mirror three movement logics:
forward, downward, and turning back.
Through these spatial rhythms,
the dynamics of Chu dance become visible again in the modern city.
This is not a reconstruction of the past,
but an echo carried by actions
that continue to be done—and redone—across time.
这篇《草把龙》写的是潜江湖区的一种路上舞蹈。
它的龙身由稻草扎成，靠步法、队形与愿望被撑起来。
文章整理它的来源、动作结构、礼制用途、地理现场
以及高铁到来后，让外来者能真正抵达的那条“年节之路”。
草把龙的核心不是保存，而是每年再走一次。
This “Grass Dragon” piece looks at a road-based ritual dance from Qianjiang’s lake region.
Its straw body is held together by steps, formations, and collective intent.
The article traces its origins, movement grammar, ceremonial functions,
the wetland geography that shapes it,
and how high-speed rail opens access to its annual route.
Its essence is not preservation, but repeating the path each year.
