Youxi Ji: A Forgotten Stream Finally Given a Name

Some landscapes have always been there.

They simply wait a very long time for someone to stop and truly see them.

而置州已來，無人賞愛。

Since the establishment of the prefecture, no one had ever appreciated or cherished it.

A little more than a hundred paces west of the city of Daozhou, Yuan Jie encountered a small stream.

It was not a famous mountain.

It was not an imperial garden.

The water flowed south.

Strange rocks leaned and locked into one another along both banks.

Clear currents struck the stones, swirled, hung over small drops and rushed downward.

Fine trees and unusual bamboo cast overlapping shade.

Yuan Jie imagined that if such a place lay deep in the mountains, it would be perfectly suited to recluses and retired scholars.

Even here, close to human settlement, it could have become one of the finest quiet places of the city.

Yet no one had cared for it.

So Yuan Jie lingered beside the stream.

He felt regret.

And then he acted.

He cleared the neglected ground.

Opened the streamside.

Built a pavilion.

Planted pine and osmanthus.

Added fragrant herbs.

Because the stream lay to the right of the prefectural seat, he gave it a simple name:

右溪

The Right Stream.

Finally, he had the name carved into stone:

彰示來者。

To make it known to those who come after.

A nameless stream that no one had appreciated was now part of memory.

To truly cherish beauty is not only to notice it.

It is to help what has been overlooked become visible to others.

Grandevity Studio’s Youxi Ji uses Yuan Jie’s project-established original prose as 100% of the sung Chinese text.

There are no modern lyrical expansions.

No vernacular rewrites.

No newly written chorus.

No added Chinese lyric lines.

No original line is repeated simply to extend the song.

Where the music needs time to breathe, that space is created through instrumental introduction, interludes, pauses and outro.

Every Chinese line heard in the finished song comes directly from Yuan Jie’s Youxi Ji.

---

Watch the MV: 🎬 Youxi Ji | Official Music Video

Headphones recommended. Begin just west of the mid-Tang city of Daozhou, where Yuan Jie encounters an overlooked stream of strange rocks, clear currents, trees and bamboo. The film moves from discovery to the quiet sorrow of “no one had ever appreciated it,” then turns from regret toward action: clearing the site, building a small pavilion, planting pine and osmanthus, naming the stream and carving its name into stone. The final image belongs not to Yuan Jie, but to later travelers who can finally see what had once gone unnoticed.

---

Yuan Jie: More Than a Landscape Writer

Yuan Jie lived from 719 to 772.

His courtesy name was Cishan.

He was a Tang-dynasty writer and official whose life passed through the upheaval of the An Lushan Rebellion.

He later served in military and regional administrative roles and, under Emperor Daizong, became prefect of Daozhou.

Tang-dynasty Daozhou was centred broadly around present-day Dao County in Yongzhou, Hunan.

The region Yuan Jie governed had suffered from warfare, raids, displacement and population loss.

Historical accounts describe a prefecture in need of social and economic recovery rather than a peaceful, prosperous landscape untouched by human hardship.

Yuan Jie is remembered for resisting further burdens on people already in distress and for efforts associated with restoring settlement and livelihood.

That context matters.

He was not merely a traveler who happened to pass an attractive stream.

He was the prefect responsible for this place.

In Tang administration, the prefect was one of the principal officials governing a prefecture.

There is no exact modern equivalent, but Yuan Jie was not simply a literary tourist observing Daozhou from outside.

He was governing its people while also learning to see and describe the land within his jurisdiction.

Youxi Ji belongs to that world.

---

Just West of Daozhou: the stream was never far from human life

The opening is precise:

道州城西百餘步有小溪。

A little more than a hundred paces west of the city of Daozhou there was a small stream.

This is not remote wilderness.

It lies just beyond the city.

The water then:

南流數十步合營溪。

flowed south for several dozen paces and joined Ying Stream.

The location matters because Yuan Jie later imagines two possibilities.

If the stream were in the mountains:

則宜逸民退士之所遊。

it would be suitable for recluses and retired scholars.

But even:

處在人間

among ordinary human settlement,

it could still become:

都邑之勝境、靜者之林亭。

a fine urban landscape and a quiet wooded retreat.

The stream’s problem was never a lack of beauty.

It was its proximity to ordinary life.

It was so near that people had learned not to notice it.

---

Strange rocks that cannot be named

Yuan Jie writes:

水抵兩岸， 悉皆怪石欹嵌， 盤缺不可名狀。

The water reaches banks crowded with strange rocks.

They lean.

Interlock.

Curve.

Break.

Their forms are:

不可名狀。

Impossible to describe fully.

This is not a carefully ordered ornamental rock garden.

The irregularity is part of the landscape itself.

For the MV, this distinction matters.

The rocks are not decorative architecture.

They belong to the natural stream Yuan Jie first encountered.

---

“Clear water strikes the rocks”: movement built into the prose

Then:

清流觸石， 洄懸激注。

Clear water strikes the rocks.

Swirls.

Hangs over uneven drops.

Rushes downward.

A few concentrated verbs generate a complete visual movement.

The prose then becomes quiet:

佳木異竹， 垂陰相蔭。

Fine trees and unusual bamboo lower their shade over one another.

Movement becomes stillness.

Water moves.

Trees remain.

That contrast became one of the principal structural ideas of both the music and the film.

---

Imagining another fate for the stream

Yuan Jie first imagines what would happen if this stream were somewhere else.

If it stood deep in the mountains,

recluses would visit it.

Even where it actually stands, near the city,

it could still be considered one of the area’s finest quiet landscapes.

In other words,

every framework Yuan Jie applies arrives at the same conclusion:

the place is worth seeing.

---

“No one had appreciated it”: the emotional pivot

Then:

而置州已來， 無人賞愛。

Since the prefecture was established,

no one had appreciated or cherished it.

The essay changes at this point.

It is no longer simply landscape description.

Yuan Jie:

徘徊溪上， 為之悵然。

lingers beside the stream and feels regret.

The word “lingers” matters.

He does not look once and leave.

He walks beside the water.

Looks again.

Remains.

Later readers have sometimes understood the neglected stream as carrying an indirect reflection of unrecognized talent or Yuan Jie’s own frustrations.

That interpretation is possible.

But the literal action already has great force.

He notices something others have overlooked.

And instead of turning that discovery into private superiority,

he decides to act.

---

From regret to action

Yuan Jie writes:

乃疏鑿蕪穢俾為亭宇， 植松與桂， 兼之香草， 以裨形勝。

He clears and opens the neglected site.

Makes space for a pavilion.

Plants pine and osmanthus.

Adds fragrant herbs.

These are modest interventions.

There is no monumental imperial construction.

No attempt to erase the original landscape and replace it with spectacle.

The strange rocks remain.

The water continues to flow.

His work makes the existing place easier to approach, pause within and appreciate.

That is an important part of what “cherishing” means in this essay.

Not merely seeing.

Doing something so others can see as well.

---

Naming the stream

Yuan Jie explains:

為溪在州右， 遂命之曰右溪。

Because the stream lay to the right of the prefectural seat,

he named it:

右溪

the Right Stream.

There is no elaborate myth behind the name.

No ornate literary invention.

Its plainness is part of its strength.

Before naming,

the stream exists primarily as an overlooked local feature.

After naming,

it can be identified.

Written down.

Remembered.

Spoken of.

And passed on.

---

“To make it known to those who come after”

The essay concludes:

刻銘石上， 彰示來者。

He has the inscription carved on stone,

so that it may be shown to those who come later.

This is the longest view in the entire essay.

The work begins with the water directly before Yuan Jie.

It ends with people who do not yet exist.

More than twelve centuries later,

we are still reading the name.

In one sense,

we have become the very:

來者

for whom Yuan Jie left the inscription.

---

Music: a modern Chinese narrative song rather than an epic

The musical direction is:

Premium early-2000s Taiwan–Hong Kong Mandopop R&B Narrative Ballad

Tempo: 72 BPM.

Meter: relaxed 6/8.

Form: through-composed.

There is no repeating pop chorus.

No original sentence is sung twice.

The Mandarin male vocal remains warm, clear, literate and restrained.

No operatic manner.

No heroic shouting.

No oversized cinematic climax.

The principal sound palette includes:

• Fender Rhodes
• nylon-string guitar
• deep warm neo-soul bass
• soft rim clicks
• subtle brushed percussion
• pipa
• guqin
• distant xiao

The opening:

道州城西百餘步有小溪

is intimate and quiet,

as though someone has simply stepped beyond the city and noticed water.

At:

清流觸石， 洄懸激注

the relaxed 6/8 groove becomes more active and begins to echo the movement of the stream.

Then:

佳木異竹， 垂陰相蔭

allows the arrangement to breathe again.

At:

無人賞愛

the drums begin to recede.

At:

徘徊溪上， 為之悵然

the song reaches its most restrained emotional low point.

When:

乃疏鑿蕪穢

arrives after the interlude,

the rhythm returns.

Not as triumph.

As work beginning.

Finally:

刻銘石上， 彰示來者

resolves with clarity and a long instrumental tail.

The power of the prose was never about volume.

It was about someone who truly stopped and saw.

---

The MV: from morning discovery to an evening left for others

The MV is set in mid-Tang Daozhou.

Its visual language combines historical realism with restrained ink-wash-inspired atmosphere.

Yuan Jie is approximately forty-five years old.

Lean.

Composed.

Dark futou headwear.

Moon-white inner robe.

Deep blue-green round-collared outer robe.

The story begins in the morning.

A modest prefectural city stands in the distance.

Fields.

Low hills.

Bamboo.

A small stream.

Yuan Jie approaches from the direction of the city.

At first he only watches the water.

Then strange rocks.

Then clear currents striking stone.

Then trees and bamboo lowering shade over the stream.

At:

此溪若在山野

the film briefly enters an imagined version of the landscape, with a few recluses or retired scholars walking and sitting beneath bamboo.

At:

處在人間

the image returns to the actual outskirts of Daozhou.

The stream was never truly far from human life.

Human attention was far from the stream.

After:

無人賞愛

the light becomes quieter.

Yuan Jie lingers.

Walks.

Sits near the stones.

Looks toward the overgrown bank.

After the instrumental interlude,

a scribe and craftsmen arrive.

They clear the ground.

Open the streamside.

Build a small pavilion.

Plant pine.

Plant osmanthus.

Add fragrant herbs.

The image gradually brightens.

At:

遂命之曰右溪

Yuan Jie points toward the water and explains the name.

Only after:

刻銘石上

do the two characters:

右溪

appear on stone.

The final sequence does not belong to Yuan Jie.

Later travelers arrive.

They stop.

See the inscription.

See the pavilion.

See the stream that had once been:

無人賞愛。

Yuan Jie no longer needs to remain in the frame.

---

📜 Complete Sung Text / Original Chinese with English Translation

Yuan Jie, Youxi Ji / Record of the Right Stream
100% project-established original text・No modern expansion・No rewriting・No added lyrics・No repeated original lines

---

From “No One Appreciated It” to “Those Who Come After”

The deepest movement of Youxi Ji is not simply:

a beautiful stream is discovered.

Its full movement is:

seeing → regret → action → remembrance.

Yuan Jie does not stop at the satisfaction of being the one person perceptive enough to notice what everyone else ignored.

He clears the place.

Builds.

Plants.

Names.

Inscribes.

His private act of seeing becomes something others can inherit.

That is why the final phrase matters so much:

彰示來者。

To make it known to those who come after.

To cherish something may mean more than recognising its value.

It may mean helping that value remain visible after you are gone.

---

💿 Credits

• Song Title: Record of the Right Stream
• Chinese Title: 右溪記
• Romanised Title: Youxi Ji
• Classical Source: Yuan Jie, Youxi Ji
• Author: Yuan Jie
• Period: Tang Dynasty
• Literary Form: Landscape record / ji prose
• Original Text / Complete Sung Words: Yuan Jie
• Lyrics Format: 100% project-established original text, with no modern expansion, vernacular rewriting, added lyrics or repeated original lines
• Text Order: Strictly follows the original prose
• Music Style: Premium early-2000s Taiwan–Hong Kong Mandopop R&B Narrative Ballad
• Tempo / Meter: 72 BPM / relaxed 6/8
• Form: Through-composed
• Composition / Arrangement: Suno AI / Grandevity Studio
• Vocals: Suno AI Mandarin male vocal
• Main Instrumentation: Fender Rhodes / Nylon-string Guitar / Neo-Soul Bass / Soft Rim Click / Brushed Percussion / Pipa / Guqin / Xiao
• Music Production: Grandevity Studio
• AI-Assisted Visuals: ChatGPT Images
• Video Editing / Art Direction / Creative Production: Grandevity Studio
• Released by: Grandevity Limited
• Production Year: 2026
• Official MV: https://youtu.be/N7yd4nNIrcI

Music Style and Mood:

Premium early-2000s Taiwan–Hong Kong Mandopop R&B Narrative Ballad at 72 BPM in relaxed 6/8, built as a through-composed setting of Yuan Jie’s complete prose. Fender Rhodes, nylon-string guitar, warm neo-soul bass, soft rim clicks, brushed percussion, pipa, guqin and distant xiao create a flowing sound world. “Clear water strikes the rocks” brings stronger rhythmic motion; “no one had ever appreciated it” gradually removes the drums; “I lingered beside the stream and felt regret” forms the quiet emotional low point; the rhythm returns as the neglected ground is cleared; and “carved the name in stone, to make it known to those who come after” resolves into a restrained, spacious instrumental tail.

---

⚖️ Copyright Notice

Yuan Jie’s Youxi Ji / Record of the Right Stream is a public-domain classical literary work.

This musical production uses 100% of the project-established original Classical Chinese text adopted for the finished song. No modern lyrical expansion, vernacular rewriting, newly added lyrics or other newly written lyric sections have been introduced, and no original sentence is repeated merely to extend the work.

The music production, recorded master, arrangement, mix, master, MV visuals, cover artwork, video editing, subtitles, shot design, art direction, promotional writing and overall creative production were produced by or lawfully licensed to Grandevity Limited / Grandevity Studio. Relevant rights are retained and administered subject to applicable law and the terms of the platforms and production tools used.

© 2026 Grandevity Limited / Grandevity Studio. All Rights Reserved.

Unauthorized re-uploading, redistribution, reproduction, editing, sampling, commercial use, platform distribution, AI training, dataset use, remixing, or incorporation into another audiovisual work is prohibited except where otherwise permitted by applicable law or license. This notice does not restrict lawful use of Yuan Jie’s public-domain original text.

Licensing Contact:

info@grandevity.co.nz

https://grandevity.co.nz

---

About This Project

Youxi Ji / Record of the Right Stream is part of Grandevity Studio’s Classical Literature Reimagined in Music series.

The goal is not to write new dialogue for ancient authors.

Nor is it to replace Classical Chinese with modern lyrics.

Nor do we begin with a predetermined pop chorus and force an old text to fit it.

We begin with the text itself:

its rhythm,

its pauses,

its movement,

its emotional turns,

and its internal structure.

Youxi Ji already contains a complete arc:

discovery → appreciation → imagination → regret → action → naming → remembrance.

At the beginning,

there is only a small stream.

At the end,

there is a name.

A stone inscription.

And people who will come later.

Perhaps the landscape itself did not change as much as we think.

Perhaps what changed was that someone finally stopped,

and truly saw it.