在明末清初士人的生命歷程中，易代世變，不僅是一項「時間性」的心理衝擊，也是一種「空間性」的精神界域的崩解。但由於「時間」是一項人所無法掌握的因素，因此在面對如此鉅大的改變之時，他們總像是會以一種「空間式」的移動，或以「想像」為基礎的「空間轉移」，來紓解內心的焦慮；有時也為他們構築了一種獨特的「存在樣式」。在清初著名文人吳偉業與黃周星的兩個案例中，我們看到了他們於詩文之外，同時創作戲曲的共同需求，即是：他們都期待著利用戲曲的展演性來製造一種「時空的轉移」或「再現的空間」。這種轉移，一方面能緩解內心的壓力，一方面也替自己的焦慮與悔恨，尋找一種精神上的自我療癒。但不同的是，吳偉業所焦慮的來自「為所不當為」，因而他日後的悔恨，則是一種煎熬。他必須經歷這種看似永無休止的煎熬，才能逐漸感覺到自己的存在。他所期待「以此而死」的「詩人」身分，其實即是等同於「我說了我想說的」之一種告白。在這裏他不祈求寬恕，只祈求「被同情地瞭解」。至於黃周星，其所懺悔的，並不涉及「為所不當為」，而只是「未及時為所當為」。對他來說，最痛苦的，不是「活得不應該」，而是「活得沒有價值」；他陷在「將」與「就」的「兩無著落」之中。他所謂「非徒自覺，欲以覺人」，其實是要表明人的存在「無所將，則所就非就」；必須掌握真實的存在價值，才能無所悔恨地生活。在黃周星的表白中，他無需他人的寬恕，只希望能有所「彌補」。他雖期待「被瞭解」，他更希望的是，世人能瞭解他最終所領悟的。在吳偉業與黃周星，以及其他「遺民」或「類遺民」身上，我們看到了一個偉大的「精神世代」的殞落。所謂「殞落」，是表示他們的理想或憧憬，已無法在他們的世代，或下一個世代實現；而只能期待某一個黎明的到來。

For the late-Ming and early-Qing literati, the dynastic transition from Ming to Qing was not only “temporally” a mental shock, but also “spatially” a spiritual collapse. Since time is an uncontrollable factor, when facing such drastic change, to relieve their inner anxiety the Ming-Qing literati seemed more interested in employing in their works some techniques of “spatial mobility,” based on literary imagination which somehow built up for them a unique mode of existence. In the cases of the two famous early-Qing literati, Wu Weiye and Huang Zhouxing, we witness their common needs for writing drama, besides poetry and prose; i.e., they both expected to exercise the performativity of drama to produce some “temporal or spatial mobility” or “representational space.” This mobility could, on the one hand, alleviate their inner pressure, and on the other hand, secure a kind of spiritual self-treatment for their own remorse. Wu Weiye identified himself as a Ming loyalist; he regarded his having served the Qing court as inexcusable and his nonstop repentance turned into to a lifetime self-torture. The image of “poet” with which Wu Weiye affirmatively identified himself before he died is in fact a wholehearted confession in which he did not ask for exoneration but simply prayed for “sympathetic understanding” from the world. Huang Zhouxing, on the other hand, regretted simply “not having done something right in time,” rather than having done something wrong; the most painful thing was not that “he should not have lived” after the Ming but “kept on living worthlessly” in the Qing. Huang Zhouxing confessed that he did not need others’ forgiveness and he only aspired for spiritual redemption. Though Huang Zhouxing longed to be understood, he hoped more eagerly that the world could appreciate how he was enlightened by religion. These were fallen heroes of a spiritual age, but their fall was not due to weakness, rather to the fact that the world no longer offered any possibility to realize their ideals. Perhaps the possibility would return in succeeding generations?—until then, they could only hope for the arrival of a certain kind of clarity.