"General, surrender."
When Shan Yu's scimitar tore my shirt apart, the setting sun on Junji Mountain was being pierced by the broken flags of the Han army.
The blood of five thousand Jingchu disciples soaked the armor, and His Majesty Chang'an has cut off my return.
They said that I was kneeling in the royal court of the Huns.
But I don't know that I have under my knees the list of fallen soldiers;
They scolded me for drinking Hulu's strong wine,
But you can't see me pouring wine into the frozen soil to pay homage to my brother who died looking south.
The Chanyu gave me the golden seal of the right school king, but I built twelve Han-style barns on the grassland;
The Hun nobles invited me to hunt, but I only shot down the geese and did not shoot a single arrow at the Han Dynasty.
Nineteen years of wind and frost in the north of the Great Wall, my sword edge always points south,
The sheepskin in the tent was painted with every pass in the Hexi Corridor, but the Huns never got a glimpse of it.
Until the old Su Wu returned to Han Dynasty and asked me: "Would you like to accompany me?"
I stroked the frayed Chinese-style jade belt hook around my waist - it was a gift from His Majesty before leaving the fortress, and now only half of it is left.
"Ziqing, my home is in Chengji, Longxi. Under the loess of Kecheng, there is no one waiting for me to return home."
History books will not record:
Shan Yuting's Han sword chirped every night,
The five thousand names I carved on the back of the golden man offering sacrifices to heaven,
And the Huns who always stand facing south when the moon is full come second——
She held up the silk book written in blood in the sacrificial fire:
"Chang'an said you were a traitor and the Xiongnu regarded you as a lone wolf.
But the grassland people in Mobei call you 'the general of the Han family who does not raise a sword.'"
"Su He takes second place. You said that the writings of historians are more than a thousand pieces of stone, but the four words they wrote, 'Ling surrendered to the Xiongnu,' cannot suppress the cries and screams of the five thousand innocent souls of Jingchu outside my tent every night - look at the grass in the desert, which one is not reddened with Han blood?"
