My name is Jiang Wei, courtesy name Boyue, from Ji County in Tianshui.
Those who came before judged me, often saying, “He is stubborn and never gets anywhere,” and “He is loyal, but achieves nothing.”
I will not argue. The world likes to debate success and failure; I care only about the purpose I began with.
This book was never written for the world.
I was held captive in Zhong Hui’s camp. The snowstorm was nearly over, and the lamplight trembled through the night.
The Kingdom of Shu had fallen, and Chancellor Zhuge’s ambitions had turned to dust.
Yet a fire still burned in my heart, not quite extinguished.
If I do not pass this flame on in words, I fear no one will remember
those old dreams of Shu, those fading drums of the Northern Expeditions, that undying light in people’s hearts.
I am no saint, nor am I a hero.
I have known fear and doubt, and nights when I wept in silence.
I saw that a nation’s decline comes not only from defeat in battle, but also from hearts growing cold.
I have named this book Light Beyond the Dying Lamp,
because I believe that even when the lamp goes out, its light remains among us.
