The Baoxie Ancient Road stretches across the towering Qinling Mountains, a geographical artery of the land; for two thousand years, the Chen clan has guarded its plank road, a living testament to the passing down of civilization.
In the fourth year of the Yuanshou era, Chen Shi carved into the mountains with his tools, using wood and stone to build a plank road connecting the Han heartland to Bashu. He had no idea that he was carving more than a road: he was making a boundary between life and death. On one side were the living; on the other, the dead. Those who died building the road were waiting below. Waiting for someone to go down, for someone to come back up, for someone to remember them.
Two thousand years, thirty-seven generations, one thousand and thirty-seven names. Chen Shi went down, Chen Shouzheng went down, Chen Huaiyi went down, Chen Jiusi went down. They went down and brought back a shell, a name, a story. Generation after generation, they carried them for two thousand years. If they couldn't carry them all, they kept carrying on.
This is not a history of a family. It is a history of remembering. Remembering those who died on the road, those who spent their whole lives carving stone, and those who waited their whole lives. If you remember them, their deaths were not in vain. If you remember them, their waiting was not in vain.
If you remember them, they are still here.
