The sixth day of February in the second year of Xiangxing. On the cliffs of mountains and seas, the army was defeated like a mountain falling.
Lu Xiufu carried the young emperor across the sea, and a hundred thousand soldiers and civilians followed him to his death. At that moment, the sky and the earth changed color, the mountains and rivers sobbed, and China seemed to have entered a long night.
Whenever future generations discussed this, they all lamented it, and a saying spread: After Yashan, there will be no more China.
It was as if that huge wave swallowed up not only the monarchs and ministers of the Southern Song Dynasty and hundreds of thousands of loyal souls, but also the roots and soul of the entire Chinese civilization.
They said that it was the first time that the Han family's clothes had completely declined, that it was the loss of character and the rupture of civilization.
Nonsense!
If China has truly fallen, why do we still write square characters thousands of years later, respect the Tao of Confucius and Mencius, and uphold the integrity of our family, country, and world?
China has never been a name for one dynasty or a country ruled by one surname. It is the soul of the nation that lives and breathes in this land. It is the blood spirit of "everyone is responsible for the rise and fall of the world", and the resilience of being unyielding and facing death. It is the endless flow of the Yellow River and the Yangtze River, the poetry and prose passed down from generation to generation, and the determination of thousands of mortals to stand up in times of crisis.
Civilization is like a river, even though it has nine twists and turns, it will never end on the earth.
Cliffs and mountains can sink boats, but China will never be destroyed.
The trajectory of history may be twisted, but it will never return to the wilderness. I don't believe in destiny or luck, I only believe that a pair of hands stained with dust and blood and tears can change this absurd fate.
When I passed through the thousand-year fog, I stood on the trembling sea again, looking at the banner with the word "Song" that was about to fall in the wind, and looking at a pair of eyes that looked like death.
I told myself word for word from the bottom of my heart:
Yashan is the end point and the starting point.
