Drunken Dreams in Xia Shi: Soochow Legacy Notes

I dreamed of a girl at night, with a beaded crown and beautiful face, and an elegant sword. She said to Jingchu: "I am the daughter of King Huan of Wu Changsha, and the wife of Lu Xun, who has been dead for two thousand years. This jade girl has a wrong poem in front of her, and her old ambitions are also wrong." But he realized it. Considering that the Jiyun brothers lived together in Huating, and Jishan is their former residence, the location of the ancestor Qiu's tomb is more accessible. Because of this, he wrote a poem to preserve his traces and told Bicheng to be a monument. The poem says: "The phoenix clothes are green and decorated with ancient palace makeup, and the starry eyes look back for an inch. My father's inheritance has been passed down to the emperor long ago, and my son-in-law never let Zhou Lang go. My mother with a beautiful face is far away from her soul, and all the aunts who wear the sword have long-lasting hatred. Don't think that the incense is buried with the purple jade, and the sons and daughters of heroes are responsible for the rise and fall." In the same area where jade is buried, Mrs. Lu was able to entrust people with her dreams to prove her mistakes, while Mrs. Jiang remained unknown until she was exhumed and abandoned. This is because she knows that the spiritual intelligence of ghosts and gods is probably the same as the understanding of the world. ?? ??→Source of inspiration. (Taken from "Poetry of Celebrities") ??"The autumn wind sweeps the fallen leaves, and the fallen leaves are silent." Every late autumn and early winter, the new wind in the North is like a knife, blowing through the gray windows, and also blowing on the boring heart of a female historian like me. "Lu Xun's wife..."? I muttered. Jiangdong Lu Boyan, who has countless strategies, is elegant and perseverant, is the bright moon in my heart. His wife, Lu Sun, who has only a few historical records, can actually tell her dreams across thousands of years, and correct her mistakes with awe. ? It was 2022, 1777 years before Boyan's memorial day. I was lucky enough to get to know him for the first time - and it became the spiritual sustenance of my life. ?? This summer vacation, when I was 17 years old, I left Hebei alone and went to Nanjing, Jiangsu and Ma'anshan, Anhui. I visited Sun Quan Memorial Hall (Supreme!) And Zhu Ran Museum (Yi Feng!) Respectively. They both spent time with Boyan over 1,700 years ago. The moment I stepped in, Surrounded by the weight/depth of history, they have been dead for more than 1,700 years, but as a history lover + history lover, I have always believed that there are three ways for people to die. One is physical death, the other is that his relatives die or forget about him, and the third is that future generations also forget about him. It can be seen that they are not dead. ?? In my spare time, I will open "Three Kingdoms" and read not just an antique book, but the real history. ?? The fingertips crossed the word "Lu Xun", and the fragrance of ink mixed between the pages of the book blew into the face with the evening breeze at the head of Jiangling City. In my heart, he is actually more like a deep pool reflecting the sun, moon and stars, enough to carry the stormy waves of an era. My admiration and admiration for him is not in the moment when he is drinking and singing wildly, but in the wrinkles of time? It has accumulated over time. Whenever I am trapped in confusion and entanglement, I close my eyes and the vast expanse of pines and waves in Yiling come to my mind. It's not the hustle and bustle of the warriors, but the scholar worshiping the general, making preparations in a silent place - he is dressed in white and plain armor, standing in front of the continuous tents, and what he holds tightly in his hand is not a cold blade, but a bunch of thatched torches. ?? The moment when the flames soared into the sky and consumed the enemy troops, what was reflected in the sky-high flames was the bookish aura and rock-like concentration between his brows. I want to go upstream and return to the misty years of Jiangdong. ?? I want to see him in his weak years, when he first entered the shogunate, and in front of the supreme case, he sorted out the boring books into clear longitude and latitude, revealing the majestic details in the silent place. That youthful and mature resilience has quietly shouldered Jiangdong's future mission. I want to hide behind the curtain with him and watch how he plans his strategy. At the foot of Jingzhou City, he lowered his sharp edge and understood his opponent's arrogance while talking and laughing. I even want to stand on the high ground of Shiting and watch him stop with stillness. Facing the fierce oncoming force of Cao Xiu's hundreds of thousands of elites, he stood upright and set up a dragnet. When Wu Jun's banners emerged from the valley, everything was a foregone conclusion. ?? His calmness in conquering thousands of miles is the majestic wisdom that turns thousands of books into mountains and rivers. When he returned home in triumph, the honor of being covered by the emperor's royal robes was a tribute to the character and integrity of General Boyanru who was truly worthy of his reputation. At this moment when people's hearts are fluctuating, I admire this calmness even more. It is not the expression of youthful ambition, but the accumulation of rich knowledge into the cornerstone of the country's stability. Watch him strategizing among the documents, being prudent in the flames of war, and still keeping his integrity when he is in and out of generals and ministers. He is like an ancient sword hidden in a bamboo slip. Its surface is gentle and sharp, and it is only when the country is in danger that it is suddenly unsheathed and its brilliance is dazzling. He finally disappeared in the twilight of Jiangdong in the eighth year of Chiwu, and returned to the endless vast universe. However, the eternal legend of his emergence as a general and prime minister has long been relegated to the annals of history, and has long been transformed into a wisp of soul, which will last forever. Whenever I encounter danger, this ray of soul quietly brushes through my heart, reminding me that there is such a power in the world - it does not need to be noisy and eye-catching, but it can leave an indelible mark on the stormy waves of history with the wisdom of taking a few moments to observe changes. Therefore, the wind blowing from the pile of paper also builds the thousands of miles of mountains and rivers in my heart. Finally, I hope that we can all find our own spiritual sustenance from the hustle and bustle of today's world. It doesn't have to be him, but we must be like him, guarding our own spiritual city with our inner strength and wisdom. Thank you for your likes. Updates will be released after July 2026. Some scattered articles can be viewed in loft with the same ID. Intention: Going up the river and seeing the misty years of Jiangdong