This is a novel without a protagonist. If there is one, its protagonist is a river.
Beidu - a river of consciousness formed by the body temperature, obsessions and tears of countless people. It has no beginning and no end, neither birth nor death. It starts from the blood droplets falling from Nuwa's fingertips when she repairs the sky, flows through the three chapters of the covenant at the top of Xianyang City, flows through the bamboo slips carved by Sima Qian in the silkworm room, flows through Zhao Kuangyin's The glass of wine that Chen Qiao held up flows through the soul that Cao Xueqin wrote for his daughters in the mourning hall, through the isolated sea outside the dojo, and all the way to the glass of water you are holding in your hand at this moment.
It is not in time. So the Qin Dynasty and the Ming Dynasty were at the same moment. It does not analyze cause and effect, does not judge good and evil, but only senses temperature - where the river is freezing, where someone is cutting through the ice, and where someone is pouring warm water back into the river bed.
This is a fragmented history of temperature. Each chapter is independent, but connected into a complete pulse: when the river is drained, evil will flow back; when someone takes the lead in cutting the bottom line, the river will flow again. From mythology to contemporary times, from emperors to mortals, Beidu catches everyone who chooses not to be coerced when fear is at its strongest.
It's not history. It is the temperature of history.
Intention: History is not a list of winners, but the warmth of every drop caught.
Cup ferry is not in time. It does not analyze cause and effect, does not judge good and evil, and does not distinguish between emperors and mortals. It only does one thing - catch. Catch the first strokes Sima Qian carved in the silkworm room, catch the body temperature of the child at the bottom of Yashan Mountain that has not yet cooled down, catch the trembling of Lin Yuanzhou's fingers when he filled the gapped tea jar on the dojo, and catch the person who secretly cut through the ice in every great destruction. What it wants to say is: History has never abandoned anyone who is not trapped. Those who still choose to speak, choose to hold on, and choose to pour water back to the river bed in the darkest night, their names may not be written in the history books, but their temperature - every degree, is caught by the cup ferry, flowing in the eternal river, and it will never flow.