The hero is gone. A seventeen-year-old's gorgeous and splendid life is like a shooting star, passing by in the sky, but the dazzling light that blooms in an instant is breathtaking. The ambition to serve the country and drive away the captives, the ambition to take the world as one's own responsibility, the pride to practice with one's own body, the iron horse to fight against the bandits, the heroic sacrifice to sacrifice one's life even though there is a chance to avoid death, and the heroic spirit of martyrdom will shine through the ages! The talent revealed in the words is also admirable, the tragic songs are generous, and the children are tender. We are fortunate to live in a peaceful age, and war is real but ultimately far away. Although the blood can still boil, it has its limit and can be either mild or cold. National changes, family death, separation, struggle, sacrifice... Maybe they are just terms in books, and they will never meet us in this life. How can the sorrow and sorrow we encounter, which seems overwhelming to us, compare with theirs? I just feel ashamed when facing the suffering of others. Are these people who exist vividly in my memory a wake-up call for me to understand my own happiness, that I should be content, and that what I have is actually a luxury that they cannot have? And walking in the deserted years, with these lessons in mind, is it true that you can be strong and fearless, and no matter what hardships you experience in life, you will never give up your beliefs, persevere, and always move in an upward direction?