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It is easy to read a line of poetry, but difficult to read a person, let alone thirty-two thoughtful poets. In the author's mind, Tang Shi is a sincere and forthright young man in white, sailing his boat in the wind, fencing and singing songs, with a heart full of the magnificence of the world, and a passion that would be better than mine. Song Ci is a dilute and subtle guest in a blue shirt, wandering under the moonlight, leaning on the railing and looking across the horizon, with the dawn wind waning the moon, and the awakening of dim lights. Tang poetry is like a Jiegu song that soars into the clouds, Song poetry is like a whimpering Xun song; Tang poetry is like noon among the white clouds far above the Yellow River, and Song poetry is like dusk when sparse shadows are slanting across the clear water. Even if they are separated by thousands of years, those words of uneven length and length, whether they are heroic or tender, will always be the most beautiful language in the world.

It is easy to read a line of poetry, but difficult to read a person, let alone thirty-two thoughtful poets. In the author's mind, Tang Shi is a sincere and forthright young man in white, sailing his boat in the wind, fencing and singing songs, with a heart full of the magnificence of the world, and a passion that would be better than mine. Song Ci is a dilute and subtle guest in a blue shirt, wandering under the moonlight, leaning on the railing and looking across the horizon, with the dawn wind waning the moon, and the awakening of dim lights. Tang poetry is like a Jiegu song that soars into the clouds, Song poetry is like a whimpering Xun song; Tang poetry is like noon among the white clouds far above the Yellow River, and Song poetry is like dusk when sparse shadows are slanting across the clear water. Even if they are separated by thousands of years, those words of uneven length and length, whether they are heroic or tender, will always be the most beautiful language in the world.

Seventy years ago, there was a group of Chinese people in Myanmar. They are ordinary people who have no lofty ideals and do not understand "patriotism". They may be forced to make a living, or they may be doing it for a few dollars of military pay. Therefore, they will act like soldiers and snatch the spoils of war. However, at a time of national calamity and national crisis, this group of people fought on the front line without hesitation. They fought bloody battles. They had no heroic words and never considered themselves heroes, but they dyed the army flag red with blood. They carried out the first active attack by the Chinese army and realized a strategic counterattack. Their brotherhood and comradeship make people cry. They kill Japanese invaders and Japanese pirates heartily. They are not for vain "glory", but only to protect their relatives and land. Their sacrifices were extraordinary, their defeats were extraordinary, and their victories were even more extraordinary. They are the little-known heroes who went to Burma to fight against Japan during the Anti-Japanese War - the Chinese Expeditionary Force.