Library

--The martial arts tempered by the water of the Yangtze River, the roar of the muscles and bones of a city In the autumn of 2014, Zhang Tao, who was suffering from viral myocarditis, huddled in the corner of the Wuhan library and coughed up blood. The "Marketing Speech Manual" was taken away by an old hand and replaced with the yellowed "Bajiquan Pu". The floor sweeper Wu Lianshan tapped his back three times with the tip of the broom, and the blood he had been coughing for half a year stopped. This young man who fainted in an electronics factory and was defrauded of all his savings by a street chess player would not have thought that the fallen ginkgo leaves at the back of Changchun Temple contained the bloody secret history of the National Martial Arts Museum of the Republic of China. When he followed Master Wu to stand on the Hunyuan pile at the beach of the Yangtze River, the sound of the river waves and his heartbeat gradually became the same frequency; when he used the iron mountain to smash the rusty chains in the abandoned workshop of the Hanyang Iron Factory, An Jin's newly formed bones made a muffled sound like the explosion of the Guishan Tunnel - those old martial arts events dormant in the folds of Wuhan are slowly surfacing with the iron box left by his grandfather. The secret passage of the Escort Bureau in the old concession of Hankou, the underwater capture of the Wuchang fish market boatmen, the Bodhidharma score stolen from the underground palace of Guiyuan Temple... When the overseas cultural relics group reappeared at the old site of the Jingwu Association with a "****" plaque, and when Grandmaster Hua Jin carved a letter of challenge on the seventh pier of the Yangtze River Bridge, Zhang Tao finally understood: This city divided by the river needs a name that shakes his bones.