General Wen Bijun

In the Xia Song Dynasty, Ting was seventeen years old and had no nickname. I have been passionate since I was a child, and my dreams are filled with the cold light of iron clothes and hunting flags. I want to wear armor and hold a halberd, step through the smoke of war, and become a general who can stand on horseback and protect his family and country. But the world always likes to make some jokes that are neither serious nor serious - my father patted me on the shoulder and advised me in a gentle voice: "Get fame first, and then talk about military service." So I bit the bullet, picked up the Four Books and Five Classics, studied ink and picked up a pen, hoping to borrow a scroll and knock on the door of the temple. Who would have thought that the scent of ink would be more haunting than the horn. As I write, there are wind and thunder in my writing, mountains and rivers are reflected on the paper, and even my dreams have more rhythm and rhyme. Looking back now, what I wanted to hold in the past was a sword, but now I hold a pen; what I wanted to step on in the past was the snow on the border, but now I step on the moonlight of rice paper step by step. Perhaps fate prefers to place the general's soul quietly in the poet's skin, allowing me to hear my own heartbeat before I achieve fame.