Songhu Embroidery Craftsman in Baixiao Hotspot: Needle Fire Breaks Secret Electricity

In the smoke of the Songhu Battle in 1937, the embroidery workshop of 26-year-old Suzhou embroiderer Wang Xiang was massacred by the Japanese army. Before his death, his father gave him half a page of "Tiangong Silk Translation Manual". From then on, his silk-splitting needles no longer only embroidered flowers - the oil-soaked embroidery thread entangled the enemy's throat, the missing needle code was used to decipher the Japanese military's secret messages, and even the brocade patterns became fuses for directional explosives. He formed an "embroidery team" and confronted Shen Manyun, a military translator and telegrapher, from the dock to the division headquarters and broke into the enemy camp side by side; he fought against Oda Akio's "anti-embroidery team" and cracked the road bombing conspiracy of Sato's "Jade Broken Plan". From Songhu Wharf to Tanzhe Temple in Beiping, I searched four places to collect 24 pages of fragmentary music. I used my embroidery skills to fight against guns and cannons, and tied the fate of my family and country with silk threads. When the last embroidery thread fuse exploded at the Japanese military communication station, the marriage certificate he and Shen Manyun co-embroidered contained the most hard-core confession hidden in the tangled branches: protect mountains and rivers with needles, convey deep love with threads.