Song Dynasty.
The consequences of the failure of the reform were the framing and infighting between the cliques. In the midst of constant attacks, the elderly Wang Anshi fell silent.
In the past, he only wanted to imitate Shang Yang and become stronger in Great Song.
He wanted to find the reason for his failure.
When he saw the scene on the Golden Roll, his old figure trembled.
"So that's how it is. The real reform is burning with fire and death.”
"I see that you are protecting a flame. This flame will ignite this dark Great Era.”
"It will grow into a great nation.”
Wang Anshi's gaze fell on the words 'the greatest road to the founding of a country in history.' Finally, his voice was low and excited.
"Is there really such a country?"
The golden roll continued.
After Zhang Taiyan was arrested, Zou Rong was worried about his good friend and took the initiative to surrender.
Zhang Taiyan, this old friend, was imprisoned because he wrote the preface for him. How could he live an ignoble life?
In the prison, the young man whose body was covered in whip marks drooped his head, his chest heaving up and down violently, allowing blood to flow out of his torn flesh.
"Who instructed you to slander the Imperial Court? How many accomplices do you have? Speak!”
Torturing, interrogating, darkness.
The weak Zou Rong's lips were pale, and only the dark red blood was shocking.
He smiled wantonly and arrogantly, even though he could no longer straighten his spine.
"You can only kill me, but you can't erase my heart. So what if it's the Three Massacres of Jiading? If I die, the Republic of China will have countless rays of light!”
He said too much in one breath, and his breathing became rapid. He looked up at the window, and his laughter became clearer.
"Father, father, I didn't let down what my youth said.”
This laughter and attitude of disregarding life and death made the faces of the Qing court officials change. They were furious and terrified.
This was the thirty-first year of Guangxu, February 1905.
The young man was seriously ill and his coughing became more and more violent. He lay in the grass and was about to die.
The weeds in the haystack were a little eye-catching, but Zou Rong didn't care anymore.
He leaned against the pile of grass, his breathing a little weak, and his eyes were almost unable to open.
He knew that he was going to die.
He died in the spring of 21.
His blurry vision suddenly seemed to see his entire life.
He remembered that year when he was twelve years old. The weather was very cold and the wind was howling.
At that time, he had been ordered by his father to participate in the Boy Examination in Ba County.
The questions were too uncommon. They had no meaning for the development of the new era. The West was developing rapidly now, and the so-called Qing Dynasty was still pedantic and imprisoned. After he told the examiner, the examiner was disdainful and reprimanded him.
Was the imperial examination really useful to quote the classics from one or two words and forcefully explain it to the words of a saint?
He didn't know, so he left angrily.
That day, when he returned home, his father gave him a good beating.
However, he would not accept it. Even if he was beaten, he would not agree. Could it be that if everyone learned it, it would prove that they were right?
Thus, the stubborn teenager raised his head and stared at his father's disappointed eyes."Stinky eight-legged writing is unwilling to learn, and the whole place is unwilling to enter. What's the use of obtaining fame in a declining world?”
His father did not care about his own thoughts. He had always believed that scholars should have achievements. At the very least, they should have an official position in the Manchu officialdom.
Thus, he once again forced himself to enter the Classics Academy in the mountain city to continue studying the Way of Confucius and Mencius.
How could the young man admit defeat?
In front of Teacher, he did not avoid it.
"The Dao of Yao and Shun is not suitable for today. Confucius and Mencius are pedantic. The words of Cheng and Zhu are just fake Daoism.”
He even often discussed with his classmates about saving the country and pacifying the people, so he was naturally removed from the Academy.
A year later, at the age of thirteen, he had personally witnessed the failure of the 1898 reform, and the news of Tan Sitong and the other six gentlemen facing the sky to die came.
Tan Sitong, Mr. Tan is gone!
What about him?
It's okay, I'll continue!
At that time, he knew that there was no hope for the imperial court.
If he wanted to make this land stand up again, he had to walk a new path.
Tan Sitong and the others had fallen, but there was still him and his descendants!
It seemed that his father was bent on asking him to study the Way of Confucius and Mencius. Even though he had entered the Classics Academy in Shancheng, he still criticized the current malpractices and discussed the politics of the court. The Academy was afraid of implicating him and directly removed his name.
"That day, I knew that I had my own path to walk, the same path as my ancestors. In the end, it would be the younger generation who would walk it.”
"I'm one of the people who continued the path…"
When he opened his eyes, the memories in his mind gradually faded away.
Zou Rong knew that he was about to die.
In the pitch-black prison, the twenty-one-year-old man murmured. His eyes seemed to suddenly burst with dazzling brilliance as he stared ahead in a daze.
He was smiling, and his smile was extremely beautiful. The young man's appearance was especially handsome.
"I saw it, my country, I saw it, I really saw it!”
He struggled and looked at the flickering flame in the darkness. He stretched out his trembling hand and suddenly struggled, wanting to grab it.
In the end, the palm fell silently, reflecting the damp weeds on the ground…
In his loneliness, the young man died of illness.
At this moment.
In the Song Dynasty, Su Shi, who could only see party struggles, had just set up a school in Danzhou.
According to the laws of the Great Song, being exiled to this place was a lesser crime than being beheaded.
He looked at the golden roll in the sky. In the picture, the young man had passed away and his eyes were inexplicably red.
"What kind of character is this? Was this the backbone of the great country's early philosophers?”
"Can this country really be successfully established?”
Big Ming.
Hai Rui, who had been determined all his life, saw the young man walk forward with determination again and again. He stepped on the path of the people before him and cleared the thorns for the people behind him. Finally, he trembled and tears welled up in his eyes.
He was once lost, but he saw the future, his descendants, and his ancestors.
"I want to see how this country blooms.”
Ming Dynasty.
Zhu Yuanzhang watched this scene silently.
The young man died at the prime of his life. He was so persistent that it was as if he had lit a fire with himself.
Yes, he, Zhu Yuanzhang, started out as a commoner and fought all the way to the south and north, expelling the Tartars and sheltering the Han people from the wind and rain. In the process, he also killed many innocent people.
However, if he encountered such a person, how could he deal with someone who resisted the system for the sake of the people?
Even if he had to die, he would light the flames of the people of the world.
What kind of country did they want to create?
The emperor looked at the pitch-black scene in the sky, as if he had seen the first light in a decaying and dark swamp.
He closed his eyes in confusion.
Lee Shan Chang, who was standing behind him, didn't say anything. His expression was a little dull.
What would the prosperity of a country created by such people look like?
As vast as the Great Song, as majestic as the Great Tang?
It still looked new?
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