I am not Ximen Qing.

The TV series version of *Fortress Besieged*, Kafka's *The Great Wall Metamorphosis*—just imagine, Gregor becomes a beetle, what a tragic tragedy! Historians are accustomed to using their historian's pen to add another crime to the First Emperor's record. Alas, walls, walls—walls built of bricks and stones to enclose Chinese civilization, burning books and burying scholars alive. The First Emperor, in his grave, laments in grief, but the author shows mercy. The First Emperor is the resurrected enemy of China's ambitions; he is a living, breathing human being who conquers the forces of the unseen, a so-called "Death Superman." History often obscures the truth; the world is truly ironic. Everyone wants to emulate the First Emperor's Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai, praying to the universe, but the spirit of death, the spirit of greatness, cares little for irony. Israel built a wall, the United States started building a wall; they are supporters of Qin Shi Huang. From the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors to the First Emperor, he was the one who brought civilization to its zenith. The spark of civilization, like Prometheus, was preserved in China. China possesses the spirit of Mahayana Buddhism, which is why Bodhidharma's Zen Buddhism came to the Chinese land. Why did Kafka write about the Great Wall? He has the vision of a master, a modernist master. Thankfully, *The Great Wall* was made into a film. It's strange that a Chinese director and a foreign screenwriter are so different; Chinese things are viewed overseas because the spirit is disappearing and becoming suffocated. What the Chinese lack now isn't cleverness, but true wisdom. This era is a tragedy for intellectuals. Never before has culture become so superficial and detached. It's like Nietzsche's *Superman*, emerging from a cave to find oneself so alienated from this seemingly prosperous and dazzling world. In this respect, Nietzsche undoubtedly deserves to be called an artist among great philosophers. Everything is inhuman, like the reality and virtual world in *The Matrix*. The embers of humanity remain underground, and monsters are digging deep into the depths of human civilization, controlling human thought, soul, and spirit.

Humanity lives in a non-human mother world. This non-human civilization possesses superhuman wisdom and not only seeks to control humanity but also to become its god. God is dead. Nietzsche feared the complete annihilation of human civilization. Perhaps Buddha and the Bible provide the power to overcome evil, defeating non-human forces in dreams—a spiritual self-redemption achieved in another dimension. Spirit, spirit—no era needs spirit more than its resurrection. Humanity creates two things: garbage and demons. Thus, the demon exists amidst the omnipresence of love, seemingly revealing the insignificance of human existence. We are now in the six realms, not needing to experience them after death. Buddha's wisdom and destiny possess a sacred power, which humanity itself created. Holy spirits, ironically, became Buddhas, sacrificing their lives to satisfy human desires. Humanity's ugliest expression of justice is the killing of all living beings in war.

How wonderful it would be to lie forever in the womb, for that is true paradise. The birth of a new life is so fragile and difficult; I vaguely recall the trials in the fire in my dreams—the power that saved Zhang Sheng's right hand, leaving an eternal scar. A person cursed by the gods was born. The father was angry with the mother and didn't take good care of his son. In a moment of carelessness, the little one ran down the black earth hillside. All children need their parents' meticulous care, all for the sake of having a son. For Chinese people, the one-child policy accompanies them throughout their lives. Some people's fates change because of having an extra son, but the Chinese tradition remains: many children, many blessings; parents need their sons to care for them in their old age and see them off in death.

The story in the Bible begins with Adam and Eve having one child after another, but just think about how wealth, once lost, can be regained; with people, one has everything. Jesus in the Old Testament of David and Solomon, also a descendant of David, possesses culture and spirit, and thus has everything. The Jewish people, adhering to the Bible during their wanderings, were resurrected. The actions of the Japanese and Dorgon in Nanjing and Yangzhou were essentially the same: to facilitate the destruction of the Chinese spirit and integrity. The way of Heaven does not change according to human will; only the flow of blood can revive the spirit of ancestors. Humans are forgetful; only through hardship and perseverance can lost spirits, lost worlds, and lost memories be revived, like the wisdom of the Sixth Patriarch's Platform Sutra. People from all walks of life can attain Buddhahood. The Diamond Sutra's enlightenment cannot be achieved without sufficient practice; even reaching the summit does not reveal the profound view of overlooking all others.

The grandfather in the photo looks so much like the father. The family photo was taken in the same year. Zhang Sheng likes to dream, then forget, then remember. This kind of opening dream is his fantasy, as enigmatic as *Dream of the Red Chamber*. The author didn't intend for so many fans of *Dream of the Red Chamber* to become famous and wealthy through this book, achieving both fame and fortune. *Journey to the West*, *Water Margin*, *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*, the Four Great Classical Novels of China, plus *Jin Ping Mei*, are all masterpieces of the Ming Dynasty. Of course, *Dream of the Red Chamber* is a reflection of the Forbidden City, a great work standing on the shoulders of predecessors.

In Zhang Sheng's memory, his grandmother was like a hazy ghost in a dream. Like many women throughout history, she never experienced the arrival of feminism, her life consumed by the cycle of childbirth. He remembered her smoking a pipe, her bound feet, and her quiet nature. He recalled rarely interacting with her. His mother's only expectation of her grandmother was when she asked if she wanted the gold ring on her finger—a valuable antique. Those were precious moments, those moments of quiet contemplation as his grandmother lay silently among the reeds on the mountain. Even in another world, reality is real; the power of money is what we call superstition, as important as money itself. The technological age seems more terrifying than the age of ignorance. People live without believing in anything, envying the wealthy and calling it exploitation. But if we think about it another way, even nobility isn't built in a single generation; like a nation, it requires generations of hard work. Thanks to this era, many who would have starved to death have been saved by this era, this society. Education is a responsibility and an obligation, and it must be people-oriented. It's perfectly normal for the new era to have flaws and limitations. However, Balzac was not as we imagine him to be—impoverished, writing hundreds of copies of *The Human Comedy*, yet his life was relatively short. Balzac's life was actually quite luxurious. Idealism and materialism are unified and interdependent.

As a child, Zhang Sheng's dreams were always about coffins. His grandmother passed away soon after, followed by a seven-day mourning period and a long period of observing mourning. The air was filled with the cries of children longing for their departed mother. Zhang Sheng was curious, fascinated by everything—the paper sails, paper oxen, paper horses, paper money—it was all so lively. In Zhang Sheng's life, aside from kneeling before the coffin and kowtowing to his grandmother, he couldn't cry even when he wanted to. A child's interest in funerals lies in the exclusive enjoyment of the bustling, extraordinary scene. Because the time he spent with his grandmother was only a month or so, and he was too young to remember, his emotions were always somewhat detached, so he couldn't cry. Finally, when his grandmother's enormous coffin was buried in the ancestral graveyard, alongside his grandfather who had passed away earlier, a vast expanse of desolate graves appeared. Coming here always evoked a sense of sadness. The numerous tombstones marked the final resting place of life; life is born from dust and returns to dust. Fortunately, the deceased ancestors have descendants to commemorate them. My father was an extremely filial son, preparing the best funeral provisions for my grandmother. In this respect, he possessed the refined virtues of Confucianism, so Zhang Sheng undoubtedly admired his father. Filial piety is the foundation of all virtues; this was a principle that even the most refined and elegant officials would never stray from in matters of funeral rites. In ancient times, regardless of rank, the highest moral standard was filial piety, and no one dared to make the slightest mistake in upholding this principle.

“Nephew, do you know? Your father has never said a word against your grandfather.”

Zhang Sheng, still naive and confused, received earnest advice from his second aunt. "How blissful it is to be ignorant as a child!" he thought. Zhang Sheng neither understood nor cared; ignorance is bliss. But thinking about it, his uncle was somewhat like Jia Zheng from *Dream of the Red Chamber*. Every time he beat his son Li Xian, he would secretly run away and weep. The heart of a parent is most deeply embodied in his uncle. Sometimes, the actions of the cultured and refined are incomprehensible to ordinary people; their level of understanding is too high. For a talented person, this is another kind of suffering. His uncle had a somewhat self-righteous attitude, as if he were the only one who was truly enlightened in a world of fools.

Attending his grandmother's funeral was like a trip from the remote forest to the Grand View Garden for Zhang Sheng. The Grand View Garden's prototype, the Old Summer Palace (Yuanmingyuan), was destroyed not by Xiang Yu, but by the Eight-Nation Alliance for the destruction of evidence. It perfectly illustrates Lao Tzu's saying, "Gold and jade should not be displayed to others." Human nature is indeed fickle; a transformation from refined to beastly can happen in an instant. The Eight-Nation Alliance's navy at the time was undoubtedly a high-tech force, with many officers and generals graduating from Oxford, Cambridge, Berlin, and Harvard. Their adventurous careers turned into a journey of plunder and invasion. Trains were Zhang Sheng's favorite thing. He dreamed of becoming a train driver, one day pulling a steam locomotive that spewed plumes of steam. The green carriages chugged along, accompanied by the sloshing sound of the rails, pulled by two small locomotives at the front and back. Normally, one locomotive would go back, while the two locomotives, used for uphill and downhill travel, needed ample power. Internal combustion engines were only found in towns; they were rare. Most locomotives were enormous, like the armored monsters from Transformers. In the steam age, only some areas of large cities had advanced electrified railways, but Zhang Sheng believed this small town was the real city. He vowed to come here when he grew up, filled with endless longing and nostalgia, yet he didn't know when that day would come. He didn't understand the beauty of Tao Yuanming's Peach Blossom Spring. The people living in Peach Blossom Spring didn't know the beauty of its sacred realm; those living deep in the forest didn't understand the beauty of the forest's depths, instead envying the prosperity and glory of the outside world. Fantasy and reality are vastly different. City dwellers look down on those in the mountains; city dwellers possess a natural sense of superiority. Even childhood is forgetful—a mercy from heaven, a mercy from Ksitigarbha. Forgetfulness signifies the manifestation of emptiness and enlightenment; hope signifies the karmic retribution of hell. Under the power of compassionate love, it all vanishes. The Mani jewel and Tibet opening the gates of hell offer souls a chance for redemption. How many levels of hell are there? Is it 18? We don't know. Perhaps the end of hell, like the solar system, the Milky Way, and the endless universe, is infinitely vast. Emphasizing the boundless expanse of land only serves to illustrate the extent of human suffering, which is too wishful thinking.

Feng Jie, a charming young woman in her prime, seduced Zhang Sheng. It was, in reality, an Edenic love affair, an unexpected encounter. This love was like a winter's fairy tale, a midsummer night's dream, and the Dahe Forest Farm was the perfect setting for such a dream. Here, the labor camp inmates had painstakingly built their cinema. Second Sister, famous throughout Dahe for taking up seats, had too many relatives: four aunts, two uncles, and a whole host of neighbors and friends. She was incredibly brave, arguing with the elderly women from the forest farm's work teams' families without backing down, because the world is about reason. "Little girl, do you even understand reason? Taking up all 30-plus seats in the front row is unreasonable. I don't want more, just one front-row seat. Who's your mother? I want to be the judge."

"My mother's name will scare you to death."

"Yes, little girl, you scared me to death."

"Mom, come quick, she's bullying me."

"Old Guo, Guo Jinyu, how did you raise such a fierce little firecracker?"

In Zhang Sheng's eyes, Feng Jie was becoming increasingly charming and affectionate, a testament to the beauty of childlike innocence. Indeed, Zhang Sheng had long forgotten any romantic memories he'd shared with Feng Jie, yet Feng Jie remained unfazed, still showering him with the same unique and warm affection. Aunt Liang and Uncle Liang would greet Zhang Sheng from afar, and he would respond with "Auntie" and "Uncle," unable to refuse their kindness. The couple were well aware of Feng Jie's situation; she had dropped out of school because she disliked studying. A new batch of family housing was built in the forest farm, and Feng Jie's family moved to a settlement near the riverbank. Even after Feng Jie left, Zhang Sheng felt endless sorrow; he felt uneasy not seeing her. Later, he heard from his sister that Feng Jie had found a boyfriend, but then his sister said that Feng Jie and her boyfriend had broken up; the relationship was unsuccessful. On another occasion, Sister Feng invited her sister to visit her home. Upon seeing Sister Feng, she blushed with shyness, her face turning rosy. She didn't even look up at Zhang Sheng, but simply sat quietly on the kang (a heated brick bed) embroidering a pair of phoenixes. Now, Sister Feng's embroidery skills for various flowers, birds, fish, and insects were exquisite. It seemed as if Zhang Sheng had never known her. In fact, she knew that a relationship between her and Zhang Sheng was impossible.

She only hoped Zhang Sheng would mature sooner and realize the truth, remembering their love in the warehouse. Everyone has a flower, a flower that will bloom in some form, releasing love and affection. She thought of the ancient shamanic incantations still lingering in the forests of Changbai Mountain—the retribution of cause and effect, the causal law of historical idealism. When the Jin Dynasty retaliated against the Song Dynasty with a sheep-leading ceremony, it was because the Southern Song, biased towards one dynasty, had actually agreed to the conditions of the Mongol Empire, completely losing rational cooperation, and clearly knowing that with the fall of the Jin Dynasty, the Southern Song, with only its own legitimate Han Chinese, was headed for destruction. What does the fall of a nation matter? Even in the fall of a nation, one must avenge the hatred and pain of the Five Kingdoms City. What about the Zizhi Tongjian, the Records of the Three Kingdoms, or the alliance between Shu and Wu against Wei? That's impossible. The only time in history that hatred caused the loss of reason was the destruction of the Great Jin Dynasty. It was a catastrophic destruction, almost a massacre of the entire race. This was all because the Great Jin Dynasty did not follow the teachings of Confucius and Mencius. Therefore, one must bear the consequences of defeat. Thus, the fate of the old and young of the Great Jin Dynasty was not as courteous as that of the Shang Dynasty nobles under King Zhou of Shang on the Korean Peninsula.

The vengeful spirits and wandering ghosts are all in the primeval forests of Changbai Mountain. Death in the Dahe Forest Farm is like a series of death games. The legends of Ma Luozi's death, Zhang Shuzhong's death, Secretary Wang's death, and Gao Xiaogui's death all involve exceptionally painful deaths, like the torments of Avici Hell described in the Ksitigarbha Sutra. Gao Xiaogui suffered the worst, because he loved hunting in the mountains and was eventually devoured by a black bear, losing half his face and dying a gruesome death. Their deaths are all related to the evil spirits of the great forest, such as the graveyards in the wetlands, because evil spirits like to bury the dead in barren lands, thus creating these painful deaths. The men are all cursed by the evil spirits of shamans, and they will die in an extremely painful way. Some people also say that the tap water in the Dahe Forest Farm is polluted by the graveyards in the wetlands upstream of the river, so much so that the families of the workers in the Dahe Forest Farm strongly demand that bleach, or hydrogen hypochlorite as it is called in high school chemistry, be continuously added to the reservoir to eliminate the terrible carcinogenic virus brought by the legendary deaths of Ma Luozi. The forest farm was gripped by panic over the death of the mule. Rumors circulated that it was caused by some deadly virus, and the fact that he was buried in an ancient grave in the wetlands, coupled with the children's hasty burial and two or three months of rain, led to the tragic accident where the coffin was washed into the river. This was indeed an inhumane event. No wonder the Dahe Forest Farm had so many patients with various cancers. Death itself isn't frightening, but death caused by cancer, especially around forty to fifty years old—the prime of life—was a shamanic curse from the ancient forests, a curse brought by the descendants of the defeated Jurchen people of Changbai Mountain, a curse of evil spirits. Previously, there was no cancer because men almost always died naturally around forty, while women, through constant childbirth, lived longer. Perhaps this was the vitality of new life brought about by childbirth.