Chapter 324

"Master, you're on the list! You're on the sky screen!"

Lu You took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

He looked at the poems he had written on the sky screen.

Those heroic poems written in Nanzheng when he was young;

Those tragic poems written in the lonely village late at night.

At this moment, they all appeared on the sky screen, to be enjoyed by the whole world.

He suddenly laughed.

As he laughed, tears flowed down.

"On the day the royal army recovers the Central Plains, do not forget to tell your father at the family sacrifice..."

He whispered the poem he wrote on his deathbed, his voice choked,

"Father, your child in this life, failed to recover the Central Plains."

"But your child's poems will wait for me, wait until that day."

At this moment, a commotion suddenly came from outside the door.

"The imperial decree has arrived—"

Lu You was startled and hurriedly stood up.

The messenger from Lin'an City arrived, holding the emperor's decree, his face full of smiles.

"Old Master Lu, the Emperor heard that you made the sky screen's Golden List, and the Dragon Face was greatly pleased; he specifically bestowed one thousand pieces of gold silk, five hundred pieces of silk, and the title 'Wenzhong' as a reward."

Lu You knelt to receive the decree, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

When he was alive, the court didn't give him a chance to serve his country;

Now that the sky screen says he is a patriotic poet, the court comes to reward him.

Is this reward for him, or for the sky screen?

But he didn't say it out loud.

He just silently accepted the decree, returned to the study, picked up his pen, and began to write poetry again.

No matter how the court treats him, he has only one belief—recover the Central Plains and return my mountains and rivers.

As long as he can still write, he will continue to write.

The scene on the sky screen became deep.

An old man, frail and dying, lay on the bed, his face pale, his breath faint.

On the table beside his bed, there were brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

He struggled to prop himself up, picked up his pen, and with trembling hands, wrote a few lines on the paper.

【Representative Poetry · Patriotic Masterpiece】

【"To My Son"

I know that death means everything is empty, but I grieve not to see the Nine Provinces united.

On the day the royal army recovers the Central Plains, do not forget to tell your father at the family sacrifice.】

When these twenty-eight characters appeared on the sky screen, the entire Hanyuan Hall of the Taiji Palace fell into a deathly silence.

No discussion, no commentary, no sighing.

Everyone just looked at these twenty-eight characters, silent.

This is not a poem.

This is an old man's last words before death.

He did not explain how to distribute his property, did not explain how his descendants should get along, did not explain how his funeral should be handled.

The only thing he explained was one thing—

"On the day the royal army recovers the Central Plains, do not forget to tell your father at the family sacrifice."

When the day comes for the imperial army to recover the Central Plains, when you offer sacrifices, don't forget to tell your father.

He knew he wouldn't live to see that day.

His life, from birth to death, was waiting for news that would never come.

But even so, he still had to wait.

If he couldn't wait while alive, then he would wait after death.

If he couldn't wait after death, then he would let his descendants wait for him.

One day, he would wait for it.

Wei Zheng was the first to speak, his voice hoarse: "I... I don't know what to say."

"This poem no longer needs anyone's evaluation."

"It is the highest evaluation itself."

Fang Xuanling's eyes were very red,

"This poem has no flowery language, no rhetorical devices, just the simplest last words."

"But it is precisely this simplicity that gives it the power of thunder."

Du Ruhui took a deep breath,

"('I know that death means everything is empty')—he knows that after death everything is empty, nothing can be taken away, nothing is important."

"('but I grieve not to see the Nine Provinces united')—but there is one thing he cannot let go of until death, and that is the unification of the country."

"This word 'but' writes out Lu You's lifelong obsession."

Zhangsun Wuji nodded: "('On the day the royal army recovers the Central Plains')—he firmly believes that one day, the imperial army will recover the Central Plains."

"Even if he can't see it, he firmly believes it."

"('do not forget to tell your father at the family sacrifice')—he instructs his descendants that after he dies, they must tell him this news."

"He himself cannot wait for that day, but he wants to establish a connection with that day, even if it is through the descendants' sacrifice."

Li Shimin was silent for a long time before speaking: "I have never seen such a poem."

"This is an old man's cry before death."

"He left this cry to his descendants, to later generations, to the whole of China."

Liu Bang rarely didn't eat melon seeds, nor did he have a playful face.

He looked at the poem on the sky screen and said slowly: "When I was young, I hated those scholars the most."

"But this person, I am convinced."

Liu Che said: "My Great Han has many heroes. But people like Lu You, I have never seen."

"He is not a general, has never been to a real battlefield; he is not a prime minister, has never governed the country."

"He is just a scholar, but he used a pen to live himself into a light."

Liu Xiu nodded: "This light has shone for a thousand years and is still shining."

"This is the power of culture, this is the power of poetry."

Ying Zheng had been silent.

But his gaze had always been on that poem.

After a long time, he spoke, saying only two words: "Magnificent."

Just two words, but everyone heard the weight in them.

How many people throughout history could make the First Emperor say "Magnificent"?

On the sky screen, the bullet comments were already overwhelming—

【Bullet Comment · Yang Jian】: To My Son!!! Every time I read this poem, I cry!!!

【Bullet Comment · Zhu Yuanzhang】: The first patriotic last words of the ages, well-deserved!

【Bullet Comment · Modern Netizen】

Lu You passed away after writing this poem.

These are the last twenty-eight characters he wrote with his life.

【Bullet Comment · Bystander】

On the day the royal army recovers the Central Plains... but the Southern Song never recovered the Central Plains later...

【Bullet Comment · Big Watermelon】

Don't say it, upstairs, I want to cry even more.

The saddest thing is that until the Southern Song Dynasty perished, the royal army never recovered the Central Plains.

Lu You waited his whole life, waited in vain.

When the last bullet comment drifted by, the atmosphere in the hall became even heavier.

Gu Shanhe sighed and whispered: "Yes, the Southern Song never recovered the Central Plains later."

"In 1279, the Southern Song perished, and Lu You's descendants never waited for the day of 'royal army recovers the Central Plains'."

The hall was silent again.

Li Shimin suddenly said: "But he is still waiting."

Everyone looked at him.

Li Shimin's gaze was firm and deep: "His poems are still there, his spirit is still there."

"As long as there are people reading his poems, he is waiting."

"Waiting a thousand years ago, and still waiting a thousand years later."

"This is immortality."

The golden light on the sky screen flowed again, and a line of large characters emerged—

【The sky screen now begins to award prizes】

【In view of Lu You's lifelong patriotism until death, and his poems inspiring the ages, he is specially awarded: ten years of lifespan.】