Dynasties watched the founding of the modern nation, and the emperors were shocked

When he said this, Chen Zhongfu did not have any stars in his eyes, but only deep sorrow.

Lu Xun's "Diary of a Madman" made waves in such a cannibalistic era, which is certainly a good start.

But how to maintain it and enlighten the people is the most important thing.

"Longevity, the road is still long, this road is difficult to walk..."

Chen Zhongfu came back to his senses, looked at his son, and sighed faintly.

The two sons had just made up their minds to contribute to the revolution, and he could not bear to tell him that this was a road that would lead to death if he did not succeed.

The picture goes black like this.

This picture in the canopy is reflected in the various dynasties.

Spring and autumn.

Confucius, who had been a little delighted, was silent again.

The appearance of "Diary of a Madman" criticizes this 'cannibalistic' society, but it is a momentary joy, and it also brings endless pressure.

"The world is so chaotic that only the appearance of several, if not dozens, articles and novels like 'Diary of a Madman' can have a little effect...,"

Confucius muttered to himself.

"But how many 'Lu Xun' are there in an era?"

Liu Che's brows furrowed deeper and deeper, and he couldn't help but glance at Dong Zhongshu below.

He began to think about whether it was correct to agree to Dong Zhongshu's proposal to depose the hundred schools and respect Confucianism alone.

"In an era, there is only one concept to speak, is this also a 'cage'?"

Liu Che began to think.

This had never been done before, but after seeing the China of later generations, especially after seeing so many people lifting their pens and making all kinds of voices, he became suspicious.

On the other side, the Tang Dynasty.

Li Shimin nodded slightly: "It is true that more "Diary of a Madman" is needed, but there was only one madman in that era, and that was him

!" "He said that he would write a novel in the future!"

"

It is also the Tang Dynasty, but it is the Zhou Wu era."

The entire poetry and literati of the Tang Dynasty were looking up and looking forward to it.

I expect this literati named 'Lu Xun' to criticize the world with sharper words and a more crazy perspective.

"There are many ways to wake up to the wisdom of the age, which can be interchanged, can be shouted, or scolded.

"It may offend the literati of an entire era, but it must be done!" The

door of this iron house is slowly opening. "

......

"Diary of a Madman", like the brightest meteorite and comet, dragged its long tail and smashed it on the long river of 'history', leaving a strong stroke.

The dynasties are increasingly looking forward to what this Republic of China will become in the future.

In the canopy, words emerge.

[On May 4, 1918, due to the joint efforts of the warlords of the north and the south, Yatsen resigned from the post of 'generalissimo', and left Guangcheng by boat on the 20th and returned to the magic capital. The

screen appears.

The lonely ship, adrift at sea, in the wind and waves, seems so lonely.

Yat-sen stood quietly on the deck, looking deeply ahead.

"The great trouble of our country is nothing more than the competition between the warriors, the raccoon dog in the south and the north!"

these eyes were full of residual anger.

I saw the essence of the warlords, and gradually I couldn't see where the future of the country was.

What's more, he gradually felt powerless.

"The times are turbulent, changing too fast, maybe the spark of China is not in my hands!"

Back in the cabin, he intended to be silent for a while.

During this time, he would think about what the strategy for building a nation was.

Is there no hope?

No, no

! In the middle of the night, a crack was made in the cabin window, and a sea breeze blew in, rattling a magazine on the table.

On the cover of this magazine, three big words are written: "New Youth".

The text continues to surface.

[On June 3, the world's influenza hit the magic capital. The

screen expands.

At this moment, the magic capital is like a dead city.

There are fewer people going out on the streets, and the advertising tips are blown by the wind, and there is a depression.

The warlord chaos is not over yet, and there is another cold attack, natural and man-made disasters.

The country is becoming more and more devastated and wounded.

Northern song dynasty.

Wang Anshi looked at China at the moment, and really couldn't see hope.

He shook his head and sighed: "Where is the hope of this country..."

[On June 15, the warlords of the North and the South finally sat together and declared a truce. [

On July 1, Li Shouchang published "A Comparative View of the Franco-Russian Revolution". The

screen rotates again.

In a room at Peking University, Li Shouchang was reading books and documents about the October Revolution.

He took off his glasses and closed them deeply.

As soon as he closes his eyes, the current tragic situation of the Republic of China will appear in his mind like a nightmare, and he can't forget it.

"It's even more chaotic than Tsarist Russia under the revolution!" Captain

Li reopened his eyes with unbearability in his eyes.

"The Republic of China under natural and man-made disasters has no humanity, let alone ethics and morality, and the inferior nature of human beings is vividly displayed. If Tsarist Russia can succeed, we will definitely be able to follow in the footsteps!"

As he picked up the pen, Li Shouchang's eyes were firm and he muttered to himself.

From beginning to end, he believed in it.

The text continues to emerge.

[On August 19, 1918, Li Shutong decided to become a monk, and from then on, the bright moon accompanied Hongyi. The

screen appears.

The nearest moon is exceptionally round.

At this time, he also called 'Li Shutong' and called Feng Zikai and a group of other students to his home.

The former generously gave away everything in the room.

What he gave Feng Zikai was a handscroll of his own poems, and he said with a smile: "When I wrote this poem, it was your age. "

Teacher..."

Feng Zikai had long known that the teacher was going to become a monk, and tears flowed out instantly.

His wife chased him all the way from home to Hangzhou, crying and staying.

But Uncle Li didn't say a word, just rented a small boat, sent his wife to the side of the boat, and slowly sailed towards the center of the lake with one oar.

Uncle Li folded his hands together and made a series.

"Love is compassion. Then

he rowed the boat and slowly sailed into the mountains.

"When—"

The moment the incense smoke curls from the temple in the mountains, when the ancient bell rings.

The temple gate slowly closed, and the figure behind the door who had already entered the temple had already shaved his hair.

Back to the times.

also with his back to this being.

When the temple door was closed, the once amazing and suave genius Li Shutong was gone, and some were just Master Hongyi, who often accompanied the ancient Buddha of the green lantern and chanted 'Amitabha Buddha' in his mouth.

Text emerges.

[When the times were calling, he hid in the lonely jungle and was willing to spend the second half of his life in the poor Buddhism, and it was he who understood the true meaning of life.

Such words and pictures were reflected in the emperors of various dynasties, and as spectators, the emperors were all silent.

They sighed.

While sighing, there is also a hint of sadness.

"In this turbulent era, different people have different paths. "

Tang Dynasty, Wu Zetian period.

Wu Zetian retracted his gaze and sighed softly.

"But it's precisely because these different people have chosen different paths that this era is more exciting, isn't it?"

Below, Di Renjie also looked up, with a faint smile on his face.