Great Song Dynasty Writer

Chapter 204 How could such a scene not be accompanied by poetry?
"Boatman, is it possible to stop at Wulin ahead?" Lu Beigu asked.

"Sir, you're going to Wulin?" The boatman was a little surprised, but still replied, "There's a small ferry crossing in Wulin where you can stop. However, it's a desolate place with little to see except for a few fishing families. It's far less lively than Chibi on the south bank."

"It's alright, we just want to see that ancient battlefield."

Lü Huiqing, Wang Shao, Cui Wenjing, and others nodded in agreement.

Now that we've arrived at the ancient battlefield of the Battle of Red Cliffs, it would be a real shame to just drift downstream and pass by without taking a look.

These days, taking a long trip is not easy. In addition to the time cost, the expenses for food, clothing, accommodation and transportation are also beyond the reach of ordinary families.

For these scholars, visiting the actual ancient battlefield of Wulin was more meaningful than visiting the famous "must-see" site of Chibi.

Since the guests had made the request, the boat captain readily agreed and steered the passenger boat slowly toward the north shore as instructed.

The Wulin Ferry was indeed rudimentary, constructed only of rough stone slabs and wood, with several dilapidated fishing boats moored there.

The group abandoned their boat and went ashore, where they found themselves on soft sand and overgrown reeds.

Lu Beigu looked around and saw a rolling hilly area in front of him. It was not high, but it was quite imposing.

The hills are covered with dense vegetation, mostly low shrubs and pine forests, which rustle and weep in the autumn wind.

Afterwards, the group climbed a small hill.

This place is bordered by the Yangtze River to the south, where the mighty river flows particularly swiftly. To the north, one can see the winding Neijing River, which encircles this land like a jade belt.

The entire Ulin region resembles a giant, open embrace facing the Yangtze River.

At this moment, Lü Huiqing sighed: "'Broken halberds lie buried in the sand, their iron still uncorroded; I myself will polish them to recognize the former dynasty. If the east wind had not favored Zhou Yu, the two Qiao beauties would have been locked away in the Copper Sparrow Terrace in the depths of spring.' Du Mu's poem perfectly captures the cruel tricks of fate!"

"Hard to say."

Wang Shao disagreed. He squatted down, grabbed a handful of sand, rubbed it carefully, and then looked up to observe the direction of the hills and the terrain of the riverbank. He explained in a deep voice, "This place is surrounded by hills, which seems to be conducive to setting up camps and garrisoning troops, as well as forming a water fortress. But in reality, the riverbank is flat and there are no steep cliffs to rely on. The hills are also covered with weeds. Once a fire starts, the wind will fan the flames, and the camps will be connected, making it difficult to defend both ends. Cao Mengde was confident in his talents, but he underestimated the natural barrier of the Yangtze River and the southeast wind. In my opinion, the outcome of the Battle of Red Cliffs was not so much a matter of fate, but more a matter of human strategy."

Lu Beigu listened silently to their discussion and walked alone towards another slightly higher mound. The soil under his feet was soft, mixed with gravel and dead leaves.

Standing atop the hill, the view is much more expansive than from the previous hill.

Before me flows the mighty Yangtze River, and across the river, the reddish-brown, steep cliffs—the Red Cliffs—are clearly visible in the afternoon sun, truly like a giant screen, facing Wulin across the river.

He closed his eyes, trying to reconstruct that earth-shattering battle in his mind.

The deafening shouts of battle and the sound of war drums still seemed to echo in my ears. Flames soared into the sky and thick smoke blocked out the sun. The massive fleet, with its ships linked by iron chains, burned and collapsed in the flames, turning into ashes and sinking to the bottom of the river.

How much blood has been spilled and how many ambitions buried on this seemingly peaceful land beneath our feet?

"The name of Chibi came from a great fire, but Wulin remains little known."

The truth of history is often obscured by legends of later generations, and the true heroic sites become silent footnotes.

He bent down and picked up a strangely shaped stone from the soil at his feet. The stone was black and shiny from the wear of time. Perhaps it had witnessed that raging fire.

As for broken swords and halberds, he didn't find any.

In fact, the discovery is abnormal, because the Battle of Red Cliffs happened 848 years ago, and Du Mu's line "Broken halberds lie buried in the sand, their iron still uncorroded" is purely a literary creation.

As Lu Beigu pondered, the sun began to set, casting its rays across the river and painting the hills of Wulin red. The river shimmered with golden light, making the red cliffs on the opposite bank appear even more magnificent.

However, on this northern shore that once truly experienced the most devastating war, there are only the sounds of wind, water, and the occasional bird flying by, as if eight hundred years have healed all the wounds.

After touring the unremarkable Wulin for a while, the group bid farewell to the silent hills and boarded the ship again.

The passenger ship slowly departed from the shore, and the outline of Wulin turned into a heavy silhouette in the deepening twilight, while the Red Cliff on the opposite bank, under the last rays of the setting sun, looked like a huge torch that had been lit, a breathtakingly red.

As the boat sailed through the middle of the river, the ancient battlefield they had just visited, like the aftereffects of strong liquor, surged and churned in their hearts, difficult to calm down.

The silent land, the howling river wind, and the blood-red cliffs on the opposite bank all stirred the hearts of these well-read scholars.

Lu Huiqing was the first to lose his composure. He got up, walked to the stern of the boat, looked back at the now blurred direction of Wulin, and said.

"Gentlemen! Today, as we set foot in Wulin and witness the ancient battlefield, we recall the heroic figures of Zhou Yu and the valiant deeds of Huang Gai, while Cao Cao's million-strong army was reduced to dust! How can we not compose a poem in the face of such a scene?"

"Who wants to go first?" Cui Wenjing asked.

In fact, he could tell from the banquet in Jiangling that neither Lü Huiqing nor Wang Shao were particularly skilled in poetry.

"I am but a humble person, but I will offer my humble opinion to elicit further discussion!"

Overwhelmed with emotion, Lü Huiqing could no longer contain himself. He needed to vent his feelings in order to completely expel the pent-up frustration that had accumulated in Jiangling.

"The mighty river flows day and night, and the Red Cliff stands for a thousand autumns."

The bones of the fallen are buried in Wulin, yet the sounds of drums and horns still echo.

The east wind blazes fiercely, and the masts and oars are reduced to smoke.

The great empire has vanished with the tide, leaving only eternal sorrow!

After a long pause, the young Zeng Bu finally said, "Brother Jifu's poem has the style of Du Mu, but with an added touch of heroic spirit."

Lu Huiqing's face flushed with pride at the praise he received. He looked intently at Wang Shao and said, "Brother Zichun! You are well-versed in geography and military strategy. Just now, you analyzed the terrain in Wulin with great insight. Why don't you also compose a poem to re-examine this battle from the perspective of a military strategist?"

Wang Shao was not known for his poetic talent, but at this moment, the ancient battlefield stirred up the pent-up emotions in his heart.

He pondered for a moment, then slowly stood up and walked to the cabin door: "Brother Jifu's masterpiece is already there, so I will try my best. I just set foot in Wulin and observed its terrain, and I have some feelings about it. Let's use the rhyme 'Yi Dong'."

"How majestic is the continuous camp stretching for a hundred miles? Yet it leans against the flat hills, its back to the water, a dead end."

Fire, aided by the wind, burns ants that gather; a boat, secured by locks, buries a dragon.

Failing to capitalize on the advantageous terrain led to a loss of the initiative, and the opportune moment had already passed, resulting in the defeat of a ruthless hero.

The hills and valleys of Wulin still stand, while the cold river waves sing of the great wind.

Although Cui Wenjing couldn't write any great poems, he had accumulated a certain level of aesthetic appreciation over the years. He exclaimed, "Zichun's work, with its so-called 'leaning against the flat hill with its back to the water', is truly a model of military strategists' historical poems. As for the last line, it has a lingering charm and is thought-provoking!"

Zeng Bu was filled with excitement and couldn't help but look at his elder brother Zeng Gong: "Elder brother, both Brother Jifu and Brother Zichun have produced great works, you..."

(End of this chapter)