Anti-War Game: Starting from Normandy Campaign-Chapter 694 - 335: [Draft of the Sacrifice to My Nephew · The Life of Yan Zhenqing]
The breakdown of an adult often happens in an instant.
During the day, Yan Zhenqing forced himself to stay strong, trembling as he ordered his subordinates to discard his nephew’s head to boost the army’s morale.
But when night fell.
Alone, holding a torch, searching in the mass grave, cradling his nephew’s head and weeping, Yan Zhenqing made all the Blue Star viewers of the [movie version] deeply feel that profound pain and despair.
This was his favorite nephew, his elder brother’s bloodline.
Blood is thicker than water.
His elder brother’s family of over thirty was killed, their bodies dismembered by the rebellious An Lushan, and now only the nephew’s head remains.
How desolate this is.
The vengeance of a massacred family.
Even the Blue Star viewers instinctively held their breath.
Afraid of disturbing the man in the scene.
Even though it’s just a character in the [movie version] and won’t be affected by reality.
But the Blue Star viewers remained cautious.
The scene shifts.
It turned into a late night study room, with the cold wind howling outside.
Yan Zhenqing sat alone in the study.
The candlelight flickered on the table, casting a long, thin shadow of Yan Zhenqing on the wall, fluctuating between light and dark.
He sat at the desk, looking at the bloodstained war report before him, reaching out to touch the dried blood on the report, and memories of his brother’s death and his nephew’s head flashed through his mind.
After sitting silently for a long time.
Yan Zhenqing slowly unfolded a piece of paper, dipped his brush in ink, but the tip hovered above the paper for a long time without touching it down.
No one knows how much time passed.
The ink had already dried in the inkstone.
Yan Zhenqing added water and ground vigorously, the piercing sound echoed in the silent study.
Finally.
Yan Zhenqing raised his brush again:
"In the first year of the Qianyuan era, the year Wuxu, the third day of the ninth month, on the day Ren Shen...."
Initially.
Yan Zhenqing’s handwriting was still steady, the brushstrokes like a knife, but when writing ’Thirteenth Uncle, Yinqing Guanglu Dafu (an official title)....’ his wrist trembled.
The face of Jiming appeared before Yan Zhenqing.
That child always liked to follow behind him when he was young, standing on tiptoe watching him write, always exclaiming with admiration:
"Uncle’s handwriting is so beautiful...."
So that when writing the word ’Uncle,’ Yan Zhenqing remembered his nephew.
At this moment, he could no longer hold himself together.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Yan Zhenqing’s brushstrokes suddenly surged, every stroke seemed to slash through the paper:
"To the departed nephew, bestowed the honorary title of Zanshan Dafu, Jiming’s spirit, I say"
"You were born noble, exhibiting virtues from a young age, a pillar of the ancestral temple, a treasure in the family...."
"...."
"...." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂
When writing ’the traitorous ministers didn’t rescue,’ Yan Zhenqing’s hand trembled violently, recalling the intelligence from scouts that appeared before him:
"Yan Jiming cursed the traitors until the end, his heart split, his bones shattered."
Yan Zhenqing’s chest heaved, tears flowed unrestrainedly, but the hand holding the brush did not stop:
"A lonely city surrounded, father ensnared, son perished...."
"Ahhhhh!!!"
Yan Zhenqing could no longer suppress his anguished scream, tears blurred his vision, the handwriting grew increasingly chaotic, ink smeared and corrected, and by the time he wrote ’a toppled nest, destroyed eggs,’ the whole paper was full of corrections.
A tear dropped on the paper, followed by a second, a third....
Yan Zhenqing could no longer control his tears, trying to wipe them away with his hands, but it only resulted in more tears.
His heart was filled with regret.
If only he could have uncovered the enemy’s stratagems sooner, if only he could have sent troops for rescue earlier, if only.....
But there are no ifs in this world.
Suddenly!
Yan Zhenqing threw down his brush, clutched the fabric of his chest, his hunched back trembling violently, accompanied by physiological coughs, Yan Zhenqing covered his mouth, a trickle of blood oozed from between his fingers.
The pain pierced the heart.
After a while, Yan Zhenqing, with hands stained with blood, picked up the brush again.
But the ink in the inkstone had long dried.
Yan Zhenqing raised his hand to grind the ink, blood flowed down his fingers, mixing into the ink until blood and ink fused, only then did Yan Zhenqing shakily lift his brush:
"Heaven doesn’t repent misfortunes, who causes the affliction?"
"In remembrance of your meeting a dire fate, how can a hundred deaths repay?"
"Alas, what sorrow!"
The brushstroke was like a knife, deeply embedding into the paper.
"...."
"In memory of the recent recurrence, re-fall into Changshan."
"...."
"...."
"Alas, what sorrow! May you still partake!"
Each word a blood-cry.
Yan Zhenqing’s emotion followed each ’Alas, what sorrow!’ the hand holding the brush trembled endlessly.
Until he finally broke down in loud sobs, all semblance of composure lost.
The desolation was beyond expression.
In the live broadcast room, Blue Star viewers also felt extremely distressed to watch.
At the same time.
Some Blue Star friends feared that newcomers might not understand the [Huaxia] classical Chinese.
They translated the entire elegy into the most straightforward language on Blue Star and sent it in the bullet screen:
"You (Jiming) were talented from a young age, your virtues like important treasures in temples and abundant orchids in courtyards, your family was proud of you."
"We hoped for your bright future, but who knew An Lushan’s rebellion would occur, your father Yan Gaoqing (Yan Zhenqing’s elder cousin) rose to resist the enemy in Changshan County, and I held my ground in Pingyuan County."
"You once helped us pass messages and assisted in recapturing Tumen Pass."
"However, the rebel army counterattacked, traitorous officials (referring to Wang Chengye) stood by in apathy, Changshan fell, you and your father both died for the country, falling victim to the disaster of ’a toppled nest, destroyed eggs.’"
"The skies were merciless, who could stop this tragedy? I am grieved beyond measure, even dying a hundred times cannot bring you back!"
"...."
"...."
"Reflecting on the past evokes gut-wrenching pain! When the time is right, I will find a blessed place to bury you, may your soul rest in peace, do not lament wandering in foreign lands."
"Alas, please enjoy the offering!"
The intricate [Huaxia] classical Chinese was translated by Blue Star friends into plain language and posted in the live broadcast room.
Many Blue Star viewers in the live broadcast room looked at that translated elegy.
Also felt Yan Zhenqing’s sorrow.
That was the family’s most outstanding child, virtues were like important treasures in temples and abundant orchids in the courtyard, the family was proud of him, but he fell to the treacherous hands of rebels, suffered the disaster of ’a toppled nest, destroyed eggs.’
