chsdbacks Chapter 253 Du Fu, the Sage of Poetry! Your wish from back then has come true.
Chapter 253 Du Fu, the Sage of Poetry! Your wish from back then has come true.
The smoke of battle has dissipated over the East China Sea, leaving only the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship's side.
Zhao Dabao stood on the sea, the sea breeze blowing into his tattered pajamas, making his thin body sway.
Behind him, the phantom of Shen Gongbao, riding a black leopard and holding a whisk, was slowly withdrawing the purplish-black aura that had changed the color of the world.
"belch--"
In the air, Shen Gongbao's divine shadow let out a satisfied burp.
Having absorbed the resentment and bad luck of an entire team of Onmyoji, plus the destiny of a descendant of the Abe family, Shen Gongbao's figure now looked much more solid, and his narrow eyes were full of mockery.
"Good job, kid."
Shen Gongbao's voice rang directly in Zhao Dabao's mind.
"Although your shout almost cracked your voice, I admire your spirit of throwing bad luck onto others."
Zhao Dabao's legs were still weak, and he stammered in his mind:
"Great...Great God, am I...safe now?"
"Safety?"
Shen Gongbao sneered.
"Once you've made a pact with me, there's no such thing as absolute safety in this world. However, if you ever dislike anyone, just utter those five words. I can guarantee they'll be lucky to escape with their lives."
After saying that, the huge phantom transformed into a stream of light and with a whoosh, it burrowed into the bloodstain between Zhao Dabao's eyebrows.
In an instant, Zhao Dabao felt a strange connection within his body.
He looked at the approaching Chinese patrol boat, and his face, which had been pale from seasickness and fear, had regained some color.
He could clearly feel that the heavy, unlucky atmosphere that had accompanied him in the past had disappeared, replaced by a strange power that controlled his misfortune.
On the patrol boat, a major looked at the tall man in pajamas and slippers with an extremely complex expression.
He stood at attention, saluted, and spoke in a loud voice:
"Thank you for your support, comrade! May I ask... what's your name?"
Zhao Dabao was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously wanted to scratch his head, only to find that he was still holding the slipper that hadn't fallen into the sea.
He awkwardly put on his slippers and puffed out his chest:
"Um... my name is Zhao Dabao."
After thinking for a moment, he added the name that Su Fan had taught him before:
"I am... the divine charioteer of Shen Gongbao, a deity of the Chinese nation."
……
The capital city, the highest command headquarters.
After a deathly silence, thunderous applause erupted.
As Old Mo looked at the somewhat comical-looking young man on the big screen, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out.
"Excellent! Excellent Shen Gongbao! Excellent law of cause and effect!"
Old Mo turned around and looked at the staff behind him, his tone firm and resolute.
"Immediately designate Zhao Dabao as a top-tier strategic asset! Send a special plane... no, send a fighter jet squadron to pick him up! His safety must be guaranteed!"
"Furthermore, pass this order down: from now on, if Comrade Zhao Dabao wants to speak, he must first confirm whether the person he is speaking to is friend or foe. He is strictly forbidden from uttering those five words to his own people!"
The staff officers suppressed their laughter and loudly agreed.
This is a powerful, self-propelled humanoid weapon! Who would dare let him call out to them, "Fellow Daoist, please wait"?
Isn't that just asking for trouble?
……
Inside the live stream room.
Although the scene had switched back to Su Fan's side, the comments were still scrolling wildly, and the popularity continued to soar.
"I also want to learn that line, 'Fellow Daoist, please wait!' It's so cool!"
"Don't be reckless, upstairs. If you didn't have Shen Gongbao backing you up, shouting that would just be asking for a beating."
"Su Shen, did Zhao Dabao successfully complete the contract? Is he invincible now?"
Su Fan looked at the comments, took a sip of water to moisten his slightly dry throat, and said with a smile:
"Rest assured, everyone, Zhao Dabao has successfully signed a contract with Shen Gongbao."
"Although Shen Gongbao has a bad reputation in Chinese mythology and is known as the god of misfortune, as I said before, power has no distinction between good and evil. When used for good, it is a sharp sword to protect the country. When used for evil, it is the source of chaos."
"Zhao Dabao's life was plagued by bad luck in the first half of his life, which precisely created his extremely special physique, which can perfectly bear Shen Gongbao's power."
"From now on, as long as he does not harbor evil intentions, this force will be one of the strongest shields for China."
At this point, Su Fan's expression became slightly serious.
"However, our path of seeking the divine must continue."
"The Goddess Mazu guards the sea frontier, her majesty extends throughout the world. General Shen Gongbao is unpredictable and cunning, killing enemies without a trace."
"But Chinese civilization has a history of five thousand years, and it is brilliant and glorious. Our gods are not just military generals and sorcerers."
"The true backbone of China sometimes does not rely on swords."
These words calmed the somewhat agitated atmosphere in the live stream.
Without swords or spears?
So what do we rely on?
Su Fan did not answer, but said softly:
"Alright, let's welcome the next person who is destined to meet us."
Su Fan tapped the screen and started a random voice chat again.
The image flickered wildly before finally freezing.
beep--
The live stream connection was established.
The image that appeared on the right side of the screen stunned everyone.
Unlike Lin Qingge's luxurious mansion and Zhao Dabao's dilapidated rental house, this time the background is actually a leaky thatched hut.
That's right, it's the kind of thatched hut you only see in documentaries about impoverished mountain areas.
It seemed to be raining heavily outside, with rainwater dripping down the dilapidated roof and into the basin on the floor, making a tinkling sound.
An elderly man was sitting in front of the camera.
He was wearing a faded Zhongshan suit, his hair was gray and messy, and his face was covered with deep wrinkles.
He looked very thin, almost unrecognizable, but his cloudy eyes revealed a stubbornness and aloofness unique to scholars.
"Where...where is this? Are there still people living in houses like this?"
"The old man is so pitiful. With this rain, his house must be flooded!"
"Sir, are you also here to appraise the statues of Chinese deities?"
Su Fan's gaze sharpened slightly upon seeing the old man.
He noticed that behind the old man, on a mottled earthen wall, were densely covered with calligraphy and paintings.
Although the paper was yellowed and the ink was somewhat smudged, each character was written with powerful strokes, penetrating the paper and faintly revealing a soaring righteous spirit.
"Hello, sir." Su Fan's voice was soft and respectful. "May I ask your name? Do you have any deity statues that you'd like me to authenticate?"
The old man seemed to be unfamiliar with using a mobile phone, and was adjusting the camera somewhat clumsily. He only stopped when he heard Su Fan's voice.
"Master... hello."
The old man's voice was hoarse, with a heavy Sichuan accent.
"My name is Li Shouyi, and I am... a retired rural teacher."
"I don't have any statues of Chinese gods. I just wanted to show you this during this live stream."
Su Fan was slightly stunned after hearing the old man's words.
Without a statue of a god, what are you even talking about?
However, out of respect for the elderly, Su Fan patiently continued watching.
Li Shouyi shakily pulled out a long, narrow object wrapped in layers of oilcloth from his pocket.
He carefully unwrapped the oilcloth layer by layer, his movements as gentle as if he were stroking a newborn baby.
Finally, what was revealed was an old-looking scroll and a...
A calligraphy brush that was broken in half and then re-tied up with hemp rope.
"I found this not long ago while sorting through my ancestors' belongings."
Li Shouyi held the broken pen, tears welling up in his cloudy eyes.
"These days the world is in turmoil, and making money is getting harder and harder. I just wanted to ask the master..."
"Could I exchange this pen and this calligraphy for some money?"
At this point, the old man's face turned bright red, as if he felt that talking about money was beneath him, but he still gritted his teeth and said:
"The village primary school collapsed, and the children have nowhere to study. I'm thinking of... building a new classroom."
The chat in the live stream instantly fell silent.
They were initially annoyed to hear that the old man didn't have any statues of Chinese deities, but now they were all stunned.
In this fast-paced era, the sight of an elderly person selling ancestral possessions to repair a school evokes a sense of sadness in everyone.
"Grandpa's treating Su Shen like a treasure-hunting streamer! But it's okay, Su Shen, let's have him appraise some treasures this time!"
"Sir, please don't sell it. We'll donate whatever price you make!"
"Yes! Let's start a crowdfunding campaign, I'll contribute 500!"
"This pen looks so rotten, it's probably not worth much money. Let's donate it instead."
Su Fan remained silent.
His gaze was fixed on the broken pen and the unrolled scroll.
In the system's view, the seemingly tattered calligraphy brush was actually surrounded by a rich, almost impenetrable, blue aura.
That was neither divine power nor demonic energy.
That's... a refined, scholarly air!
It is righteous spirit!
It is a compassion and cry that has continued for thousands of years!
"Old man."
Su Fan took a deep breath and interrupted the old man, "You don't need to worry about the money. The whole of China will help you repair this school."
"But now, please unfold that calligraphy and let me see it."
Li Shouyi paused for a moment, nodded, and slowly unfurled the scroll.
The scroll does not depict a painting, but rather a poem.
The handwriting is messy and unrestrained, suggesting that the writer was in a state of extreme grief and pain when creating this piece.
But every word seems to be forged with blood and tears, exuding a desolate and grand sorrow that soars to the heavens.
That is……
"My Thatched Hut Is Broken by the Autumn Wind"
The moment the poem was fully displayed on camera.
boom!
Su Fan felt as if a thunderbolt had exploded in his mind.
He saw it.
He saw that rainy night from over a thousand years ago.
On that stormy night, the thatch was blown away and the rain poured down. A thin figure staggered through the mud, trying to pick up a few thatch that had been blown away by the wind.
But what he was thinking about was not his own cold or his own hunger.
They are the poor scholars of the world!
"If only I had ten thousand mansions, I could shelter all the poor and needy, and make them all smile with joy! They would stand firm as a mountain, unshaken by wind and rain!"
"Alas! When will this house suddenly appear before my eyes? Even if my own hut is broken and I freeze to death, it will be enough!"
Su Fan's eyes instantly reddened.
He suddenly stood up and bowed deeply to the old man on the screen, or rather, to the broken pen in the old man's hand.
"Master, what's wrong with you...?"
Li Shouyi was startled by Su Fan's actions.
The viewers in the live stream were also confused.
"What's wrong with Su Shen? Why is he suddenly bowing so deeply?"
"Is this calligraphy... very famous?"
"Isn't this just an ordinary poem? We all memorized it in school."
Su Fan raised his head, his eyes filled with unprecedented solemnity and reverence.
"Everyone, what do you think God is?"
"Is it the power to move mountains and fill seas? Is it an immortal body? Or is it supreme authority?"
Su Fan's voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly transmitted to everyone's ears through the microphone.
"In China, gods are not merely symbols of power."
"There are people who, with ordinary human bodies, write immortal chapters."
"They had the world in their hearts and were compassionate towards humanity."
Their pens are sharper than swords. Their poems are more thunderous than lightning!
"They are the backbone of culture, the soul of the nation!"
Su Fan pointed at the broken pen on the screen, his voice suddenly rising:
"What Mr. Li has in his hands is no ordinary antique."
"That is the supreme figure revered as the Sage of Poetry in Chinese history!"
"He was the chronicler of the Tang Dynasty, the spokesperson for the people, and the most weighty and compassionate mountain in the literary world of China!"
"He is... the poet Du Fu! Du Zimei!"
As Su Fan finished speaking.
There was a brief silence in the live stream.
They know the name Du Fu, the Sage of Poetry.
About five years ago, the Huaxia Divine Recognition Expert Team unearthed a bamboo slip that had been preserved for a thousand years at a Huaxia divine site.
The bamboo slips contain records of Du Fu's deeds.
But... is he also a god?
Can that old man, who lived a life of poverty and hardship, and finally died of illness on a small boat, become a god?
"Some might ask, Du Fu lived a life of poverty and was physically weak, so how did he become a god?"
Su Fan seemed to see through everyone's thoughts, and he shouted loudly:
"Just because of his patriotic and compassionate heart!"
"The spirit of China has never been defined solely by military strength!"
"Those who achieve immortality through virtue, merit, and words can all be deified!"
"Du Fu's poems are hailed as poetic history, recording the rise and fall, the blood and tears of an era. His literary spirit has long since become one of the lifebloods of the Chinese nation!"
"Mr. Li!"
Su Fan looked at Li Shouyi with intense gaze, "Please pick up that pen!"
"Your willingness to endure poverty for the sake of your children is remarkably similar to that of Du Fu a thousand years ago!"
"You are his best awakener!"
Li Shouyi's hands were trembling.
He understood.
He looked at the broken pen in his hand, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.
"Is it Master Du... Master Du?"
As a rural teacher, he taught his whole life, and his favorite poems were those of Du Fu, which had been passed down from China a few years ago.
He loved the somber and poignant tone of Du Fu's poems, and even more so Du Fu's noble spirit of "Even if my humble abode is broken and I freeze to death, it is enough."
"Master, what should I do?" Li Shouyi asked, his voice choked with emotion.
"Hold it tight."
Su Fan said in a deep voice, "Use the belief you have held throughout your life to recite that poem."
"Recite that poem that you taught countless children and recited countless times!"
Li Shouyi nodded vigorously.
He took a deep breath, wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, and his cloudy eyes became incredibly clear at that moment.
He gripped the broken pen tightly, as if he were holding a torch.
Outside, the wind and rain intensified, accompanied by thunder.
But the old man's voice pierced through the thunder, through the screen, and resonated in everyone's heart.
"In the eighth month, the autumn wind howls fiercely, tearing away the thatch from my roof..."
The first sentence was uttered.
In the originally dim thatched hut, a faint white light suddenly shone from the broken pen.
"The village children of Nancun take advantage of my old age and weakness, and tolerate me being a thief to my face..."
Li Shouyi's voice grew louder and more impassioned.
He was no longer an old man in his twilight years; he seemed to have returned to the war-torn Tang Dynasty, transforming into a poet who cried out in the wind and rain.
In the live stream, countless people felt their scalps tingle, and an indescribable mix of bitterness and fervor surged in their chests.
"My quilt, cold as iron after many years, is torn by my unruly child's restless sleep!"
"The roof leaks so much that there's nowhere dry by my bed; the rain falls like a never-ending stream!"
With each word uttered, the white light intensified.
The rain outside seemed to freeze in mid-air.
The cracks in the roof that were leaking were filled with this white light, and not a single drop of rain fell.
"This is... a matter of words becoming law?!"
Some netizens exclaimed in surprise.
But Su Fan knew that this was not just a matter of words becoming law.
This is the power of literary spirit! It is the manifestation of the Confucian spirit of integrity and righteousness!
Finally, Li Shouyi read the last paragraph.
That is the soul of this poem, and also Du Fu's words of enlightenment that led him to godhood.
The old man stood ramrod straight, his white hair moving without wind. He raised the broken pen in his hand, faced the heavens, and let out a deafening roar:
"May I have ten thousand mansions!!!"
May all the poor and needy in the world find shelter and rejoice!
"Unshaken by wind and rain, as firm as a mountain!!!"
Rumbling--
An unprecedentedly huge bolt of lightning streaked across the sky.
But this lightning bolt wasn't struck down; it was forcefully pushed back by this soaring literary energy!
Inside the thatched hut, the light shone brightly.
The dilapidated mud walls and leaky roof blurred rapidly in the light.
Instead, there is a majestic, ancient, and scholarly illusion.
Within that illusion, a slender figure slowly emerged.
He wore a tattered headscarf and a gray robe. His face was thin and pale, and he looked very weak.
But his spine is straighter than any mountain in the world!
His gaze seemed to pierce through a thousand years of time, looking at the world with endless compassion.
Deity of China, the Sage of Poetry Du Fu, return to your rightful place!
"What...what year is this?"
Du Fu spoke slowly, his voice somewhat hoarse, carrying a deep sense of vicissitude.
Li Shouyi was already in tears, and he knelt down with a thud:
"Junior Li Shouyi pays his respects to the Sage of Poetry!"
Du Fu looked at the old man kneeling on the ground, then at the surrounding environment, a trace of confusion flashed in his eyes, followed by a deep sigh.
"Another autumn wind blowing through the dilapidated house..."
"It seems that the suffering in the world has remained unchanged for thousands of years."
Du Fu gave a wry smile, his hand loosely gripping the broken pen, which then flew into his hand on its own.
"Very well, now that I'm awake, I'll once again shield the poor scholars of this world from the wind and rain."
Just as Du Fu was preparing to invoke divine power to repair the thatched hut.
Su Fan's voice came through the screen.
"Mr. Zimei, wait!"
Du Fu was slightly taken aback and looked up at the screen in the void in front of him.
Who are you?
Su Fan stood ramrod straight and bowed deeply to Du Fu through the screen.
"This junior, Su Fan, has come to inform Lord Zimei."
"This world is no longer the Tang Dynasty."
"Just look!"
Su Fan waved his hand, and the live stream suddenly switched.
That was the bustling night view of Beijing, the brightly lit Bund of Shanghai, countless skyscrapers rising from the ground, and thousands of homes brightly lit and warm.
"Today's China boasts countless buildings and billions of skyscrapers!"
"The people have clothes to wear, food to eat, and books to read!"
"Your wish from back then has come true!"