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There is an eternal "fire" burning in my body, which has allowed me to go through the rise and fall of these ten thousand years.
When were you born? It's been so long that I don't remember it. I only remember that my home was in 8000 BC.
I remember that people at that time taught me to recognize the five grains, identify the four seasons, and told me what "home" was.
I remember her smile at that time, I remember their care at that time, they wanted me to live for them and see the future for them -
That was the only motivation for me to be lonely for ten thousand years.
The tribe disappeared in the wind and snow, and she fell asleep in the clay.
And I walked into the turbulent history with the bowl she gave me.
I salvaged unfinished dreams in the clouds and rain in Shangfang Valley;
Under the moon in Chang'an, I swallowed the desolation of the poet;
I buried the last backbone in the rough waves of Yashan...
I am history traveling through time, I am the bridge between stories and time.
Ten thousand years is too long. I have swallowed too many partings and thought that my heart had already turned to ashes.
Until 1949, I heard a shout from the crowd and saw a bowl of Yangchun noodles.
I picked up the bowl, and the hot water vapor blurred my eyes.
It turns out that the so-called human world is nothing more than a bowl of rice and noodles.