Two years ago, the idea of hiking the entire Qin Straight Road crossed the minds of many of us.
A year ago, various materials began piling up on our desks, but the Qin Straight Road, having endured over two thousand years of history and weathering, had become nearly impossible to trace.
Over that year, we met many people who had been studying and paying attention to the Qin Straight Road for years — they were experts and scholars, they were officials and writers, they were shepherds and forest rangers, they were history enthusiasts, they were all fans of the Qin Straight Road. They preserved their questions, research, discussions, and debates about the Qin Straight Road intact, whether in writing or through word of mouth.
Together, they have protected the Qin Straight Road — some with the passion of knights advocating for it, others with the intensity of guardians willing to sacrifice themselves. In their hearts, the Qin Straight Road is right there; in their minds, it remains vividly clear.
Now, on September 16, 2014, we have arrived, and we are stepping onto the Qin Straight Road, heading from south to north, covering more than 800 kilometers in over 40 days.
As we try to trace the ancient road of 2,200 years ago with our footsteps, our thoughts will “cross oceans” through the long tunnel of time. We may witness the dramatic scenes of history, we may feel the pride of rising tides and the loneliness of ebbing ones. There are towering peaks that rise a thousand ren, and unfathomably deep valleys; there are forests so dense they bewilder, and vistas so grand they take your breath away. In the replayed movie of history, we, as outsiders, remain calm. But in the unfolding story? We may be caught up in dilemmas — big ones like choosing between smog and skyscrapers, small ones like wondering what the boss is thinking, or why he or she hasn’t replied to my WeChat message? Can trivial matters really “break one’s heart”? Better to “take the long view.” How, then, was thousands of years of history written? Each person who existed had a different thought, and these thoughts, intertwining and crisscrossing, shaped figures like the First Emperor and Emperor Wu of Han, or Diao Chan and Zhen [], just as wind and rain carve stone, and rivers shape plateaus.
Some say, “Reading history makes one wise.” To be wise means to see clearly. Along our journey, we’ve met many people and have already walked many paths. As long as you “pay attention,” you’ll find: some people face many straight and clear roads ahead; others face a maze of diverging paths, finding it harder to choose the more they think; some seem trapped in underground pits, surrounded by walls, seeing only obstacles. For those of us who love hiking, choosing a passable path is a wise decision.
Others say, the joy lies on the road, in the process, not at the destination. We deeply understand the happiness found along the way, but one thing to add is that “distance” is also very important. Within the limited time of life, starting from the beginning and covering greater distances, “creating upward” (as Liang Shuming put it), reaching higher altitudes — in the same amount of time, the quality differs, the density differs, and thus, so do people.
Is walking so many miles too hard, too tiring, too crazy? “The meaning of life lies in finding interest” (Liang Shuming), and when you’ve tasted it, you’ll understand.
The rain outside the window continues to fall. When we set off, the weather forecast said we’d be “in the rain” — romantic, or a bit miserable? It depends on how you look at it. Thinking rationally (with ideals in mind), over 40 days, there will inevitably be rain and wind. Once we get through it, the sunny days ahead will be more frequent — it’s a matter of probability.
So let’s set off now — the road is under our feet. Distance only appears behind you once you start walking.
Shi Jun, September 15, 2014, Xianyang