City Gate (Top Middle Bottom)

Author: Zhang Weiming
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-06-01
Features: A painful history of the evolution from cold weapons to hot weapons, the final performance of the last grassland archer cavalry of China. They are people with flesh and blood, with edges and corners, with love and hatred, with emotions and righteousness, with honor and disgrace, with joy and sorrow, with hardship and happiness. They are strong men who endure great hunger and thirst, great labor and suffering, and laugh at life and death. Their stories are not short of legends but free of, simple and natural, yet grand and magnificent. They face bravery with bravery, savagery with savagery, and strength with strength. They are as real as they are brutal! The 22-year-old People's War of Independence and Liberation, starting from the farming and soldiering spear and knife, and the pastoral soldiering bow and arrow, is a condensation of thousands of years of weapon evolution from cold to hot weapons! No wonder "The City Gate" so yearns for the great war era of cold weapons that created the strong horsemen: military history truly shows modern humans the tragic compassion of the two antitheses of "weak weapons but strong people" and "strong weapons but weak people." The first military novel of the 21st century in China! "The City Gate" is a remarkable contemporary novel created by military writer Zhang Weiming with ten years of dedication! "The City Gate" means a challenge and a difficulty for both Chinese literary creation and reading! With passion almost about to explode, the author writes the bloodthirsty heroism of the cold weapon era with heart-wrenching intensity, liver-quenching agony, and a spirit, making the reader feel as if the sky and earth are darkening, as if the withered trees are being broken down, yet as if the experience is exhilarating! "The City Gate" is a military poetry scroll forged with masculine strength, where riders are the artisans of pastoral hunting, and the spirits of battle and killing; "The City Gate" is a great song of men forged with suffering, where archers are the crucible of blood and bone, and the paradise of the soul. Year after year, day after day. In a blink, it's the Year of the Ox again. Coincidentally, on this very day, it's the Hour of the Ox. Perhaps it's the Hour of the Ox when it almost bumps into the nose of the Hour of the Tiger. Oink—At that time, Er Wang was on the second-to-last watch. Later, it was known that the howl was so fatal to Er Wang. The second-to-last watch on Er Wang was what the wolf soldiers called the "hell watch," the most hated and helpless watch for them. No wonder the cause of Er Wang's death remained unclear for a long time. Some said the city shell was haunted by demons. Others said the city cave was malevolent. But the most insidious and vicious killer was probably the Hour of the Ox. Turn back and think, isn't it the Hour of the Ox that corresponds to breaking into a house, robbing graves, even bandits raiding watches, enemy armies stealing camps, prisoners breaking out, palace coups, and even wolves attacking leopards? Later, the old people of the capital said that the Hour of the Ox at that time was when the celestial palace's stars were ambiguous, and the miasma of the earth roamed wildly. Later, some said it was the ghostly hour when the King of Hell collected his toll. Halfway through, they encountered a blockade on the northern slopes of the Yinshan and Yanshan mountains, and with a roar, wild horses leaped into the air, their fierce, muddy-yellow manes flaring. That was the strong northern wind from the Mongolian Plateau sweeping south. The strong northern wind suddenly rose into the sky, soaring smoothly for a long, long distance, and then gradually descended over a long, long distance before landing in the small plain at the forefront of the North China Plain. Right below it lay the city of the capital. The heavy and sharp attack of the strong northern wind made the city shell tremble slightly, and the golden and blue glazed tiles of the central island, along with the countless surrounding gray clay tiles, shimmered like phosphorescent ripples. For a moment, the Year of the Ox roared like a leopard. The Year of the Ox in the first lunar month roared like a leopard. The wolfish night in the first lunar month roared like a leopard. Because of the hunger, cold, exhaustion, restlessness, and length of the second-to-last watch, Er Wang and the others in the city cave kept cursing and moving. Also, because Er Wang and the others kept changing positions, like the keys of an instrument shifting. As a result, a sharp cry stood out from the roars of the leopard. Oink—At that moment, Er Wang already felt something was wrong. The howl came, and his heart screamed, "Close it, close it." Far and near, especially the closest, things kept happening. Of course, they couldn't always be good things. In any case, Er Wang felt it was extremely bad, and he told himself to close it, close it. So his rectum tightened completely, tight, tight. Then he commanded it to sink, sink. So the force that was pushing horizontally outward from his waist and abdomen changed direction and went down, sinking past the crotch, past the knees, past the ankles, past the soles, and settled happily at the toes. Then he commanded all his toes, like the big toes on both sides, to grip, grip. Before he could even doubt, two streams of coolness began to flow upward. The uncontrollable coolness continued to rise, floating lightly up to the heart. Er Wang sighed that he was ultimately shallow-rooted, sighing that he was like a lone grass, drifting aimlessly in the vast and arrogant cyclone. Oink—, Er Wang's ear flaps shrank the world. Oink—, Er Wang's life spread like a rainbow. Oink—, Er Wang's soul leaped against the wind, soaring toward the distant northern homeland, flying toward the beautiful and warm Mongolian grasslands. You, the noisy Year of the Ox. You, the collapsed city shell. You, you, you, don't care about Er Wang. But Er Wang looks down on you. You, you. Look, how urinating Er Wang is. Listen, how Er Wang can bite gold: camel dung fire is slow, driving away the cold and warming. Cow dung fire is soft, boiling meat and burning milk. No bow. No arrow. Er Wang's song arrow roars to the sky. Roar at the Year of the Ox, oh, sorrowful. Roar at the city shell, oh, swaying. Later, it was known that the "Oink—" came from Er Wang's life force, from the moment of his death. Although everyone thought it was a good thing that Er Wang died. Although Er Wang was even more revered by the people as Er God, receiving great posthumous honor. But none of this meant anything to the Year of the Ox. Don't believe it? Ask Ba. Ask Ling. Ba Gen's wolf master's cap, Ling Yanxiao's wolf troop's cap, can all bear witness. Qing had already spoken beforehand. But it can't be said that when Zi Yu had an accident, Er Wang had an accident, and only then did Qing shoot across the mountain with an arrow and break behind the horse.