From 221 BC to today, 2247 years. That’s 2247 times the wheat ripened, the distance between 32 old men holding hands.

Standing in the wheat field, I suddenly understood: the so-called thousand generations are just the land changing crops, and the moon traveling a few more orbits.
The yellow earth stepped on by Qin Shi Huang is still underfoot, the moon admired by Li Bai is still overhead, the river breeze sighed by Su Shi is blowing across his face, and the bricks of the Great Wall are still built on the mountain ridge. But Emperor Qin’s dragon robe has long turned into dust.
In 1978, the reform and opening-up, only 66 years since the fall of the Qing Dynasty. We thought history was far away, but it’s actually frighteningly close.
As a child, I recited “Qin’s Bright Moon, Han’s Pass,” not understanding why ancient people gazed at the moon in wonder. Until one day, I looked up and saw the same moon, and I realized: what changes are people, but the moonlight and wheat ripening times remain the same.
History isn’t in books; it’s in the soil beneath our feet and the moon above our heads.