Qu Yuan's death was not about having no way to serve the country, but about not compromising.

Saying "If there's no way to serve the country, then I will throw myself into the sea" is not worth commemorating if no achievements are made. It's an oversimplification.
Qu Yuan was not without choices; the strategists who flitted between Qin and Chu could easily find a stage in other states, but he chose to stay.
His jumping into the river was not a passive act of giving up, but the final act of using his life to deliver a warning, a rupture with the idea that "the world is all corrupt" and "everyone is drunk."
To declare one's will through death is the most extreme and most shocking expression in any civilization.
We commemorate Qu Yuan, not for failure, but for integrity.
Qu Yuan has been remembered for 2,300 years, not because of official titles or success and failure, but because of the spiritual legacy he left:
· "The road ahead is long and has no ending; I will search high and low" — perseverance in the pursuit of truth
· "My heart's desire is good, even nine deaths would still not make me regret" — unwavering faith in one's beliefs
This pursuit of an ideal personality transcends eras and has become the genetic code of national spirit.
Wu Zixu's actions are exhilarating; Qu Yuan commands respect—one is satisfying, the other soul-stirring.
Wu Zixu led enemy troops to attack his homeland and whipped the corpse of the former king, tearing apart personal justice and national ethics.
Qu Yuan was abandoned by his homeland but remained loyal, loving until his death.
Chinese culture favors the latter because it offers a stronger emotional and moral cohesion.
This is not pedantry but the ability to maintain the emotional appeal of community even in extreme adversity.