What Makes a Hero?
Heroes, as the Chinese saying goes, are "the unyielding spine that never bends with time"—a force that courses through the blood of mountains and rivers, igniting generations with its fervor. This eternal inquiry lies at the heart of Qin Yin (琴吟), a hauntingly powerful ballad released in March 2024 as part of a collaborative project by China National Radio and NetEase Cloud Music. More than a song, it is a bridge spanning millennia, weaving the valor of Jin Dynasty (晋朝) generals Zu Ti (祖逖) and Liu Kun (刘琨) into a modern anthem that asks: How does heroism shape a civilization's soul?
Set against the backdrop of China's Spring Equinox—a time of renewal—Qin Yin emerges as both a tribute and a challenge. Its lyrics, penned like ink brushed onto silk, retrace the footsteps of two fourth-century warriors whose camaraderie and sacrifice became legend. Through ethereal zither melodies and thunderous orchestral swells, the song distills their spirit into a single refrain: "Let the zither's notes be our ink; together, we'll paint the rivers and mountains of Huaxia."
But why resurrect these figures now? In an era of fleeting digital trends, Qin Yin dares to anchor itself in China's cultural bedrock. It speaks to a truth as old as the Yellow River: heroism is not mere spectacle, but the quiet resolve to rise before dawn, sword in hand, and forge destiny through three thousand days of discipline.
Rising at Cockcrow, Vow to Practise Sword
To understand Qin Yin's emotional gravity, one must journey to the Jin Dynasty (266–420 CE)—a fractured age of warring states and northern invasions. Amid the chaos, two youths from Henan Province forged a bond that would redefine courage.
History remembers Zu Ti and Liu Kun as "the brothers of the midnight sword." As young men, they shared a bedchamber in Luoyang, their sleep interrupted nightly by the crow of a rooster. Rather than resent the disturbance, they seized it as a call to arms. Cloaked in moonlight, they would leap from bed, swords drawn, sparring relentlessly in the courtyard. Each clash of steel was a vow: "To reclaim our divided homeland, we shall hone ourselves until our bones ache and blades break."
This ritual, later immortalized as "Rising at Cockcrow" (闻鸡起舞), transcended physical training. It became a metaphor for vigilance—a refusal to let complacency erode purpose.
The Oath at the Yangtze's Heart
Years later, as northern tribes overran Central China, Zu Ti petitioned Emperor Yuan of Jin to retake lost territories. With just 1,000 volunteers and scant supplies, he marched north. Midway across the Yangtze, his boat rocked by furious currents, Zu Ti struck the oar against the waves and roared: "If I fail to restore these lands, may I never return—just as this river never flows backward!" The moment crystallized into the idiom "smashing the oar midstream" (中流击楫), a pledge of irreversible resolve.
Meanwhile, Liu Kun faced his own trial at Jinyang (modern Taiyuan). Surrounded by Xiongnu forces, the general turned desperation into artistry. One frigid night, he ascended the city walls and played a Hujia (胡笳), a nomadic reed instrument. Its mournful notes—a lament for lost homes—drifted over enemy camps. By dawn, the invaders had withdrawn, hearts softened by memories of distant steppes. Thus, Liu Kun proved that music could be as mighty as any army.
Reincarnating Heroes in 2025
How does a civilization keep its heroes alive? In 2025, China National Radio answers with Shan Hai: Chronicles of Heroes (山海·英雄列传), an AIGC-powered micro-drama series that merges ancient lore with cutting-edge technology.
Using generative AI, the project resurrects historical paragons—Zu Ti, Liu Kun, and others—to "dialogue" with modern icons like scientist Qian Xuesen and COVID-19 frontline medics. Through deep learning, their philosophies are distilled into interactive narratives. For instance:
Loyalty: Zu Ti's Yangtze pledge is juxtaposed with PLA soldiers defending flood-ravaged villages in 2023.
Wisdom: Liu Kun's Hujia strategy mirrors a diplomat resolving cross-border tensions through cultural empathy.
"We're not just retelling stories," explains director Li Wei. "We're creating a moral algorithm—a digital compass guided by 5,000 years of collective conscience."
The Zither in the Metaverse
Accompanying the series is a virtual "Heroes' Gallery" where users don VR headsets to spar with Zu Ti's avatar or compose Hujia melodies with Liu Kun. Traditional instruments like the zither are reimagined as NFT artifacts, their melodies triggering AI-generated landscapes of ancient battlefields.
Yet the true innovation lies in accessibility. A rural student in Gansu can now witness Zu Ti's oath via smartphone AR, while elders in Fujian recount Liu Kun's tale to grandchildren through AI-animated shadow puppetry. Heroism, once confined to textbooks, becomes visceral.
As Qin Yin's final notes fade, they leave a charge as urgent as Zu Ti's oar striking the Yangtze: "Do not squander this dawn you've inherited." In 2025, heroism may not require swords or reed pipes—but it demands the same unyielding spine.
