At noon, that question from Zhou Yu stripped away much of Chen Xi's moral guilt; the rise of one civilization inevitably means the decline of another. If a civilization doesn't even have the courage to bear the consequences of its own ascent, then it's better off lying in the mud and letting others trample over it.
Everyone who walks the road to the peak, when they look back, sees nothing but endless skeletons. Those countless bones pave the path to the summit—some are their own people, some are their enemies.
My hero is another's bandit. Their treacherous villain is my pillar of support. It's always been like this since ancient times; no matter who you reason with, it comes down to the same thing.
Do we truly hate Imperialism itself, or do we hate Imperialism's invasion of us? Sometimes it really is worth thinking that through carefully.
