Zhong Jing, 31, State-owned enterprise employee in Beijing

In 2024, I became a weekend historian — the kind who gets in a car with friends and drives across the countryside in search of historical sites.

I mostly travel on weekends and write up my visits afterward. Visiting these sites has made me approach travel in a more intentional way. It has expanded my worldview and helped open my mind.

During my trip to Luoyang, Henan province, last October, everything clicked.

Luoyang is one of China's great ancient cities — hailed as the capital of 13 dynasties. But above ground, little remains of its golden ages. The real history lies underground. So we designed a route that stitched together tombs across the landscape.

Of all the sites I've visited, the one that left the deepest impression on me is the Changling Mausoleum, the tomb of Emperor Xiaowen of the Northern Wei Dynasty (386–534), located on Mangshan Mountain in Luoyang.

When we were there, we came across a group of high school students holding a certificate titled "Luoyang Real Estate Annual Sales Champion Award". They wanted to present it to Emperor Xiaowen.

The emperor moved the dynasty's capital to Luoyang, reviving the city. I was struck by how these high school students had a much deeper connection to historical figures than I did at their age — and how they expressed it in such a witty, humorous way.

It made me reflect. In the traditional historical narratives we grew up with, the Northern Wei was often treated as just one of several dynasties during a period of division — not as grand as the unification under the Qin Dynasty (221–206 BC) or the military glory of the Han Dynasty (206 BC–AD 220).

That's something I didn't fully appreciate when I was in school. But by visiting these sites and seeing the tombs of historical figures in person, I've come to understand it on a much deeper level. That's a big part of what drives me.

Chinese civilization is truly a diverse yet unified whole. What moves me is the realization that it is precisely this path of cultural integration — welcoming new influences — that keeps a civilization vibrant. Without it, a culture would be trapped in its own echo chamber, endlessly repeating itself.

I think this openness later influenced the Tang Dynasty (618–907), helping make it so powerful. That's why paying respects at Xiaowen's tomb meant so much to me — the emperor, a Xianbei ruler, championed ethnic fusion by embracing Han culture.

The tomb is surrounded by many other burial sites. There is a pavilion where people have hung all sorts of banners — some commemorating the contributions of historical figures, others offering humorous or even sarcastic commentary.

I also visited a tomb nearby that is believed to be of Li Yu, a ruler during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period (907–960) who lost his kingdom. He was also a renowned poet.

We remember not merely a failed king, but a soul who captured the joys and sorrows shared by all humanity. We do not worship victors; we treasure the hearts that have given the purest voice to human feeling.

The emotions of an emperor who lived more than a thousand years ago can still draw us from afar, compelling us to stand quietly before his tomb.

We may not know the pain of losing a kingdom, but we all know regret. We may not have witnessed dynasties rise and fall, yet we have all tasted life's helplessness. The sigh in his poems echoes through time in every understanding heart.

Zhong Jing spoke with Li Hongyang.

Contact the writer at lihongyang@chinadaily.com.cn