Autor: Ning Huang 黃甯

在荆州博物馆，我记住了几件召唤我的器物：玉佩的排列、覆面的注视、竹简的沉默，还有羽人的伫立。那些未能说出的“楚”，我用一个字写在车站柱子上，为他们作证。那不是观展，而是封坛。楚简不在展柜里，而在我手心的气息中。At the Jingzhou Museum, I remembered a few objects that called to me: the alignment of jade pendants, the gaze of jade masks, the silence of bamboo slips, and the stillness of the feathered man. What Chu failed to speak, I wrote with one word on a pillar outside the station. This was not an exhibition—it was a sealing ritual. The bamboo slips were not in the glass, but in the breath held in my hand.

在武汉湖北省博物馆，我看见了楚国八百年的光与声——从越王勾践剑的锋芒，到楚子越鼎的重量，从车马阵的尘，到楚简的静默。那不是展览，而是一场文明的回声。我以凡人之身，穿越青铜与竹木，只为听见楚国仍在歌唱。At the Hubei Provincial Museum in Wuhan, I witnessed the light and sound of eight centuries of Chu — from the sharp gleam of King Goujian’s sword to the solemn weight of Marquis Ziyue’s bronze cauldron, from the dust of chariot formations to the silent presence of Chu bamboo slips. It was not an exhibition but a resonance of civilization. As a mortal visitor, I walked through bronze and bamboo to hear that Chu is still singing.

从长沙橘子洲到武汉江滩，我以身体为坛，完成楚人最后的水之仪式。水起于湘江，合流于长江。这是一场从启声到收声的返魂旅程，让楚文明的节奏，在水与我之间再次回响。From Orange Island in Changsha to the riverbank of Wuhan, I performed the final water ritual of the Chu lineage. Fire was extinguished in Suizhou; water rose in the Xiang River and merged into the Yangtze. A journey from the first sound to the last breath—where rhythm and civilization flow again through water and body.

在荆州古城的护城河边，我以《大招》唤起祖声。翌日穿上战国服，在古城与祖源之间行走。那一刻，仪式与血脉相连，成为消逝王国的回声。By the moat of Jingzhou Ancient City, I invoked the ancestral voice with The Great Summons.The next day, wearing the Warring States robe, I walked between the ancient city and my ancestral origin.In that moment, ritual and bloodline converged—becoming the echo of a vanished kingdom.

这一站，本不在行程之中。原计划参观随州博物馆，却因闭馆，改由司机建议转往炎帝故里。就这样，我意外地走入了这位“人文初祖”播种百草、点燃文明初火的圣地。这一程，不是安排好的，而是文明自己牵引我来到的。如果文明曾从这里点燃，今天我们还能否重新点火？从江夏归宗，再追上游，我走入了文字未生、火种初燃的那片原野。This stop wasn’t planned.I had intended to visit the Suizhou Museum, but it was closed—So the driver suggested a detour: the legendary birthplace of Yandi, the Flame Emperor.By chance—or perhaps by ancestral calling—I found myself in the land where fire once became civilization.Here, herbs were named, rituals were born, and the first sparks of human rhythm were struck.If fire once lit the path of humanity here, can we still rekindle it today?

江夏黄氏，源出今湖北武汉江夏区，是黄姓文明的一个重要源头与精神归属。这一站，我来到江夏黄氏大宗祠，铜像前肃立，是春申君黄歇的身影，亦是我终于确认——自己的姓氏归宗，文明的根脉，从此归位。The Huang lineage of Jiangxia traces its roots to present-day Jiangxia District, Wuhan, Hubei Province. It is one of the foundational sources and spiritual homes of the Huang family name. Here, I stood before the ancestral hall of the Huang clan in Jiangxia,face to face with the bronze statue of Lord Chunshen, Huang Xie—and at last, I knew: my surname had returned home. The root of my civilization had found its rightful place.

一栋坐落在广西灵山陆屋的祖屋，一座传承百年的岭南黄氏宗祠，构成了我归宗之路的起点与回声。如今族谱也开始写入女性的名字，但他们在意的，仍是我父亲是否归来，我弟弟是否回乡。我点香落名，不是为了获得认同，而是为了唤回那条从楚地江夏而来的断裂节奏——让湘君的名字，成为我儿血脉中的神明守护。An ancestral home in Luwu and a centuries-old Huang clan shrine in Lingshan mark the beginning and echo of my ancestral return. Though women’s names are now inscribed in the lineage, what they truly ask is whether my father came back—or my brother. But I lit incense not to be accepted, but to restore the rhythm severed since Jiangxia—inscribing “Xiang Jun” not just as a name, but as a god who will guard my son’s inherited echo.