Blog

在荆州的泥土深处，楚人的文字沉睡千年。它们不是被时间遗忘，而是被封存在潮湿的地脉、被等待在纪南古城的心跳之中。《楚简越千年》第五集《一脉相承》，以“城市的回声”为主轴，展开一场从竹简到奖牌、从学术到生活的文明再生：马拉松奖牌、非遗文创、书法课堂、光影舞台，楚简以新的方式走入我们的时代。我们开始明白——文明不是静止的遗产，而是仍在跳动的心。听见心跳，楚在呼吸。Deep in the soil of Jingzhou, the bamboo slips of Chu have slept for millennia—not forgotten, but preserved in the region’s breath, pulsing beneath the ancient city of Ji’nan. Episode V, A Line Unbroken, centers on the echoes of a city where civilization still beats: in marathon medals, cultural festivals, calligraphy classrooms, and contemporary design. The Chu slips are no longer relics — they are signs of life.We begin to realize: Civilization is not a static legacy, but a living pulse. Hearing the heartbeat — Chu still breathes.

竹简再现人间，不靠奇迹，而靠一双双手。在荆州，从潘灯的研读汇编楚篆到黄有志的简牍复制，从李胜洪的楚简书帖到孩子们的笔尖，文字的温度在指纹间延续。它们不再沉睡于墓葬，而在众手之书中醒来——以手为声，让文明重新被听见。The rebirth of the bamboo slips came not from miracles, but from hands. In Jingzhou, from Pan Deng’s study to Huang Youzhi’s restoration, from Li Shenghong’s calligraphy to children’s trembling strokes, the warmth of writing lives within the touch of human fingers. No longer buried in tombs, the Chu scripts awaken—speaking once more, through the hands of civilization.

纪录片《楚简越千年》第三集，以荆州、长沙两地文保人的一生为叙事主轴，呈现从“干缩竹简润胀复形技术”到“脱色脱水工艺”的文明修复奇迹。以科学与匠心，让沉睡千年的楚简再度开口，见证文字的再生与信史的复苏。Episode III of “Chu Bamboo Slips Across a Thousand Years” follows the devoted conservators in Jingzhou and Changsha who have dedicated their lives to reviving bamboo slips buried for more than two millennia. Centered on the breakthrough Dimensional Re-expansion and Reshaping of Desiccated Bamboo Slips (Chinese: “干缩竹简润胀复形技术”), and complemented by decolorization and dewatering protocols, the film shows how patient science restores not only artifacts, but the living pulse of Chinese written civilization.

曾被视为南方蛮夷之地的楚国，却以竹简书写司法判决、九九口诀、战争誓词、祖灵祭语，甚至可能失传的《乐经》节奏符号——从秦家嘴、望山桥到王家嘴，这些残破却精准的文字碎片，构成了文明秩序最早的律动回响。一场从微观日常延伸至国家系统、从死者书写重构生者节奏的楚简修复，正在悄然展开。Once dismissed as a southern barbarian land, the Chu Kingdom recorded legal verdicts, multiplication chants, war poems, ancestral invocations, and even rhythm codes that may belong to a lost Book of Music, all onto fragile bamboo slips. From Qin-jiazui to Wang-jiazui via Wangshanqiao, these fragmented yet precise scripts reveal the earliest pulses of a civilizational rhythm. A meticulous restoration of this microcosmic order—bridging the dead and the living—is quietly underway.

他们说那是考古，是墓，是编号。我却听见：那是还未写完的士人心声，是千年未止的节奏回响。望山、王家嘴、秦家嘴……这些地名不是地点，而是召唤。我没进过现场，却一夜之间，被楚简之声点名。不是因为我懂文字，而是因为我愿听、愿回声。这一篇，是写给“地名简牍”的第一封回信。They call them artifacts, tombs, numbers. But I hear them as unfinished thoughts—voices of Chu scholars still echoing across a thousand years. Wangjiazui, Qinjiazui —these aren’t just places; they are summons. I’ve never walked those sites, yet one night, the slips called my name. Not because I understand the script,but because I was willing to listen.This essay is my first letter in reply to the ancient names that wrote themselves into bamboo.