□ Zheng Nengxin

The morning fog at the northern foot of Guifeng has just begun, and the red tide has already penetrated the clouds.

晨霧漫過龜背石紋，十萬余畝野生杜鵑漫山遍野如青銅鼎內煮沸的霞漿，在懸崖與松濤之間沿著花崗岩脊脈傾瀉而下。朱砂、淡紅、胭脂在松濤間層層暈染，仿佛盤古揮毫時打翻的赤色硯台。

都說：“人間四月天，麻城看杜鵑。 ”每至仲春，霞漿自天傾瀉，濺作滿山紅綃，幽谷深澗皆浮丹砂之氣，摩崖苔痕間，猶見其銀鉤鐵畫與花影交纏。 據說，明時，徐霞客策杖於此，在《楚遊日記》中嘆曰：“石骨繡朱萼，天風燃絳燭。 ”其奇景可見一斑也！

人言，最奇者莫過“雪綻紅”。 清同治二年，太平軍殘部與清兵鏖戰山麓，血浸石罅。 至春時，崖畔杜鵑忽生冰肌玉骨之變，雪裹赤心，豔若烈女抱貞。 貢生王柏心於此設帳授徒，命童子拾落花製箋，自書《龜山賦》其上：“丹誠凝皓素，孤艷破春寒”，墨蹟竟隨花脈滲入冰晶，陽光照射也未融化。 此等珍品，今人謂之“赤玉萼”，皆以竹籬護之，免遭損毀。

I stepped on the dew-soaked hemp stone steps to climb upward, and with each step I was startled by the petals of flowing flowers, falling on the stone slab that the Red Army soldiers had once stepped on, drifting towards the crevice in the cliff where Zhang Guo had tried his sword, and finally falling into the turtle back stone where the Dongpo monk had drunk and slept.

At the corner of the stone steps, there is a half-section of the blue and gray boundary monument, and the four characters of "Guanghuang Ancient Road" with moss-mottled marks are faintly recognizable. In the late spring of the second year of Tang Huichang, Du Mu raised his whip to urge the horse to pass by here, and suddenly saw a scorching red cloud steaming up halfway up the mountainside, and he was so shocked that he sat down and neighed on the ground. The poet, who had just written the swan song of "Red Cliff" in Huangzhou, turned over and dismounted, looked at the cuckoo crying blood all over the mountain and muttered: "This is the finishing touch of creation." "A thousand years later, I picked up half of the remnant red next to the monument, and in a trance, I saw the smoke and rain of the late Tang Dynasty soaking the petals, blending with the dew of the 21st century into an amber time.

When spring is as deep as the sea, Guishan is always flushed with red tides in the clouds. The rhododendrons seem to have come out of bronze patterns, splashing cinnabar between the cracks of the cliffs and staining the pine and cypress moss. In the middle of the line, he met a medicine picker to point out the dangerous rock, he stepped on the morning dew to climb the top of the mountain, and suddenly saw that in front of the cliff wall inscribed by the poet of the previous dynasty "tears and blood condensed into eternal spring", there was an ancient rhododendron with a thick mouth of the tank, the branches were like iron, and the corolla was like fire, like the amber condensed by thousands of years. I really want to go and find out, but when I look around, I have to sigh!

Turning the Turtle Mountain Ambergris Tea Field, the legendary Turtle Spirit Stone is abruptly in front of you. This giant tortoise carrying the "Luo Shu" turned into a mountain in the flood years, and the clear spring gushing out between the carapace patterns nourished the ancient rhododendron community that is rare in the world. In the three years of Yuanfeng in the Northern Song Dynasty, Su Shi, who lived in Huangzhou, came here to seek seclusion by stepping on the dissolving moonlight, drunk and lying on the turtle's back stone to listen to the spring, and woke up and wrote "The grass and trees of Guifeng have a strange atmosphere, and the rhododendrons shine like fire on the mountains". At this moment, I stroked the deep and shallow carvings on the stone, not only the poetry tablets copied by the Ming people, but also the five-pointed stars carved by the Red Guards during the Agrarian Revolution, where history was folded into a kaleidoscope of blurred light and shadow.

"The cuckoo is a hero, and it cries every night with iron in the mountains." Now caressing its body, I still feel that the qi of Jin Ge penetrates into the marrow veins from the finger ends. Trekking along the trench ruins to the Yingshan Red Observation Deck, a few spots of scarlet suddenly flashed in the granite crevices, and seven rhododendrons bloomed brightly. People say that it is not an azalea, it is the soul of the Red Army soldier Xiaomei's blood. At that time, when the sound of gunfire fell all over the mountain, a 17-year-old girl shuttled through the line of fire with a medicine box on her back, tied the seriously wounded to her body with a blood-soaked bandage, and finally died heroically. The col where she fell, the rhododendrons were exceptionally luxuriant.

Today, the white egrets raised by the bell of the mountain temple sweep over the sea of flowers, and the petals swept off the tips of their wings look like leaflets scattered in the wind during the Great Revolution.

龜山杜鵑不僅僅古老，因無數革命烈士鮮血的浸染，而被注入了生命的靈魂，故此，尤顯珍貴。今人為了更好地保護與傳承，正不斷喚醒沉睡的基因密碼。中國科學院武漢植物園的專家團隊駐守龜峰三年，從八百歲古杜鵑的染色體中破譯出耐寒抗旱的密鑰。由此，龜山杜鵑群落較三十年前擴大了五倍，並新培育出了三十八種珍稀杜鵑。

Not only the dedication of the scientific research team, but also ordinary people are doing their duty. When he met the ranger Lao Zhou, he was perfecting his "bamboo guardrail", a local method that prevents tourists from breaking branches and does not hinder the blooming of mountain flowers. He said: "At that time, the Red Army desperately guarded not only the revolutionary fire, but also the soul of this turtle mountain. The old man's rough palm stroked the scab, "Now every ancient tree has an electronic file, and the dead branches have to be scanned and registered." ”

As the twilight crosses the Wunao Mountain, a swarm of drones is mapping the 3D genome of the ancient rhododendron. In the night vision lens, the blazing red waves during the day turn into a ghostly glow, just like the long dragon of torches winding during the night march of the Red Army in 1936 years. In the newly completed ecological museum at the foot of the mountain, virtual reality technology is reproducing the thousand-year-old scene of Li Bai's pen "Shu once heard the birds of Zigui, and Xuancheng also saw azaleas". In the glass display case, the dried rhododendrons in the Red Army's medicine box form a wonderful dialogue with the tissue culture seedlings cultivated in the test tube, and the bullet holes on the petal specimens overlap with the DNA double helix structure in light and shadow.

The mountain wind rose suddenly, and a whimper like Tao Xun came from the cave on Guifeng Mountain. When the wind blows through the treetops, the whole mountain seems to be turning the pages of a book of the times. I seem to think that this is not a rumor, but the ancient Xintianyou of Dabie Mountain, the rhododendron pattern in the hands of Huang An's embroidered mother, the red silk wrapped around the gun handle of the jute martyrs, and the ecological alarm in the intelligent terminal of contemporary forest rangers. At this time, I suddenly understood that what we are guarding is not only the grass and trees, but also the fragrance of Chu Ci that spreads over the mountains and rivers, and the blood of the martyrs blooms into an eternal spring.