Upstarts and poor settlers

"Hello." Shanghai's voice is stylized and polite, and the clearer voice than ordinary people often makes people feel alienated.

Nanjing stretched out his hands to block the already hot sun, and tried to make his voice appear sincere and sincere, "Hello, Shanghai."

"Why did you ask for leave?" He seemed to be flipping through papers, obviously busy with his day.

Nanjing smiled, "I told you, I'm not feeling well and I have something to do."

After thinking about the Gaochun dialect, Nanjing slowly spoke again in Wu dialect.

"I can understand Mandarin." Shanghai was annoyed.

Nanjing chuckled, "I just wanted to speak English."

"Want to hear my suggestion?" Shanghai said coldly, not waiting for Nanjing to refuse, "I suggest you come."

"I thought it didn't matter whether I went or not," Nanking ignored his toughness, "I believe our officers will handle it well, what do you think?"

"They are them, and we are us. Only when we strengthen ties, can the two places really be connected and attached to each other, and integration can really be realized."

Nanjing looked up, watching the golden sun shining on the phoenix trees. The veins on the leaves reminded him of the high-speed rail map, "You and I both know that the fastest and most thorough way to integrate is-you just put us together. Lose."

His tone was not depressed, but casual, and it was this carelessness that often angered Shanghai.

"Same as the previous few times, there are many cooperation agreements in this sub-topic. If you really want to be irradiated, especially if you want your brothers in northern Jiangsu to undertake the transfer of my industry, I suggest you not to make trouble for no reason, at least for the sake of it. Think about it, your people." With a muffled sound, Shanghai threw something on the table, "Sometimes I really don't understand, how can you be so irresponsible and not seeking to make progress!"

Nanjing twitched his lips, "I won't sign if I don't go, do you think I'm making trouble for no reason or you are making trouble for no reason?"

Shanghai was so angry that he simply hung up the phone.

A few days ago, the wind and rain broke a banana leaf. Nanjing stretched out his hand and covered his eyes, drowsily remembering his thoughts.

He suddenly remembered that moment of that person that day that year.

It seems that since that year, I have been honored less and more humiliated. After a hundred years of ups and downs, I finally returned to silence.

In the 22nd year of Daoguang in the Qing Dynasty, on August 8th of that year, warships with Mi Ziqi flags appeared on the calm Yangtze River, and countless black gun barrels were aimed at themselves.The blond-haired and green-eyed barbarian forced the Qing emperor to hand over the redemption fee of 4 million silver dollars, otherwise he would be razed to the ground.

Looking at the barbarians whom Zheng He has never seen again, Nanjing has been shouting in his heart not to pay or not to pay, but the countless days and nights of Jinghai Temple are still in vain, and the beginning of a century of national humiliation is finally named after himself——"Nanjing treaty".

The next year, he was exhausted and desolate, and he saw a child—the opening of Shanghai in the 23rd year of Daoguang (1843).

Although he still had a half-moon hair, the child had already changed into a straight dress, his clear eyes were full of bewilderment, and he still had a natural curiosity and longing for the world.

At that time, Nanjing was still the headquarters of the Governor-General of Liangjiang, which governed the military and civilian affairs of Jiangsu, Anhui and Jiangxi provinces. When Shanghai was separated from Jiangsu, I naturally felt something.

Today's Nanjing no longer remembers what he said to the child, the only thing he remembers is the child's pair of peach blossom eyes, which are terrifyingly bright.

Later, the scholar surnamed Hong led countless people and killed them in a mighty way under the banner of the god of the barbarians.Nanjing has been the "national capital" for another 11 years, but he doesn't know whether he should be happy or not.

Later, the Manchu Qing minister with the posthumous title of Wenzheng was killed again, but he felt that this person was not worthy of that posthumous title.

In the battle of Jinling, millions of corpses were buried, and the Qinhuai River was completely red; the sound of wailing caused a sensation in the whole field.

He was bruised and bruised again, worse than Hou Jing's time.

What was Shanghai doing at the time?How does he view his incompetent and weak brother?

And then...he was silent for decades, watching Li Hongzhang come and go, Zeng Guofan come and come, Zuo Zongtang came and left, Zhang Zhidong went and returned.

The Westernization faction was defeated by the reformist faction, and the constitutional revisionist faction was defeated by the revolution, life, and party.

Nanjing has always believed that its 7000-year-old city is full of tableware, and there are only three things worth bragging about—the Jin people crossed the south in clothes, and the Huaxia Zhengshuo survived; Sun Wen founded the Republic.

He revived the spirit of depression since the end of Qing Dynasty, only because of the appreciation of the sentence "there is one place in the world".

It's a pity that it's a troubled time again, he stole ten years while he was dying, and later the government put gold on his face, calling it the golden ten years.

But only I know how decayed it is under the gold-plated clothes.

At this time, that child has already become famous all over the world - Shili Yangchang, playing jazz and dancing foxtrot, has already compared Shili Qinhuai, playing pipa and humming, with garden flowers.

At a party, he sat and drank tea with Beijing, which was renamed Beiping, and Xi’an, who was dressed in military uniform, and looked at Shanghai, which was full of pidgins and Guangzhou’s greasy faces in the distance. Nuo, did you see, Oriental Paris, why do you think we don’t have the elegant name of Eastern London or Eastern New York?"

At that time, I was wearing a Chinese tunic suit, with a blue sky and white sun on my chest, and I raised my eyebrows, "I can call Jinling Jianye Moling Shengzhou Yingtian, and it doesn't matter if I call it Stone City, but I can't use a foreigner's name."

Xi'an still had a murderous look on his brows, "If I remember correctly, you were the first city in the world with a population of over one million during the Six Dynasties? At that time, the Romans had just left Britain, so what..."

Nanjing added, "Anglo-Saxon."

"Yeah, they're just popping up, right? As for New York...are natives still dancing?"

Beiping smiled kindly, and then there was a haze in his eyes, "Your Chang'an is even more of a splendid imperial capital, and the Han style and Tang charm are still remembered by people. Unfortunately, it is all over. Now it is the world of foreigners. Believe me, no one I know better than me how powerful and shameless they are."

He caressed his waist, and Nanjing knew that it was the garden of ten thousand gardens, but now it was a ruined wall.

"The destiny," Nanjing said abruptly, "the destiny is not clear, but I have a vague feeling that it is not with me."

Xi'an, Beijing was shocked again. An ancient capital like theirs tends to have a sharper perception of destiny. When Nanjing said this, they all couldn't help but think of changing the dynasty.

In the distance, Hong Kong quickly joined Shanghai and Guangzhou, and there was cheers.

In the collective silence of the elderly, Beijing murmured, "It won't be so fast..."

Facts have proved that even if they are well-informed, some things still make them unexpected.

1931, 1937...