I wish I could entrust my thoughts to the jade zither. But so few understand me: when the strings snap, who will listen?
I draw my sword to cut the water, yet the water flows on. I raise my cup to drown my sorrows, yet my sorrow only deepens.
Could this feeling ever become a memory? Even then, I was already lost in a daze.
There is no way to dispel this feeling. It leaves my brow, only to settle in my heart.
After dusk, I drink wine by the eastern hedge, and a faint fragrance fills my sleeves.
Parting has always saddened the sentimental, all the more so on a lonely autumn day.
Can the peerless young master Ran Che change his fate in The Legend of Qin? ˉˉˉˉˉˉThe author updates without restraint, so don't complain.
This novel and its characters are purely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
