The young have chivalrous hearts, and make friends with the bravest men in the capital. Their loyalty runs deep, their hair stands on end, and they make their vows in a moment. They share life and death, and a promise is worth a thousand in gold. They boast of courage, take pride in their boldness, and ride in splendid carriages with galloping horses. They race east of the city, drinking until the wine jars brim with the colors of spring. They swallow the sea like a rainbow, and in their leisure call hawks and hounds, pluck white-feathered arrows, and draw carved bows. The cunning dens are swiftly emptied. Their joy is brief.
Like a dream of yellow millet. They bid farewell to the palace, share the moon, and drift alone in a small boat. They are burdened by tedious duties and a restless heart, trapped in the dust and buried in documents. Rows of officials in feathered caps fill the halls. They are put to rough use, then suddenly achieve extraordinary feats. The horns and drums sound, the music of Yuyang plays, and sorrow fills the heart. Without asking for a long spear, they bind and capture the proud nomads. The sword roars in the west wind. They regret climbing mountains and crossing rivers, and entrust their feelings to the seven-stringed zither as they watch the wild geese fly home.
A young man fresh out of the gate has always yearned for the martial world. Dressed in fine clothes and riding a fine horse, he roamed the world with sword in hand, unmatched in skill and peerless across the Nine Provinces. Once, the spirited young man could say, "With one sword, I stood against a million soldiers." After certain events, he decided to sail across the Five Lakes and find solace in mountains and waters... But one strange incident after another made him take up the sword in his hand once more...
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
I have been in Feilu for so long. This is the first time I have seen such a well-written book. Hurry up and put it on the shelf and order it all!
I have been fond of Chinese classical literature since I was a child, such as the Four Great Classics, Three Words and Two Patterns, The Scholars and Foreign History, etc. I also hope that writing through this can spread Chinese classical culture and promote traditional classics. Yang Yi did not meet, caressing Ling Yun and feels sorry for himself; when Zhong Qi met, how could he be ashamed to play the flowing water?