An Epic of Eighteen Song Dynasties

The bustle of mortal life is much the same in past and present; fame and fortune leave only empty sleeves in the wind. By a dim lamp at midnight, we judge the heroes of our age; over a cup of rough wine, we count the great men of history. Though the realm is divided between north and south, who can tell the loyal from the treacherous? Three hundred years of palace intrigues are, in idle moments, all turned into stories for laughter.