Conspiracy

"Mouhan"——[Slow pace] When the black and white chess pieces landed on the yellowed bamboo slip chessboard, the sound of the pieces made the copper bells on the eaves ring softly. The young man stood on the corridor, twisting a transparent white jade chess piece between his fingertips, watching the patter of rain in front of the steps spread over the bluestone slabs, forming small puddles in the depressions. The palace wall in the distance is hidden in the mist, like a painting with blurred ink, and the figures shuttled between the high walls of the royal gate are not the chess pieces on the chessboard? He was not in a hurry to make a move, he just watched the raindrops rolling down the edge of the chessboard, making a tiny sound on the ground. This game of chess spread from the palace of Luoyang to the border of Han River. It is not only the victory or defeat that makes you regretless, but also the names and choices buried by time. The wind swept over the chessboard, picking up a few dead leaves, like those fates that had quietly overturned in the torrent of history. And the young man has always held the chess piece, as if he has grasped the pulse of the entire troubled world - there is no need to know the outcome, just because every move is itself the arrival of the historical torrent.