History books always like to write about warriors and kings, but they don't know that behind every name there is half a volume of unopened bamboo slips. It is the star map on the barrel of Zhang He's gun, the child in Zhuge Liang's drawings, the charred wood in the old boatman's net, the folk prescription on the sleeve of the scribe, and the cryptic words on the stone bricks of the craftsman. These fragments crumpled by time, shimmering in the long night of the Three Kingdoms, let us see: the so-called history is never a legend of a few names, but a long scroll of the floating world written by thousands of "anonymous" with their breath, blood, sweat, and unspoken concerns.
When you open the yellowed annals of history, please remember those corners that have not been touched by ink - there are unsent letters home, unattended drinking dates, unfinished worries, and everyone who has truly lived in time. This is the real appearance of all living beings in the Three Kingdoms.
