One hundred and ninety-eight AD, winter.
The city of Xiapi was destroyed, and Lü Bu took the lead.
Cao Cao took Liu Bei's hand and climbed the city tower together, overlooking the smoke everywhere.
The north wind is biting and blowing with blood.
"Bring Chen Gong up." Cao Cao's voice trembled in the wind.
After a moment, two soldiers escorted one person slowly over. The man was dressed in cloth, and although he was bound by ropes, his waist was straight.
When their eyes met, Cao Cao had mixed feelings and actually shed two lines of tears.
"Gongtai, I've treated you well, but why did you turn your back on me? Don't you remember everything in the past?"
Chen Gong stared at Cao Cao.
"Amao, you're talking about... The past?"
After finishing speaking, both of them fell into silence, and the past came rushing back like a tide.
