The third-rate poet Shen Du wrote an original sentence in a second-hand bookstore that night when he was forced into desperation -
"At twelve o'clock in Chang'an, the moonlight is like salt and snow."
Seven words, he was thrown into the twenty-fourth year of Kaiyuan, both human and soul. The lights of the prosperous Tang Dynasty, Li Bai's wine fight, the Qujiang Conference, and winning the imperial examination... He only had to write Tang poems silently, and he could become a god all the way.
But in the darkness, a voice reminded:
"Every time you steal a poem, you lose a memory forever; if you lose it, your soul will fly away."
In order to survive, he was shocked every step of the way: Copy? Still not copying?
When An Lushan stuffed his severed finger into his palm, using blood as ink and fire as paper, Shen Du finally understood——
Poetry is not the golden finger of the time traveler, but the testimony of the human heart to heaven.
Either burn all the pirated copies and split history with real poems; or become the ashes of the prosperous age, and even the name is wiped away by the wind of the Tang Dynasty.
This is a soul-burning story about modern people who rhyme with fate and refine words with blood. In the end, they drank with Li Bai, were imprisoned with Du Fu, and cut candles with Xue Tao, but had to push the prosperous Tang Dynasty to collapse with their own hands.
