A Promise Across the Ages, Beyond Wuzhangyuan

He had lived for nine hundred years. He had met Guan Zhong, seen off Zhang Liang, and stood for three days and three nights amid the flames as Xiang Yu burned Xianyang. He thought he would never care about anyone again, until one day, outside a thatched cottage, he saw a young man waving a feather fan. Zhuge Liang. Twenty-seven years old, not yet prime minister, not yet having written the Memorial on the Expedition, and not yet handing him a fan on an autumn night at Wuzhang Plains. Back then, all he knew was that he wanted to see how far this man could go.

So he followed him from Longzhong to Red Cliffs, from Yiling to Baidi City, and stood outside his tent at Wuzhang Plains for an entire night. When dawn came, he had two fans in his hands.