Summer, Year Eight of the Taixi era of Great Zhou.
That year, the emperor was still staying in the Eastern Capital, unwilling to leave.
That year, the courtesans along the Qinhuai River still rose late, lazily combing their hair, while the warm Jiangnan breeze lulled travelers into a daze.
That year, the refugees stirring in Shanxi had only just begun to show their fangs.
That year, countless victims of the great drought in Shaanxi and Gansu were still struggling on, waiting for relief from the court.
That year, in the Zhen Ding prefecture of Hebei West Circuit, someone hauled a man out of a dry well…
The land of China lies scattered and divided. Who will pity its lonely people?
Thirty years of war and bloodshed. Who dares judge right and wrong, merit and blame?
Look upon the world today: whose world is it?
