My name is Yan Gui. My parents said they chose it in the hope that Yan would know peace and that travelers could return home.
But I was born in an age of endless war and raised in Yanbei, where smoke signals rose on every horizon. In this life, I never knew what it truly meant to have a home. From the blaze that consumed Yan, to the peace of the Qin frontier stretching thousands of miles, and then to the slaughter between Chu and Han, I drifted like a speck of dust, swept along by the chaos. The feelings in my heart changed again and again, but in the end, I still died in the war.
It turns out that no matter how many twists and turns this world takes, it has never spared ordinary people like us.
