A realm does not fall in a single battle, in a single day, or under a single ruler. It may fall after decades of flourishing letters and declining arms, as governance decays and eunuchs rise to power; or it may fall through endless wars that drain the people dry. These are rulers unfit to bear the burden of the state. In an age of prosperity, one man writes for all beneath Heaven; amid upheaval and flight, a lone soul wanders the wasteland.
A thousand miles of road, a thousand lines of tears.
