I, Shen Hanchuan, have lived by this river for three years.
Three years ago, the catastrophic disaster in Beijing dragged me from the clouds into the mud. From a general to an exiled prisoner, and now to this idle man who fishes and chops firewood in exchange for some rice and salt, I have almost forgotten what I looked like wearing armor.
It's nice here, with beautiful scenery, no one knows me, and no one bothers me. I thought this life would just go by, guarding this river also called "Hanchuan", and spend the rest of my life.
