A game of chess has been played for eight hundred years. Three people, two lives, the last hand left.
Eight hundred years ago, he was the most beautiful girl in the Hanlin Academy, and she was the princess of a county who fell due to crime. In order to save her, he climbed up step by step until he lost all his power. In memory of her, he cut the piano that had lasted two lives.
Eight hundred years later, he is a neurosurgeon and she is a forensic examiner. The piano is still there, and the calligraphy is still there. She never believed in fate until the report she wrote for him personally brought her to the review table.
The Minister of Justice who stood in the bamboo forest and carved words on the tea tree left the hairpin in his brocade bag and died in a war that did not belong to him. Eight hundred years later, someone finally opened the letter he left.
A guqin, two DNA reports, and the unengraved name on the Sansheng Stone. Some things cannot be explained by science and cannot be written into reports. They can only be carried by stories.
The song is over, the accounts of the two lives are settled, the rest of my life is inside the door, and there is no self outside the door.
I was a drunkard in my previous life, but I am a lingering voice in this life.
The author's message: "I want to write about warriors more than heroes. Heroes have a halo, while warriors only have bones. A hero is a winner, and a warrior is the tree that is blown crooked by the wind but still stands stubbornly."
