On the winter night of the twenty-fourth year of Jian'an, the light from the top of Shangyong City reflected the direction in which Guan Yu was defeated. Liu Feng was sitting in the general's palace, thinking about all the dead ends - defending the city was death, abandoning the city was death, surrendering to Cao was stabbed by Meng Da, surrendering to Wu was pushed out of the tank by Sun Quan. He scratched his head and took a sip of cold wine. The cold wind outside the door blew the flag. He put down the wine bowl, stood up and opened the door. The defenders at the top of the city shrank their necks from the cold. He took a deep breath: pass the order and open the city. Welcome Cao Jun. It's not about surrendering, it's about finding a way to survive. The wind blew into his collar, and he tightened his grip on the knife handle at his waist. The torches outside the city are winding like snakes and are coming this way.
