Over the years, he had always dreamed that the war drums were beating again outside the Great Wall. The sound of the drum is getting closer and closer, closer and closer, and closer and closer.
Among them, I heard the man's sarcastic voice in a trance:
"What's wrong with living drunkenly and dreaming of death? It's better to take advantage of the good years, lean on the carved railings, and embrace the beauty in your arms; when the time comes to go into battle, die when you die, with nothing to fear and nothing to worry about."