Gongsun Ce was eighteen years old that year. The undercurrents in the court were turbulent, spilling out from every deep palace and alley, paving every step of his way north. In front of Zhaoyang Palace, he invited himself to the border. Over time, many people's wishes were fulfilled.
Never expected to meet him. Outside the camp gate, there is a stone's throw away. Look at the clouds rising above the fortress and the wind blowing the wind.
Three thousand willows to send him home
Intention:
The writing is not that good