Old Tales of Moling

The depth of love in a past life-- Half a lifetime in prison, half a lifetime on the battlefield, all for the one and only ruler in his heart. The ruler said he was lonely, and he stayed by his side. The ruler said he wanted the throne, and he gave it to him. At last, the ruler said, "A Nan, I want your life." In the end, he still couldn't bear to deny him. If you want me dead, then I'll die, whether or not you're the ruler and I'm your subject. The ruler bestowed a cup of poisoned wine upon his subject. The subject accepted his death and thanked him for the honor, wishing his ruler countless years of life, good fortune, and peace. The ridiculousness of this life-- Decades of upheaval have passed, and all the clamor has finally settled into peace. Shen Mei slowly wakes up, pokes the deadweight sleeping beside him, and asks excitedly, "Hey, guess what I dreamed about last night?!" The other man obligingly asks, "What did Xiaomei dream about?" Ignoring the man beside him for calling him by his childhood nickname, which he hates, he answers, "I dreamed that in my past life I was a mighty general, charging before ten thousand troops and taking enemy generals' heads as easily as picking something out of a bag. With one shout, a million corpses hit the ground!" He sighs deeply, utterly enraptured. "I was so damn impressive!" Xiao Ling listens in silence, then raises an eyebrow. "Does it still hurt down there?" Then he props himself up on one arm and gazes at Shen Xiaomei with a bright smile. Shen Xiaomei's pale jade face changes color several times before turning an iron gray. He grits his pearly teeth, his rosy lips opening and closing several times before he finally spits out a vicious, single-word reply: "Fuck!" (The End)