The young man who passed by the roadside had a sallow face and thin muscles, and walked slowly. His cloudy eyes cast across the thin land in winter. What he saw was the tearful and stooped body of his mother when she said goodbye; the smoke rising from the village when the twilight fell, with a familiar and warm smell; and the distant place that was about to be swallowed up by them that was about to be invisible.
This is the end of Qin.
It's not just a few words from a textbook, but the blood, tears, grief and strength that can only be felt by being in it. Liu Huai was pushed into the world of mortals by the wheel of history. In this cruel era, a gentle heart cultivated in modern times was like a pearl falling into the deep sea, quietly completing his ordinary story amidst the grandeur.
This is a paradise within a story.
The heroine travels through the late Qin Dynasty and is an ordinary person. It involves history, but it is not a Machiavellian article. This article is purely personal and has no research.
If you don't like it, don't enter. Just pat it gently. Thank you. Thank you everyone (*°∀°)=3