It was the spring of the third year of Zhengding, and the imperial court, whose foundation had long been unstable, was still dreaming of a thousand-year prosperity.
The Haozhou army was destroyed.
King Chinda launched an attack outside the pass.
King Yun Yifushan was released to his own territory.
The black flames have not yet ignited over Shang Liangjing.
The founder of the Taizheng era still languishes in the arms of his father and refuses to do so.
Incandescent Disk is no longer just an inconsequential last-place general.
Wen Shousheng is not dead yet.
Wen Ningxiu has not yet been reborn.
That year, Wen Ningzhan was nineteen, Wen Shousheng was eighteen, and Xiao Cheng was twenty-four. The three of them were all about to wake up from their dreams.