Feiyu Three Kingdoms

Wearing a bamboo hat and a square hoe, I would like to ask you whether the half-acre of thin farmland under Wollongong is the safest place for you in this life; riding a war horse and holding a feather fan, I would like to ask you whether the smoke-filled battlefield will make you shed tears. I always think that you are free and above the world, with a face as beautiful as a crown of jade, lips as greased, and an air of immortality; I always think that you are towering above thousands of people, with talents that transcend the crowd, a heroic spirit, and the ability to strategize and win thousands of miles away. But when I reach out to touch your flowing skirt, why do I feel so cold that my heart hurts... Perhaps, your military life was just a mistake. Perhaps, you should have forgotten the love that you paid three visits to in the wind and snow, and continued to live a life of wandering clouds and wild cranes, lying high in Nanyang for the rest of your life, and fell in love with it when you were drunk on the Jade Mountain. I am melancholy, it is hard to find a close friend, the moonlight is gurgling, you are alone on the Yao Qin, plucking the strings, but how can you play Gong Jin's long river chant, but the strings break and the sound is swallowed up. Drinking to pay homage to an old friend, when the wind approaches the shore, three thousand blue hairs are shaken by the waves of the river, and this person is gone. Who else can follow his gentle eyes slowly to the end of the world. Heartbroken, monarch and minister are divided. Yiling was defeated, the company camp was burned down, Baidi City was high, and the moonlight was cold. You cry, the monarch and his ministers are separated, and the love between fish and water has come to an end; you are sad, the five tigers have fallen, and the overwhelming domineering power has become a passing thing; you are helpless, the young master is weak, and from now on, the rise and fall of life and death can only be carried on two shoulders. So you pressed the sword with one hand, rectified the moral code, and kept the code of conduct; then you penetrated into the barren land, captured and leveled the southern border seven times; then you devoted yourself to your life, and marched out of Qishan with strong troops... The green mountains are still there, sighing, eternal sorrow, the white clothes are fluttering, the feather fan is swaying, but the heroic appearance is gone. You are trudging more and more firmly on the vast journey of reviving the Han Dynasty, but your back looks more and more thin and lonely. It's sad, the sheng and drums are blowing cold, who plucks the strings alone, playing the lingering sound of Liang Fu in the air; Sad, the stormy waves crash on the shore, who alone lifts a bottle to invite the moon, lamenting the desolation of the past. Sadly, the street pavilion hates defeat, the flag is stained with blood, the best friend is newly beheaded, and you shed tears in front of the army. The real empty city in history did not echo your calm music, and you were already in a state of confusion. Sadly, your aspirations and ideals are being blown away by the cold wind little by little, like catkins in the city wind... In Wuzhangyuan, the autumn wind is bleak, leaving behind memories for thousands of years. The years peel off silently, and the sad autumn wind finally blows away your thin life and your failed ambitions. The yellow leaves on the ground are whirling with the autumn wind, seeming to tell the story of your dedication and your death... That night, the wind was still biting; that night, the sky was still vast. That night in Wuzhangyuan, the sky was miserable and the earth was miserable; the bright moon in the sky that night suddenly thinned into a curved hook, tightly catching this trace of historical sadness... You are broken, so shocked. You are tragic and therefore heroic.