The Hidden Marquis of the Three Kingdoms

“The mighty Yangtze flows east, its waves washing away heroes. Right and wrong, success and failure, all vanish in an instant. The green hills remain, while sunsets come and go. White-haired fishermen and woodcutters on the riverbanks have grown used to autumn moons and spring breezes. They delight in meeting over a jug of wine, and all the past and present are left to laughter and conversation.” Ning Rong stood with his hands behind his back, clad in white as pure as snow, his robes fluttering in the wind. Gazing into the distance at the surging Yangtze before him, he spoke with deep feeling. “Master, your words are profound. In a few lines, you've laid bare the rise and fall of dynasties throughout history. Perhaps only someone as detached and high-minded as you could compose such exquisite verse!” The young man in blue looked at the figure before him with adoration and admiration, then asked, “Master, do you carry the fate of all the people in the world in your heart?” Ning Rong raised his head to the sky, embodying the noble scholar. Then he suddenly turned and curled his lip. “Bah! What do I care? I'm lucky if I've got something to eat.” Watching Ning Rong walk away, the young man in blue's mouth twitched. With a helpless sigh, he thought, “I've certainly fallen in with the wrong person...”