The Fifteenth Year of Jian'an: the Beginning of the Three Kingdoms

Cao Cao stood on the bow of the ship's flagship, his cloak rustling in the river wind. He is fifty-three years old. The north has been settled and Jingzhou has surrendered. At this moment, he is only separated from the "unification of the world" by the rolling Yangtze River. But for some reason, he suddenly remembered that afternoon twenty-three years ago - when he was still a Cavalry Commander and followed Huangfu Song to suppress the Yellow Turbans. On the battlefield in Yingchuan, he saw for the first time what was called a "mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood." A young yellow scarf soldier stared at him before he died. There was no hatred in his eyes, only confusion, as if asking: "Why does this world have to be like this?" "Prime Minister, the wind has turned." Cheng Yu reminded softly from behind. Cao Cao retracted his thoughts and looked at the dim outline of the south bank. Zhou Yu, twenty-seven years old; Zhuge Liang, twenty-seven years old. He smiled, what was he doing when he was twenty-seven? Oh, at that time he had just been dismissed as the prime minister of Jinan for offending the powerful, so he lived in seclusion in his hometown to study and hunt, and he also wrote a few immature poems. "Send the order," his voice was calm, "cross the river in the original order." Little did he know that this order would burn half of the Yangtze River red, and truly mark the words "Three Kingdoms" into history. Little did he know that ten years later he would be on the sickbed in Luoyang, murmuring to Cao Pi: "Sun Quan, Liu Bei... It's a pity that I couldn't see them in front of Red Cliff." The Yangtze River is still going east. The heroes come on stage, perform, and exit. Only this land remembers all the blood and fire, wisdom and courage, commitment and betrayal. And our story must start from an earlier time - from the cry of "the sky is dead".