The Wind and Rain on the Emperor's Couch

One charcoal fire, seven pairs of veteran hands, only five people left. The wine is turbid wine, and the words are old words. The snow outside the window is falling harder and harder, and the sounds in the house are getting lower and lower. Someone asked: "Who tasted that bowl of medicine first?" No one answered, everyone laughed. Smiling and laughing, some lost their teeth and some shed tears.