Great Song: They Call Me the Shame of the Literary World!

First month of the first year of Jingkang. The clash of arms trampled across the frozen river, and the newly enthroned Emperor Qinzong had yet to secure his reign. Lu Beigu, a graduate student of Song history, awoke amid blood and flames. Before his eyes lay the first month of a year in which the realm teetered on the brink of ruin. At that time, Zong Ze repeatedly defeated Jin forces and shook Hebei, while the veteran general Zhong Shidao, though aged, still called for the enemy's heads. That year, Yue Fei's loyal spirit still lay buried in the countryside; Li Qingzhao was about to leave her homeland, searching and seeking; Chen Yuyi's "Moonlight Flowing Through the Long Ditch" faded soundlessly, leaving only memories of old excursions in Luoyang. Penniless from the start and adrift in a chaotic age, Lu Beigu had no choice but to dip his brush in ink and sell his writing, chapter by chapter, to a bookstall. The whole city marveled at his extraordinary writing, never knowing that the poor scholar in a tattered coat was counting coins by a broken bridge in the snow. The young man's courage lay buried with his hidden blade. He traded essays for wine, never seeking fame in the annals of history. Drunk, he whipped his horse beneath the stars past Fan Tower. A heart full of Jingkang's blood and pages filled with autumn in his homeland, all entrusted to street-corner bookstalls and drifting boats carrying wanderers.