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 the sun sets and rises again. White-haired fishermen and woodcutters on the riverbanks have long grown used to autumn moons and spring breezes. A jug of wine makes old friends rejoice at meeting. So many tales of past and present, all now the stuff of laughter.” Ning Rong stood with his hands behind his back, his white robes as pristine as snow, their hems fluttering in the breeze. Gazing into the distance at the mighty Yangtze before him, his eyes deep and faraway, he sighed with feeling. “Master, your words are profound. They capture the rise and fall of history in a single phrase. Perhaps only someone as detached and high-minded as you could compose such beautiful lines...” The young man in blue gazed at the figure before him with adoration and admiration, then turned and asked, “Master, do you carry the fate of all people in your heart?” Ning Rong raised his head to the sky, striking the pose of a noble and virtuous man. Then he suddenly turned around and curled his lip. “Hah! What’s that got to do with me? Having something to eat is good enough.” Watching Ning Rong walk away, the young man in blue twitched at the corner of his mouth and sighed helplessly. “I’ve clearly put my trust in the wrong person...”