The ancient moonlight on my palm
That hurt, the desolation that passed with a smile
I look up to see you standing there.
The days continued to pass silently, and they continued to watch the moonlight dance in the clouds. However, very few people knew what kind of methods this seemingly ordinary man had.
Feng Siming, who did not go to the Pink Pavilion, was watching the romantic scene with Cao Zhi, who had composed a poem in seven steps.
Feng Siming looked at this famous person in history and smiled.
"The moonlight is sparse, who is pounding the winter clothes? Looking at the horizon and thinking of Jun's hometown is really the thoughts of those women.”
Feng Siming listened to the battle song from afar and sighed.
" The Qiang flute is played on the frontier in the dream of splendor. The war is not a crime. The beacon fire burns for several seasons. Who would know the sorrow of a general who achieved success?”
"Zijian shouldn't be such a sentimental person. Why is he at a loss today?”
"Si Ming, you should understand."
"Hehe, are you afraid?"
"Si Ming, Mister Shui Jing said that you're not a fish in a pond. Please take Chong-er away."
"Aren't you afraid that I'll go back on my word? You must know that there are many people who want your lives."
"I have no other choice."
Zijian, do you know that Cao Chong must die? If he doesn't die, more people will die for him. However, I promised you that I would take him away, so I won't go back on my word, even if this path is lonely.
Feng Siming smiled bitterly and sipped the tea in his hand. He looked at the horizon and said nothing.
"Si Ming, you've been here for so long. As your brother, I haven't given you anything. Today, I'll sing a song for you and for myself.”Cao Zhi was the first to break the awkwardness.
Feng Siming smiled and did not mind.
Cao Zhi took the teapot and used a broken willow branch to start a heavy melody.
"The ancient moonlight in my hand
That hurt, the desolation that passed with a smile
It's the arrogance you were born to be a dragon
Remember that your name is Yan Huang
The setting sun on the battlefield
The years quietly flow beside the broken blade
Tattoo You, Sacrifice to the Four Directions
The Yellow River and the Yangtze River with surging blood
It's your innate flaunting
After a thousand years, the lead is washed clean
The soil that you have always held on to is under your feet
An answer that will never change until death."
The inexplicable sadness gradually dissipated with the wind. Cao Zhi stood up and strode away.
"Si Ming, remember to bring Chong-er away no matter what.”
Feng Siming looked at the person who was walking away and said," After a thousand years, the soil has been washed clean, and the soil that has been firmly held is under your feet, and the answer will not change until death.
"The thirteenth year of Jian 'an was an eventful year.”
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