Author:
Categories: words and feelings
Statuses: Updating
In the third year of Shaoxing of Song Gaozong. In the early spring of March, a flock of north geese returning to the south swept through the sparse canopy, leaving behind a string of long and mournful cries. Miles of the river and customs are shaken by wind and rain. Within the Great Wall of smoke, feather book flying, the Yellow River on both sides of the golden drums vibration, the war flag flying, the vast world is not even half of the color of spring, only a thick murderous atmosphere filling the sky. Blood red sun low pressure in the vast plains, the distant green hills were dyed a bizarre purple. Thousands of families now have a hundred survivors. Nearby villages have long been incinerated by the war, all over the broken bricks and tiles are still glowing red. The wind came to the grass lay down, only to find that this broken tile on the red light is not the return of the setting sun, but has been drinking through the blood of mankind.