The north wind rolls the banners; distant beacon smoke still lingers. The night before that campaign, mentor…
The north wind rolls the banners; distant beacon smoke still lingers.
The night before that campaign, mentor Guo Huailie visited Zhang Huaishen's tent. They sat in silence, only the desert wind between them.
Near midnight, Guo finally asked: "The danger of this battle lies not in enemy strength, but in court interference... If you don't return, what then?"
"Warriors cannot refuse duty. If I die, hold no hatred, seek no revenge, dig no deeper." Zhang Huaishen drank from his gourd. "Every soldier should face death so—even if fallen by other means."
Decades later, wind and sand have worn the stele, but Liangzhou's snow remains silver. Centenarian Guo Huailie hears the same wind from that night.
The sun and moon in a gourd can bury me—why need green hills for bones?
Suddenly, he saw that youthful rider again, forever in his prime.