Wei Jin não aceita Zhou
Na era de transição entre Wei e Jin, a família Sima dominava tudo com uma mão de ferro, suas palavras eram lei. Alguns pisavam fundo no acelerador, tocavam música e dançavam; outros pisavam no freio, matavam e conspiravam. As famílias nobres monopolizavam os cargos oficiais, entre o povo reinava uma estagnação profunda, e o silêncio absoluto era, de fato, lamentável. Mas havia um homem que não se submetia, que chegou como enviado dos céus, disposto a compor uma canção que proclamava: "Será que reis, nobres e generais têm sangue diferente?"
Wei Jin não aceita Zhou
The spring breeze across the fields arrived with a graceful and gentle touch. The warm sunlight bathed the land, comforting without scorching.
Wildflowers swayed along the ridges of the fields, dancing in the breeze, while bees busily flitted among them—a vivid scene of life bursting forth, nature competing in flourishing vitality.
Yet, though the scenery was beautiful, people were not necessarily so.
On the dusty official road, two burly middle-aged men clad in short jackets and loose trousers, each with a sword at their waist, were escorting a young man dressed in “odd” attire, heading toward the direction of Luoyang city.
The youth’s face was streaked with dried mud; his white round-neck shirt bore the image of a cute owl, but the garment was so filthy and disheveled that it appeared black and white mixed, making his straight legs look like mud-caked stalks in the field.
His light blue jeans seemed as if they had been fished from an ink pot, with only a few spots revealing their original hue.
His hands were bound with rope by the two short-jacketed men, led like livestock. His grimy face revealed no clear expression, save for his eyes, which occasionally flickered with a faint gleam.
“Liu Laitou, the general wants to catch a Shu spy—do you think it would be someone like this?” One of the men gestured toward the disheveled young man, questioning Liu Laitou, whose name might be real or a nickname.
“Uh, that’s where you’re mistaken. The general’s sword dance targets Duke Zhuang,” Liu Laitou replied, a rare moment of eruditi
