Lonely lamp and bright moon, cold wine and herbal tea, this is the first time I have seen such a scene? Li Bai, who woke up from his intoxication, rubbed his head that was in unbearable pain because of the hangover, and asked himself this question silently.

I can't remember thinking about it, the same scene has happened often in the past few years, and he can't figure it out, and he doesn't want to figure it out. After getting up and pouring a cup of tea that was already a little cold to the bone, and after temporarily relieving the burning pain in his chest, he carried the flask to the stone bench outside the door and sat down.

The milky white moonlight spread softly on his body, just the right way to alleviate the loneliness in the dead of night. He gulped down the wine, letting the mesmerizing elixir burn his throat, and then looked up habitually.

In his memory, the moon in his hometown is round and bright, clear and well-defined, but since he entered this Chang'an City, he feels that the moon always looks so hazy, just like a lady with a layer of tulle on her face, all the beauty is carefully hidden, and it is not as good as the moon that he looked at in Shu when he was young. If you describe it in two more sentences, I'm afraid it will be like this singing and dancing Chang'an City, looking at it, it is not so real.

Unable to find any familiarity as far as his eyes could see, his heart inexplicably swelled with a sense of loss, and he looked up to take a few more sips of wine, but he was helpless to find that there was only a little wine left in the pot. With nowhere to vent his frustration, he simply drank all the rest of the wine, then threw the flask in his hand, turned back to the house and took out his sword.

He hadn't touched it for a long time, and since he entered the city, it had been hanging on the head of his bed and had never moved, and now that he held it in his hand again, he suddenly felt like a world away.

The sword was unsheathed, the sharpness of which had not diminished in the slightest as it had been years before, and he gripped it vigorously as he danced into the moves he had practiced most often.

Picking and stabbing and turning, all the movements engraved in my mind are so familiar and unfamiliar, and the afterimage of the blade in the moonlight is so intimate but also alienated.

He was still drunk, but he was sober, and he knew from the moment he picked up the sword that from now on, he would never belong here.

The night was as cold as water, and as his heart and his dreams.

He left, innocently and crisply, calmly and chicly. He left all the supreme glory bestowed on him by the Lord of the Tang Dynasty in this palace, and only took away his people, his talents, and the enthusiasm and boldness that the mountains and rivers poured into him.

Does he regret it?

Yes, he regrets.

For a long time, his biggest dream was to step into this Chang'an City, be a pivotal court official, assist the emperor, and prosper the Tang Dynasty. But the reality cut his dream to pieces, he finally understood, and he must admit that his poetry was painted like a beautiful flower, and he could tell the deep affection of his friends, but he alone could not save this Tang Dynasty who was only willing to sing and dance.

Does he regret it?

No, he doesn't regret it.

He Li Bai belongs to this day, to this land, to this poetic landscape, to this fragrant wine and wine, but not to this splendid court. He had been imprisoned in this beautiful cage for too long, and he could not and should not be imprisoned any longer. Only by returning to that free world can he find himself again.

He loves every inch of the Tang Dynasty, the madness of his love, and the depth of his love.

So, he will never regret leaving here.

Partnering with friends, casting love with wine, he lives happily and chicly, and he lives boldly and heroically. He measured the territory belonging to the Tang Dynasty step by step, and caressed the beautiful scenery of the mountains and rivers that gave birth to him inch by inch. He has traveled all over the country, written countless popular and eternal poems, gained many indestructible friendships, and won countless praises and envy.

It's a pity that creation makes people, even if he has such and such supreme honor, he still loses the war of life in the end.

He lost to himself who had been tossing and turning, lost to a sad and lamentable fate, and lost to the already devastated Datang.

On the ninth day of November in the 14th year of Tianbao, An Lushan raised troops in Fanyang. 150,000 soldiers used the swords in their hands to cut a huge gap in the prosperous appearance of the Tang Dynasty, and finally showed its decay to the world. The people who had not been in war for a long time could not accept this sudden disaster, but he was not surprised by it.

This illusion of peace and stability has lasted long enough, and someone should have stabbed everyone here a long time ago to sober everyone up.

He could no longer suppress his love for this country in this beacon fire, so although it was already twilight, he still chose to join the team of King Yong, wanting to contribute his own strength to the subjugation of the Tang Dynasty.

It's a pity that King Yong was not worthy of his entrustment, and in the first year of Zhide, King Yong sent troops without authorization, intending to rebel, and was finally killed by Huangfu Yu with an arrow. He was also implicated and imprisoned.

It used to be Tang Xuanzong's polite treatment of the poet fairy Taibai, but now he has become a staff member of the rebel leader and has been put in a cage. His identity fell from the clouds to the bottom, but no one wanted to believe that he would betray the thousands of miles of rivers and mountains of the Tang Dynasty.

Because he is Li Bai.

Rescued and exiled, his old age is no longer the chic of his youth, and he is only full of sadness. The upheaval and displacement along the way finally caused his body to suffer great damage. The incurable disease has been tormenting his body and his soul, but until he passed away suddenly, what he thought about was this brilliant Tang Dynasty.

In his life, love and hatred are closely related to this Datang, he has regretted, disappointed, suffered, given up, struggled, but has always maintained love and loyalty to Datang.

Although the so-called masters of the Tang Dynasty have never let him, a peng bird, spread his wings and soar high.