The black-armored general on the horse looked at the dead army in front of him, pulled the reins, walked back to his military formation, and said to the people behind him.

"Bury these people."

On that day, the city gate of Xianyang was broken, and a beam of fire rose in the fire, and in the flame, it seemed that Qin Shi was burned to the ground.

During the Western Han Dynasty, the person who wrote the book dropped the last word, the pen stopped, and then put it aside. When he finished writing, the man sitting at the table blew out the lamp, and the light of the fire dimmed on the theory of passing Qin.

There was a sound of footsteps as the man left, leaving the book alone on the table waiting for the ink to dry.

Decades later, a man named Sima Qian was appointed to Taishi.

He pushed open the door of the Taishi Pavilion and stood silent for a long time in front of the countless scrolls and texts.

The sunlight shone into the Taishi Pavilion from behind him, illuminating the place in front of him.

He suddenly had the idea that he was going to write a book, a book that would be enough to remember the world.

That book, he thought, was destined to be a chronicle.

After that day, he had read almost all the Tibetan texts in the Taishi Pavilion.

One day, he removed a volume of brief texts from a shelf, probably not in a long time, and a layer of dust had accumulated on it.

Blowing away the dust on the text slip, Sima Qian opened the text slip and his eyes fell into it.

"Passing the Qin theory?"

He looked at the text of the text, his brow furrowed deeply, and suddenly he seemed to have noticed something, and there was a place in the text that had been crossed out.

It was not erased, but just a stroke, and Sima Qian carefully looked at the crossed handwriting.

"Mourning the White Filial ······"

His eyes lit up and he muttered, "This person can remember." ”

······

The Qin world has passed, and the troubled times have risen again, and it seems that there will never be stability in this world.

In a mountain forest, the sound of flowing water, the low waterfall falls and rushes down among the rocks and mountain springs below, bringing the sound of water splashing.

The two stepped into the forest and stood by the waterfall.

I don't know how far away a small beast howled a few times, and then ran into the forest and disappeared.

Gai Nie looked at the waterfall with a look of nostalgia in his eyes.

His eyes moved, and he crouched down and looked at a pebble on the side of the waterfall.

There were several scratches on it, and he remembered that he always liked to practice against this stone when he practiced his sword.

Reaching out and touching the scratches of various shades on the stone, Gagnie chuckled.

"Uncle, it's not been peaceful near Xianyang City recently, so it's better for us to leave early."

Tianming said behind Gai Nie, his eyes falling on the mountain forest.

Ganie nodded and stood up.

"Okay, just a little bit."

He just came to see if the thing was still there.

The two walked deeper into the woods until they came to a stop in a clearing.

A pile of dead wood stood there, almost rotten.

Gai Nie stepped forward slowly, and Tianming looked at him with a hint of doubt in his eyes.

But he saw him pierce his sword into the earth, and dig out a cloth bag.

This is what Wei Zhuang wants Uncle to see?

Tianming thought so.

"It's still there." Ganie muttered to himself, sat down, placed the cloth bag on his lap, and opened it.

There were three pieces of wood in the cloth bag, and Gai Nie picked up one of them.

Holding it in his hand and looking at it for a long time, he raised his head and smiled, as if he understood something, but he didn't say it.

The wind blew through the shadows of the leaves in the forest, and the two people sitting in the forest left.

The cloth bag was placed on the ground, and a piece of wood fell aside, and the first two words were no longer legible, but the last two words were still clear.

"Uncle, don't you have to bury it back?"

"No, no one will come."

The figure leaves.

A fallen leaf was blown down by the wind, floated down, spun around a few times in mid-air, and finally landed on the wood on the ground, obscuring the two words below, the word Taiping.

······

It's quiet at night, and it's hardly a crowd on the mountain roads in the suburbs.

On the mountain road, you can hear the sound of the Wei River flowing in the distance, but in the distance, you can't hear it very clearly.

The shallow grass on the side of the road is swayed by the breeze and makes a thin sound.

Everything seemed to be quiet at night.

Until a voice came.

"Click."

It was like the sound of the earth cracking, and a chirp in the grass jumped into the distance.

Then there was a muffled thud, and a hand burst out from between the dirt.

If there is someone next to him, he will definitely be frightened so that the three souls are no longer uncertain. Simply, no one came on the road this night.

The hand that came out of the dirt was stained with some mud and sand, but it looked slender like a woman's hand.

It was supposed to be a very good-looking hand, but unfortunately there was a scar on the hand, which ran from the palm to the back of the hand, making the hand look a little scary.

The palm paused there, then moved, clutching at the ground.

As the palm began to exert force, one arm burst out of the ground, followed by the other. Eventually, as a large lump of dirt was broken, a man crawled out of the ground.

This way of coming out is like an old corpse in the mountains that has been circulated among the people, and the appearance is similar, but there is still a general in front of the dress.

The man was dressed in white, with dirt and brown marks on his clothes that looked like dried blood.

The outside of the shirt is a rusty armor, and there is a hole in the chest of the armor, and it is no longer the same in many places, and it looks like it can't be worn.

Her hair hung down on her shoulders and she looked like a woman.

She sat there with a half-split nail on her face.

The exposed half of the face is stunned, and every part is exquisite, as if it has been carefully sculpted.

The eyes are light, but between the eyebrows is heroic, and it feels different from ordinary women.

The skin is very white and a little sickly, which should be the reason why it is buried in the ground and has not been exposed to sunlight all year round.

After a while, the woman came to her senses, and looked around, and there was no one in the night, so she opened her mouth.

"I'm not dead?"

The voice was hoarse, as unpleasant as a scrub.

The woman touched her throat uncomfortably, a little uncomfortable, like a needle stuck there, it must have been too long since she spoke.

She stared blankly at herself, her rusty armor stained with mud and sand.

"Where is this?"

There was a dull pain in her chest, but there was no wound there, and she remembered the last words she had heard.

And they were buried.

Her eyes fell on the dirt beneath her, and she reached out and grabbed a handful, and the dirt slipped from her palm.

The hoarse voice said softly.

"Am I here, revived?"