Chu Ru Ping An - Shang TianIt happened when the Han Dynasty fell. And not enough for two thousand years ago, this occurred
Another day, another trial; or, whatever this could be; for if this was heaven, then Yao would be more than happy to cast himself into hell.
And then again, he was probably already in hell.
Oh, and he certainly did tryhe tried to speak with the eunuchs. He tried so, so very hard.
He only went as far as shaking his head.
So they went onstuffing their faces, sweeping their cloaks, puffing their cheeksand so they went on, the line of emperors, little boys sent by heaven, incompetent men to hog the throne, silent or wailinghalf-dead. It sickened Yao, and while he did not expect Qin Shi Huang, he did expect the Han Dynasty to only flourish, until they reached heaven.
But they were beneath heaven...so how...could that be...?
Right. Yao had to remind himself of that.
But he knew by now, that the Mandate of Heaven was fickle; that his life and kingdoms ran in cycles. Wh
Chu Ru Ping An - San GuoYao's earliest days were spent in warcorruption and culture, and whichever came first; it was a long life he was to live, and the earliest chapters easily became a mess of blood, tears, and steelonce more, whichever came first. Even later, they were confusing, and still stark. They were slashed with blood, and sweat, and whatever else.
San Guo Yan Yi, say the words, stamped across the book; San Guo Yan Yi, they say, up to this day; San Guo Yan Yi, they echo, and whisper for years and years.
San Guo Yan Yi, for nothing but a giant wave, to come and crush him.
China still remembered much, surprisinglybut he remembered much for one so old; as he fingers the writing, the hanzi stroked across the surface of his rice paper, the red lines crossed beneath themblazing, glistening black glows in the candlelight: San Guo Yan Yi.
Is it selfish, to think of the past?is it selfish, to want it back?why would he want more war, just for simpler times?his youth
BurnIt happened so, so very earlyit happened so, so very suddenly.
The leaves were browning and crisping; they were falling; falling, dying; summer was dying, if not dead, and life was only going on and on. The sky was blue, and the clouds were white.
The clock ticked and ticked, until it was time.
And then, it was at that moment, when one asked, Is New York burning?
Is New York burning?
Is Virginia burning?
Burning to the ground?
The people screamed, and the people cried.
The blue of the sky was smoldering; the towers crumpled, and the base collapsed; the grasses burned.
They ran. They ran and died, and when the ash billowed, it flew over them. It covered them, and only a bridge away, there were those who chewed their lips and clutched their hearts, thinking, simply, Oh my God, oh my God...
And then the days slipped by; and then their kin slipped by.
What is it like, to see the blue, blue sky, and know that your friend is dead? What is it like, to see the gold, gold sun, an
I Wonder Why I'm HereYour brilliance
In my veins.
And tell me,
In my heart.