The mighty Yangtze River flowed eastward, its waves washing away heroes.
Right and wrong, success and failure—all vanished in an instant. The mountains and rivers remained, while the crimson sunsets came and went.
White-haired fishermen and woodcutters sat along the riverbanks, accustomed to watching the autumn moons and spring breezes.
A pot of muddy wine was a joy to share upon meeting.
How many affairs, ancient and modern, were all reduced to amusing conversation.
Above the surging river, a desolate song rang out across the deck.
A tower ship lay anchored in the middle of the river. Amid the rumbling of the water crashing against the banks, Cao Cao sat facing Sun Ce on the deck.
Tea was set on the table, while Chen Qun and Zhou Yu sat behind the two men respectively.
"Though Wang Xuan is a treacherous and ruthless minister, he is learned. This Linjiang Immortal is quite accomplished." After finishing the song, Cao Cao leisurely lifted the tea before him and drained it in one gulp.
Calling him leisurely was no exaggeration. In fact, no matter how urgent the discussions had been beforehand, when it came to actual execution, they still depended on the civil and military officials below them—especially when preparing to launch a full-scale offensive this time.
The reason was connected to the systems of this era. Take Mi Zhu as an example.
The Mi Family had its own independent manor.
What was a manor? It was essentially a small, independent kingdom that was basically self-sufficient.
It was like the frontier colonies of the legendary West. Blacksmiths produced farming tools, implements, and weapons; farmers cultivated the land and cash crops; and there were mills, tailors, and carpenters. Even small training grounds were present. After all, a manor needed its own defensive forces.
Bandits