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Dreaming back to Chang'an, Xuanwu Gate is soaked with blood, and there is only countless sorrow in the depths of Taiji Palace. The people are water, the king is a boat, and the loud voice is still reverberating in the land of Chang'an, but the iron hooves of the foreign race have once again broken through the Yumen Pass. How can this hatred be reached?
How should Li Shimin roar in the grave when he sees his people in ruins? I took pictures of the railings and could only see Jiuzhou Lu Chen!
My chest is also full of depression, wishing I could cross the long river of history, catch flying stars, embrace the sun and moon, and turn the world upside down.
Forget it, I can hear the chirping of ghosts outside the window and the whistling of autumn rain. I can cut off a bald pen to extend the story of Li Tang's prosperous age and remove the dark parts. There is no sorrow in my Tang Dynasty, only the golden and iron horses. The heroic spirit, the emperor who devoured the sun and the moon, the fierce generals who fought bloody battles, the noble scholars with high crowns, the gentle and virtuous queen, the father was kind and the son was filial, and the prosperous age lasted. This is my Tang Dynasty, my "Tang Brick".
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