In the dark night, a dark figure stood on a hillside in the distance. When he saw Zuo Menggeng's cavalry charging into the camp, but then quickly retreating in embarrassment, the dark figure was pale and covered in cold sweat. He was talking in a way that was close to sleep. Or a voice murmuring like a dying struggle: Zuo Mengeng, embroidered pillow, straw bag, waste...
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