The sun near noon bathes the ramparts of Han Yang Pass in warm light, casting the mighty gateway in an imposing silhouette. Yet the deep shadows also lend it a mottled, ancient air, tinged with a touch of decay.
Xu Zhongxing sits on the terrace of the West Gate tower, warming a pot of wine by his side, eyes half-closed, gazing into the vast expanse of the Western Regions.
Fan Donghe, seated beside him with his own pot of wine, sips slowly and says, "It's great that Big Brother could come back."
Xu Zhongxing snorts and points forward, saying, "Look, three years ago from here, you'd see a dense green. Now in just over two years, it's turned a pale green, even some clean energy beneath the clouds. I truly don't care about official rank or prestige, but to be stationed here, it has truly become a sinecure."
Fan Donghe can only heave a deep sigh.
To the uninformed, Han Yang Pass remains just as majestic as ever—a towering gateway to the world.
