Damn heavens, you actually made me the son of Abraham Lincoln!

Bah, I have my own strategies—why should I fear The Lincoln Era!

Drunkenly lying in wild abandon, singing loudly, laughing as I watch beauties with red sleeves.

So many heroes of the moment, all fall into my grasp.

Fine horses, robes worth a thousand gold—yet all I seek is a night of revelry at Zhangtai, sword in hand pointing distantly at the Palace of Penglai.