Teaching Han Jia

Xiang Yu sat in the back seat of the sleek, black sedan, the hum of the engine a low, constant murmur beneath him. The two men in the front seats, stoic and heavily armed, exchanged terse glances, their eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds. They were on high alert, fully aware of the formidable presence they were transporting. Xiang Yu, however, seemed unfazed. He gazed out the window, a slight smile playing on his lips as the cityscape blurred past.

The car pulled up to the imposing gates of the Han Mansion, a sprawling estate that exuded power and opulence. Xiang Yu stepped out, his movements fluid and unhurried, as if he were merely visiting an old friend. The guards flanked him, their postures rigid with vigilance, and led him through the grand entrance.