Xiaowu

Mountains and rivers are shattered and shaken by wind and rain. It was night, the wind was strong, and the rain was pouring. Prime Minister Feng Che was kneeling in the rain with an embarrassed look on his face, his hands were cut behind his back, and his face was covered with blood marks from resistance. There were screams everywhere in the palace, and the flowing blood mixed with the rain, and went eastward in a migratory stream, which was shocking. Feng Che's face that had gone through many vicissitudes of life still had a stubborn and persistent look, as if what he was copying was not his home. To this day, he has nothing to say, nothing to say. He has done his best for the country and the king. Times make heroes, and he admitted that he was not the hero who could turn the tide. Since he couldn't change certain things, he could at least die as a martyr in exchange for justice in the hearts of the people in the world. However, he is really not a good husband. A few minutes ago, his wife, the only love in his life, left him. He couldn't show a trace of sadness because he didn't want to fulfill the wishes of the gang of traitors. Fortunately. . . . . . This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.