Zhao Muyang, a first-class history lecturer at three universities in a second-tier city, lost his footing and fell into the water at a retirement dinner after drinking. He traveled back to Zhao Yurui, the King of Fortune, at the end of the Southern Song Dynasty a thousand years ago. He was the grandfather of the little emperor and the biological father of Song Duzong.
In three years, they will drag my grandson to jump into the sea from a cliff mountain. How can that be done? Now, Jia Sidao is playing with my grandson as a puppet, and the Mongolian cavalry has flown down the Yangtze River.
The civil and military officials throughout the dynasty were all saying that Kublai Khan's millions of troops were marching south and Xiangfan fell, which was unstoppable. Jia Sidao knelt down and begged to surrender, while Wen Tianxiang cried and remonstrated. He really didn't know how to die with dignity.
What I care about is not Zhao and Song, but China. As long as there is a Han, China will not perish.
I will neither kneel nor die.
I took tens of thousands of remaining soldiers and escorted millions of soldiers. On the eve of the Yuan army crossing the Yangtze River, I boarded a ship heading south. Behind him is the city of Lin'an that burned for three days and three nights. What is on the ship is "Mengxi Bi Tan", "Essential Techniques for Elevating the People", "Building Methods" and "Shui Jing Zhu". They are hundreds of workers, old farmers, and the eternal blood and civilization of this land.
The Mongols can destroy my country, but they cannot kill my species.
Twenty years later, my navy will regain China under the banner of China Yongchang.
I patted the dragon chair. My grandson, let me sit in this position for a few days. The first emperor in history was born.
