My name is Zhu Yuanzhang, 67 years old. I am lying on the dragon bed in the Qianqing Palace, coughing up more blood than drinking soup.
There were more than a dozen imperial doctors kneeling outside, but no one dared to look up at me. My sons are waiting for me to die, for the chair I have vacated.
The fourth king of Yan was expanding his army in Peiping, and the second king of Qin was killing people in Xi'an. Even the ginseng soup sent from the palace was mixed with almond flavor. In this Ming Dynasty, before I am completely dead, some people have already begun to divide it.
When I close my eyes, I see herding cattle, begging for food, killing people, and taking over the world; when I open my eyes, I see my son wishing for my death, my ministers wishing for my death, and even my queen is adding something to the soup.
This is the last period of Zhu Chongba's life. Don't be unreasonable, just tell the truth.
