That year I was a prisoner in the Taihang Mountains, and the iron chains were colder than my mother-in-law's heart. Chai Rong, the unlucky emperor, knocked on the door with a gunpowder keg. If my ancestral seven-star lantern could pay the electricity bill, he would have to live for another three months at the cost of blinding me on the spot. Later I learned that it was the destiny of the descendants of Guiguzi to serve as power banks for emperors, just like donkeys were destined to be grinders.
When Zhao Kuangyin's yellow robe was hidden in the cave of the old locust tree in Chenqiaoyi, I was studying the jade pendant on his chest. This thing buzzed when I touched it, just like a microwave oven, turning the eight-door golden lock array I set up into popcorn. His younger brother was even more brilliant. He chopped down three hundred prisoners of war as sacrifices, which shattered my metaphysics anti-addiction system. That day I realized: Both those who practice Feng Shui and those who practice politics are fucking liars. The difference is that the former uses copper coins for divination, while the latter uses copper coins to bribe living people.
The most absurd one is Zhao Guangyi. This grandson gave the civil and military officials of the Manchu Dynasty a lot of gold and stone powder, making Bianjing City look like a large open-air disco. The night I was eating cooking cakes on the beams of the palace, I saw him using an ax to perform acupuncture on my brother. His technique was rougher than that of a pig-butcher. Later, I ran away with Taizu's blood edict. The rag turned into stone after being soaked in the Yellow River for a long time. "Jingkang Shame, Still Not Snow" was engraved crookedly on it, just like a scam text message sent by God.
Now I open a B&B under Taihu Lake, specializing in travelers. By the way, a stupid young man named Yue Fei recently came to ask about tattoo designs. I tattooed four characters on his back: Reincarnation is recommended.
