[The bloody suicide note cuts through the fog of the shipwreck, and the Luoyang shovel that narrowly escaped death pierced the shocking secret of the Yongle year]
On the seventh day after my father disappeared, I held the blood-stained compass and walked into the wreckage of Zheng He's treasure ship.
The Jianwen era name on the silk painting on the third layer of the coffin has not yet faded, and the dark crossbow has penetrated the unicorn cloak specially provided by the Tai Hospital - the cold-faced medical woman who I discovered the secret recipe for preparing poisons is pressing a silver needle against my Adam's apple: "Is a tomb robber worthy of talking about loyalty and filial piety?"
Under the 600-foot-long netherworld, the nine-story coffin conceals the Big Dipper and hangs upside down.
When the gold bricks of Dingling were branded with red embroidered spring knife patterns, we were shocked to realize that the so-called Jianwen relics were nothing more than the parricide guillotine prepared by powerful ministers for the new emperor.
(In the middle of the game of life and death, ants shake the sky - the nine-fold coffin opens, and the loyal bones are covered with dragon scales)
