The Legend of Huang Mo

On the day Huang Mo passed away, the sky was as stagnant as a huge, turbid amber. His withered hand rested on the cold black jade imperial desk. The ice on the desk that had not melted for many years was holding the jade seal, and it still breathed out cold air. His turbid eyes passed over the prostrate courtiers in the palace, and finally cast their eyes towards the vast void outside the window. There was no final edict, no entrustment to the country, only a low sigh, like a rusty bronze that had been rubbed hard by the years: "The most ruthless emperor's family, the most humane family..." The words drifted away, as if the dust had settled, the withered bones wrapped in dragon robes were completely silent, while outside the palace, the people's voluntary farewell cries came faintly like a tide, shaking the foundation stone of the palace.