In the history class, the professor just talked about "Dong Zhuo's political chaos in the first year of Zhaoning", and when I opened my eyes, I turned into Liu Xie, the nine-year-old Emperor Xian of the Han Dynasty.
In front of me was the burning city of Luoyang, with thick smoke covering the sky. Dong Zhuo's iron-like hands pulled me onto the bumpy carriage.
"Your Majesty, sit tight and move the capital to Chang'an!" The laughter of the Xiliang soldiers mixed with the miserable howls of the people pierced the eardrums.
The memory of the past life awakens in the bumps - I recognize this scene, this is the death migration in the first year of Chuping.
The jade seal in my sleeve was so painful that I stared at Dong Zhuo's plump back of the neck through the gap in the car curtain.
"Grand Master..." A young child's voice sounded in the wind and smoke, "How is the Weiyang Palace in Chang'an better than the Nangong Palace in Luoyang?"
This is the story of a young hero. There is no golden finger or system. He only relies on himself.
"What I want is not a 'safe home' built on mountains of corpses and seas of blood! What I want is an upright King Master who can sweep away the ugliness and cleanse the universe! Let the people be happy because of life, not be safe because of fear!"
Liu Bei, Cao Cao, Sun Jian... How should I settle down among these heroes...
