In the thirteenth year of Jianyan's journey to the south, the chirping of cicadas in Lin'an City enveloped the summer heat and heated the green bricks of Fengbo Pavilion.
Zhang Yu woke up in severe pain.
He remembered that he was obviously working overtime to change the plan, and the blue light from the computer screen hurt his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he felt a piece of coldness on the back of his neck - it was the executioner's ghost-headed knife. The frosty blade was close to his skin, and he could hear the sound of his carotid artery beating.
"General Yue, the time has come."
The hoarse singing sound hit the eardrums. Zhang Yu suddenly raised his head and saw the distorted face of the supervisor Wan Qixi. He remembered the portrait in the history textbook, with triangular eyes, thin lips, and a proud smile.
"The sky is clear! The sky is clear!"
Memories come flooding back. This was Yue Fei's last cry, but it burst out from his throat at this moment. Zhang Yu lowered his head and saw that he was wearing a plain prison uniform, and the chains around his wrists were so bloody that it was not his body, but Yue Fei's.
He traveled through time, the night before Yue Fei was executed.
