The morning fog in Meishan has not cleared away yet, and with the chill of early spring, it wraps around the old locust tree. A bright yellow figure hung between the branches of the tree. The dragon robe was wet with morning dew, and the hem was dragged in the mud, stained with some black blood.
Wang Chengen knelt under the tree, his gray hair disheveled, and the blood from his forehead mixed with tears flowing down. He raised his hand tremblingly, and as soon as his fingertips touched the cold dragon boots, he suddenly heard a weak cough from above his head.
"Ahem..."
Wang Chengen raised his head suddenly and saw that the figure moved slightly. He thought it was dazzling, so he got closer again, and this time he heard it really - it was alive!
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty is still alive!" The old eunuch shouted hoarsely, climbed up and jumped on him, and cut the rope with the knife he carried. The bright yellow figure fell heavily to the ground, stirring up a burst of dust.
