My husband is always seven years old, innocent and innocent, and he will pull at the corner of my clothes to ask for sweets.
And I am no longer the orphan girl who could only cry.
I was once the most favored female official of Emperor Yongle, and I was also the owner of an embroidery workshop in a wealthy country in the south of the Yangtze River.
I personally sent all the enemies who harmed me back then to hell one by one.
On the day the last enemy fell, the city of Beijing was captured by Li Zicheng, and Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself in Meishan.
The Ming Dynasty died.
Three hundred years of blood feud have finally come to an end.
I returned to the isolated valley, opened the door, and saw my seven-year-old husband sitting on the threshold, looking at me longingly, holding in his hand a candy that was about to melt for me.
He asked me: "Yue Chen, you have been out for a long time this time. Is it fun outside?"
I smiled and took him into my arms.
"It's not fun," I said, "We're never going out again."
