My thesis is due next week, but I’ve just failed to hang myself on Coal Hill and become the Chongzhen Emperor, with only seventy days left to live. The ligature marks on my neck still burn, and I’m clutching an iron tablet I just dug up, engraved with the same bizarre bird pattern as the secret memorial from the head of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. What secret did the original owner of this body discover before hanging himself? Around me, an old eunuch weeps, while the seemingly loyal commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard has a fresh scar on the back of his neck and a battlefield knot on his sword tassel, ready to draw his blade at any moment. Beneath the imperial desk, I find a forgotten map of secret passageways through the capital. An option suddenly appears before me: Leave tonight, 65% chance of success... From the start, this is the eighteenth level of hell, but the first shovel I’ve got my hands on may have a cracked handle. I’ll still use it to dig myself a way out.
