The winter of the fourth year of Jianwen was even colder than usual. Snow has been falling in Nanjing since the beginning of the twelfth lunar month, and goose feathers rustled on the glazed tiles, wrapping the red walls of the Forbidden City stiffly, and even the atmosphere in the city was filled with chills.
I huddled in the clerk's room of Fusi, Jinyiwei North Town, holding a wolf brush in my hand, and the ink on the pen tip almost froze. There are files half a foot high piled on the desk. They are all cases involving the liquidation of Jianwen's old ministers after the Jingnan. Every page is filled with bloody words, which makes people feel heartbroken.
