The original title of the novel should be "Snow Man Bianjing"
When he opened his eyes, he became Song Qinzong Zhao Huan. The snow is falling in Bianjing, and there are hundreds of thousands of golden soldiers under the city.
There is no system, no prophet, just an ordinary soul from modern times, trapped on the dragon chair, a torture rack that is about to be burned. He doesn't understand the emperor's mind and the laws of war, so he can only struggle in the stupidest way: calculating probabilities, improving gunpowder, and grabbing every straw in desperate situations.
However, history turns slowly like cold gears. Hunger gnawed at the city walls, suspicion tore apart people's hearts, the peace seekers handed out secret messages in the dark, and the loyal and brave men shed their last drop of blood in the snow. He watched with his own eyes Li Gang's backbone was broken in front of the Jujube Gate, watched Zhongshi Dao's knife fall in the Zichen Palace, and watched this giant city that once had a population of one million rot and collapse inch by inch from the inside.
If you keep it, you will die. And, is humiliation. Escape, nowhere to go.
When the final black tide overflowed Xuandemen, he chose to put on that crimson robe, sit on the cold dragon chair, and said three words to the conqueror who walked into the hall.
This is just the beginning. The road to the north was bitterly windy and snowy, and ice water seeped through the earthen walls of Wuguo City. During the long years of imprisonment that have been forgotten by history, he will chew on one question over and over again: is the conscience and cognition of a modern man, in the face of a giant ship destined to overturn, salvation or a more cruel punishment?
