On the 29th of the twelfth lunar month, I personally toasted three glasses of wine to my adoptive father.
One cup to thank him for his ten years of upbringing, one cup to thank him for his promotion.
The third cup is in honor of the fire that put out my family of twenty-three people ten years ago.
My name is Shen Jinglan, the sharpest knife of Northern Xinjiang Warlord Shen Shixiong.
After ten years of forbearance, I became his most loyal dog, biting people for him, guarding the city for him, and earning such a big business for him.
Everyone said that Marshal Shen was kind and generous, and it was a great kindness for him to take in me, an orphan.
Until I shot him between the eyebrows in front of his Sansheng Paoze, concubine, and son.
Later, the history books wrote that I "made my fortune by killing my father, killing my brothers to seize my fortune, and being a thief who stole the country."
It was written that I "supported the troops with self-respect, split the soil and sealed the territory, and the crime should be Ling Chi."
But they also wrote——
"In the winter of the Bingwu year, Shen Jinglan captured the northern frontier with a single shot. Ten years of war ended since then."
"Thousands of people in the three provinces outside the Pass are alive because of him."
I don't care what they write.
All I know is that if I didn't shoot that night, not just the twenty-three members of the Shen family would have died.
