On Meishan Mountain, the old locust tree where Chongzhen was hanged is still there.
But this time, the emperor standing under the tree smiled.
Because he knew that there would be a meteor shower tonight—that was the ancient coordinate point projected from the Chinese civilization database three hundred years later.
When the ministers knelt down and cried, "The situation is over," and when the eunuch brought Bai Ling and asked him to go on his way, Zhu Youjian turned and walked towards the cold palace: "Why are you so anxious? Let me see first how much wealth our ancestors have left for us."
That night, the dilapidated sundial in the cold palace was as bright as day.
That night, he opened "Wu Jing Zong Yao", "Tiangong Kaiwu" and "Meng Xi Bi Tan" - these classics forgotten by later generations, each page is a drawing that can change the world.
Three months later, Li Zicheng came to the city with troops.
The 200,000-strong army looked at the row of dark muzzles at the top of the city and burst out laughing: "That boy from Chongzhen, did you move the incense burner up the city wall?"
The cannon went off.
Not one, but thirty volleys.
Wherever the shells hit, both men and horses were shattered. The flag of the Dashun Army ran back for the first time.
The emperor on the city wall patted the barrel of the cannon and said to the frightened eunuch beside him: "Don't be afraid. This is not a witchcraft. This is a craft left by our ancestors - called 'clay mold cannon casting method'. People in the Song Dynasty knew it. It's just that they forgot it, but I remembered it for them."
This is not a story about an emperor's counterattack.
This is a civilization that woke up five hundred years ahead of schedule.
