Tales of Pingcheng

In the twenty-third year of the Wanli reign, the seventh prince of the Zhu family, Zhu Cixuan, was dumped in Pingcheng, the most desolate fief beneath the Great Wall. Three thousand starving households, a wall on the verge of collapse, and two years of unpaid military wages.

He was a transmigrator who knew the Ming dynasty had forty-nine years left. But he didn't know he wouldn't last another forty-nine days.

The day a Tatar army of 150,000 men descended upon the city, a bronze mirror appeared before him. It wasn't a System, but a contract. No missions, only trades: city walls, weapons, and grain could all be exchanged. The price was his life span, his memories, and the national destiny of the Ming dynasty.

He signed.

After the first signing, a lock of his hair turned white. After the second, he forgot what his mother looked like. After the third, he no longer remembered who he was.

On the city wall, he spoke to the air. Behind him, Chief Clerk Zhou secretly kept a ledger: recording what the prince had forgotten, what he had done, and how the city had survived. Forty-seven times, he forgot Chief Clerk Zhou's name. Twenty-three times, he forgot his mother. Eleven times, he forgot who he was.

Beyond the walls, the Tatar leader Buer Gude said, “You are the most terrifying opponent I've ever faced, because you don't care about yourself.”

The people in the city only knew that the day sweet potato shoots emerged from the saline soil, the prince crouched by the field ridge and wept.

Forty-nine years later, the Chongzhen Emperor hanged himself at Coal Hill, and the Ming dynasty fell.

But Pingcheng, beneath the Great Wall, still stood.

An old man with white hair sat on the city wall, watching children fly kites. He had forgotten why he had to defend the city, but one line remained in his ledger:

“Your Highness, you once asked why I had to remember for you. Because if even I don't remember, then no one will ever know what you did.”