In the 60th year of Hongwu's reign, outside Yingtian City, envoys from all over the world knelt down the ten-mile long street.
The black smoke emitted by the steam ironclads rises from the river, echoing the chimneys of countless workshops in the city. Zhu Biao stood on the tower with white beard and hair, looking at the blond man kneeling on the ground, and said to the elderly Lin Yi beside him:
"Sir, when you saved me at the foot of the mountain, did you ever think about this day?"
Lin Yi didn't answer.
He looked at a huge ship in the distance that was entering the port. The three characters "Wenzheng No." Were written on the side of the ship. On that snowy night thirty-five years ago, the scene where Zhu Yuanzhang put a knife on his neck and asked, "Who are you?" Suddenly came to mind.
He smiled and said softly: "Your Majesty, I just want to survive."
Zhu Biao also smiled. Smiling, there were tears in the corners of his eyes.
