In the second year of Jingkang's reign, the carriage was bumping in the mud. The protagonist opened his eyes, and a skinny hand pressed his shoulder. The old eunuch handed over a silk book, which was filled with Zhao Gou's thirty-seven habits - not eating fish, liking three-quarters of warm wine, and pausing his strokes in horizontal strokes. On the back of the silk book, there is a line scratched out by fingernails: The real nine kings died in Jinying in December of the first year of Jingkang.
"Your Majesty," the old eunuch kowtowed, "Ying Tianfu will ascend the throne tomorrow. I beg you, old slave, to be that person."
The car curtain was opened. Zhang Jun stood outside the car holding a bloody knife, holding another volume of silk in his hand - a secret file found by Jinying that recorded the words and deeds of the Nine Kings.
"Nine Kings," Zhang Jun narrowed his eyes, "Why does the Jin want to record your words and deeds? Remember it in such detail - as if you want to create a fake Nine Kings."
The protagonist clutches the silk book tightly. Under the scratched-out words on the back of the silk book, there is a remnant of a word. He had seen that word in the footnotes of "History of the Song Dynasty".
In the distance, it was almost dawn in Yingtian Mansion.
The crown robes for the enthronement ceremony have been prepared.
But the people in the carriage may never reach it.
