My name is Zhu Youjian, the last emperor of the Ming Dynasty.
In my previous life, when Li Zicheng broke into Beijing, I was hanged on Meishan Mountain. When he died, he had one bare foot, his hair was disheveled, and he was ashamed to see his ancestors.
For the rest of my life, I woke up ten minutes before hanging myself.
There is no system. No plug-ins. There was only me who was scared out of my wits but didn't want to die again.
The ministers thought that I was still the same indecisive Chongzhen. They don't know that I have a script for the next forty years in my head—who will rebel, which city can be defended, whose words can be trusted, and who must die.
I used this script to continue the Ming Dynasty for forty years.
But the script will be finished one day.
When that day really came, I stood at the top of the city, looked at the Qing troops pouring in like a tide, and smiled.
In my previous life, I was hanged.
In this life, I will die standing up.
