In the old library fire, Shen Zhiwei, a graduate student in the history department, thought he was dead.
When she opened her eyes again, she became Princess Zhu Ainao of Changping under the sword of Chongzhen.
The city of Beijing is in ruins, the Meishan Mountain is approaching, the palace people are scattered, and Nanjing in the south is still waiting for a decent old dream.
She walked south with a broken arm and a box of old accounts.
They wanted her to cry in national mourning, be honorable, observe etiquette, and shut up.
She wanted to ask about food, wages, lives, and the bad debts that were covered up by dignity.
This was not the old history she had read.
This is another fork in the parallel world.
She is not here to keep vigil for the old Ming Dynasty.
She came to ask for help from the living.
