Chen Ce, a programmer who died suddenly from overwork, thought he could finally take a breather. But when he opened his eyes, he was in the Underworld. A judge whose face he couldn’t make out gave him just one instruction: Don’t be reborn. Go to Coal Hill.
When he woke again, he had become the Chongzhen Emperor, with a white silk noose just around his neck.
The capital had fallen. The rebel army had entered Beijing. The ministers had scattered, while the crown prince, the princess, and Wang Chengen all awaited the decision of a dying emperor. One step forward meant the fall of the Ming dynasty; one step back meant repeating three hundred years of blood and tears.
He knew Yangzhou would run red with blood, and Jiading would be razed to the ground. But he had no food, no soldiers, no popular support, and his strangled throat could barely manage a complete sentence.
If Heaven refused to give the Ming a way to survive, then he would start with this last breath on Coal Hill: seize silver, rally troops, root out traitors, control Wu Sangui, and protect the south of the Yangtze.
A mere programmer dons the imperial robes and stakes his life on restarting the seventeenth year of Chongzhen’s reign. This time, I will not die, and the Ming dynasty will not fall.
