In the seventh year of the Apocalypse, Zhu Youxiao was fished out of the water in Xiyuan.
Before he drank the medicine brought to his lips, he saw Daming's death date first.
Under the crooked neck tree in Meishan, there is the hanged brother; outside Beijing, there are intruders waiting to collect the corpse; in the snow of Liaodong, batch after batch of people who have not received military pay are buried.
When he opened his eyes again, he went back to seven years ago.
My father had just died, and the medicine residue in Qianqing Palace was still hot. The ministers of Donglin blocked the palace gate and wanted to "rescue" the new king; Shi Xuan held him in his arms and refused to let him go; an eunuch named Wei Jinzhong knelt in the shadows and had not yet had time to become a nine-thousand-year-old king.
Six months later, Shenyang and Liaoyang will be lost one after another.
Two years later, Guangning was defeated.
Six years later, Nurhachi would force his troops to Ningyuan City.
This time, Zhu Youxiao didn't believe in integrity or loyalty. He only asked three things: whether the accounts could be reconciled, whether the soldiers could be counted, and who would be willing to spare his life if something went wrong.
Later historians wrote:
In the seventh year of the apocalypse, the emperor should collapse but not collapse.
Since then, everything in the world has changed.
