I dreamed of him again, I don't know how many times.
In the frontier fortress in my dream, only he could see me.
I taught him how to read and practice calligraphy, and he took me to see all the border towns.
Until that day, I asked him what era he was in now.
He smiled and said, "Mingde is eleven years old."
My whole body is cold - historical records state that in the winter of the eleventh year of Mingde, Ningyuan City was destroyed, everything was destroyed, and no one survived.
And my dream is taking me step by step towards the day he died in battle.
Purpose: To save a grain of sand for the torrent of history