Su Shi's soul fell into Chongzhen's body on the eve of Meishan. Facing famine, border troubles and the collapse of the court, he smiled - this was more satisfying than Huang Chu's dilemma, at least the chess player became himself.
He reopened shipping using Song Dynasty methods, used market transactions to replenish the treasury, and used the vigilance of the Wutai Poetry Case to counter the remnants of the eunuch party. He wrote "A little bit of awe-inspiring energy" to Li Zicheng, and "Sharing the beauty of the moon from thousands of miles apart" to Huang Taiji. The romance of the literati became the emperor's strategy.
But he soon discovered that poetry could not buy food and grass, and open-mindedness could not control the border. When he bowed to aristocratic families in order to raise military pay, when "benevolent government" was as pale as paper in front of the massacre report - Su Shi felt that Chongzhen's despair was eating away at his soul.
In the spring of the seventeenth year, Li Zicheng destroyed the city. When Su Shi climbed up Meishan Mountain, there was no white silk in his hand, only a withered locust tree.
"It's good," he said to himself, "at least I've tried all the answers."
The moonlight shines. The last thing the poet-emperor wrote was not an edict about sin, but a piece of "Ding Feng Bo". The scroll of words floats into the depths of the beacon fire, like the soul returning to the world.
Laohuai is not stained with the marks of constriction, but the dynasty still collapses. But history books will record: That night, someone used the brightest soul of civilization to rhyme the night with loneliness.
Intention: A cold "god" experiment: to put the most open-minded soul in the history of civilization into a certain death situation at the peak of power, in order to observe the final form of human nature under absolute despair.