"End of Winter"

Winter is over copywriting The law is the blade, and the ritual is the sheath. Being guarded by cruel officials is never the way of heaven. Just the rules of killing. Blood flowed for ten miles in the river, and the roads did not pick up the lost things. If it is not peace, no one dares to say it. He massacred all the people in the county, but he was still not satisfied. I just hate that winter is so short and I can't fight to the end. The so-called law-abiding, Just waiting for the next one, The time when you can wield your sword with integrity. Ancient style｜Historical satire｜Darkness of human nature   Text It snows in Hanoi in winter and is as cold and silent as a burial. Wang Wenshu stood on the palace platform, wearing black clothes and facing the wind, with cold eyes. The long street underfoot, with bloodstains still wet, stretches for more than ten miles. Not long after he took office, he used his reputation as a cunning man to arrest the people in the county. Regardless of the reason, no distinction between good and evil, one family is guilty, and ten families are sitting together. The prisons are full, the streets are empty, and no one is heard during the day. Not Qingping. I dare not breathe. The old jailer stood there holding the book, his beard and hair all white. He has been in charge of punishment for thirty years, and is used to seeing life and death, but he has never seen a single person, and killing is a common practice. Wang Wenshu kills people calmly, neither happy nor angry. Like mowing grass, cutting down trees, something that must be done in winter. "Has the prison been exhausted?" He asked calmly. The old warden replied in a low voice: "There are no prisoners left in the county." Wang Wenshu looked into the distance with an indifferent expression: "Not enough." As soon as the word was spoken, soldiers came out in all directions, crossing the border to capture and escape. Chains struck each other, cries were intermittent, and carloads of people were escorted back, regardless of whether they were guilty or not. The old warden couldn't help but stepped forward: "Sir, the killings have been heavy and Hanoi has become quiet." Wang Wenshu glanced at him and said calmly: "If you don't eliminate all evil, it will lead to future troubles." The old jailer lowered his head and said no more. He understood that this man was not killing an adulterer, but hunting. Everyone in the world is prey. As the year draws to a close, Hanoi is dead silent, and the barking of dogs cannot be heard. Wang Wenshu takes the stage every day and looks at the empty street, his expression getting darker and darker. It's not that you're satisfied, it's that you're not fully enjoying yourself. What he wants is not peace, but death. Suddenly one day, a small official rushed in and shouted in panic: "Sir, today is the beginning of spring! According to the rules, spring will not be punished!" The world fell silent. Wang Wenshu raised his head and looked at the sky. The sky was dimly lit, and spring was coming quietly. Ancient laws cannot be violated, executions are carried out in autumn and winter, and killings are stopped in spring. He abides by the rules and is stricter than anyone else. But what he abides by is not the way of heaven, but the name of killing. The knife can no longer be lifted. He stamped his feet, and the snow cracked. Looking up to the sky and sighing, there is no sadness or anger, only unfinished regrets: "Hey, let the winter moon spread out for a whole month, that's enough for me!" If winter lasts just one more month, I can kill them all. The old jailer stood behind him, feeling cold in his heart. The prefect lamented that it was not because the treachery was not over yet, nor because the world was not at peace. It's just that he didn't kill enough, not fast enough, not decisive enough. Wang Wenshu did not break the system in the end. He sheathed his knife and waited for spring to come. People were gradually walking in the streets and smoke was rising from cooking fires. The people walked quickly with their heads down, not daring to look back at the execution platform. Hanoi is under great rule, no one picks up leftovers on the road, and no one closes the house at night. Everyone in the world praises his ability, praises his dignity, and praises his method. Only the old jailer knows: The law is the blade and the system is the sheath. What he was observing was not the law, but the season of killing. Spring is deep and Hanoi is peaceful. Wang Wenshu stood in the courtyard, looking at the new green branches, and said lightly: "Wait until winter comes." "Come again." The wind passed silently. The law is still there, the etiquette is still there, and the murderers still abide by the law. It's just that in this world, no one dares to say that it is fair and comfortable. (Full text ends) Concept: Han laws have their merits and demerits