In the winter of the 23rd year of Zhaoming, there was a heavy snowfall in the imperial capital.
When I knelt outside Changning Hall, my knees had no feeling. The lights in the hall were brightly lit, and the sound of silk and bamboo, laughter, and the sound of toasting and drinking mixed together, like a dull knife, gouging out my flesh and blood.
Three days ago, urgent news came from the northern border that the eldest sister Xiao Jingyao died on the way back to Beijing.
He was tortured alive.
Thirty-six hundred dollars.
Her personal maid went crazy and told everyone she met that the general did not say a word until his death. The hands of the executioners were shaking. When the last knife fell, the whole place was silent. Only the north wind whistled through the execution place, like the sky was crying.
But her husband, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, was hosting a banquet for guests in Changning Hall to celebrate the great victory in the north.
Intention: When everything dies, will it be over...