In the winter of the thirteenth year of Hongzhi's reign, the snow in Yunnan Prefecture, mixed with the fragrance of Burmese wood, fell on the palm of the daughter of a guilty minister.
When Jiang Yuan was sixteen years old, he returned north to his hometown carrying the bones of his parents. The withered ears of rice in the firewood shed, the ringing of the county magistrate's fortune-telling, and the curses from her neighbors in Wuchang all crushed her extravagant hopes for "justice" inch by inch. Until the scholar who exchanged half a piece of cooking cake for her a bowl of water pointed to "Zhou Rites" and said he would break this chaotic world for her.
But the laws of the Ming Dynasty cannot break away the dark clouds of the Forbidden City.
A piece of "Admonishment" was sent to Fang Rui's prison. The word "cut" written by Emperor Hongzhi was not yet dry, and the scent of agarwood on Jiang Yuan's wrist was already soaked in blood and rust. On the night when the string of Jiaofangsi's pipa broke, she mixed the acacia incense into the ambergris of the new emperor. Zhu Houzhao smiled foolishly in the smoke: "Yuan'er, can I burn the country for you to play with?"
From the neighing of beasts in the leopard room, to the cold light of King Ning's rebel army; from the wisp of incense from the leaping fish on the boat on the Qingjiang River, to the burned-out spring letter in the snow in front of the dragon bed - she used the hand of mixing incense to destroy the dragon chair, disrupt the court, and overturn the world.
But in the mass graves outside Kunming, no one knew that next to the bones clutching the bamboo hairpin, a cluster of benzoin was silently spreading through the snow of the Hongzhi Year.
"Everyone in the world thinks that I have deceived you, but they don't know that this nine-layered palace is actually a cannibal."
Intention: So idle that it hurts