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The summer of 1842, Jiangning. Dark clouds filled the sky, like a gray cloth that symbolized death covering a terminally ill face. On the dim river surface, dozens of black behemoths merged with the hazy sky, like a group of sleeping giant-shelled turtles. "Those are foreign gunboats." The governor stood on the city wall and looked across the street with a telescope. The dark muzzle in the mirror hole was pointed at his head, as if it was very close at hand. The governor couldn't help but shake his hands and put down the telescope. He felt at ease: "I have seen the power of foreign artillery fire. Admiral Chen was sacrificed under foreign artillery fire. We must not act hastily. Once Jiangning is lost, the crisis will affect the entire upper reaches of the Yangtze River. I have sent someone to send a letter to the foreigners, pretending to negotiate with them. It will drag on for a few days and wait for the imperial envoy to arrive with heavy troops before fighting them to the death."