Biography of Wang Amang

There is fine snow falling in Chang'an City. The eighty-four-year-old Empress Dowager Wang Zhengjun is holding a volume of "Astronomical Chronicles". The wrinkles on the back of her hands are deeper than the scratches on the bamboo slips. The copper crane clepsydra was ticking, and an announcement came from outside the palace: "Amang, the lord of Xindu, asked to see him, saying that a stone letter appeared on Mount Tai."​ When the curtain opened, the fifty-four-year-old Amang was wearing a green cloth robe that had been washed white, and the jade pendant around his waist was casually tied with a hemp rope - this was his third year as "Anhan Gong", and he was still dressed the same as when he was a Huangmengong twenty years ago. The moment the stone letter was opened, twelve red lacquer inscriptions danced under the candlelight, and the last sentence "Photographing the emperor is the truth" made the hosta in Wang Zhengjun's hand "clang" and fall to the ground.