Legend of the Dog Soul in Troubled Times

The cold moon is like a hook, hooking the frozen intestines of Bianliang City. The moat was covered with blue-black scabs, and under the ice lay the bodies of hungry corpses who had not yet sunk to the bottom. A gilt horse bell hanging from the waist of a floating corpse rang on the ice - the tongue of the bell had long been cut off in half by a Khitan scimitar, and the jingling sound was as dull as the death knell when Youzhou City was destroyed. The wind and snow foam swept over the gap in the city wall "in the third year of Guangshun", peeling the imperial list of the Later Han Dynasty into tatters of the soul-calling flag. In the huddle of refugees huddled at the base of the city wall, old soldiers scraped off blue bricks and nitrate powder with their withered fingers, mixed with ice slag and swallowed it into their throats - the anti-diarrheal earthwork in the Tianfu Army of the Later Han Dynasty actually smelled of iron when mixed with the wall mud. Three feet away, the dead baby in the woman's arms stretched out its small hands like dead branches and pointed directly at the shaking shadow under the ice—— It's not Ma Ling, it's Zhang Goudan's broken bricks chipping away at the ice. Ice chips splashed onto his black ankles, the straw sandals made of cattail soaked in corpse water dug into his flesh, and the blood scabs condensed into purple tumors the size of pigeon eggs. The sixteen-year-old teeth dug into the cracks in the ice, like the maggots that gnawed through the coffin during the war years, tearing a steaming way of survival in this frozen world.