Ming Dynasty Pulse Keeper

When I opened my eyes, I was pulling my neck into Bai Ling. Standing outside were all the civil and military officials, aristocratic families, sects... He wasn't here to save me, he was just waiting for me to die. March 19, the seventeenth year of Chongzhen. Coal Mountain. Old locust tree. It is written in history books that the Ming Dynasty died on this day. But they didn't know that there was a causal anchor from three years ago buried in the tree's annual rings. Braille is engraved on the inside of the white silk ribbon. Someone paved the way for me and took away nineteen years of karma for me. ——The latecomers, hate them for me. Who do you hate? The sect that was forced to marry, the aristocratic family that had its salary cut off... The seven sects treat Dragon Veins as a gluttonous feast and wait until I die to share the food. There is also the dragon underground who hasn't had enough to eat for three hundred years and is so hungry that he even forgets to hate him. He asked me: Are you here to fulfill your promise, or are you here to lie to me? I have no idea. All I know is that on the day I was carried down from Meishan, everyone was waiting for me to die again. Lin Youden knelt at the entrance of the tent, waiting for me to give him the first instruction. Qian Qianyi wrote eight elegy poems, each of which had the wrong rhyme. Caibo Pavilion cannot calculate my fate because my account books do not belong to this era. And Longmai said: You have his scent on you. -That's the only card I can play. An "I won't run away" card. So I lived from April of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen to February of the following year. Not dead. I owe Dragon Vein a huge nail debt. In exchange for the words of an old soldier from Jingying: Then I will stay for another three months. Enough. Keep March first. After three months, who knows.