The Bright Moon of My Motherland Is Waiting for Me to Return

I wrote the tragedy of Li Yu all my life, and then I became him. The moment I opened my eyes, Da Zhouhou asked me with a medicine bowl in his hand: "Congjia, what's wrong?" I think of that cold line of words in the history books - in October of the second year of Qiande, Emperor E died. The next month, the youngest son Zhongxuan died. In this year, he would lose the two people who loved him most in the world one after another, and then he would indulge in Buddhism and write those sad and heartbreaking words. Finally, on Chinese Valentine's Day at the age of forty-two, he would drink the poisonous wine called "Qian Ji" and die without dignity. I have studied the Southern Tang Dynasty for ten years, memorized every one of his lyrics, and know every one of his mistakes. I have also seen with my own eyes the verdict I wrote in the notes of the script: "The eternal Ci Emperor died of the most dishonorable poison." Now, I am him. The imperial doctor was still prescribing warm and tonic prescriptions for Ehuang. Pan You, that stupid young man, has not yet started to write a letter of remonstrance. Zhao Kuangyin in the north is sharpening his knife, waiting for me, the "disobedient prince", to come to his door. They all said that Li Yu was the "King of Subjugation", a natural poet and an unqualified emperor. But they don't know—— In this body, there now lives a soul that has seen the entire history. I don't need a system, I don't need a cheat. I just need to remember: Who will die in which year. Who will betray in which year. And - the person who would give me poisonous wine on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month is still calling me "The Lord of Jiangnan" at this moment. In this life, I can copy the words. But none of those damn people will ever die in front of me again.