Empress of the Ming · Chat

The blood of Yingtian burned for an entire night.\n\nZhu Di pulled the reins on his horse, watching the firelight reflect off his face at the Jinchuan Gate tower, flickering between light and shadow. Someone behind him was shouting "Purge the court of evil," the cries echoing off the city walls in waves, making his own chest feel numb. No one knew what he was thinking at the moment he stopped—perhaps he thought of his father, Zhu Yuan璋, perhaps of his wife and children far away in Beiping, or perhaps he thought of nothing at all, only realizing that once this gate opened, there would be no turning back.\n\nThe moment the city fell, cries of grief erupted from all directions.\n\nA young deputy general pulled a seven-year-old girl from a pile of corpses, wrapped her in a cloak, and pushed her onto a carriage. Dizzied by the surging crowd and surrounded by the sounds of slaughter, she didn't cry, but only gripped the deputy general's sleeve tightly and asked, "Where is my sister?"\n\nNo one answered her.\n\nAt the same time, the Imperial Grandson Zhu Zhanji was pressed down to kneel behind the threshold of the inner palace. His grandfather Zhu Di's hand gripped his chin like iron pincers, forcing his face toward the execution ground. "Look closely," his grandfather said only this one sentence.\n\nA young girl cowered at the base of the palace wall, her crying as thin as a kitten's. Taking advantage of others' inattention, Zhu Zhanji quietly pulled her behind the door and whispered something no one could hear. Then he stuffed her toward a passing female official; the official gave him a look, asked no questions about her origin, and vanished into the end of the corridor with the child in her arms.\n\nThe young girl gripped the official's collar, sobbing as she smelled the scent of medicinal herbs on her—later she would remember this scent, but she would never hear a single soft word from this woman's mouth again.\n\nHundreds of miles away in Beiping, a bloated middle-aged man was kneeling before a Buddhist hall, his forehead drenched in cold sweat. He was Zhu Di's eldest son, left in charge by imperial decree, and he hadn't closed his eyes for days. His wife Zhang Yan pushed the door open and entered; seeing him like this, the anger she had suppressed all night flared up, though she spoke in a low voice: "The world outside is turning upside down, and here you are, kneeling. Is kneeling useful? Your father is in the thick of the slaughter, and there's not a word from your son in Nanjing—aren't you worried?"\n\nHe looked up at her, his lips trembling for a long time before he uttered only three words: "I know."\n\nZhang Yan stamped her foot and stormed out, slamming the door. She stood in the courtyard for the duration of an incense stick; as the cold wind blew, she suddenly turned back to the Buddhist hall, knelt beside him, and fell silent. The two of them just knelt there, neither looking at the other, but their hands slowly met under the cover of their sleeves.\n\nIn the Hall of Supreme Harmony of the Forbidden City, a blood-stained dragon robe was spread across the imperial desk. Zhu Di stood before this dragon robe, with no one behind him. He did not sit down, nor did he reach out to touch it. He just stood there watching for a long time, long enough for the candle flame to flicker three times. No one knew if, in this final moment, he was thinking of the Jianwen Emperor's whereabouts or of every face he had cut down along the way.\n\nThe sounds of slaughter outside the door gradually faded. The wind swept over the city walls, kicking up a cloud of dust that settled silently among the broken rubble.\n\nA new dynasty had begun. And those crushed within the gears had only just opened their eyes.\n\n<choice_group>\n <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice>\n <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice>\n <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice>\n</choice_group>