On the day of the new emperor's enthronement ceremony, Mu Zhiming died on his way to Ning Gu Pagoda in the bitter cold land.
Thousands of mountains and birds are absolutely dead, the snow is cold to the bone, the sky and the earth are dazzling, and the sun and the moon are splendid.
Emperor Wu of Jin, Fu Yi, drove back to the palace after the national celebration, and summoned the daughter-in-law of Ning Guogong, a powerful minister of the dynasty.
The golden jade dragon couch, the wine bottle Qingge, the beautiful woman in her arms, Fu Yi hugged her, looked at her with bright eyes, and suddenly thought of a person.
This person, the foreign minister of Xuande Hall could not afford to kneel a few months ago, and begged him so hard that his forehead was covered in blood.
His surname is Mu, his name is Lizhu, and his character is Zhiming.
In private, Su Ri likes to call herself: Brother Yi.
When Fu Yi thought of him, Mu Zhiming, who was thousands of miles away, was kneeling in the snow to collect the corpse of his mother, Gong Shi. His ten fingers were frozen red and could not be bent, and his wrists were frayed by the rusty iron chains. The flesh and blood were blurred, and the bones were faintly visible.
Mu Zhiming remembered that his mother, Gong Shi, who was afraid of cold, liked silk, satin, gold thread and plain brocade clothes most during her lifetime, enjoying the spring scenery in the garden, picking flowers and wishing the east wind.
But now, she died on the road of exile in tattered sackcloth, wrapped in a broken and dirty straw mat, forever separated from herself.
In front of the deserted tomb, Mu Zhiming raised his head, his face was so unparalleled, his face was like a haggard, and his smart and intelligent temperament was now ashes.
The officer who was escorting him became impatient, and repeatedly urged Mu Zhiming: "You're all dead, you just need to bury it. It's freezing outside, so people are shivering. Hurry back to the ruined temple.
Mu Zhiming turned around, bowed his head and bowed to the two officials in front of him: "If the two officials are cold, go to the ancient temple to rest and wait. I want to say a few words to my mother. I don't know if I will be able to say goodbye in this life. In worship, one should be devoted to filial piety.”
Look at him, the prince of Yan Guogong, who was once glorious and famous all over the capital, is now only servile and begging for help.
One of the officers got angry, took the sword hanging from his waist, hit Mu Zhiming's shoulder with the scabbard, and overturned it: "What are you talking about, what if you run away? I tell you, don't try to play tricks. ."
Mu Zhiming threw himself on the ground and fell into the cold snow. He was too weak. He coughed and panted for a long time before he shivered and got up. Facing the little officer, he knelt down and said, "Master, I am wearing a heavy shackle, okay? Where can I run in less than ten steps? With the seal of the imperial court branded on my arm, who will take me in? Not to mention that this northern border is desolate, the land is white, and the fate of my escape can only be Frozen to death and starved to death."
The official said impatiently, "Tsk, you've never finished..."
"That's it." Another official said with a face that couldn't bear it, "The death of your parents is a big event, it's right to say a few more words, and he's right, where can you escape from this heavy snow? Let's go to the temple and wait, if he doesn't come back after a while, we'll come to investigate, I don't think he can escape."
"Hmph." The officer who was in trouble sneered, scolded "It's really troublesome, what a shit job", and then left angrily.
The kind-hearted official glanced at Mu Zhiming with pity, turned to leave, and heard him kowtow to him, his voice so weak that it was almost inaudible: "Thank you, sir."
The official waved his hand and left facing the wind and snow.
In a short while, between heaven and earth, there are only simple and lonely graves and Mu Zhiming.
He gasped for a moment, Mu Zhiming exhaled a long breath, his eyes were empty, staring at the night sky in a daze, then he lowered his head very slowly, exhaling hot air at the frozen hands bound by the shackles, so for a moment, his hands were still unconscious. , After thinking about it, Mu Zhiming put his cold fingers into his warm mouth.
After a while, his fingers felt numb, and there was a tingling sensation of frostbite, and his fingers were finally able to move. Mu Zhiming raised his hand and took out the slender iron wire hidden there from behind his ears and between his temples. move.
Although he is a son of an aristocratic family, he was fond of organ skills when he was young, so the shackles that can be seen everywhere can't help him.
After a while, the shackles and chains that bound him fell to the ground, and Mu Zhiming's body relaxed a lot.
But after a while, Han Xue wet his thin and worn clothes, the cold wind was blowing, and Mu Zhiming was shivering from the cold.
He brushed the snow off his shoulders, knelt down on the ground in front of Gong's solitary grave, kowtowed three times, then got up and staggered ten steps, with his back to the grave, and from the soles of his thick boots, he unhurriedly Take out a sessile blade as thin as a cicada's wing.
Mu Zhiming held the blade in his left hand and pressed it against his bloody right wrist. In a trance, Fu Yi's last words to him rang out in his ears.
"In a year and a half, I will come to pick you up."
Mu Zhiming slashed his left hand and cut off his right wrist, but unfortunately he was weak and weak, and with all his strength, there was only a shallow bloodstain.
So, Mu Zhiming held the blade and cut again, but there was no blood, and he cut again, but when he saw the blood, he still cut.
Eye-catching red blood fell on the snow-covered ground, silently, and after a while, Mu Zhiming fell to the ground with a muffled sound.
He was curled up in the cold storm and snow, feeling sleepy and exhausted, and slowly closed his eyes. He never woke up again in this life.
one
When he was in a daze, Mu Zhiming found himself standing in front of an arched stone bridge.
"Master." Someone suddenly called Mu Zhiming.
Mu Zhiming looked up at the sound, and saw a kind and kind-hearted old woman beckoning to him, Mu Zhiming walked in front of her a few steps, bowed his head and was about to ask where this is, when the old woman said, " Young Master, someone is waiting for you on the bridge, go and meet him."
"Wait for me?" Mu Zhiming was confused.
"Exactly, let's go." The old woman smiled kindly and pointed the way for Mu Zhiming.
Although Mu Zhiming was puzzled, he thanked him and walked in the direction pointed by the old woman. He took a few steps up the stone bridge, and sure enough, he saw a man standing by the bridge with his back to him. Mu Zhiming looked at it carefully for a long time. But he couldn't recognize who it was, so he had to guess and shout at random as he walked forward.
"Father? Mother?"
"Ayin? Caiwei?"
"Not at all... Could it be Ji'an?"
Mu Zhiming walked towards the man and shouted, but he didn't see the man turning back, until Mu Zhiming approached, the man turned around.
The two looked at each other, and Mu Zhiming froze in place.
How could it be him?