The golden wind is cool, the drizzle is continuous, the autumn rain is dashing, and it will always bring people a bleak feeling, and the autumn rain is dashing, washing away the heat of midsummer.

The autumn rain does not necessarily mean desolation, there is a bumper harvest, in the autumn rain, the melons, fruits, pears and peaches are ripe, in the rice fields, the golden waves are rolling, and in the fields, the yellow corn is also ripe, harvest.

The majestic and magnificent Forbidden City towers in the misty drizzle, in addition to the desolation with a trace of gloomy gray, Zhu Changluo sat in front of the dragon book case in the front hall of Ciqing Palace, alone and quietly in a daze, in front of a small silver carved wine pot and a small silver wine glass, the wine in the wine pot has been drunk most of the time, but there is no food.

Zhu Changluo's eyes were already slightly red, I don't know if it was because of the strength of the wine or because of the sadness in his heart, he had just spent the joy of harvest not long ago, and now he got the fruit of return, but unfortunately this fruit is not sweet, but bitter and astringent.

Zhu Changluo slowly poured out another glass of wine from the pot, took a sip and drank it, and after putting down the wine glass, he punched the dragon book case with hatred, and the body of the second son Zhu Youxue was salvaged three days after he disappeared, just in the well in the courtyard of Zheng Guifei Yikun Palace, Zhu Youxue's small body was already swollen, his stomach was high and bulging, and his round face was already like a rotten steamed bun that was about to be scattered, only the dead gray eyes were still wide.

Zhu Changluo just stood next to Zhu Youxue's corpse and glanced at it lightly, then turned around and left in the drizzle without saying a word, but those eyes that no longer had brilliance are still deeply imprinted in Zhu Changluo's heart, but Zhu Changluo has no choice, and he doesn't dare to make any moves, his position has just been stabilized, and he doesn't want any changes to happen, even the slightest transgression may knock him down the abyss, he can only endure it.

Zhu Changluo picked up the wine jug and poured all the little wine left in it into his mouth and swallowed it, slammed the flask out, stretched out his fist and hit it on the table, endure, endure, endure, how long the will I endure?

The flask flew far away, hit the temple door and fell to the ground with a loud bang.

Ye Changde and Han Benyong, the guards with knives at the door, were startled, and hurriedly opened the door to check, Zhu Changluo jumped up and stared at his already blood-red eyes and shouted, "Get out, who let you in." ”

The two of them were so frightened that they hurriedly closed the door of the hall, and the anxious wood stood on both sides.

Although Zheng Guifei tried every means to defend herself afterwards, the entire Forbidden City knew that this was the revenge of this narrow-minded woman for her son being driven out of the capital, and even Emperor Wanli sneered at Zheng Guifei's cry of injustice, as if Zheng Guifei had become the mastermind of all the idiotic conspiracies in the entire imperial city.

The drizzle outside the door was still dripping, and there was no light in the front hall, Zhu Changluo sat back on the chair weakly, and sat in the gloom for a long time, a tear finally slipped across his face, and muttered to himself: "Bear it, I endure it, I've endured it for thirty-four years, what else can't I bear, this time I still have to endure it." ”

Zhu Changluo finally fell asleep alone in the loneliness of muttering to himself, but he didn't expect that this was just the beginning, and the shadow of death had just shrouded this Ciqing Palace, which was full of tragedy.

In the middle of September in the drizzle, Zhu Changluo's second son, Zhu Youxue, drowned in the well, and was posthumously crowned King Jian Huai!

In the cold winter of that year, Zhu Changluo's fourth son, Zhu Youmo, suddenly fell ill and died on the bed at night, and the imperial doctor examined it as a chronic illness, Li Xuanzhi cried and fainted many times, and Zhu Youmo chased the title of King Huaihui!

In March of the following year, Zhu Changluo's eldest daughter Zhu Huijuan died of a violent illness, and was posthumously crowned Princess Huaishu!

At the beginning of July of the second year, Zhu Changluo's sixth son, Zhu Youxu, died and posthumously crowned King Xianghuai!

Two months later, Zhu Changluo's second daughter Zhu Huihui and fourth daughter Zhu Hui!

At the end of the year, Zhu Changluo's third son, Zhu Youji, died and posthumously crowned King Qi Si!

In February of the third year, Zhu Changluo's third daughter Zhu Huixuan and his seventh daughter Zhu Huiwan!

In the winter of the third year, Zhu Changluo's seventh son, Zhu Youxuan, died and posthumously crowned King Huizhao!

At the beginning of the fourth year, Zhu Changluo's ninth daughter Zhu Huiyu and the last daughter Zhu Huiyu!

In just over three years, five of Zhu Changluo's seven sons died and seven of his ten daughters died!

The son only has the eldest son Zhu Youxiao and the fifth son Ren Hongfei, and the daughter only has the fifth Zhu Huiyan, the sixth Zhu Huijing, and the eighth Zhu Huiyuan!

Some people in the Forbidden City said that this was the bloody revenge of Concubine Zheng Guifei, and some people secretly rumored that it was the unjust souls of Lady Liu and Wang Cairen who came to ask for their lives.

It is still a drizzle, the sky is gray dusk, not the golden autumn but the spring of March, Zhu Changluo is still lonely alone in the front hall of Ciqing Palace slowly drinking wine, in the past three years, his hair has unconsciously turned white by half, and he has to use a larger gauze hat to cover it, and his beard has grown extremely fast, but his body is getting thinner and thinner.

At this moment, he is lonely and does not know whether he is sad or happy, there are too many sad things and too depressing, and the only glimmer of good news is that his father Emperor Wanli's body is not as good as day by day.

Since last year's battle of Sarhu, the Wanli Emperor has been riddled with illness in anxiety and hatred, the complete defeat of the battle gave Wanli a fatal blow, the Ming Dynasty 130,000 elite army was slaughtered by more than 60,000 Jurchen Eight Banner Army, the imperial historians in the court were all indignant, pointing to the east and west, pointing to the mulberry and scolding Huai, the spearhead was aimed at Wanli, making the Wanli Emperor anxious, full of anger and unable to come out, in his heart has been holding back, and finally suffocated himself to the hospital bed.

Zhu Changluo smiled faintly and raised his wine glass, it seems that he has to thank the Jurchen leader who claims to be the Khan of Heaven, Aixin Jueluo Nurhachi, and those officials and imperial historians of the voice of birds also have to be rewarded, if it weren't for them, I was afraid that Zhu Changluo would not know that he would have to wait until the Year of the Monkey.

Zhu Changluo drank the wine in the cup, and the pain of losing his son in recent years and the depressive wounds were also diluted a lot, because he had seen the dawn of dawn, saw the golden dragon chair beckoning to him, and saw the Manchu Dynasty civil and military kneeling down to him and worshiping, shouting long live, and he also saw endless wealth and countless beauties.

When Zhu Changluo thought of this, he couldn't help laughing, and then his face changed, remembering his humiliation and depression in the past thirty-eight years, trembling, and walking on thin ice, and began to grit his teeth again: Zheng Guifei, Zhu Changxun, and those traitorous ministers who support King Fu, when Lao Tzu ascends to the throne, you will all die without a place to bury within a year.

Zhu Changluo couldn't help but stand up and paced in the gloomy hall, laughing out loud, but his figure, which looked a little hazy in the gloom, seemed to have been firmly wrapped in the shadow of death, impenetrable and breathless.