September 30, the 21st year of Jingde, Wanshou Festival, on this day, the first snow fell in Xijing, which was regarded as an auspicious omen. Go to the birthday banquet and hundreds of officials kneel and knock nine times in the north outside the Changle Gate, the mountain calls long live, feels the virtue of heaven, and congratulates Emperor Jing on a long life.

In the inner garden of the palace, Emperor Jing was lying on the couch with a pillow, covered with a thick woolen blanket, looking at the whitish window paper a little distractedly, listening to the soft sound of snow flakes hitting it, and his heart was quite calm.

Neither happy nor sad.

Inside and outside the palace, everyone is busy celebrating his birthday, but it seems that it has nothing to do with him. His birthday is everyone's stage, singing, chanting, sitting and playing, and they all want him to watch the play. But he really doesn't have the energy to distinguish the real faces under those oil paints one by one, listen to that

Lotus Lantern 179. The birthday banquet is being hit by hand, please wait a moment,

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