The Rebirth Of The General Who Always Sees Himself As A Replacement

On the day of the new emperor's enthronement ceremony, Mu Zhiming died on the way to Ninggu Pagoda, where he was exiled in bitter cold.

Thousands of mountains and birds are cut off, the snow is cold to the bone, the sky and the earth are shining brightly, and the sun and the moon are shining brightly.

Fu Yi, Emperor Wu of the Jin Dynasty, drove back to his bedroom after the whole country celebrated together, and summoned the daughter-in-law of Duke Ning, the powerful minister of the dynasty, to attend the bedroom.

On the golden jade dragon couch, the wine bottle sings, the beauty is in his arms, Fu Yi hugs her, looks carefully at the bright eyes, and suddenly thinks of a person.

This person, a few months ago, couldn't kneel down outside the Xuande Hall, and begged him so hard that his forehead was covered with blood.

His surname is Mu, his first name is Li Zhu, and his courtesy name is Zhiming.

Usually, in private, he likes to call himself: 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. His fingers were so red with cold that they were so stiff that he couldn't bend them, and his wrists were worn away by the rusty iron chains. Bloody and bloody, bones can be seen faintly, as thin as sticks, unable to hold a fistful of frozen soil.

Mu Zhiming remembers that his mother, Gong Shi, who was afraid of the cold, liked silk, satin, gold thread and plain brocade clothes the most during her lifetime, admiring the spring scenery in the garden, and picking flowers to wish the east wind.

But now, she was dressed in shabby burlap clothes, died on the road of exile, wrapped her body in broken and dirty straw mats, and was separated from herself forever.

In front of the lonely mound and the deserted grave, Mu Zhiming raised his head, his face was haggard, his face was haggard at the moment, and his heart was ashamed.

The guards escorting him became impatient, and urged Mu Zhiming repeatedly: "Everyone is dead, just bury him. It's so cold outside that people are shivering. Hurry up and go back to the ruined temple where you are staying. At least you can get some protection from the wind."

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 this farewell will be possible in this life." Worship should be done with filial piety.”

Look at him, the son of Lord Yan, who was once glorious and famous all over the capital, now has no choice but to grovel and beg 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 him: "What are you talking about? What if you run away? I tell you, don't try to play tricks." .”

Mu Zhiming fell into the cold snow in embarrassment. He was too weak. He coughed and gasped for a long time before he got up tremblingly. Facing the little officer, he knelt down and said, "Officer, I am wearing a heavy shackle. In less than ten steps, where can I run? With the imprint of the imperial court on my arm, who will take me in? Not to mention that the northern border is deserted and the land is white. The end of my escape can only be Frozen to death and starved to death."

The officer impatiently said, "Tsk, you've never finished..."

"That's all." Another official said with a look of resentment, "Parents' death is a major event, and it is right to say a few more words, and what he said is right, where can we escape in this heavy snow? Let's go to the temple and wait, if he doesn't come back after a while, we will come to investigate, we think we won't be able to escape."

"Hmph." The officer who made the trouble sneered, cursed, "It's such a hassle, what a shitty job", and then left angrily.

The well-meaning official looked at Mu Zhiming with pity, and turned to leave, when he heard him kowtow to himself, his voice was so weak that it was almost inaudible: "Thank you, officer."

The officer waved his hand and left facing the wind and snow.

After a while, only the simple and lonely tomb and Mu Zhiming remained in the world.

Mo Zhiming gasped for breath, his eyes were empty, he stared blankly at the night sky, then he lowered his head very slowly, and exhaled hot air towards the frozen hands bound by the shackles. For a moment, his hands were still unconscious After Mu Zhiming thought about it, he put his cold fingers into his warm mouth.

Not long after, his fingers felt numbness from frostbite, and finally he could move his fingers. Mu Zhiming raised his hand and took out the slender iron wire hidden there from the hair behind his ear, inserted it into the keyhole of the shackle, and twisted it a few times. move.

Although he is a son of a noble family, he liked the art of tricks when he was young, so the shackles that can be seen everywhere can't help him.

After a while, the shackles and iron chains that restrained him fell to the ground, and Mu Zhiming's body relaxed a lot.

But just for a while, his thin and shabby clothes were soaked by the cold snow, and the cold wind was blowing, and Mu Zhiming was shivering from the cold.

He brushed off the snow from his shoulders, knelt down in front of Gong's solitary grave, kowtowed three times, then got up and staggered for ten steps, with his back to the grave, from the soles of his thick boots, slowly Take out a handleless blade as thin as a flap.

Mu Zhiming held the blade in his left hand and pressed it against his bloody right wrist. In a trance, the last words Fu Yi said to him rang in his ears.

"A year and a half later, I will definitely come to pick you up."

Mu Zhiming exerted all his strength with his left hand and cut off his right wrist fiercely. Unfortunately, he was weak and exhausted, but with all his strength, there was only a shallow bloodstain.

So, Mu Zhiming took the blade and cut again, but when there was no blood, he cut again, and when he saw blood, he still cut.

The eye-catching bright red blood fell on the snow-capped ground, silently. After a while, Mu Zhiming fell to the ground with a muffled sound.

He curled up in the cold wind and snow, feeling sleepy and exhausted, and slowly closed his eyes. In this life, he never woke up again.

一

When he was in a daze, Mu Zhiming found himself standing in front of an arched stone bridge, the sky was dark and the sky was dark, the river under the bridge was like blood, densely covered with snakes and insects, it was filthy and terrifying.

"Young master." Suddenly someone called Mu Zhiming.

Mu Zhiming looked up following the sound, and saw a kind-hearted old woman waving towards him, Mu Zhiming walked up to her in a few steps, bowed his head to see her, and was about to ask where it was, 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.

"That's right, let's go." The old woman smiled kindly and showed Mu Zhiming the way.

Although Mu Zhiming was puzzled, he still thanked him and walked towards the direction the old woman pointed. He walked up the stone bridge for a few steps, and sure enough, he saw a person standing by the bridge with his back to him. Mu Zhiming watched carefully for a long time. But he couldn't recognize who it was, so he could only guess and shout as he walked forward.

"Father? Mother?"

"Ayin? Caiwei?"

"Isn't it... Could it be Ji'an?"

Mu Zhiming walked towards that person and shouted, but he didn't see him turn his head back, until Mu Zhiming approached, that person could barely turn around.

The two looked at each other, Mu Zhiming froze in place.

How could it be him?