Chapter 351: Breaking Kunming

"Hahaha... play the music! Dance!"

Late at night, the main hall of the Mu Prince Manor was brightly lit, and Sha Dingzhou raised his wine goblet with a loud laugh.

Before him, over a dozen beautiful women were dancing to the drums and music, their flowing sleeves fluttering, a faint fragrance drifting through the air.

The leading beauties were collateral descendants of the Mu Prince Manor, while those behind were beautiful women seized from among the common folk.

Some of these women could dance, some could not—some even wept as they danced, their formation in disarray, utterly lacking in grace. Sha Dingzhou did not care. These beauties had been dancing continuously for over half a month, starting at noon each day and ending before dawn the next, with not a moment's pause permitted. Anyone who collapsed from exhaustion or suffered a mental breakdown was immediately dragged away.

What became of them, the women did not know—they only heard screams so piercing they stabbed the ears, which did not subside until an hour or two later.

When the song and dance ended, the beauties could not see the corpses of their companions—only the courtyard and steps drenched in fresh blood, vivid and ghastly red. Accompanying the dance were musicians Sha Dingzhou had sought out from among the common folk, playing Luo-Luo instruments such as reed pipes, goatskin drums, and bronze drums, mixed with the Mu Prince Manor's treasured bianzhong bells, zithers, and pipas.

Barbarian and Han instruments played together without any prior rehearsal or coordination—truly, the music was no music at all, a cacophony of harsh and grating sounds.

Outside the hall, great cauldrons were set over fires, boiling all manner of game, seasoned with shark fin, ginseng, and other precious medicinal ingredients. Even the firewood burning beneath the cauldrons was agarwood.

Further away, there were points of firelight—that was where the Bimo shamans were performing their rites.

Seated to the left and right within the hall were the native chieftains under Sha Dingzhou's command, all drinking and making merry, living in a drunken stupor.

One man, thoroughly inebriated, lunged directly onto a beautiful dancer and began fornicating with her in public.

Sha Dingzhou watched and laughed heartily: "Good! Hahaha... Don't any of you stop—keep dancing!"

The remaining beauties dared not disobey; they could only continue dancing with tears streaming down their faces. Even the one being molested in public dared not halt her movements, continuously twisting her waist. A military officer of Sha's army entered from outside, saw this scene, sighed, and hurried over to Sha Dingzhou's side, saying: "Zongfu, from my observation of the enemy's deployment outside the walls, the assault on the city will come within a day or two..."

Sha Dingzhou said with utter indifference: "What's there to fear? The Bimo have already placed a curse upon this city—the enemy dares not attack."

"Zongfu!" The officer wished to counsel further, but saw that Sha Dingzhou had already toppled over, dead drunk.

Seeing this, the officer could only sigh helplessly and leave.

In truth, Sha Dingzhou was not drunk at all. He knew full well that matters had reached this point—he could retreat no further, and no amount of struggle would avail him anything. His power base lay in the Wangnong Mountain Domain, long since taken by Ma Xianglin. Even if he fled the city, he would have nowhere to go.

The moment he closed his eyes, he could see the Battle of the Lujiang River, where tens of thousands of allied soldiers collapsed in retreat like an avalanche, his ears filled with the heart-rending screams of his own comrades, the smell of sulfur and blood lingering at the tip of his nose. Many soldiers had their legs shattered, blood spewing from their mouths, writhing and crawling on the ground like snakes cut in half. Sha Dingzhou had drunk no less than two jin of wine, his head spinning without cease, yet no matter what, he could not sleep. The horrors of the battlefield kept swirling before his eyes, and no matter how loud the song and dance, they could not drown it out.

When the chieftains under his command saw Sha Dingzhou fall asleep, they rose one after another, selected beauties, and pressed them beneath their bodies, not bothering to hide their deeds, fornicating openly in public. Listening to the panting and howling of men and women, Sha Dingzhou finally sank into a half-waking, half-dreaming state. He did not know how long passed before several cannon blasts sounded from the south of the city.

Sha Dingzhou was instantly jolted awake, breaking out in a cold sweat. He saw that in the hall, only a dozen or so half-naked dancing women remained, collapsed on the floor, their bodies covered in scratches and bruises, whether alive or dead unknown. Several chieftains lay sprawled among them, snoring loudly.

The fire beneath the cauldrons had gone out, and pale dawn light filtered in from outside the hall.

"Boom... boom..."

Several more cannon blasts came, along with a rumbling that shook heaven and earth. The sound was very distant, yet in the early morning it carried with exceptional clarity.

"Someone! Someone come!" Sha Dingzhou roared, but after shouting several times, there was not the slightest response.

Only after a long while did a Sha soldier run in from outside the manor, tripping over a dancer's body and falling flat, then scrambling back up to say: "Zongfu, the Great Xia army is attacking the city!"

"The Bimo? Summon the Bimo!" Sha Dingzhou screamed hoarsely.

The Sha soldier said: "The Bimo? They left long ago."

"Left?" Sha Dingzhou was taken aback, then laughed again: "Wine? Find me some wine."

The Sha soldier could only search the floor for a wine jug, but after searching for a long while, found nothing but countless empty vessels.

Just then, another Sha soldier rushed in from outside, reporting in panic: "Zongfu, the city has fallen! The Great Xia army has broken in through the south gate!" "So fast?" Sha Dingzhou abruptly rose to his feet, greatly astonished.

"The Great Xia army used cannon fire to drive off our defenders, and then common folk came forward and opened the city gates."

"Absurd! Utterly absurd!" Sha Dingzhou roared in fury.

"Zongfu, what do we do?" The Sha soldier speaking was already on the verge of tears.

"Fight them to the death!" Another Sha soldier drew his blade.

Sha Dingzhou hesitated in indecision at this moment, and while he stood frozen in a daze, the sounds of battle cries could already be heard from outside the manor.

"Damn it, the Xia army is here!" One Sha soldier wept, "I don't want to..."

"You two—change into Han clothing and flee." Sha Dingzhou finally said with a sigh.

"Zongfu!"

"Go!" Sha Dingzhou drew his blade and roared.

The two Sha soldiers exchanged a glance, then both departed.

Sha Dingzhou cast one final look around the main hall of the Mu Prince Manor, his eyes filled with reluctance. In the end, he toppled the candles, but the Mu Prince Manor had been built with materials too fine—even though the flames caught the carpets and curtains, they could not possibly ignite the massive pillars, producing only billowing smoke and dust.

On the streets outside the manor, a company of Nanning Garrison Commander troops was advancing steadily toward the Duke of Qian's residence in spear formation, encountering the occasional straggling Sha soldier along the way, all of whom were run through by the spear wall.

Against a spear formation, the only way to counter it was to form ranks of one's own, to fire guns and cannons, or to launch a cavalry attack from the flank.

These scattered, leaderless Sha soldiers facing the spear formation had no other possibility than being run through—they could not even touch the hem of the Garrison Commander troops' garments. Thus, after entering the city, the Great Xia army advanced with exceptional smoothness, suffering not a single casualty.

Mu Tianbo and Xu Chen followed behind the spear formation, their hearts filled with anxiety.

Just then, someone shouted: "The Mu Prince Manor is on fire!"

Mu Tianbo looked toward it at the sound, and indeed saw a wisp of green smoke rising from the manor's main hall. In an instant, hot blood rushed to his head. He drew his blade and screamed hoarsely: "That treacherous dog is trying to kill himself! I will never let him have his way!"

Had the Garrison Commander soldiers around him not held him back, Mu Tianbo would have charged out on the spot.

Before long, the military formation finally arrived before the Duke's residence. Mu Tianbo gazed at the manor's great gate, and the horrors of the night his family was massacred surged back into his heart.

His mother and wife consumed by raging fire, his brothers slaughtered by Sha soldiers with their severed heads hung from trees, his sisters subjected to brutal humiliation, their corpses stripped naked and paraded through the streets...

At this moment, his eyes were bloodshot red. He could no longer hear a single sound. A tremendous strength seemed to well up from nowhere, and he tore free of the soldiers' restraint, charging straight into the manor. The other soldiers followed behind him.

By now, the Duke's residence held no Sha soldiers—everywhere bore the traces of debauchery after a night of revelry.

Mu Tianbo fixed his gaze upon the main hall and rushed in within two or three strides. There, amid the swirling smoke, he saw black-and-white mottled bodies strewn across the floor.

On a beam to one side, a curtain had been tied into a noose, and from it hung a man, already motionless. His head was wrapped in a green turban, he wore a right-lapelled robe with a black felt cloak over it, and pleated trousers below—the typical dress of the Sha people. Looking at his face, it was none other than Sha Dingzhou.

That face was one Mu Tianbo could never forget for the rest of his life.

"Ahh!" Mu Tianbo, his heart ablaze with fury, let out an inhuman howl and swung his blade with all the strength in his body.

His stature was insufficient—the blow struck Sha Dingzhou's calf, blood splattering everywhere, the blade wedging into the shinbone and refusing to come free.

Mu Tianbo yanked the blade out with such force that he tore the curtain apart, and Sha Dingzhou's body crashed to the ground.

He had only just hanged himself and was not yet dead. This fall happened to make him gasp in a sharp breath, and he revived once more—though having hung for some time, he was not yet fully conscious, his eyelids half-open, his whole body convulsing from the searing pain in his calf.

This filled Mu Tianbo with ecstatic delight. He grinned savagely as he leaned close to Sha Dingzhou's face, his own twisted beyond recognition by hatred, and growled: "Sha Dingzhou, do you know who I am?"

Sha Dingzhou weakly raised his eyes, his face instantly flooding with terror, and said in a hoarse, faint voice like a thread of breath: "Cai... Cailian? I, I didn't mean to... ah—"

Mu Tianbo twisted the blade, the wound being squeezed and bleeding continuously, the steel grinding against his shinbone with a teeth-grating screech. "Look again!" Mu Tianbo roared through clenched teeth.

Under the pain, Sha Dingzhou regained some clarity of mind. He focused his gaze and saw the face gradually sharpen, yet he still could not recognize it—it seemed to be many faces overlapping into one: faces of the Mu family, faces of his own native chieftains, and countless others whose names he could not call out.

"You, you..." Sha Dingzhou's face was utterly terrified, his lips trembling, unable to form words.

"Look again! Look again!" In his blazing fury, Mu Tianbo pulled out the blade and hacked and stabbed repeatedly at Sha Dingzhou's lower body.

Sha Dingzhou was horrified beyond measure, screaming in agony, weeping and wailing, and before long his eyes went wide and he died.

"Ah!" Unable to vent the hatred in his heart, Mu Tianbo chopped down again and again like mincing meat. Sha Dingzhou's body was soon dismembered, then chopped into pulp, exposing gleaming white bones.

With every chop, blood and flesh splattered onto Mu Tianbo. When he finally exhausted his strength, he was stained crimson from head to toe, like an asura from hell.

The garrison soldiers stood quietly at the entrance of the main hall, watching the scene, not daring to disturb.

Mu Tianbo collapsed limply to the ground, his chest heaving violently. After a while, his breathing gradually steadied, and he lay completely still, as if dead. After a long time more, Mu Tianbo rose dejectedly, stumbling toward the rear courtyard like a puppet on strings.

He had lain there for nearly an hour, and by then the remaining enemies within the Mu estate had been cleared, so the garrison soldiers let him move freely.

Mu Tianbo did not even look up to see where he was going, yet he moved through the estate with ease, soon arriving before a house that had been burned to charred black.

Mu Tianbo knelt down and cried out: "Mother, your son has returned! Your son has avenged you! I have not shamed our ancestors!"

Having said this, Mu Tianbo finally burst into loud sobs. The crying was utterly miserable, so piercing that every garrison soldier nearby broke out in goosebumps.

Among the garrison soldiers, someone whispered: "What place is this?"

"Should be the Mu family ancestral hall."

While Mu Tianbo was paying respects to his ancestors, Xu Chen was searching the estate everywhere for Mu Ning's whereabouts.

Unfortunately, the Mu estate was enormous, and the survivors were few. Forget searching—there was no one even to ask.

Xu Chen stumbled to the front of the main hall and saw six women wrapped in felt blankets, supported by others, emerging from within.

He went up to ask, but the women only shrank away.

The military physician accompanying them sighed and said: "They've been scared out of their wits. If you want to question them, you'll need to wait a few days."

Xu Chen asked in a trembling voice: "Are there... are there any other survivors?"

"No. Only these six."

Xu Chen collapsed to the ground.

A day later, Mu Tianbo slowly woke on his camp cot. When he opened his mouth, his throat felt utterly parched and raw—he could not produce a sound at all.

He struggled for a long while before making any noise. The medical officer heard the sound and sent someone out to notify others while walking to his bedside to take his pulse, saying: "On the day of the assault, your spirit was drained too greatly. After you wept, you fainted—it's been nearly a full day now. Fortunately, you're young, so there's no serious problem now. It's just that your hair may be a problem."

Mu Tianbo listened without understanding. From outside the tent came Zhang Fengyi's voice scolding someone: "... Why didn't you stop him? You all just stood there watching the show—what good are you for?"

Someone said in a wronged tone: "The young duke was covered in blood from head to toe. We couldn't tell at the time whether he was being brave in battle or overcome with emotion."

"Idiots!" Zhang Fengyi cursed, then walked into the tent and asked a few concerned questions.

Mu Tianbo's emotions had calmed by now, and he instead asked curiously: "What did the medical officer just say about my hair?"

Zhang Fengyi had someone bring a bronze mirror. Mu Tianbo saw in the mirror that a section of white hair had grown at the roots, starkly visible among the black. Zhang Fengyi consoled him: "It's nothing. When the black hair grows out, just trim the white ones."

People of the time said "body, hair, and skin are received from one's parents," but that did not mean one never shaved one's head for life. Trimming the sideburns, cutting the ends of the hair, and removing stray whiskers were matters of grooming—not unfilial.

Mu Tianbo shook his head and said: "It was always troublesome hair anyway. Might as well shave it all off."

Zhang Fengyi was somewhat surprised and said in a low voice: "You truly wish to become a monk?"

Mu Tianbo nodded.

This was not a topic Zhang Fengyi felt comfortable probing deeply. After urging Mu Tianbo to rest well, he withdrew from the tent and went to Xu Chen's room.

Seeing him, Xu Chen clasped his hands in salute and asked with a tense face: "General Zhang, what was the result?"

Zhang Fengyi shook his head: "I asked. Not a single girl of the Mu family survived. That Mu Ning—she died long ago, before you..."

Hearing this, Xu Chen felt as if struck by thunder. He stood frozen, tears silently falling.

Zhang Fengyi could not bear it and tried to console him: "Though you did not save Miss Mu, you saved the daughters and sisters of Kunming's common folk. You did not break your promise." Xu Chen wept for a moment, then wiped his tears, raised his head, and said firmly: "General, I want to enlist!"

Zhang Fengyi said: "The fighting is already over. The Mu clan of Lijiang and the Duan clan of Dali have sent envoys to surrender, and the envoy of the Dao clan of Cheli is already on the way." After the Mu estate was wiped out and the Sha-Pu forces annihilated, the top three powers in Yunnan were the Mu, Dao, and Duan clans.

These three great native chieftains did not have ambitions as great as Sha-Pu's, nor were their forces as strong.

Seeing that a force as mighty as Sha-Pu's had been wiped out in three months, these three great chieftains were scared nearly to the point of soiling themselves. How would they dare wait for the Great Xia to come asking? They all submitted memorials begging to surrender.

But Xu Chen gritted his teeth and said: "I'm not enlisting for revenge. I just think words aren't as useful as a gun. If barbarians cause trouble again, I won't go persuade them to surrender—I only want to kill them all!"

These words were so murderous that even Zhang Fengyi looked at him with new respect. Recalling how Xu Chen had repeatedly requested to enlist, he said: "Fine... ah, no! To serve in the Great Xia army, you must be recruited by the Ministry of War—it's not up to a general to decide."

"Good! I will definitely enlist!" Xu Chen said resolutely.

In the following days, the Yunnan expeditionary army was stationed in Kunming city, recovering the surrounding prefectures and counties while sweeping out remaining enemies.

Wan Cailian and a host of captured native chieftains and native sentries, after interrogation, were all escorted to the execution ground and beheaded to pay for their crimes.

Ma Xianglin, meanwhile, led a thousand vanguard troops to take over a cluster of military horse ranches northeast of Kunming.

At this moment, Ma Xianglin stood at the foot of Fengwu Mountain. Before him stretched rolling mountain ranges covered in a thin layer of snow, cold mist curling around the peaks. On the slopes, the oak and chestnut trees had shed all their withered leaves, and tracts of brown-yellow scrub stretched in patches.

Among the mountains lay a huge basin, narrow from north to south, covered in fallen, withered-brown pasture grass, with white frost still clinging to the ground.

Along the mountain foot stood a continuous stretch of rammed-earth stables, their walls bearing obvious traces of smoke staining.

Near the stables, over a hundred war horses were on a sheltered, sun-facing valley slope, gnawing at withered grass roots.

The Yunnan horses were covered in dense winter down, their coats predominantly black, chestnut, and bay. Their manes gleamed with oil in the morning sun, and from time to time they broke into short chases, kicking up sparkling white dust on the frosty ground—a lovely sight.

Herdsmen wrapped in short felt jackets with hempen leg wrappings moved among the horses, occasionally casting worried glances in Ma Xianglin's direction.

From within the stables came the clanging of horseshoes being fitted—a scene of perfect tranquility.

At Ma Xianglin's side, the ranch's Centurion hunched his back and reported cautiously: "The Mashiwogou military horse ranch has three thousand four hundred horses on the register. The rebel Sha Dingzhou plundered over a thousand, and also took large quantities of winter fodder and bean feed. Three hundred fifty-odd died of cold and starvation. Currently in the stalls there are fewer than two thousand..."

As he spoke, the Centurion Ma glanced nervously at Ma Xianglin, afraid this new Great Xia general might take offense.

Unexpectedly, Ma Xianglin only gazed into the distance and asked: "How much bean feed is short?"

"What?"

Ma Xianglin said discontentedly, "Are your ears stuffed with chicken feathers?"

Centurion Ma trembled in fright, then hastily lowered his head and said, "I wouldn't dare... we're sh—short about two thousand dan..."

Ma Xianglin ordered his men, "Give it to him!"

"Yes!" His attendants obeyed, calling the army's baggage train forward to unload the bean fodder. Soon, bean sacks stamped with the Agricultural Reclamation Company's mark piled up like a small mountain. This year's black beans in Water Chenla had already been harvested, with output reaching yet another record high. This batch of last year's old beans was about to spoil if not eaten soon, so they needed to be distributed quickly. "This... this..." Centurion Ma was first stunned, then so excited he could hardly speak coherently.

He reached into a sack and took out a handful of black beans, even tasting one himself, and said in a trembling voice, "These are all fine beans! General, this... this..." He had originally thought Ma Xianglin was like Sha Dingzhou—also coming to seize horses and fodder—but never expected them to have delivered precious winter forage. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

Ma Xianglin said, "From now on, you are subjects of Great Xia. This place is also a Great Xia horse ranch. If you have any difficulties, just speak up."

Centurion Ma immediately began airing his grievances.

Even under Ming rule, the Central Yunnan horse ranch had been subjected to all kinds of harassment, with rations and supplies docked, causing the herd numbers to plummet. After Sha Dingzhou arrived, he burned, killed, and plundered, committing every kind of atrocity, adding insult to injury.

Speaking of it now, from horseshoes, saddles, and bridles to veterinarians and herders, they were short on nearly everything.

For problems that couldn't be solved on the spot, Ma Xianglin had his men record them, then asked the question he cared most about: "How many battle-ready horses can the ranch produce right now?"

Centurion Ma thought for a moment and said, "There are fewer than a hundred first-class war horses that can be ridden into battle immediately, and two hundred second-class war horses. Feed these fine fodder and rest them for a while, and they'll be ready for battle.

The third-class horses are all old and weak—they can't run fast and can only be used to carry supplies. There are five hundred of those.

The rest are mares, stallions, and foals, which shouldn't be touched."

That these war horses remained at all was thanks to Sha Dingzhou not having many men.

Fortunately, Great Xia's mounted infantry didn't need horses to charge enemy lines—they only needed to carry men forward. Yunnan horses were also renowned for their strong carrying capacity, so even the third-class old and weak horses were barely adequate as mounts for mounted infantry.

Ma Xianglin had his accompanying staff officers calculate, factoring in the situation at each ranch and adding the horses tributed by the Mu, Dao, and Duan clans.

Yunnan could muster at least five thousand war horses—more than enough to equip the Seventh Division's cavalry brigade. The mounted infantry finally no longer had to practice running every day. Soon, news that the Sha-Pu allied forces had been annihilated, Kunming had been recovered, and Sha Dingzhou was dead spread along the supply lines to the rear in Guangxi.

In the government office of Taiping Prefecture, Zhu Xieyuan was bent over his desk reviewing documents. Before him, transport manifests, acceptance checklists, and account reports were piled like mountains, and he had to personally inspect every single one before he could rest easy.

Standing before his desk were also several transport officers.

Zhu Xieyuan, doing two things at once, said, "Winter has already set in. The front lines need more winter clothing and bedding shipped. Medicinal herbs for treating frostbite like gastrodia and angelica should also be increased appropriately...

You transport officers must be diligent in your work. Don't think that just because the supplies reach the front lines, everything is fine. If supplies come up short, this old man has the grain-pressing officers' receipts to cross-check. A few days ago, I just executed a man who stole cotton along the road.

Great Xia is not like Great Ming. When it comes to this kind of corruption—especially stealing from the soldiers at the front—there is absolutely no tolerance. You should all take this as a warning."

"Yes." The transport officers were continuously taking notes.

Just then, Zhu Yixun burst into the room excitedly: "Grandfather!"

Zhu Xieyuan shot his grandson a glare, then said to the transport officers, "You may go. Do not delay."

"Yes." The transport officers withdrew.

With only grandfather and grandson left in the room, Zhu Xieyuan said irritably, "What is it?"

Zhu Yixun stepped forward excitedly, opened his mouth, then noticed the medicine bowl on the table and complained, "Grandfather, you forgot to drink your medicine again... It's already gone cold! This prescription was written by Doctor Su, specially for treating that stubborn cough of yours..."

Zhu Xieyuan cut him off: "Stop being coy. If you have something to say, say it quickly."

Zhu Yixun said, "If Grandfather doesn't drink it, I won't tell you."

Zhu Xieyuan downed the medicine in one gulp, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his mouth with a flourish, saying, "Speak quickly—has Kunming been taken?"

Only then did Zhu Yixun smile and nod: "Kunming's walls have fallen, Sha Dingzhou is dead, Wan Cailian was beheaded and her head displayed as a warning, and the Mu, Duan, and other Yunnan chieftains have sent envoys to surrender. Yunnan is pacified!"

Zhu Xieyuan felt a momentary daze. Ever since the great victory at Lujiang, he had predicted that the Sha-Pu Rebellion would be pacified within a month.

But now that it had actually happened, he felt a sense of unreality.

During the Yongning campaign, Zhu Xieyuan had also wiped out the main force of the She-An rebels, nearly reducing An Bangyan to a commander without an army, who fled back to Shuixi in disgrace, seemingly on the verge of total destruction.

The She-An Rebellion had plagued the southwest for ten years, and just at the critical moment of complete pacification, he received a transfer order from the court. Then his father was murdered by a powerful eunuch. An Bangyan staged a comeback, the southwest plunged back into chaos, and a perfect situation was destroyed in an instant!

That moment then was exactly like this moment now.

And how long did Great Xia take to pacify Sha-Pu? Barely over three months in total!

The Xia King personally sat in Nanning, the rear was stable, troops were elite and provisions abundant, generals had full authority to command, transport officers only focused on moving grain and pay, no powerful ministers obstructed matters at court, and no local officials paid mere lip service. Truly, all were of one heart and one mind, united as one.

In the three months he had spent overseeing grain transport in Taiping Prefecture, he had not received a single impeachment—not even against Qin Liangyu. On the Great Ming court, that would be an absolute fantasy!

Recalling everything over these three months, Zhu Xieyuan felt as if he were in a dream. If Great Ming could have been like this, how could there have been the She-An Rebellion? How could there have been the Jianzhou barbarians? And how could he have wasted ten years of his life in Guizhou?

At this thought, Zhu Xieyuan could not help but shed tears of emotion.

Zhu Yixun tried to console him for a long time, but instead of comforting his grandfather, he ended up crying himself. During the pacification of She-An, he had been by Zhu Xieyuan's side the entire time, and he felt the hardships keenly as well.

Zhu Yixun cried for a long while before wiping away his tears and saying, "After this battle, General Qin will be a famous general in pacifying Yunnan, and Grandfather is also a great meritorious official in suppressing the rebellion. Your names will surely be recorded in history."

Zhu Xieyuan smiled faintly. At his age, he no longer cared about power or wealth, but leaving his name in history suited his wishes just fine. At this thought, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he asked, "Where is Governor Fu from?"

Zhu Yixun was puzzled at first, then suddenly understood and exclaimed, "His ancestral home is Kunming!"

Zhu Xieyuan wiped his tears and said, "Bring me a brush!"

Pen