当一支笔和一把刀摆在他面前的时候,他选择了前者。许多年以后,他成了明朝著名的文官,只因为他手中的笔。岁月的流逝洗刷掉了大明的血性,北京的圣殿里徒自瘫坐着一个疲惫的王朝。山海关外,强劲的长风中喧腾着清军八旗的铁骑。偌大的明朝,竟找不出一个武官去做守将。守军士气低迷,虽有坚固的城墙,却挡不住清军的咆哮。一切似已成定局,他却不甘。他毅然放下他钟爱的笔,脱下他飘逸的长袍,用漆黑沉重的盔甲裹住几根瘦骨,迈步边防, When a pen and a knife were placed in front of him, he chose the former. Many years later, he became the famous civil official of the Ming Dynasty because of the pen in his hand. As the years passed, the bloody nature of Daming was washed away, and the sanctuary in Beijing sat alone with a weary dynasty. Outside Shanhaiguan, strong winds teed on the iron flag of the Qing Army Eight Flags. In the great Ming Dynasty, no military officer could be found to be a defender. The morale of the garrison was low, and although there were strong walls, they could not stop the roar of the Qing army. Everything seems to be a foregone conclusion, but he is unwilling. He resolutely put down his favorite pen, took off his flowing robe, wrapped in skinny heavy armor, wrapped in skinny bones, and stepped forward.