Chapter 335: Weeping Sovereign and Subjects in the Forbidden City

As Liu Jingting's final note faded, the thousand-odd soldiers around him burst into thunderous applause, the cheers and clapping so fierce they nearly lifted the roof off the entire camp. Liu Jingting stepped out from behind the lectern, walked slowly to the front, and bowed and made obeisances to the audience on all sides, his face glowing red with pleasure.

The applause went on and on; many soldiers' faces were flushed, their hands numb from clapping, yet they did not stop.

Zheng Zhilong clapped as he spoke: "This Liu Pockface does have some crooked talent for poetry—that ci was skillfully adapted!"

Lin Qian asked curiously: "Adapted from what ci?"

Zheng Zhilong said: "It's from Xin Jiaxuan's 'Congratulations to the Groom.' In the second stanza there's a line: 'I gaze afar, but the roads to the passes are cut off. What I admire most is you dancing in the dead of night, saying a man's heart is iron unto death. Watch the attempt—to mend the rift in heaven.'"

When Xin Jiaxuan wrote that ci, he too saw the Central Plains lost, the court clinging to its southern refuge, his heart full of ambition to serve his country but with no place to use it, left only to lament the severed roads to the passes—quite the same situation as that of the gallant Guo.

Master Liu not only changed the ending of The Legend of the Condor Heroes, but also changed the meaning of the ci—truly exquisite."

Lin Qian understood clearly that Liu Jingting had deliberately mentioned the cannon ships and the red banner atop Xiangyang's walls—he was obviously pointing at something.

He had turned the original Condor Heroes' theme of loyalty to the state into one of rallying together for righteous uprising—exactly what Lin Qian himself was doing.

This not only gave the story a bright and hopeful ending, but also maximized its educational value.

Historically, Liu Jingting was famous for never reciting his stories by rote, loving to improvise, and being especially skilled at weaving patriotic sentiments into his tales, always leaving his audiences lost in thought.

In the late Ming, this man had served as an advisor to Zuo Liangyu. At that time, Zuo Liangyu's command was full of arrogant soldiers and fierce generals who ignored orders and had terrible discipline, and Liu Jingting used his storytelling art to bridge the army and unify their thinking—just as he was doing today.

Though Lin Qian could not recall Liu Jingting's historical deeds, just from listening to this one performance today, he felt Liu Jingting was a talent—keeping him in the army would greatly help unite morale and boost combat effectiveness.

So Lin Qian said to Geng Wu: "After the show, summon Master Liu." With that he walked toward the central command tent, as the soldiers' applause was just dying down and they were leading their troops back to camp.

Once seated in the tent, Lin Qian asked: "By the way, the Condor Heroes story ended after the defense of Xiangyang—why was there still a 'to be continued'?" Zheng Zhilong said: "That's just storyteller's patter. A story never truly ends; when the audience comes back tomorrow, you tell a new one... But speaking of which, is the Condor Heroes story really over? Did Xiangyang hold or not?"

"Naturally it held." Lin Qian laughed. Historically, Xiangyang was certainly eventually breached and the Mongol Yuan unified the realm—but with Liu Jingting having twisted the story like that, how could it not hold? Were the sailing warships just for show?

The might of a single cannon blast was far more formidable than the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms.

Lin Qian said: "By the way, summon Miss Zhang as well."

Before long, Zhang and Liu entered the tent together and saluted Lin Qian.

Lin Qian got straight to the point: "I plan to establish a special department in the army, to be called the Cultural Troupe, dedicated to artistic performances to boost morale, with the two of you in charge—what do you think?"

Zhang Qiao's face lit up with joy, but she still asked cautiously: "If I join this troupe, would I count as a literary and artistic worker?"

Lin Qian smiled: "Of course you would."

Zhang Qiao was overjoyed and quickly agreed.

Liu Jingting, however, wore a look of great difficulty. After hesitating for a long while, he said: "Your Majesty, my family are all in Nanjing. It has been over a year since I last left home, and I fear..."

Lin Qian cut him off: "Perfect—the Poyang Lake fleet is returning to Nan'ao Island and will pass by Nanjing. Master Liu can go aboard and pick up your family." Liu Jingting had always harbored ambitions for official office; hearing this, his worries were resolved, and he cupped his hands in agreement. After a moment's hesitation, he asked again: "May I ask, Your Majesty, what happens next in the story of Guo Jing and his wife defending Xiangyang?"

Lin Qian laughed heartily: "I can't make up what comes after that!"

If it were Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, Lin Qian could still tell it, but as for The Return of the Condor Heroes, aside from a few main character names, he had forgotten nearly everything else. Lin Qian said: "Master Liu's revised ending for Condor Heroes was excellent—why not write a sequel yourself?"

Liu Jingting quickly waved his hands: "Your Majesty flatters me. I am shallow in learning and talent; to presumptuously alter Condor Heroes already exhausted my meager abilities. To add a sequel to such a masterpiece is truly beyond my capacity."

Lin Qian said casually: "Then find someone to write it. Not those who write examination essays or classical prose—hire a novelist. In the Great Ming, who is the best?"

This was Liu Jingting's area of expertise, and he rattled off a long list of names. However, most of these people lived in South Zhili—after all, in the late Ming that region had the most developed economy and the largest urban class, and accordingly the richest popular culture.

Although Jiangxi had flourishing culture and education, precisely because it was a major examination province and a major agricultural province, its industries were not developed.

After counting off names for a long while, Liu Jingting said: "But if we're talking about who writes the best historical romances, that would be Master Mohanzhai."

People of that era insisted on not calling others by their names directly—when referring to someone, one had to use their official title, honorific, or place of origin instead—which gave Lin Qian a considerable headache. He could only press his temples and say: "What is this man's actual name, and what are his representative works?"

"His original name is Feng Menglong. His 'Three Words' stories sell well throughout Jiangnan, and he is the foremost figure in the romance literary world," Liu Jingting said. "Unfortunately, he is currently serving as a local instructor in the Zhenjiang area, not under Great Xia's rule."

Zhang Qiao added: "His recent new work, The Legend of the White Snake, is extremely popular in Guangzhou."

Zheng Zhilong suddenly realized: "Ah! I've seen it—the scene of flooding Jinshan Temple is very similar to our attack on the Three Mountains of Jingkou!"

Lin Qian had heard the name Feng Menglong before, and through the several people's animated introductions, he came to appreciate the man's brilliance.

In the Great Ming, novels were cultural garbage, dismissed with contempt by orthodox literati.

But in Lin Qian's view, novels, storytelling, and opera were cultural strongholds even more powerful than newspapers.

The same event, told in a newspaper's official tone, might be: "King Lin Qian of Xia today inspected the schistosomiasis prevention and treatment work in Poyang County, Jiangxi Province, and delivered an important speech, in which he emphasized..."

But told in vernacular verse it would be: "Papa fished for thirty years, through wind and rain he steered. Since drinking lake water last year, his belly grew day by day. The New Year's festival is almost here, yet the house has not half a coin... So the plague god is a tiny worm, coiled in the snail shells by the lake... Everyone pitch in when free, and from now on life stays safe!"

The propaganda effect was not even in the same league.

Moreover, for the Great Xia regime, there was also the problem of governing overseas colonies—opera spread quickly and could rapidly establish cultural identity, which was far more effective and enduring than mere military conquest.

So Lin Qian immediately said to Geng Wu: "Tell Bai Qing that when passing through Zhenjiang, invite Feng Menglong and his family to come. In Great Xia he will have far more prospects than being an instructor."

Liu Jingting, standing below, inexplicably felt a chill run down his spine.

Zhang Qiao, meanwhile, nodded repeatedly in strong approval—wasn't her own future growing brighter and brighter?

Seeing how Jiangnan was like a treasure trove of talent, where any kind of expert could be found at the nation's top level, Lin Qian could not help but sigh: "The Great Ming buries its talent! What use is there in dead-drilling the eight-legged essay?"

Lin Qian looked left and right and said: "Are there any other disaffected talents in Jiangnan?"

For a moment, no one could think of any.

Lin Qian said: "It's getting late. Go back and think it over slowly."

The next day, Lin Qian took leave of Lei Sanxiang and set out to return to Guangzhou. When passing through Ji'an Prefecture again, the wilderness now showed signs of human life—the corpses by the riverbank and the man-eating wild dogs were nowhere to be seen.

The party traveled south along the Gan River, crossed the Meiling Ancient Road, and reached the Pearl River, finally arriving in Guangzhou before the end of the seventh month.

News that Great Xia had occupied the whole of Jiangxi spread through Guangzhou at the very same time Lin Qian's fleet arrived, and every shop hung lanterns and bunting in lavish celebration. This was not flattering the court—for the Fujian and Guangdong sea merchants, Great Xia's occupation of Jiangxi was tremendous news.

The porcelain capital of Jingdezhen was in Jiangxi. The region had over three hundred civilian and imperial kilns, employing more than a hundred thousand workers, producing hundreds of thousands of pieces of porcelain annually, sold across the entire world—truly the birthplace of hard currency.

Previously, when Yuan Chonghuan was in power and cut off the trade routes, the sea merchants could not get porcelain, which hurt them more than having their flesh carved off. Later Yuan Chonghuan was executed by a thousand cuts, but Jiangxi was still wracked by continuous warfare, and porcelain still could not be shipped out.

Now, with Jingdezhen under Great Xia's rule, trade routes were open, production would surge, and from now on silver would flow in like water. With the sea merchants' business thriving, land merchants and shopkeepers would see their business improve as well.

Even the price of rice for common folk would drop.

Because the Poyang Lake plain was one of the most important granaries of Jiangnan—high-yield farmland producing two to three shi per mu.

Throughout Jiangxi, farmland totaled over four hundred thousand qing, equivalent to the entire area of Water Zhenla, and all of it mature farmland with complete irrigation infrastructure, requiring little investment to maintain stable production.

Add to that the fact that all the great clans and noble families of Jiangxi had been plowed over by the King Who Levels the Land, their power greatly diminished.

The population losses were considerable, which eased the tension between people and land, and greatly reduced the difficulty of governance.

From a military standpoint, Jiangxi was flanked by the Luoxiao Mountains to the west facing Huguang, separated from South Zhili by the natural barrier of the Yangtze to the north, while Zhejiang to the east was economically prosperous but militarily feeble—defense would not be difficult.

One could say that although taking Jiangxi had gone through twists and turns, by a stroke of serendipity, it had yielded a perfectly satisfactory result.

When Lin Qian returned to Guangzhou, the grading of the metropolitan examination had just concluded.

By convention, the metropolitan examination only determined whether one passed, not one's ranking—rankings were settled at the palace examination.

Lin Qian's timing was fortunate; the chief examiner Xu Guangqi handed him the list of successful candidates and the proposed topics for the palace examination.

Lin Qian flipped through them—three questions had been set, all related to practical affairs—and asked, "Is the palace examination no longer testing the eight-legged essay?"

Xu Guangqi replied, "The palace examination only tests practical policy questions. Only those intimately tied to the great affairs of state are included in the selection."

Lin Qian looked over the three questions Xu Guangqi had drafted; each was a lengthy discourse.

In simple terms, the first question asked about the relationship between sea and land—whether the nation's resources should prioritize the sea or the land, and where future development should head.

The second question asked about the essentials of governance—how to restore the economy and livelihoods of Jiangxi, Guangxi, and other regions.

The third question asked about the fiscal system—how to resolve the problem of the rich growing richer and the poor growing poorer.

Lin Qian felt all three questions were well conceived, but the palace examination lasted only one day—twelve hours from morning to night—and by convention only one question was set.

He deliberated back and forth, and ultimately chose the question on the fiscal system. To be honest, of the three, only this one was truly profound—even Lin Qian himself had no fundamental solution for it.

After settling on the question, Lin Qian turned his attention to the list of successful candidates. For this metropolitan examination, over a thousand provincial graduates had sat for it, and more than seventy had passed.

On the list of successful candidates, Gu Yanwu, Huang Zongxi, and Gui Zhuang were all present, which set Lin Qian's mind at ease. He scanned more carefully and indeed spotted a familiar name in the final column—Song Yingxing.

Pointing at the name, Lin Qian asked, "What's the story with this candidate? I don't recall seeing him on the previous provincial examination lists."

Xu Guangqi glanced over and said, "This man is from Jiangxi, his family home in Fengxin County, Nanchang Prefecture. He already holds the juren degree, and per the rules of the Great Xia special examination, he was directly eligible to sit the metropolitan examination."

Song Yingxing authored the Tiangong Kaiwu and was one of the rare talents of the late Ming who could truly be called a scientist.

Although Lin Qian knew his name, he was not erudite enough to know where his hometown was—had it not been for the special examination, he might have nearly missed this talent. Three days later, the Great Xia palace examination was held in the Government Affairs Hall. At this stage of the civil service examinations, by precedent no one would be eliminated; the examination only determined ranking.

Moreover, because they were prospective officials, the treatment during the examination was considerably better.

At the midday meal, not only were the dishes exquisite, but there was even fruit served after the meal.

In the evening, the candidates submitted their papers and left the Government Affairs Hall with palpable relief.

Lin Qian came to review the papers with great enthusiasm, only to find the candidates' answers were all empty platitudes—essentially the same old refrain of emulating the Three Dynasties, restoring the well-field system, reforming official governance, and severely punishing corruption.

This was hardly surprising—at the final hurdle of the examinations, knowing they were already guaranteed jinshi status, most people simply wanted to play it safe.

After reading a few papers, Lin Qian grew bored and delegated the grading entirely to Xu Guangqi. A day later, the results were out.

Xu Guangqi presented the top ten candidates to Lin Qian. Besides those Lin Qian had been watching, there were also Ai Nanying, Wan Shihua, Li Suiqiu, Xie Liangqi, Song Yingsheng, and others.

These men came from Jiangxi and the two Guangs, and most had already earned some local renown for their talents before sitting the examination. Examined closely, nearly every one of them was a classic case of unrecognized brilliance.

"Your Majesty, please select the top three scholars," Xu Guangqi reminded.

"Oh." Lin Qian carefully read the essays of the ten men. Naturally, not a single one offered a solution to wealth disparity—ranking ultimately came down to literary flair.

Xu Guangqi had already made annotations on the vermilion-scored papers, noting the merits of each man's essay, so Lin Qian was not entirely at a loss.

Lin Qian pondered for a long while, and in the end settled on Li Suiqiu, Gu Yanwu, and Ai Nanying as the Zhuangyuan, bangyan, and tanhua respectively.

When the Great Xia palace examination results were posted, Guangzhou was in a festive uproar. The Zhuangyuan rode through the imperial streets on horseback, with the bangyan and tanhua flanking left and right—yamen runners clearing the way ahead, gongs and drums clamoring behind, and commoners lining both sides to gaze in admiration. The spectacle was magnificent beyond measure.

After the brief yet grand ceremony, the newly minted jinshi were all assigned to posts in the provinces. The newly conquered Jiangxi comprised thirteen prefectures in total, and the vacancies in official posts could be filled at once.

Beyond the high officials, the jinshi ranked in the second and third tiers, as well as juren who had failed and xiucai who had failed, were also assigned throughout Jiangxi based on their examination performance—from provincial capitals down to townships, suitable talent was allocated to every level.

Among them, Huang Zongxi, Gu Yanwu, and others whom Lin Qian valued were assigned by him to counties and prefectures around Ji'an Prefecture.

These places had suffered the heaviest damage in the servant uprisings. How to rapidly restore production, how to mend the relationship between tenant farmers and landlords, how to make the great clans accept Great Xia rule—the task was extraordinarily arduous.

These men had left glorious achievements in history, but for now they were still uncut jade and unrefined gold—they could not be used as-is and still needed polishing. This complex situation in Ji'an Prefecture was the perfect whetstone.

Song Yingxing had only placed in the third tier of the palace examination, partly due to hasty preparation, and partly because his talents did not lie in officialdom.

Lin Qian instead kept him at the center, assigning him to the Engineering Construction Directorate as a Guanzheng lingshi—a post that gave direct exposure to the Great Xia's cutting-edge engineering and technology. The prefix guanzheng meant he was an intern, without real responsibilities, and with ample free time—surely this would allow Song Yingxing to figure out his future path in life.

A few days later, the Great Xia Constitution emerged. Its content was extremely concise—merely a description of the Great Xia's existing power structure and legal principles—and after minor revisions, it was smoothly promulgated.

The promulgation of the constitution also meant that the inaugural class of Civilization University had successfully graduated, and the university held a grand graduation ceremony.

It happened to be the season of osmanthus blossoms. Inside and outside the academy, a thousand osmanthus trees stood in layered succession—along the streets and roads, on both sides of the courtyard walls, by pavilions and ponds, before the eaves of the dormitories—their branches intertwining with one another, laden with dense clusters of fine blossoms that weighed the slender boughs down, deep and pale hues interweaving in a rich tapestry, leaving not a single space bare.

Gazing out, the entire campus had transformed into a boundless sea of osmanthus flowers, like clouds and rosy mist unfurling. A gentle breeze passed, and heaven and earth were filled with fragrance. Since the start of the eighth month, all of the Great Xia's diligent sowing had yielded harvests—so many pieces of good news arrived that Guangzhou's celebrations seemed unending.

In the Forbidden City, the Chongzhen Emperor also had his harvest—a bitter fruit.

Lately, Chongzhen's temper had grown increasingly irritable. Like a spinning top, he paced ceaselessly before the imperial desk, the wind from his robes blowing papers off the surface. Zhou Yanru, kneeling on the ground, glanced sidelong and saw the paper bore two large characters: "DESERVES DEATH."

Chongzhen roared: "In the third month, Pu Mingsheng seized Weimo Prefecture and rebelled; in the fourth month, the rebel troops defeated an army of over ten thousand sent to suppress them; in the fifth month, the rebels captured Lin'an, Guangnan, Mile, Xinhua, and other prefectures; in the sixth month, the rebels' forces drove straight for Fuxian Lake! In the seventh month, the traitor Lin took all of Jiangxi!"

He is the Governor-General of the five southwestern provinces, commanding over a hundred thousand troops!

When Pu Mingsheng rebelled, he did nothing; when An Bangyan clung to survival, he let him be; when the traitor Lin attacked Jiangxi, he turned a blind eye!

A man so content to draw his salary without doing his duty, so numb and indifferent, so willing to nurture bandits to inflate his own importance—what use is keeping him? Does he think I am young and easily fooled?"

All the ministers of the Grand Secretariat knew who the Emperor was talking about—none other than Fu Zonglong, Governor-General of the five southwestern provinces.

Since taking office, he had accomplished not a single thing: he had not eradicated the remnants of the She'an rebellion, he had not hampered Lin Qian's rear, and he had failed to suppress Pu Mingsheng's uprising.

But to be fair, Fu Zonglong had it hard as well. Years of continuous warfare in the southwest had long since emptied the treasuries. The court repeatedly issued edicts ordering Fu Zonglong to press toward Guangxi, only for him to suffer heavy losses at the hands of Qin Liangyu.

The situation in the southwest had long since deteriorated to the point of utter rot, nowhere near the glory of the days when Governor Zhu presided over it.

Moreover, with Jiangxi lost and grain transport along the canal disrupted, the court offered no support whatsoever to the southwest—money, grain, troops, all of it Fu Zonglong had to figure out himself. He could only frequently mobilize native chieftain troops, which in turn precipitated Pu Mingsheng's rebellion, throwing Yunnan into a situation beyond recovery.

But these were words none in the Grand Secretariat dared speak to the Emperor.

Two months earlier, Yang He, the Governor-General of the Three Frontiers in the northwest, had just been stripped of his post and imprisoned for his failed policy of appeasement. The Emperor personally sentenced him to death by beheading, and even several officials who pleaded for mercy had been thrown into prison.

Before the imperial desk, Chongzhen continued to rage without pause.

Zhou Yanru knew in his heart that the chaos in the southwest was not Fu Zonglong's fault—removing him now would likely cause all the southwestern provinces to rise up in rebellion at once. He was about to speak in admonition and take the responsibility upon himself.

But then he heard Chongzhen's voice gradually soften. After a moment of silence, Chongzhen actually sat down directly on the imperial steps, remaining silent for a long time.

Zhou Yanru knelt on the ground, able to see only the Emperor's dragon robe and dragon boots. Not knowing what had happened, he was secretly turning the matter over in his mind.

Suddenly he heard an extremely faint sob reach his ears. Zhou Yanru was greatly alarmed. Listening more carefully, he heard the Emperor's weeping growing louder and louder. "Your Majesty!" Zhou Yanru's heart ached, and he hastily kowtowed repeatedly. The Grand Secretariat ministers behind him did the same.

They heard Chongzhen say in grief: "Since I ascended the throne, there has not been a single matter in which I have not done my utmost, nor a single day in which I have not worried for the state. Why has it come to this—configurations spreading across all four directions, east, south, west, and north?

I have exhausted every strategy and have no further recourse. You ministers are all trusted confidants of the court—you must each offer good counsel to save the Great Ming from peril!"

"Your Majesty!"

"Wuwu... Your Ma—..."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yanru and all the Grand Secretaries below him wept bitterly. Some kowtowed until their heads bled, yet not one person offered a single strategy in reply. Chongzhen waited a long while, then said: "Do you ministers have any method to teach me?"

The Grand Secretaries only wept.

Chongzhen let out a long sigh and said forlornly: "Go, all of you. Grand Secretary Zhou, I trouble you to draft an edict of self-blame for me."

The Grand Secretaries withdrew one after another, but Zhou Yanru alone remained prostrate on the ground, still weeping, unmoving.

Chongzhen waved his hand and said: "Go. I do not blame you."

Zhou Yanru kowtowed and said: "Your Majesty, your minister has one strategy."

Chongzhen was overjoyed: "Speak quickly."

Zhou Yanru asked the Emperor to dismiss those around him, and Chongzhen granted it. When no one else remained, Zhou Yanru said: "Your minister requests the transfer of the Guanning Army south to suppress the rebellion!" That evening, the Emperor and the Chief Grand Secretary held a secret discussion for a long time. The next day, Chongzhen issued the edict of self-blame and urgently summoned Sun Chengzong, Zu Dashou, and Cao Wenheng to the capital. Meanwhile, the Great Ming court deliberated on the plan for sending the Guanning Army south.

In the residence of the Duke of Qian in Kunming, Yunnan, Mu Tianbo and his mother, Lady Chen, were also actively suppressing the rebellion.

Facing the dire straits of the court paying no heed, the Governor's disastrous defeat, and all of Yunnan having no troops to deploy, Lady Chen's so-called rebellion-suppression was better described as self-rescue.

After all, even if the court were to send troops, the journey from the capital to Kunming was over four thousand li.

And Pu Mingsheng's vanguard had already occupied Mili Prefecture, less than two hundred li from Kunming, with only Jijiang Prefecture standing in the way.

Should Jijiang Prefecture also fall, Kunming would be in imminent peril.

To preserve the more than two hundred years of inheritance of the Duke of Qian's household, and to spare the people of Yunnan from the ravages of war, Lady Chen had no choice but to summon the native chieftain troops into Kunming for defense. Lady Chen was not unaware that using native chieftain troops to check a native chieftain rebellion was drinking poison to quench thirst—but with matters at this point, there truly was no other way.

Ever since Qianning Prince Mu Ying first entered Yunnan, the Mu family had garrisoned the province for over two hundred years, winning deep support from the people, and the surrounding native chieftains submitted willingly. Now Lady Chen could only hope the chieftains would, for the sake of more than two centuries of goodwill, help the Mu family in their hour of need.

In the ancestral hall, Lady Chen knelt upon a cushion, facing the memorial tablet of Mu Ying at the very top, hands pressed together in prayer, beseeching without cease.

At that moment, the steward suddenly announced from outside the door: "My Lady, Sha Dingzhou has sent word that he will ride out at dawn tomorrow to meet the enemy."

Lady Chen let out a long sigh of relief and gave endless thanks for the protection of her ancestors.

Among the native chieftains she had summoned, Sha Dingzhou had the most troops and the greatest power. Since arriving in Kunming, he had used insufficient rewards as an excuse to delay going out to battle, causing Lady Chen considerable headache.

At last, after generous rewards, he was willing to lead his troops to meet the enemy.

Lady Chen said joyfully: "Convey the Duke of Qian's words—say that after the rebellion is suppressed, the Duke of Qian will petition the court for merit on his behalf. Pu Mingsheng's territories may be carved off and given to him, and the Annan Native Chieftaincy may also be bestowed upon him."

The steward acknowledged the order, then said: "Sha Dingzhou also said that tonight he wishes to personally take his leave of the Duke of Qian and my Lady."

"What?" Lady Chen was thrown into a fluster. "No! Tell him the hour is late, and that I and the Duke have already retired..."

"Yes." The steward was just about to withdraw when a servant came rushing in from outside in a panic: "My Lady! My Lady! A troop of native chieftain soldiers has arrived outside the residence, clamoring to enter!"

Lady Chen sprang to her feet, her face drained of all color from fright. She murmured: "It's over... Take the Duke here at once! All the womenfolk—" Before she could finish, shouts of killing erupted outside the residence.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen