Chapter 33: Immortal Temple Cherishes the Common People

When the first ray of dawn light fell upon the land of the Great Han, the latest issue of the Long Peace Morning Post spread like snowflakes, quickly becoming the hot topic of discussion on every street and alley.

On the front page, a sharply worded, righteous and solemn article prominently featured the text 'Destroy the fallacies of prophecies, establish the light of reason—uphold the proper course of the Great Han'.

Like a thunderclap, it exploded amid this ever-changing situation.

The article opens with a mighty tone: 'Vast heaven and earth, how can we allow the deceitful prophecies to run rampant! Now there are rebellious feudal lords, harboring ill intentions, scheming to use absurd prophecies to deceive the good people of our Great Han, incite rebellion—their hearts deserve death, their actions deserve contempt!'

The article, over a thousand words long, thoroughly analyzes the nature of prophecies, cites many historical precedents and real cases, and explains in plain terms that they are merely superstitious lies fabricated by those with ulterior motives.

'From ancient times to the present, how many dynastic changes have been driven by human effort and circumstances—when has that illusory prophecy ever truly influenced the fate of a nation?'

'In the late Qin period, many rebels also invoked prophetic theories to stir the populace, but they were merely acting for personal gain, ultimately causing nationwide chaos, suffering of all living beings, and unbearable hardship for the people.'

'The prosperity of our Great Han relies on the enlightened martial prowess of the High Ancestor Emperor, the rest and recuperation of the Wen and Jing eras, and the joint efforts of past emperors, generals, and the common folk—how could it be shaken by such baseless prophecies?'

The Long Peace Morning Post not only condemned prophecies in words, but also paired them with vivid illustrations.

In the illustrations, the feudal lords are depicted as sly, greedy wolves, manipulating banners covered in prophecies in the darkness, while the people are shown as bewildered, frightened lambs shrouded in the gloom of superstition.

Beside them, the text annotates: 'The rebels use prophecies as a net to capture the hearts of our Great Han people; they employ superstition as a poison, hoping to corrode the foundation of our dynasty. How can we stand by and let them succeed?'

To further strengthen its persuasiveness, the newspaper also invited renowned scholars and eminent Confucians from Chang'an City to offer commentary.

Dong Zhongshu wrote: 'Those who believe in prophecies are heretical opposers of the righteous path. We must uphold the sages' teachings, taking benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and fidelity as our standards, clearly discern right from wrong, and not be deluded by falsehoods.'

'The present court governs properly, the people live in peace and contentment—this is the smooth path of righteousness; how could we change course because of the rebels' fallacious words? We must wield the sword of reason to cut the tangled mess of prophecies and restore a clear and enlightened era for our Great Han.'

Among the marketplaces, people gathered in crowds, passing around this morning paper; their expressions shifted from initial panic and unease to steadfast clarity.

'It turns out these prophecies are lies fabricated by the feudal lords—I was almost deceived by them!' a young man exclaimed, indignant.

Beside him, the elder also nodded slightly: 'Yes, thanks to this morning paper, we have seen the truth. We must not be led by the nose by those treacherous officials; we should still trust the court and the emperor.'

In teahouses and taverns, people sipped tea and drank alcohol while heatedly discussing the contents of the morning paper.

A scholar in a long robe loudly said: 'This morning paper is truly beneficial counsel for the world! It should be widely disseminated so that more people know the harms of prophecies, and not let the rebels' schemes succeed.'

'The crowd responded in unison; for a while, the cries of 'Resist prophecies, support the court' rose and fell, echoing throughout the territory of the Great Han.'

However, beyond the reach of Great Han Media, especially in the fiefdoms and occupied territories of the feudal lords, the populace still firmly believed in the prophecies.

Moreover, Zhao State, the stronghold of the feudal lords' rebellion, has now completely sealed off the region, especially imposing the strictest blockade and destruction on the Long Peace Morning Post and Long Peace Evening Post.

The former capital of Zhao State, Handan, once a flourishing spectacle like fleeting clouds, now, under the continuous ravages of war during Emperor Wu of Han's era and the exploitative extortion of the greedy and lawless feudal lords, lies in utter ruin.

In the bitter winter month, heavy snow fell from the sky; what should have been an auspicious snow promising a bountiful year became the final straw that crushed the people's livelihood.

Every inch of land reeked of death and despair; streets and alleys were filled with corpses of the starving, while the endless white snow concealed countless frozen souls.

And those still struggling to survive were also driven to extremity by this endless suffering; some, unable to bear the burden, chose a decisive way to end this tragic life.

Chen Sans curled up in the dilapidated earthen-walled house, gazing at the children crying incessantly from hunger on the earthen bed, his heart felt as if cut by a knife.

He forced his weak body to move slowly to the wall corner, laboriously lifting the already empty grain storage jar; the last glimmer of light in his eyes also faded.

'How can I possibly endure this life! Heaven, please open your eyes!'

His sorrowful sobs seeped from his cracked lips, echoing in this cold room.

Suddenly, a knocking sound broke the mournful atmosphere inside the house.

Chen San replied weakly, 'Please come in,' and saw Chen Da rush in, carefully closing the door and vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

'Brother, why did you come?' Chen San asked in a feeble voice.

Chen Da quickly made a hushing gesture, and after confirming no one was present, swiftly pulled out two steaming, golden-yellow round objects from his bosom.

Instantly, the aroma of the food spread, and Chen San's parched intestines involuntarily spasmed—he had not eaten anything for three full days.

'Brother, what is this? Where did you get it?' Chen San's eyes filled with doubt and worry.

'Don't ask, quickly give it to the child.' Chen Da urged urgently.

Chen San had no time for anything else; he hurriedly fed the food to the child.

After the child had eaten his fill, he then took the remaining half, his hands trembling, his teeth gently nibbling at it, his eyes full of cherishment and reluctance.

'San'er, come with me tonight to work; each shift you can get four of these things.' Chen Da said softly: 'Also call over our close neighbors.'

'Brother, … won't this be dangerous? What exactly is this thing?' Chen San asked anxiously.

'Don't be afraid, it's the newly built Immortal Temple in the West City recruiting workers to make a thing called green brick. They provide two full meals a day, and you can also take away four of these foods.'

Chen Da further explained softly: 'I heard this food is called potato, cultivated by the new emperor; in Chang'an, every household can eat it, two meals a day!'

'Two meals a day? What a wonderful life that would be!' Chen San's eyes sparkled with longing, as if he could not believe such a life still existed in the world.

'Hmph! Unlike those feudal lords, who just a few days ago scavenged away our last rations!' Chen Da muttered resentfully.

'Brother, watch your words!' Chen San, frightened, covered Chen Da's mouth: '…I, a lowly commoner, would they even want me?'

'Rest assured, the old immortal of the Immortal Temple is kind-hearted; as long as you work, you will have food to eat, you can take potatoes, and they will also provide green bricks for building houses and paving roads.'

'Chen Da laughed, pulling out a piece of green brick from his bosom as if holding a precious treasure, and said: 'Look, this is it—the old immortal said our names are inscribed on it; even if lost, it can be recovered.'

'It is said that even the feudal lords have sought after this green brick; since it is a thing used by immortals, it will naturally bless us as well—even the imperial clan cannot escape its favor.'

Chen San took the green brick, his rough fingers lightly stroking the inscribed characters; though illiterate, his heart brimmed with gratitude and wonder.

'This old immortal is truly a good person; the child now has food to eat, and this winter we finally have hope!'

Chen San's eyes reignited with the fire of hope, and his weary body seemed to gain a bit of strength.

In this dark land where the feudal lords hold sway, stories like those of Chen San and Chen Da keep unfolding.

The people struggle in despair, while this faint glimmer of hope from the 'Immortal Temple,' though we do not know how long it will shine, has become their sole solace for persisting through this bitter winter.