Hot flashes

The Zheng family's men were scattered throughout the capital. Some stayed in inns in the south of the city, some stayed in temples in the north of the city, some worked as temporary laborers in small workshops in the city, and some simply built shacks at the foot of the city walls and mingled with the real refugees.

They do not gather, do not contact, and do not expose themselves. Each of them lies hidden in their own corner, like seeds sown in the soil, quietly waiting for the appointed moment.

On the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month, we sweep the house.

In the capital, every household was dusting. Brooms, feather dusters, and damp rags danced in every room. Dust was kicked up, swirling in the sunlight, and settling on the floor, on the tables, and on the old furniture that hadn't been touched all year.

The streets of Beijing are even more bustling than they were a few days ago. With the Lunar New Year approaching, more people are out shopping. Vendors selling New Year pictures, couplets, paper-cut window decorations, and firecrackers line the streets, their shouts echoing throughout the city.

The children clutched the firecrackers they had just bought, weaving through the crowd. Occasionally, they would light one and throw it out with a crisp snap, startling a passing woman who would scream and curse, "You little brat!" before the child would run far away.

Amidst this bustling scene, no one noticed that there were significantly more carriages and horses entering and leaving the city gates than usual.

The carts were piled with grain, cloth, timber, and stone, looking like ordinary New Year's goods transport. However, if someone lifted the tarpaulin and took a closer look, they would find that the grain bags were different from those sold in the capital city—the bags were printed with the marks of various prefectures, some from Qingzhou, some from Huzhou, and some from Songjiang.

The timber and stone were even more puzzling. In the dead of winter, not during the season for building houses, who would transport so many building materials to Beijing at the end of the year?

But no one lifted the tarpaulin to look. The guards at the city gate huddled in their posts, hands tucked into their sleeves, too lazy to even lift their eyelids.

With the year-end approaching, who would have the time or inclination to conduct thorough inspections? Besides, those motorcades all carried official permits from their respective prefectures, stamped with official seals, and had all the necessary paperwork, leaving no room for complaint.

-

The rumors first appeared at the Imperial College.

The students of the Imperial Academy enjoyed discussing politics on a daily basis, commenting on everything from border troubles to the Grand Canal to the imperial examinations.

But the topic that day was unusually focused and particularly sensitive—someone was talking about "destiny".

At first, there were only sporadic sounds. During breaks between classes, while eating in the cafeteria, and on the way back to the dormitory, students would gather in twos and threes, whispering to each other.

The discussion was remarkably consistent: the previous dynasty still had a direct descendant who had been living among the common people for many years; the current emperor, surnamed Xiao, although he had the merit of unifying the country, was not in accordance with the rites and was not legitimate in terms of succession.

Natural disasters and man-made calamities have occurred frequently: floods in the south, border conflicts, locust plagues, and epidemics—each and every one of these events serves as a warning from heaven and earth. A legitimate dynasty should be established to bring peace to the world.

No one can say for sure who said these words.

When asked, Zhang San said he heard it from Li Si; when asked, Li Si said he heard it from Wang Wu; when asked, Wang Wu scratched his head and said he heard it from someone in the teahouse yesterday.

Everyone felt they were just relaying information, and everyone felt they had no responsibility. Yet, through this excuse of "just hearing it," those words spread like wildfire throughout the capital.

On the 27th day of the twelfth lunar month, the rumors reached the Censorate. The censors had the power to report on rumors, and could submit impeachments based on the slightest sound without providing evidence.

This power, which was normally used to supervise officials and investigate wickedness, has now become a double-edged sword. Some people have begun to subtly mention words like "Mandate of Heaven" and "legitimacy" in their memorials, without speaking ironically or attacking directly, but simply using the most euphemistic language to "remind" His Majesty to pay attention to public opinion, appease the people, and eliminate potential threats.

The eunuchs standing outside the palace waiting for the imperial decree were so tactful in their wording and sinister in their intentions that even they sensed something was amiss.

On the same day, the storytellers in the teahouse suddenly started using a new set of words.

The old stories about the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin, and Yue Fei that we used to tell are gone. In their place are some seemingly plausible but actually false stories—such as "the mandate of heaven", "the birth of a true dragon" and "the dimming of the Purple Star". They sound like old clichés from historical novels, but upon closer examination, every word is like a poisoned needle, pricking the ears of those who are interested.

After the storyteller finished speaking, he struck the gavel and added, "Just listen to this, don't take it seriously." The audience burst into laughter and dispersed.

Zhou Heng asked Chen Shen to investigate the source of the rumors.

Chen Shen dispatched his secret guards to investigate for three days, and the results he found made him look very unpleasant.

"Young master, those words... we can't find out who said them first. We asked around at the Imperial Academy, and everyone said they heard it from someone else, but that 'someone else' seems to have vanished into thin air, we can't find them anywhere."

The situation at the Censorate was even more troublesome. The censors who submitted their memorials all claimed they were reporting based on hearsay, citing "rumors from the marketplace." If pressed further, they fell silent.