Hot flashes

Zhou Heng's expression darkened, but he didn't say anything and told him to leave.

On the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, the spread of the rumors reached its peak.

In the teahouses and taverns of the capital, almost every table was discussing "Mandate of Heaven" and "legitimacy".

Those topics spread like a plague, from the south of the city to the north, and from the north to the foot of the imperial city.

The discussions among the students went from being private to being semi-public.

Some people openly questioned the new imperial examination policy in class, saying, "If the selection of officials does not consider family background, then the rites and music will collapse."

Someone wrote a poem at the poetry gathering after class, which contained words like "destiny" and "Ziwei". The poem was copied by classmates and plastered all over the walls of the Imperial College overnight.

Some people even started posting anonymous petitions at the entrance of the Imperial College, which read, "The remnant of the previous dynasty is still alive; he should be welcomed and enthroned to rectify the foundation of the nation."

The number of memorials from the Censorate increased, and the wording became increasingly bold.

Some people have started to directly quote the concept of "divine mandate," saying that "celestial signs are warnings, and we should cultivate virtue to respond to Heaven," and that "popular resentment is boiling, and we should reflect on our actions to bring peace to the people."

The storyteller in the teahouse has started a new story.

This story tells of a loyal minister from a previous dynasty. After the fall of his country and the destruction of his family, he fled the capital with his young son and lived in hiding among the common people for decades, raising the prince with great hardship.

As the story reached its end, the storyteller struck the gavel and sighed, "Ladies and gentlemen, in this world, there is ultimately a legitimate dynasty." Some cheered, some clapped, and some secretly wiped away tears.

No one thought there was anything wrong with the story—loyal subjects protecting their masters is a matter of course; the legitimacy of the dynasty should not be abolished.

Those few days in Beijing were as lively as a pot of dumplings boiling over.

Anyone walking through this bustling place would only feel that the end of the year is approaching and all is well.

Li Xun stood at the entrance of the left camp's tent, holding a draft of the rotation notice in his hand, his fingertips slowly tracing the words on the draft.

He folded the note neatly and tucked it into his sleeve.

He was a captain in the Left Battalion of the Imperial Guard, in charge of the keys to several gates on the west side of the palace and the rotation schedule.

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, Li Xun arranged the duty roster for the shift change from New Year's Eve to the third day of the first lunar month in the duty room of the Left Camp.

He handed the schedule to the team leaders below, instructing them to take turns on duty according to the schedule. He then leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds outside.

Outside the duty room, several teams were checking the roster against the rotation schedule. A young soldier was squatting in the corner eating a cold steamed bun. In the distance, soldiers were carrying several large baskets of vegetables and meat into the room through a side door. This was the New Year's Eve feast.

The rotation of guards at the nine gates of the capital was quietly completed on the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month.

The nail that the Cui family had planted in the capital's garrison for four years was finally moved. The man, surnamed Sun, was a military officer in the Beijing garrison, in charge of the defense of Deshengmen and Andingmen in the north of the city.

He was more cautious than Li Xun. In the past four years, he never had direct contact with the Cui family. All instructions were passed through an intermediary who died in his own bed six months ago due to "excessive drinking." There was nothing suspicious about the cause of death.

After receiving the order, General Sun replaced the guards at the two city gates on the north side with his own men, citing the reason that "the end of the year is approaching and defenses are in a tight spot".

During the year-end period, the nine gates of the capital were already inspected more strictly than usual, and it was common practice to increase troop deployment. The Ministry of War didn't even ask a question and approved it with a stroke of their pen.

The Zheng family handled the canal wharves even more discreetly. They didn't need to send troops to seize the wharves, because they were already theirs.

The Zheng family had been operating the Tongzhou Wharf for three generations. Half of the dozens of people working there—the porters, accountants, managers—were surnamed Zheng, and the other half, who were not surnamed Zheng, also held a share in the Zheng family's business.

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, the Zheng family sent more than twenty "workers" to the dock under the pretext of "year-end settlement".

During the day, those men carried sacks, kept accounts, and moved and unloaded goods at the docks, just like any other porters. At night, they would put on leather armor hidden under the cargo hold and repack the containers that had been unloaded during the day.

The boxes contained knives, guns, and crossbows, and were sealed with "porcelain" seals. A small red dot was drawn on the corner of each box with cinnabar ink, a mark that our own people recognized.