Damn it, I'm in the garbage book I wrote

Chapter 921 Punk, Real Punk
Public resentment hung heavy over Xianyang like dark clouds. The huge white screen had gone dark, with only the remaining light from the projector lens flickering in the darkness, reflecting the thousands of distinct faces below the stage.

The once bustling atmosphere had now turned into complete silence.

Although the silence was still, it seemed to carry a tremendous weight. In the previous hour or so, the scene of the dynasty's end, interwoven with sound and images, was too real. Like a cold scalpel, it dissected the seemingly peaceful and prosperous facade, revealing the rotten and festering flesh inside.

"Click."

Tuoba Jing turned off the projector, the last light source disappeared, and the square was completely plunged into darkness. Only the scattered lights of the distant streets outlined the dark silhouettes of the crowd.

"Woo..."

The first suppressed sob was followed by a deafening roar of crying, cursing, muffled thuds of chest-pounding, and heavy breathing born of extreme anger.

"Damn it, it's exactly like in the opera!" a peddler with a weathered face shouted hoarsely, his carrying pole long since thrown away.

Beside him, an elderly man with gray hair trembled violently, his withered hands gripping his son's arm tightly, and cloudy tears streamed down his face: "Son... your grandfather... your grandfather starved to death on his bed that year... the court said it would provide disaster relief, but after waiting for more than half a year, all they gave us were a few handfuls of bran mixed with sand... just like in the play, exactly the same!"

This cry was like opening a floodgate, unleashing a torrent of voices that had reopened old wounds.

"Exchanging children to eat... exchanging children to eat..." A young man who looked like a scholar murmured repeatedly, his face as pale as paper, as if the sage's teachings that had supported him for many years were crumbling before his eyes. "Four words on a book, yet they lead to this kind of scene..."

An old man selling candy figurines, his back hunched, wiped away tears with his sleeve and choked out to the people around him, “I was only ten years old back then…it happened in the village…it happened in the village…my little sister…my little sister died then…” He could no longer continue, only sobbing inexplicably.

Chaos spread like wildfire, unstoppable once it began.

In the front row, envoys from various countries whispered among themselves, their expressions filled with doubt and uncertainty. They might not fully understand the dialogue, but the despair and anger conveyed by the images, and the shocking rupture between the monarch and the people, were enough to make them re-examine the foundations of this Eastern empire.

Several officials from the Court of State Ceremonial tried in vain to maintain order, but their voices were completely drowned out by the clamor of the crowd.

Li Zhi suddenly stood up, a chill running down his spine. He had anticipated the tremors, but he hadn't expected such a near-out-of-control, overwhelming sensation. He also hadn't expected a film to evoke so many bloody memories of ordinary people. He subconsciously looked at Xia Lin beside him.

Xia Lin remained seated, her expression obscured in the darkness, only her fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest, as if echoing the chaotic rhythm of the outside world.

"Father……"

"Did you hear that?" Xia Lin's voice was unusually calm: "Was it exciting or not?"

On the other side, Douyazi had quietly left her seat. She disappeared into the darkness and quickly walked towards an inconspicuous carriage at the edge of the square. The curtain was lifted slightly, revealing the frost-covered profile of San Niang.

"This is going to be good." Bean Sprout still had that half-dead look on his face: "The dam is about to collapse."

Third Sister didn't turn around; her gaze was fixed on Xia Lin's retreating figure in the distance, her nails almost digging into her flesh: "He... he deserves to die!!"

“That’s how he is, isn’t it? You chose him, didn’t you?” Bean Sprout laughed. “The most urgent thing is to disperse the crowd immediately and prevent the riot from spreading.”

Third Sister's chest heaved violently as she finally forced out an order through gritted teeth: "Summon Wei Dingfang and order the Northern Garrison to clear the area immediately! All officials and soldiers present are strictly prohibited from discussing this matter privately! Anyone who spreads even a single word about the film's contents will be treated as a traitor!"

"Yes!"

As the heavy footsteps and stern shouts of the Northern Guards echoed around the square, Xia Lin finally slowly rose to his feet.

He coldly watched the imperial guards who came to drive away the people, his brow furrowing.

"Do you want to provoke public outrage?"

Xia Lin clapped his hands, and the surrounding guards stood up, separating the imperial guards from the civilians on both sides. The imperial guards faced their instructors and were at a loss for what to do. The two sides were locked in a standoff, but this time the imperial guards were clearly at a disadvantage because the guards were backed by a huge crowd of civilians.

"It's Marshal Xia!"

Someone in the crowd shouted, and suddenly everyone seemed to have a pillar of support. Their instinctive phototropism made everyone move towards Xia Lin's direction.

"Please follow Coach Xia's instructions and leave the field in an orderly manner. With Coach Xia here, please do not panic."

The secret service agents mixed in with the crowd began to step forward, holding torches and leading the people to evacuate from the square. The Northern Imperial Guards initially tried to stop them, but Xia Lin simply raised his hand, and the soldiers silently parted to let the crowd disperse.

That night, the Tang Dynasty was destined to tremble amidst silent thunder.

The content of a film is like an epidemic; even with strict orders, how can it truly be contained?

The atmosphere at the morning court session in the Taiji Hall the following day was predictably terrible.

On the throne, bloodshot veins appeared in Third Lady's eyes. Below the steps, civil and military officials stood with their heads bowed, none stepping forward first, even their breathing was deliberately soft, and each heartbeat was clearly audible.

The silence was finally broken.

A young censor from the Censorate suddenly stepped forward, his voice sharp with indignation: "Your Majesty! I risk my life to remonstrate! The images projected yesterday in front of Xianyang Palace were appalling, slandering the Emperor, subverting the natural order, and even inciting popular uprising, destroying the very foundation of our state! I implore Your Majesty to immediately issue an edict to ban this monstrous thing, severely punish those who produced and disseminated it, to uphold the law and bring peace to the land!"

These words were like igniting a powder keg.

"Your Majesty! The film places all the blame for the downfall of the nation on the emperor. How utterly rebellious! This is the very root of chaos that will ensue!"

"The people are in uproar. Unruly people are using this opportunity to criticize the government and slander the palace. This is a sign of the collapse of morality and social order!"

"I have heard that some foolish people in the marketplace have gone so far as to make far-fetched connections between this film and current politics, using veiled criticism to attack others. Their intentions are despicable!"

The public was outraged, their anger directed at the film and Tuoba Jing, and also subtly directed at Xia Lin, who had agreed to its screening.

On the dragon throne, Third Sister's back teeth were clenched. How could she not want to immediately grind the troublemaker to dust? But she knew even better that yesterday's screening was like opening a huge festering sore, and the pain was not only felt by the common people, but also by those in the imperial court.

Just as the outrage was reaching its climax, Fang Xuanling stepped forward slowly, his voice calm and steady, like a still well: "Your Majesty, in my opinion, while the content of the film is indeed earth-shattering, its novel technique and rapid dissemination are already established facts. Forcibly banning it would be like trying to block a flood, only to cause it to burst and make the rumors even more uncontrollable. The urgent task at hand is not to block it, but to guide it."

"Guide?" The Minister of War frowned. "Prime Minister Fang, how should we guide it? Are we to allow such words that shake the foundations of the nation to mislead the people?" "Not to let it run rampant." Fang Xuanling's gaze swept over the crowd, carrying the composure of someone who had weathered many storms: "Although the film depicts events from the previous dynasty or is a reenactment of events from another country, the many long-standing problems it touches upon, such as official corruption, deficits in grain and funds, and the decline of the people's livelihood, can indeed serve as a mirror for the present. Your Majesty can take this opportunity to issue a decree, proclaiming to the world, reiterating the court's determination to rectify official corruption, eliminate malpractices, and care for the people's suffering, thus guiding public opinion towards the right path of concern for national affairs and offering suggestions. At the same time, the circulation of the film can be restricted, and the relevant officials can be ordered to select the key points and write articles to refute it, in order to dispel public doubts and set the record straight."

His words were met with a moment of silence in the hall. This was undoubtedly a shrewd and experienced strategy, an attempt to maintain the dignity of the court while bringing the out-of-control public opinion back on track.

However, everyone knows that the wound the film inflicted was deep and cannot be easily healed by a few edicts or critical articles. It is like a merciless mirror, reflecting not only the fictional apocalypse in the film, but also the corners of reality that refuse to be exposed to the light of day.

The bell tolling to signal the end of court sounded particularly heavy. The officials left the hall with heavy hearts. San Niang sat alone for a long time before wearily closing her eyes.

"Where is he?" she asked in a low voice.

The female official replied cautiously, "Commander Xia left the city early this morning, saying he was going to Kunming Pool to inspect the waterwheel workshop."

Third Sister snorted coldly and said nothing more.

At this moment, discussions about that movie are spreading like wildfire in every corner of Changsha and Xianyang, far exceeding the imagination of those in the halls of power.

On the second floor of a teahouse facing the street in the West Market, several well-dressed scholars sat around a table, their tea already cold.

"Brother Wang, yesterday...did you go to see it?" a scholar in a blue robe asked in a low voice.

The scholar in brown robes, when asked the question, slammed down his teacup, spilling tea. "I've seen it! How could I not have seen it? It's simply... simply mind-blowing! In the past, when I read history, I only saw the words 'the people are suffering,' but yesterday I learned that behind those four words lies cannibalism! Utter cannibalism!"

"Be careful what you say!" An older scholar beside him quickly stopped him, glancing around warily. "Such topics are not suitable for public discussion."

"Why can't we discuss it?" the scholar in the blue robe said passionately. "What the film describes is a problem that has existed in every dynasty? Corrupt officials, exorbitant taxes, and layers of exploitation—who ultimately suffers? Is it scholars like us who have studied hard to serve our country? Or is it the common people who toil in the fields? It's just laying bare this bloody truth! If we don't even dare to discuss it, what's the point of our studies?"

The older scholar shook his head with a wry smile: "Brother Li, you are young and impetuous, unaware of the dangers involved. Such remarks, if not handled carefully, could lead to your death. Moreover, what the film depicts is ultimately a reenactment of past events; how can it be easily compared to our dynasty?"

“Analogy?” Another pale-faced scholar, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up. His voice was not loud, but it carried a chill: “I’m afraid analogy isn’t necessary. Last year, there was a snow disaster in Guanzhong. The imperial court provided relief funds and grain, but how much of it actually reached the disaster victims? The garrisons in various places were vacant, and how many of them were drawing salaries without working and exploiting soldiers? Are these also old stories from the previous dynasty?” He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone: “You and I know the truth.”

In the teahouse lobby, several laborers who had just finished unloading goods squatted in a corner, talking quietly over cheap liquor.

"That old emperor is just like our county magistrate!" a scarred man muttered. "My father was robbed of his grain by the government troops who were suppressing bandits, and he died of anger! Officials have no power; whatever they say goes!"

An older man nearby sighed, "Who says otherwise? It's just the same old story... When I was young, I was fleeing famine and saw people starving to death by the roadside. It was even more tragic than what's shown in the movies..."

These words silenced everyone present. In a corner of the teahouse, a middle-aged man dressed as an ordinary merchant silently put down his account book, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

Meanwhile, in a secluded courtyard in Chongrenfang, several richly dressed middle-aged men were also having a private conversation. This was not a top-tier aristocratic family like the Cui or Pei families, but it represented a powerful family within the Guanlong Group.

"The situation is getting tense." A fat man with an anxious face wiped the sweat from his brow. "There are already rumors circulating in the streets, implying our families' dealings in the canal transport and mining taxes... Although no names have been named, it's making people uneasy!"

"It's more than just rumors!" Another tall, thin man said with a gloomy face, "I've received information that the Changsun faction has already taken action. The people from the New Policy Inspectorate are like wild dogs that have smelled blood; they're probably going to use this opportunity to make an example of someone and establish their authority!"

"It's all that damn movie's fault!" the fat man said angrily. "That Emperor Wei is simply insane, a mad dog! And Xia Lin... what is he trying to do? Why does he have to cause chaos in the world?"

“What he wants to do is not important.” The old man, who had been sitting at the head of the table with his eyes closed, slowly opened them, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes. “What is important is how we should respond. To act rashly now would be tantamount to walking into a trap. Tell the people below to be more restrained lately, to quickly patch up any holes that need patching, and to cut off any loose ends… Be decisive! We absolutely cannot let the Inspectorate find any fault with us. We must weather this storm!”

Inside the palace, Third Sister's face grew increasingly grim as she looked at the newly presented secret report from her guards.

The secret report not only recorded the increasingly bold discussions among ordinary people, but also mentioned that some scholars had begun to discuss in literary gatherings topics such as "the people's right to rule the monarch" and "limiting the monarch's power and opening up channels for free speech," which were previously taboo topics that no one dared to touch. Some even linked the film to the repeated setbacks in the implementation of the new policies, saying that the obstacles were all due to "those in power being base and unable to plan for the future."

"Arrogant! Insolent!" Third Sister slammed the secret report to the ground.

At this moment, the entire Li Tang dynasty was in a state of collapse. This was something that had never been mentioned in ancient texts. No one knew how to deal with it, and everyone could only take it one step at a time, feeling their way across the river.

Meanwhile, the source of all this turmoil—Tuoba Jing—was at his residence enthusiastically explaining his "art of sound and image" to several young female fans who had come to see him because of his filmmaking skills.

He didn't care about any of this, and was even proud of it. He told the girls that next time he would do something even more outrageous, that he would film the Five Barbarian Invasions, so everyone could see men and women tumbling around in a giant pot. The girls were terrified by Emperor Jingtai, but he laughed heartily and even took out a script for "The Five Barbarian Invasions" from his box and placed it on the table: "A ruler's word is law. If I say I'll film it, I'll film it. Take a look first, see if it's exciting."

The other source, Xia Lin, quietly appeared in Changsun Wuji's study.

Without exchanging pleasantries, Xia Lin cut straight to the point: "The Xianyang Trade Fair not only cannot be stopped, but it should be made even more exciting."

Changsun Wuji looked at the composed Xia Lin before him, his heart filled with turmoil. He knew he couldn't stop. Xianyang was now the focus of the world's attention; to hastily end things because of a movie would be tantamount to showing weakness to the world.

"Marshal Xia, rest assured," Changsun Wuji took a deep breath, "The trade fair will proceed as scheduled. It's just that this uproar in public opinion..."

"Public opinion is like a fire, capable of refining true gold," Xia Lin said calmly. "Simply issuing an edict to defend oneself is like trying to stop boiling water by adding more water. This shouldn't be difficult for you, right? But I'd like to ask Xiao Wuji, do you plan to leave one page or three pages in the history books?"

Changsun Wuji's gaze sharpened: "What does Marshal Xia mean?"

“If you want to keep one, then listen to the old woman’s arrangements. She’s quite capable and can calm things down.” Xia Lin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “But if you want to keep three, you’ll have to be ruthless. Don’t you understand yet? You can’t be a representative of the aristocratic families like your uncle. They’ll just treat you like a dog.”

Changsun Wuji's heart skipped a beat; he understood completely. But this plan was extremely risky, like dancing on a knife's edge; one wrong move and he would be burned alive.

"Then I'll make the arrangements right away." Changsun Wuji tightened his jaw. "I hope Marshal Xia can lend me a hand."

"Do you still need me?" Xia Lin paused for a moment: "Isn't this the moment when the monarch's power is at its weakest?"

Changsun Wuji's eyebrows twitched a few times, and then he hurriedly left to make arrangements. Xia Lin stood alone by the study window, looking at the thick clouds gathering above Chang'an City.

Well, Xia Lin causing trouble is nothing compared to Tuoba Jing causing real trouble.

Ah, the Tang Dynasty at this moment...

A storm is brewing, and the wind is already blowing through the building.

(End of this chapter)