Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

The three of them turned into a narrow, overgrown path.

Song An led his horse, trudging through the thickets, one step at a time.

After passing through a barren field and rounding a dilapidated earthen wall, the woman on the saddle suddenly pointed her chin into the distance.

Nestled in the mountain valley, a cluster of gray tiles quietly emerges—that is the Earth God Temple in the western corner of Qingyuan Town.

The wind chimes on the eaves swayed gently in the wind, making a few soft, intermittent sounds.

The three of them hurried along the shady side of the mountain, turned past the empty threshing ground, and returned to Qingyuan Town.

The town was eerily quiet; there wasn't a sound in the streets and alleys.

Half of the houses had their doors and windows wide open, except for one bakery, whose wooden door hung askew, with knife-cut cracks still visible on the door frame.

Zhu Cilang used the tip of his knife to pry open the door of the bakery, the musty smell mixed with the aroma of burnt wheat.

Song An was the first to slip in. He exclaimed softly:

"There's a backdoor!"

As I stepped over the door frame, the noise startled a nest of rats on the beam, which scurried away.

They led the horse inside and tied it to the back porch.

Zhu Cilang gently closed the front door. There were fresh scratches on the inside of the door panel, several messy claw marks, it was unclear whether they belonged to a person or a beast.

As he turned around, Song An had already wrapped the cold, hard steamed bun in oiled paper and stuffed it into a hidden pouch under his saddle.

He tied a knot in the top of the bag:

"We need to prepare more food, otherwise we might run out of food."

Zhu Cilang took out a silver ingot from his waist and placed it on the dusty counter.

In chaotic times, survival is difficult for ordinary people; how can we take things for free?

He stared at the dusty counter—not knowing whether the owner of the house was alive or dead.

The aloof woman stepped into the inner room through the broken porcelain shards scattered on the floor, seemingly to tidy her disheveled hair.

This was indeed an ordinary pancake shop:

Facing us was a rough wooden cabinet covered in a thick layer of dust; against the wall stood an earthen stove, its opening cold and still, with some unburnt firewood piled up.

Every trace indicates that this place has been closed for a long time.

Zhu Cilang sat diagonally to the left of the only low table in the hall.

Just then, Song An took half a step back and suddenly performed a military-style fist salute:

"I am Song An from Chengdu Prefecture. Young Master Song is young, brave, and intelligent. I will never forget your help today."

Zhu Cilang sized up the short, lean man before him, who exuded an air of integrity, and quickly rose to return the greeting with a cupped-hand salute:

"Zhu Kunyao, Brother Song, you flatter me. It is Brother Song's horseback riding skills that are truly impressive and eye-opening."

Zhu Cilang did not reveal his identity as the crown prince, but instead used his name from his previous life.

Song An raised his hand and slapped his hip, his voice rising:

"As for riding skills, I dare not say that I am the best in the world, but I have worn out more saddle pads over the years than I have eaten grains of rice."

He patted his lean waist and legs again.

"Young Master Zhu, do you know why I, Song, have become so thin?"

"I would like to hear the details."

"The horse can run ten miles more if it carries two ounces less meat. Although it is thin, it is born to be a messenger."

As he spoke, he suddenly rolled up his trouser leg, revealing a scar on his calf:

"This was made with five years' worth of stirrups. Last year, it was used to deliver an urgent report to Fengyang. It took 620 li, traveling day and night. The postmaster said that there was no other pair of legs in the entire Ming Dynasty."

Having said that, he slowly sat down on the bamboo mat to the right of the low table, his voice suddenly becoming deep and somber:

"How hateful this world is! The post roads that used to deliver urgent messages over 800 li have now been trampled to pieces by the hooves of the Tartars."

Zhu Cilang's gaze swept over the slight bulge at the other person's collar:

"Brother Song, may I take a look at this letter?"

Song An's fingertips lingered at the lapel for a moment before he finally took out an oilcloth wrapping.

The letter paper had faded to a ginger yellow color, and the edges were curled up from sweat stains.

As soon as Zhu Cilang touched the paper, he smelled the scent of horsehide and gunpowder smoke—the smell of the battlefield.

The letter unfolds,

"Tianjin Wei has fallen"

Five words immediately caught my eye!

Zhu Cilang's heart sank. The gateway to the capital had fallen so quickly. Tianjin Wei had already fallen into the control of the Jurchens.

"At dawn on the 23rd of April, the Jurchens breached the east gate. In the street fighting, soldiers and civilians were piled up in seven layers of corpses, and the river water turned red for three days without receding..."

He suppressed his emotions and focused on the words "Three hundred households fought in the alley, their banners fell to the ground."

The soldiers fought valiantly, but the tide had turned against them… He folded the letter back along its original creases and handed it back, asking:

"May I ask, Brother Song, which government office should this letter be sent to?"

Song An carefully tucked the letter close to his heart before uttering three words:

"Luzhou Prefecture!"

Zhu Cilang slammed his hand on the low table:

"What a coincidence."

The low table trembled.

"Huang Degong, the General of Luzhou, is my esteemed teacher."

"If Brother Song is willing to travel with me, we can have mutual support along the way and receive military intelligence more quickly. Wouldn't that be convenient for both of us?"

Song An suddenly stood up, his right hand already clasped in a fist at his eyebrows:

"I never imagined it would be Huang Chuangzi—"

He abruptly stopped mid-sentence and changed his words,

"They're actually under Commander Huang's command."

"With Young Master Zhu by my side, this business trip will be much more reassuring."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a rapid sound of horses' hooves suddenly came from afar.

Zhu Cilang stood up and pressed himself against the crack in the door. Song An's breath was on the back of his neck, and their shoulders were almost touching.

Through a crack in the door, a group of Ming soldiers could be seen passing through the market, raising clouds of dust.

The leader, clad in fish-scale armor, was none other than Commander Wang.

The soldiers' boots clattered heavily, and the long spear in Scarface's hand gleamed coldly.

It was Commander Wang and his fifty soldiers who crossed the street and headed straight north.

The sound of horses' hooves gradually faded away at the end of the street.

Song An's face was terribly gloomy, and his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"During these days, I, Song, have personally witnessed Liu Zeqing and his ilk preying on the people, committing heinous crimes such as killing innocent people to claim credit and disregarding human life."

He gritted his teeth and said,

"Although I am just a messenger, I know my conscience."

"Once this letter reaches Luzhou Prefecture, I'll wear out my shoes and still make my way to Nanjing to appeal to the emperor."

Zhu Cilang looked at Song An, who was filled with righteous indignation. His pure heart was precious and admirable, but the court... sigh.

"Even if we reach Nandu, I'm afraid we won't be able to shake Liu Rutu in the slightest."

Just as Zhu Cilang was about to speak, a clear female voice came from the doorway, the last syllable carrying a hint of coldness.

The two turned their heads abruptly and saw the aloof woman standing at the door of the inner room.

Her previously disheveled hair was now neatly combed, and her eyes and brows exuded an air of elegance.

She paused briefly as she crossed the threshold, then gave a graceful bow in Zhu Cilang's direction:

"I am Bian Sai, a humble woman, and I am deeply grateful to you for saving my life. I am willing to repay your great kindness with my life as a token of my gratitude."

Zhu Cilang was startled. The name "Bian Yujing" suddenly popped into his memory. Bian Sai, one of the Eight Beauties of Qinhuai, was Bian Yujing.

Everyone knows that Bian Yujing was exceptionally talented, proficient in all the arts, including music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, especially skilled in small regular script. She was also well-versed in literature and history, and was a renowned talented woman in Nanjing.

But the woman before him was dressed in plain clothes covered in dust, which did not seem like the legendary beauty and talented woman who was said to be the most beautiful woman in Nanjing.

He quickly returned the greeting with a cupped-hand salute, his raised sleeve still adorned with bits of grass.

"You flatter me, young lady. My small contribution is nothing to boast about."

"I only regret that I was unable to save the other people; I am truly ashamed."

Bian Yujing tucked the loose hair from her temples behind her ears:

"Young master, at the age of twenty, you fearlessly drew your sword to protect the people in the face of danger. Such courage is truly admirable to the capital."

Her long eyelashes suddenly drooped.

"Having traveled the world, I have tasted the stench of wine in the mansions of the rich and the frozen bones on the road."

"Seeing such a virtuous and noble person as you, young master, I realize that the righteous spirit of heaven and earth has not been extinguished."

After speaking, she gave a slight bow.

Song An suddenly interrupted, cupping his hands in greeting and asking:

"Judging from what Miss Bian just said, she seems to have a clear understanding of the situation."

He slammed his palm against the earthen wall.

"But I don't understand, why did the young lady say that even if she went to Nanjing, it would be difficult to shake Liu Zeqing in the slightest?"

He pointed north, his anger barely contained.

"Liu Zeqing has committed numerous evil deeds; is the imperial court simply going to allow him to act so recklessly?"