Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Bian Yujing stood in front of the wooden door, a beam of light shining through the crack and across half of her dress.

"Brother Song, have you heard of the nursery rhyme that's been circulating in Jinling City lately?"

Song An shook his head blankly.

As Zhu Cilang heard "Jinling" and "Nandu" flowing between Bian Yujing's lips, he seemed to see the splendor of the Six Dynasties and the glory of yesteryear.

After Emperor Yongle moved the capital to Beiping, Nanjing was often referred to as "Nanjing" or "Nandu" when it was mentioned, and "Yingtianfu" was still used due to old administrative customs.

The people and literati of Jiangnan often used "Jinling" to express their historical sentiments, and when they talked about "Nandu," they often subtly criticized the incompetence of the imperial court.

As a talented woman from Jiangnan, Bian Yujing was naturally adept at using these titles.

She raised her head slightly and read out, word by word:

"Yellow reed cart, green bamboo horse, Liu-character flag, blood-painted picture."

She suddenly stepped aside to avoid the consecration band, her entire body enveloped in shadow.

"Last month, Qian Ge Lao's retainers were drinking at the 'Lanxin Pavilion,' and in their drunken state, they mentioned, 'Of the four towns north of the Yangtze River, three are tigers and one is a wolf.'"

Song An rubbed his calloused hands, his brow furrowed.

"I'm a rough guy, these convoluted riddles give me a headache."

"Could you please explain this to me more clearly, young lady?"

A shadow crept across the bridge of her nose, Bian Yujing explained:

"The word 'reed cart' is a homophone for 'Liu,' alluding to Liu Zeqing."

"Wherever his troops went, it was like a cart of withered reeds trampling over everything, leaving the people destitute."

She gently bit her lower lip with her pearly teeth.

"The 'Green Bamboo Horses' are even worse; it's said that they were incredibly cruel, using bamboo as counting sticks when robbing villages, counting the heads of the villagers."

"For every person killed, a bamboo pole was planted next to the pile of corpses, which was euphemistically called 'marking the camp horse stake'."

Song An's face turned deathly pale instantly, his eyes widened in anger, and his fists clenched involuntarily.

Zhu Cilang's stomach churned: Could this really be happening in the human world?

Bian Yujing suddenly stepped half a step out of the shadows.

"The so-called 'three tigers and one wolf' refers to the wolf eating carrion and the tigers stealing live prey. As for this 'blood painting'..."

She suddenly raised her face, a cold glint flashing in her eyes.

"Liu Rutu had long ago used the countless wronged souls of Shandong to paint a picture of a hundred ghosts parading at night for those big shots in Nanjing."

"How could such a 'master of painting' be brought down by just a few lawsuits?"

Zhu Cilang's heart sank.

'Four towns north of the Yangtze River, three tigers and one wolf'

Gao Jie, Liu Liangzuo, and Liu Zeqing were like three vicious tigers, holding military power, seizing territory, and oppressing the people.

Although Huang Degong was loyal, he was isolated, a lone wolf.

"A lawsuit won't win..."

Zhu Cilang's deep voice rang out.

"Then use something that can bring it down."

He did not specify what "the thing that can bring it down" was.

But these powerful words instantly drew the attention of both Bian Yujing and Song An to him.

Bian Yujing's eyes flickered slightly:

"What can bring it down?"

"Is the young master referring to another pen, another petition? Or...?"

Zhu Cilang said:

"Heaven's justice is clear, and retribution is inevitable."

"Those who are utterly wicked will one day find that the very foundation upon which they built their evil deeds will become the grave they have dug for themselves."

A complex emotion flickered in Bian Yujing's eyes.

"What you say about the way of Heaven is indeed the right principle. Heaven has eyes, and though it is wide open, it does not let anything slip through."

Her tone suddenly became sharp.

"But this 'inevitable retribution' seems to have come... far too late! Far too illusory!"

"In the fifteenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, Liu Rutu falsely reported a 'great victory at Dezhou,' but in reality, he massacred over four hundred people from three villages in Linqing and Dongchang, using the heads of innocent civilians to claim credit as a bandit."

Her speech quickened, sharp and piercing.

"When Han Ruyu, a supervising secretary of the Ministry of War, impeached him for his crimes, he was ambushed and killed by assassins when he arrived in Dongchang, Shandong. His blood stained the post road."

"Several months ago, his troops looted Jining, and another tragedy occurred, with the hands of eight hundred merchants being cut off as a reward for 'intercepting and killing bandits'..."

Bian Yujing's words were like knives, enumerating Liu Zeqing's many misdeeds in one breath.

As the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Cilang had naturally heard of such chaotic phenomena.

But now, these words, transformed into the woman's tearful accusations, made his throat ache.

His status as a fugitive prince placed an immense burden on him, so heavy that even breathing felt like a burning pain.

"This thief's evil deeds are too numerous to recount! But—"

Bian Yujing's eyebrows furrowed, her lips parted slightly, and each word was like a knife:

"But was the paint used in Liu Zeqing's blood painting perhaps a gift from the Forbidden City?"

Zhu Cilang was struck dumb.

This woman dared to directly offend the emperor; she possessed extraordinary courage.

That question, "Were the pigments a gift from the Forbidden City?" pierced precisely into the deepest recesses of his soul—

That is the mark of shame belonging to the Ming imperial family.

He felt an unprecedented sense of suffocation.

It was as if Bian Yujing had already seen through the true identity of the exiled prince beneath the guise of "Zhu Kunyao".

Song An's eyes widened in fury, and he slammed his fist on the table.

"Beast! Such heinous acts, is there no one in the court to restrain them?"

Bian Yujing smiled, but her eyes were filled with frost:

"The current Southern Capital court is corrupt and decadent, and its officials are all scheming and despicable."

"Who truly cares about the people's well-being?"

"The nation is on the verge of collapse; the Ming Dynasty is likely to perish in the hands of these treacherous officials!"

Zhu Cilang stared intently at her:

"If you dare to speak out in Qingyuan Town, where you dare not do so in the imperial court, then you are more willing to stand up for the people than the officials of the Six Ministries."

"You flatter me, sir!"

Bian Yujing shook his head, his tone desolate and indifferent.

"Yujing is nothing more than a floating duckweed on the banks of the Qinhuai River, drifting in a chaotic world, accustomed to the devastation, and filled with resentment."

"It is precisely because of heroes like you, sir, who turn the tide and save the day that you are the glimmer of light in this dark night."

"You flatter me, young lady."

Zhu Cilang paused briefly, looking at Bian Yujing as if trying to find some answer in her, before asking:

"Since you have witnessed so much of the world's suffering, I would like to hear your vision of an ideal world, how one would cultivate a paradise like Peach Blossom Spring?"

Bian Yujing's dimples appeared slightly on her cheeks, as if they held the springtime feeling of another world:

"The Peach Blossom Spring is not in the Wuling Stream, but in the streets and alleys of the city."

"A peddler doesn't need to offer his daughter to survive, and a poor student doesn't need to sell his property to seek an official position."

"When the soldiers of the nine border regions no longer need to cut off their ears to seek rewards, then that is the 'Peaceful Order' that I will sing."

She suddenly reached out and caught the falling spiderweb, her gaze distant.

"It should be about being carefree and unrestrained, doing whatever one pleases, for both men and women."

The voice faded, finally turning into a sigh.

"Such a peaceful and prosperous world is ultimately nothing but a mirage, a fleeting dream."

Bian Yujing's description of "Peach Blossom Spring"—every word of it pierced Zhu Cilang's heart.

Isn't this the prosperous era that Zhu Ming Crown Prince, by the mandate of heaven, was supposed to create for all the people?

The three sat facing each other for a long time, the oil lamp flickering in the breeze.

Bian Yujing was eloquent, with a cool exterior but a passionate heart, and he spoke his mind frankly and without any pretense.

Every word was like a torch thrown into a pile of dry grass, burning Song An's eyes until they turned bloodshot.

In the scorching firelight, Zhu Cilang saw his own shadow flickering on the earthen wall.

The shadow sometimes resembled a prince in a python robe with wide sleeves, and sometimes it transformed into a beggar in tattered clothes.

The matters she discussed mostly concerned the common people and the current state of affairs.

Bian Yujing seemed to carry a romantic idealism.

There seems to be a world within my heart, unconstrained by worldly conventions or bound by emotions, simply following my own heart.

When they set off at midnight, Song An wrapped the horse's hooves in two layers of coarse cloth.

Zhu Cilang rode his horse across the threshing ground, startling the night owls roosting in the haystacks. Their black wings fluttered as they swept towards the eaves of the earth god temple.

The night was as dark as ink, as if it would swallow them whole, with only the occasional twinkling starlight illuminating their path.