Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

In the early morning, the morning mist hangs heavy, enveloping the earth like a light veil.

Zhu Cilang looked at the boundary marker beside the fork in the road; the three characters "Huai'an Prefecture" were already blurred and difficult to discern.

Along the way, the mountains and rivers remained the same, but the people and things had changed, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy.

After a long and arduous journey, the three finally stepped out of the territory of Huai'an Prefecture and stopped at this fork in the road.

Bian Yujing moved gracefully, slowly stepping towards the intersection on the left.

"The journey is long and arduous; cherish each moment."

She suddenly stopped, turned around, and bowed to Zhu Cilang and Song Anying.

"If you ever visit Jinling in the future, you may visit the 'Lanxin Pavilion' for a short while. I will burn incense and wait for the moon in the capital."

Before she could even process what was happening, Bian Yujing had already turned and left, her figure gradually disappearing into the morning mist.

Upon hearing the name "Lanxin Pavilion," Zhu Cilang immediately pictured the exquisite pavilion on the banks of the Qinhuai River, with the plaque inscribed "Poetry, Wine, and Elegance" hanging above it.

Although it is a place of pleasure, it is famous in Jiangnan for burning incense and boiling snow. It is a gathering place for scholars. When playing the zither and playing chess, new calligraphy works are often directly mounted as screens.

The elegant, slender calligraphy of the Hanlin Academy scholars and the wild cursive script of the Jiangnan scholars complement each other beautifully, a scene far superior to that of ordinary pleasure quarters.

By the time he regained his senses, Bian Yujing's figure had already disappeared into the hazy morning mist.

......

Three days later, Zhu Cilang and Song An entered Luzhou Prefecture.

After the rain, the sky was as clear as a washed porcelain vase, and the wet marks on the green stone streets were still visible.

The streets and shops were bustling with people, and bursts of laughter and conversation could be heard from the teahouses.

The two stepped across the shimmering puddles and headed straight for the Luzhou Prefecture post station.

Zhu Cilang pondered: If he could reach the post station smoothly, he might be able to rest for a while and gather information.

Along the way, pedestrians thronged shoulder to shoulder, and children could be seen laughing and chasing each other on the street.

The waiter was refilling the storyteller's tea for the third time, amidst the cheers and applause of the audience:

"The salt merchant Zhang took his eighth wife the day before yesterday."

At the central crossroads of the city, crowds gathered on the cobblestone path, which was as wide as a three-horse carriage.

A short, stout young man in brocade robes, with a round face and chubby cheeks, and narrow, mouse-like eyes, was arguing with a woman with several followers.

Zhu Cilang and Song Angang stood at the edge of the crowd when the earthenware bowl on their left suddenly clanged loudly.

The bowl mender shook his head and sighed as he hammered in copper nails:

"What a disaster! That salt smuggler Zhang Yuan, relying on his vast wealth, is going to gnaw holes in Luzhou City."

The oil seller beside him chimed in:

"This young lady, Xiao Cui, is probably going to suffer a great deal!"

Zhu Cilang's brows furrowed slightly.

This is yet another example of wealthy young men oppressing the common people; in chaotic times, such injustices are commonplace.

Zhang Yuan was seen cracking his whip, the tip almost poking the woman's nose.

"You lowly servant, do you dare to throw dirty water on my finest Shu brocade robe?"

The woman staggered backward, knocking over a bamboo basket. Her disheveled hair clung to her pale face, and her voice was barely audible.

"My lord, please understand... Just now, your horse was startled and trampled, which caused me to accidentally knock over the bucket of water..."

She wore a faded blue cloth shirt with fine patches on the hem, and her face, which looked about fifteen or sixteen years old, was like a gardenia covered in dew.

She sat slumped on the bluestone slab, her coarse cloth skirt stained with mud, tears welling in her eyes, her expression one of terror.

Zhang Yuan kicked the bamboo basket three feet off the ground, and a few green bamboo strips brushed past Xiao Cui's ears.

Xiao Cui staggered as she hurriedly picked up the scattered bamboo utensils, but he stepped on her hand.

"You've dirtied my cloud-patterned shoes!"

Zhang Yuan rubbed the soles of his boots back and forth.

"Do you even know what's embroidered on these boots? A golden python! You think you're worthy to touch them?"

Xiao Cui's eyes welled up with tears from the pain.

"Young master, please have mercy... young master, please have mercy... I'm weaving these bamboo strips to earn money for my mother's medicine..."

Zhu Cilang took a small half-step forward.

He was indignant, but he was also mindful of his identity—this trip was clandestine, and it was best not to cause any trouble.

Just then, a breeze swept through the alley, causing the stray hairs at Xiao Cui's temples to fall loose, and the rosy light illuminated the cinnabar mole behind her ear, making it appear dazzlingly red.

Zhang Yuan's whip, which he had swung halfway through the air, suddenly stopped, his narrow eyes fixed intently on that mole:

"What a beautiful and charming young lady!"

The ferocity on his fat face faded, replaced by a hint of frivolity.

"I was just angry for a moment, please don't take offense."

"Come back to the manor with me, and I'll have plenty of gold bracelets and silver bangles. Isn't that better than serving that sickly old man of yours?"

Xiao Cui grew increasingly frightened and retreated repeatedly:

"No...no...I'm betrothed to Wang Ergou, the bamboo craftsman from West Street. Please, sir, spare my life..."

"Wang Ergou?"

Seeing Xiao Cui retreat in increasing fear, Zhang Yuan smirked and burst into wild laughter at his followers.

"Tomorrow I'll make that peasant kneel down and write you a letter of divorce!"

Before he knew it, Zhu Cilang was already standing at the very front of the crowd.

He clenched his fist slightly inside his sleeve, then forced himself to relax it.

However, her brows were lowered, and her gaze towards Zhang Yuan revealed a hint of dissatisfaction.

"Where are your dog eyes looking!"

Zhang Yuan seemed to sense this gaze, his fat cheeks twitched, and his riding whip whistled as it pointed directly at Zhu Cilang's nose.

"When I'm teaching manners, I can't stand pedantic scholars putting on a saintly face!"

The curve of Zhu Cilang's lips revealed a touch of gentle warmth:

"Young master, you are too magnanimous to argue with a woman from a humble background. I would like to offer to compensate on her behalf; would ten taels be sufficient?"

These words immediately caused an uproar.

Ten taels of silver is enough for an ordinary family to live on for half a year. The onlookers whispered among themselves, their gazes toward Zhu Cilang filled with curiosity.

Zhang Yuan forced a cold smile:

"Hey! Where did this down-and-out come from, acting all high and mighty? Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror? Do you think I need your ten taels of silver?"

Five or six servants in brown robes formed a semicircle, emitting bursts of laughter.

Zhu Cilang stared at the Salt Transport Office token on Zhang Yuan's waist, knowing that this matter would be difficult to resolve.

This scoundrel dared to abduct a woman in the street; he must have pulled strings with the local government.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the railing on the second floor of the teahouse and saw two yamen runners in black uniforms eating melon seeds and drinking tea, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

At that moment, Song An's whispered words echoed urgently in his ears:

"Young master, even a powerful dragon can't suppress a local snake. It's better to avoid trouble..."

He sighed inwardly, realizing that ultimately, power was stronger than man.

Knowing it's unfair, yet having to temporarily avoid the limelight, leaves one with a bitter taste in their mouth.

"Indeed, proceed to the post station immediately."

He responded in a low voice, determined to no longer witness the injustices of the world.

The two bypassed the crowd, with Zhu Cilang in front and Song An following behind.

Zhang Yuan crossed his arms, glancing sideways at Zhu Cilang and the other man, a mocking smile playing on his lips:

"Get out of here!"

Just then, a servant in brown robes, seemingly annoyed that they were blocking the way, suddenly and rudely pushed his way to the side.

Zhu Cilang was unable to dodge in time, stumbled, and in his panic, stepped forward with his right foot, stepping straight into a small puddle.

Song An was shocked to see this and was about to speak up to warn him.

The sewage splashed high into the air with a "whoosh," and the murky water seemed to have eyes, splashing all over the brocade robes on Zhang Yuan's back.

Zhu Cilang's heart sank, and he thought to himself:

"Oh no, this is a situation where we have no way to defend ourselves."

But for some reason, seeing Zhang Yuan's disheveled appearance gave me a sense of satisfaction.