My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

Large raindrops pounded on the eaves, breaking into a white mist of water vapor, then trickled down the corners of the eaves like beads from a broken string, pattering onto the bluestone steps.

Several dark figures wearing straw raincoats crept in from different alley entrances, their brown fur soaked by the rain, making them look like water ghosts crawling out of the water.

Rainwater streamed down the blue tiles of the wall, forming streaks of white, and pounded on the leaves of the crooked locust tree in the corner, making the whole tree tremble.

The door to the main room creaked shut in the wind and rain, the latch making a dull thud as it fell, shutting out the storm.

The main room was still lit by only a very dim oil lamp.

The wick was only the size of a soybean, and the flame flickered in the draft, casting long and short, distorted shadows on the walls.

The air inside was stuffy and damp, mixed with the sour smell of old wood and the burnt fumes from burning lamp oil, making one's throat dry.

Three figures sat around a table lit by an oil lamp, their faces shrouded in shadow, only occasionally catching a glimpse of their features when the lamplight flickered.

The young voice spoke first, its tone so high-pitched and somewhat shrill due to excessive excitement.

He leaned forward, his fingers gripping the fabric on his knees tightly, his knuckles turning pale from the force, and even his sleeves trembling slightly.

"An opportunity! This is a golden opportunity!"

The man with the goatee sat in the main seat opposite him, the oil lamp barely illuminating the lower half of his thin face, his carefully grown goatee trembling slightly with his breath.

He smiled, speaking slowly and deliberately, tapping the table with his right index finger, causing the flame of the oil lamp to flicker with each tap.

"Don't get so excited, this is just the beginning, there's still a lot to do..."

The young man immediately sat up straight, placed his hands clasped in front of his abdomen, his Adam's apple bobbed, cleared his throat, and adopted a composed demeanor.

"Ahem, you're right, you're right, I got a little agitated."

The goatee didn't say anything more to him, but pondered for a moment before getting down to business: "I think the next step could be to start with the refugees, for example... spreading some rumors..."

He raised his left hand, spread his five fingers, and slowly beckoned to the other two.

Everyone immediately crowded around, their three heads pressed against the nearly extinguished oil lamp, their noses almost touching, their breaths almost mingling together.

The poor flame was so frightened that it suddenly shrank, and the halo shrank to the size of a fingernail, leaving only a dim light in everyone's eyes.

The three heads huddled together on the table, and the goatee muttered something in a very low voice.

The flame of the oil lamp suddenly leaped, casting the shadow of his goatee on the opposite white wall, twisting it into a strange, long horn.

A young, high-pitched voice quickly rang out again: "Brilliant! That's a ruthless move!"

Another deep, husky voice nodded in agreement: "Excellent plan!"

Goatee nodded: "Since everyone agrees, let's proceed with this plan for now. If anything changes or we're unsure about anything later, we can meet again using a code. However—"

He paused for a moment, then slowly raised a finger and pointed it at the two people in front of him through the air. His voice suddenly turned deep, and he gave a final warning.

"It's best to avoid contact until it's done. If Wang Meng's men find out what we've done... our heads won't just be on our necks, they'll be hanging on the city gates!"

"Don't worry, we'll save money!"

……

The last person to emerge from the courtyard was the one with the deep, hoarse voice. He was dressed in casual clothes, his straw hat pulled low, revealing only a conspicuous black mole on his chin.

Even after they came out, the rain continued relentlessly, the cold rain stinging the man's straw hat with a dense, bean-like pattering sound.

Water had begun to accumulate in the sunken areas of the courtyard, and raindrops created a dense array of bubbles on the surface. As one bubble disappeared, another would rise up.

A layer of withered leaves, battered by the rain, floated on the surface, emitting the stench of decaying plants.

He waded through the water, slowly walked to the gate of the courtyard, and locked the door.

Then he turned around and waved to his side.

The dark shadow that had been clinging to the base of the wall and almost blending into the damp brick wall immediately came to life.

Like a gecko, it silently slid out, quickly approaching, its breath held to a minimum.

This is his attendant.

He gestured for his attendant to come closer, and then whispered a few words in his ear.

His lips moved rapidly beneath the black robe, but the already faint sound was completely swallowed up by the heavy rain, not a sound reaching anywhere else.

After listening, the attendant didn't ask a single question, but simply nodded slightly and turned to disappear into the rain.

……

A few days later, rumors began to circulate among the refugees. They spread quickly and widely, and became quite a hot topic.

Mo City is a city located almost in the very center of the Great Flame.

Hundreds of refugees had already gathered on the official road about a hundred miles outside Mo City.

The heavy rain was still falling, and it was completely dark. As the refugees huddled together in a makeshift shed to rest, they heard someone speak from the crowd.

Looking through the light emitted by the fire that had finally managed to rise in the center—

The man was squatting at the very back, his knees drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees, his soaked, tattered clothes clinging tightly to his body, shivering slightly.

The flames flickered, casting his shadow on the surrounding tarpaulin, which twisted into the shape of a curled-up shrimp.

His small eyes were bloodshot, his lips were dry and cracked, with dark red scabs forming at the cracks. Fresh blood would seep out with the slightest movement, and a thick white coating could be seen on his tongue when he spoke.

"Do you know why this rain keeps falling? It's all because of Wang Meng!"

He suddenly raised his voice as if in anger, and the veins on the side of his neck bulged out like earthworms.

The shrill voice pierced the sound of the rain, making it audible to everyone nearby.

The people nearby, who had been sprawled out in a haphazard manner, all turned their heads upon hearing this shout.

Many people quietly pricked up their ears, some even holding their breath, their cloudy eyes reflecting the flickering firelight mixed with a vague unease.

"Because Wang Meng overthrew the Shu Dynasty, and now he wants to give the throne to Ye Ling'er, who doesn't have the same surname. Although Ye Ling'er is Shu Jingwei's daughter, she now bears the surname Ye, not Shu!"

He spoke faster and faster, his spittle mingling with the rainwater dripping from his hair, spurting from the corners of his mouth.

"So God was unhappy and sent down natural disasters to punish us!" He said with a face full of hatred. After saying this, he punched the muddy ground next to him, splashing mud and water all over him.

He froze, reluctantly withdrew his hand, and made no further move.

However, his words suddenly sparked the thoughts of the refugees in the shed, and for a moment no one noticed his unusual behavior.