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

This is a makeshift rain shelter built against one broken wall, with the other three sides constructed from a few thick logs and a large piece of tattered tarpaulin.

The shed was next to the official road, built on a slope. Beyond the broken wall on the slope, there were large areas of low-lying fields.

The continuous heavy rains have turned the fields below the slope into a muddy mess, with murky water forming shallow pools on the surface, covered with withered branches, fallen leaves, and other debris whose original form is obscured.

The soil at the top of the slope was so soft and loose from the rain that a single step could sink halfway into the sole of your shoe.

The muddy ground around the shed was covered with footprints of varying depths, some of which had accumulated water, the murky surface reflecting the gray sky above.

The distant horizon was swallowed by the rain, a hazy gray expanse, as if the sky and the earth had been crumpled into a single, soaking wet rag.

The tarpaulin was not big enough; the hanging fabric could not completely cover the inside, and the edges were still a bit far from the ground.

Rainwater streamed down the edges of the tarpaulin, forming continuous jets that pounded against the soft mud beneath, splashing up tiny droplets and quickly carving a shallow ditch along the edge of the shed.

There were also a few holes in the top, but fortunately they weren't too big. Rainwater leaked down from these places, creating a row of tiny pits on the muddy ground.

The air was filled with a damp, heavy smell, a mixture of sweat and mud.

There was also a faint, acrid smoke rising from the brazier, from burning damp firewood.

The lighting inside the shed was so dim that it was almost impossible to see each other's faces.

Only the half-dead firewood in the center emitted a faint orange glow, casting the shadows of the people huddled together on the oilcloth, flickering from time to time.

Occasionally, a muffled rumble of thunder would roll across the horizon, its sound extremely low and deep, making one's chest feel heavy.

More and more people gradually gathered around the person who was speaking.

After a while, some people started to chime in.

He was a thin, old man with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and cloudy eyeballs that slowly moved within their sunken sockets.

Because he had lost several teeth, his lips were sunken, and he spoke with a slight lisp, having to purse his lips every few words.

"Yes... the Shu Dynasty has been established for a hundred years, and it has never rained this heavily before..."

The old man shook his head as he spoke, then sighed.

Raindrops leaked through the hole in the tarpaulin above his head, hitting his graying hair. The water droplets trickled down his sparse hair and into the collar of his shirt, but he seemed to be too numb to feel it.

He was just squatting against the other side of the wall, his hands tucked into his sleeves, the cuffs worn shiny.

Beneath my bottom was a filthy straw mat, its edges stained with mud and emitting a rotten, grassy smell.

"Although Shu Jingwei is cruel, the ancestors of the Shu family are watching from heaven! Wang Meng must have gone against the will of heaven and been punished by the gods!" Another middle-aged man exclaimed, his eyes wide.

He squatted near the central brazier, wearing a coarse cloth shirt that was still dripping wet. He lifted the hem of the shirt and brought it close to the brazier, trying to dry it a little.

The charcoal fire in the brazier crackled and hissed from the dripping rain, sending up wisps of white steam that mingled with the smoke and hit his face, making him squint.

The firelight from the brazier shone down on his face, casting deep shadows on his cheekbones and brows, making his face appear twisted and grotesque.

He spoke in a very loud voice, as if he wanted to pour out all the fear and anger that had been bottled up inside him for days.

"Now that you mention it... it seems to be true!" Someone slapped their thigh, the "smack" sounding particularly loud in the now quiet shed.

He was a tall, thin man who looked to be in his early twenties. His knees were covered in mud, and his trouser legs were coated with a thick layer of it.

After staying in the shed for a while, the outside had dried into a hard shell. When I patted it, the mud shell cracked in several places, revealing the still wet mud inside.

After he finished taking the picture, his eyes lit up, as if he had suddenly understood something, and he continued, "Wang Meng had just decided to give the throne to Ye Ling'er when the natural disaster struck!"

"This rain is God telling us! He doesn't agree!"

A young woman screamed, her bangs sticking wetly to her forehead, stray hairs falling from her temples and clinging to her mouth and chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and it was impossible to tell whether the tears or rain were streaming down her face.

She was holding a child wrapped in cotton cloth, but the cloth was soaked through. The child's lips were white, and he had cried until he was silent. Only his little chest was still rising and falling slightly.

The woman shouted as she hugged the child and moved closer to the brazier.

"It seems we must set things right! Otherwise, this rain will never stop!"

The speaker was a tall, displaced person.

He stood up from the crowd, a full half a head taller than the others, his head almost touching the tarpaulin on the roof, which was dented by the rain.

He was wearing a coarse tunic that had become stiff after being soaked in mud and water and dried a little, with several patches on it.

The color of the fabric was no longer discernible, covered with patches of yellow mud that was neither dry nor wet.

His shoulders were extremely broad beneath his short blazer, his arms were muscular and bulging, there was a very long old scar on his forearm, and his palms were covered in calluses.

After shouting those words, he squeezed out of the crowd, his rough hands pushing aside the people blocking his way, and stood on a broken cart on the side of the shed that was used to hold up the tarpaulin.

The mud was soft and wet, and the cart wheels sank quite a bit into it. When he stepped on it, the cart wobbled several times, but eventually it stabilized.

He coughed twice, and once all eyes were on him, he raised his arm and shouted loudly to the refugees below.

The sound pierced through the rain and reached the ears of every refugee who was looking up.

"Heaven is angry! We must set things right!"

He paused, lowered his head, and scanned the crowd with his eyes—

Faces, distorted by rain and fear, were looking up at him.

He nodded in satisfaction and continued shouting, his voice even louder than before.

"Although Shu Jingwei is now crippled and can no longer be emperor, doesn't the Shu family still have a second princess? That's a legitimate member of the Shu family bloodline!"

"Once the Shu dynasty returns to power, Heaven's wrath will surely subside, and the natural disasters will cease!"

After he shouted, several of his companions who were already crowded in the crowd immediately joined in, raising their arms and shouting.

They were scattered in different parts of the crowd, but at the same time they raised their fists and shouted, and the sound seemed to come from all directions.

"Support Princess Shurou! Set things right! Annoy the wrath of Heaven!"

Their fists swung in the air, each movement sending water droplets from their sleeves flying and hitting the faces and bodies of those nearby.