Shengjing was swarmed with frail scholars from all over the world, heading towards the Imperial Palace to present a petition.
To present a petition, one had to knock at the palace gate.
Knocking at the palace gate was of two kinds: beating the drum to lodge a complaint, and intercepting the Emperor's carriage to cry out the grievance.
To those wailing at the Imperial Palace, not a few scholars were seized by the guards. Yet still, like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, others continuously arrived to knock at the palace gate.
Imperial Censor Shu was talking to Ji Ge with a yawn, a book hugged in his arms.
"Why would the Seventh Prince seek me out to explain the book's meaning to you all of a sudden?"
"In the entire court, only Imperial Censor Shu wouldn't speak ill of me behind my back."
Imperial Censor Shu nodded: "Indeed, those people are very hypocritical."
While they were talking, they heard the intermittent screams echoing from afar.
