Looking at the scene, the scholars and students, though their expressions changed slightly, still tried their best to maintain composure.
The masses are often ignorant, easily swayed by externalities, and tempted by short-term gains before their eyes.
"We are not saying that Duke Zhu Shan was unworthy of merit in the past. We are saying that now, after the peace negotiations, he still clings to power and revels in military conquests..." one scholar said in a solemn tone.
The words were not yet finished when the agitated refugees from the northern lands surged forward again.
This time, it was no longer just cursing. Their eyes were red, brimming with anger, and someone had grabbed the scholar's lapel.
The scholar was startled and cried out in alarm.
"What are you trying to do?" he shouted.
The other scholars and students were also startled, but instead of fleeing in fear, they stepped forward to encircle the refugee.
The two groups stood in a standoff.
The on-duty government soldiers, their legs trembling, were also frightened. Was a riot about to break out? If these tens of thousands of people went mad, they wouldn't be able to stop them, and these scholars could be beaten to death on the spot!
The scholars and students, however, showed no retreat in the face of the overwhelming crowd; instead, their expressions became even more resolute.
"Zhu Shan, are you trying to incite a rebellion?" the leading scholar bellowed, stepping forward once again. "Then come on. Today, if you want to pass, you'll have to step over my body."
"Step over our bodies!" the scholars and students shouted in unison.
Though their numbers were few compared to the massive crowd, their momentum was fierce.
If this really broke out into a riot, it would undoubtedly be a great crime. The generals in the military formation were visibly alarmed.
"Duke, please say something," they implored urgently.
At this moment, only Duke Zhu Shan could stop these people.
But the Duke, who was originally about to address the scholars and people, stopped in his tracks, turned his horse around, and retreated.
"There's no need to say anything," he said softly.
No need to say anything? Why? The generals' expressions grew even more perplexed and uncertain.
Was he really going to let these refugees start a rebellion?
The whole situation was so strange. Could it truly be orchestrated by the Duke?
But we're talking about tens of thousands of people here; this isn't something that can be easily arranged...
The scene was tense, but the feared violence did not erupt.
The refugee clutching the scholar's lapel did not strike him, and the others did not swarm forward.
"What are we trying to do?" the refugee asked in a voice full of sorrow and fury, his red eyes locked onto the scholar before him. "No, we should be asking you: what are you trying to do? What do you take us for? Do you even see us as human beings?"
"Peace negotiations—are those just two light and casual words to you?"
"Ceding three prefectures—is that something you celebrate with joy?"
"You only think that with a peace treaty, there won't be any more fighting, and you can return to your peaceful lives. But have you ever thought about us?"
"We, the people of the three prefectures—hundreds of thousands of us! Have you ever thought about us? We are also human beings!"
"Have you ever thought that with just a few words, we are no longer Zhou people? That we, who have been Zhou people for generations, are now Jurchen people?"
"Have you ever thought what so-called peace will turn us into?"
"Under the Jurchen iron hooves, we are not even human!"
This barrage of questions left the scholar deathly pale and caused the expressions of the students and scholars behind him to change drastically.
"Yes, no more fighting. You can have your peaceful days back. But what about us?" an elderly woman trembled as she spoke. "Do you even know what the Jurchen do to us?"
"They massacred our entire village," a child screamed.
"They treat people like livestock," a young man shouted, tearing his tattered clothes apart to reveal whip scars crisscrossing his body. "We are like oxen and horses, beaten and killed at will."
"They use us as targets to practice their swordsmanship and archery. My entire family died at their hands," an old man sobbed.
"They eat human flesh."
"They use us as firewood."
A cacophony of cries and shouts erupted, recounting and describing the horrors. The crowd seemed to envision the scene of blazing fires and pervasive wails, and many began to sob uncontrollably.
Even the scholars were trembling uncontrollably.
"Here you are, eating well, dressed well, living peacefully, afraid at the mere mention of war, complaining at the thought of spending money," someone mocked.
"You, for the sake of your so-called peace, think that Duke Zhu Shan and these soldiers brought these disasters upon you out of their love of war. Do you have any conscience left?"
"The Jurchen don't treat us as humans, and neither do you."
"Why does Duke Zhu Shan not retreat? Why does he insist on fighting? Why do these soldiers march into battle, treating death as if it were life? Because they treat us as human beings, not disposable objects to be cast aside!"
"They refuse to retreat and refuse to stop fighting so they can save us, so they can bring the hundreds of thousands of people of the three prefectures back home. The prefectures were ceded, but the people were not."
The shouts and cries grew louder, and the crowd surged forward once more.
The scholars and literati, now trembling and pale, retreated step by step.
Suddenly, one refugee lunged at a particular scholar.
The scholar flinched and began trembling, only to see the refugee snatch the flagpole from his hands.
The white banner emblazoned with red characters read "Soldiers of a Fallen Nation."
The refugee stared at the words with bloodshot eyes before snapping the pole over his knee.
"Whether we are soldiers of a fallen nation is not for you to decide!" he shouted. "Whether we are guilty is not for you to decide!"
Countless refugees surged forward, trampling the broken banner into the ground.
"We decide!"
"We decide!"
The elderly leader of the refugees looked resolutely at the scholars.
"You want to question Duke Zhu Shan's crimes, the crimes of these soldiers? Then first, question our crimes—for it is we who are guilty, who have burdened the Great Zhou," he said in a strong, loud voice.
"Question our crimes!" came a resounding chorus of shouts, shaking the heavens and the earth.
Again, the literati retreated.
Again, the refugees advanced.
The elderly leader turned and looked at the military formation behind him.
"Duke Zhu Shan, they do not welcome you," he said. "We will welcome you. If they block the road, we will clear it."
He took a step forward as he spoke.
Countless refugees followed behind him.
"They do not praise your deeds. We will!"
"In the past, you protected us. Today, we will escort you!"
Step by step, group by group, they moved forward.
The scholars and literati retreated step by step.
The on-duty government soldiers no longer tried to stop them but moved to the side of the road, suddenly bowing toward the military formation.
The citizens of the capital, no longer hesitating, also stepped aside to the road, bowing toward the military formation as well.
The leading scholar watched as the refugees, supporting one another, moved steadily forward and finally sighed deeply.
"Where the people's hearts lie, how can there be any crime?" he murmured, turning and stepping aside.
Following his lead, the others, their faces ashen, moved aside without resistance as the advancing refugees approached.
The road was wide open, with no further obstruction.
Looking at the surging forward crowd, the generals in the military formation no longer held any fear. Their expressions were fervent and filled with emotion, akin to that moment in Yizhou when, on the verge of death in a desperate battle, they heard news of reinforcements arriving.
These people, unarmed and without horses or sharp weapons, once thought of as mere grass by those who protected them, now stood tall and unyielding like mountains.
They had never expected any repayment, but the repayment came nonetheless in this moment. This, perhaps, was the justice of heaven.
"Duke," they couldn't help but call out.
Duke Zhu Shan's expression remained serene.
"Let us proceed," he said softly, gazing at the people surrounding them in protection. He smiled faintly. "We are people too. Tell everyone to remove their armor and disarm."
The generals immediately understood, responding in unison and spurring their horses to deliver the order to the four directions.
As the order spread, thousands of soldiers dismounted, removing their armor and piling it into high stacks by the roadside.
"To the city," Zhao Hanqing herself removed her armor. Her petite figure became even smaller in civilian attire, yet her bearing remained commanding. Raising her hand, she gave the order with determination.
Thousands of soldiers mounted their horses again, now empty-handed and clad in plain clothes. With the guidance of the citizens ahead of them and the protection of the people to their sides and behind, they proceeded toward the city gates.
Among the tens of thousands of people, someone began to sing.
"My home in Yan and Zhao, broken and desolate."
"Mountains and rivers ravaged, barbarian cavalry running rampant."
The hoarse, tuneless voice was quickly echoed by the crowd.
"Thankfully there are good men, each worth a thousand."
"With fierce resolve, they face death as though it were sleep."
"The army cherishes me, more than even parents."
"For me, they brave fire and water without hesitation."
"Ten thousand hearts united, shaking even Mount Tai."
"With loyalty and righteousness, they defy the very heavens."
This was the song of victory that had spread across the northern lands. Soon, not only the citizens but also the disarmed soldiers on horseback joined in the singing.
Those soldiers, unburdened of their armor and weapons, who had seemed small and fearful before, now stood tall once more. Their eyes gleamed with determination, their spirits soaring.
They were not soldiers of a fallen nation.
They were not war-hungry glory seekers.
The blood they shed, the wounds they suffered, the hardships they endured—everything had been seen, remembered, and regarded as an honor by someone.
The thunderous waves of voices rolled over the land, surging toward the capital, unstoppable.
*********************
It's the end of the month today and the beginning of a new month tomorrow. A time to reflect on rankings and goals. I had many things I wanted to share, even drafting out a document, but ultimately, words can't compare to silence.
Let me write more stories, for this is my calling.
Let us read and listen to stories, for this is why you are here.
The winds may rage and waves crash, but a simple laugh can dispel all worries.
Today, there's just this one chapter. May I ask for your votes, both for this month and next? For all you wandering souls of Jianghu, my thanks know no bounds. I can only repay you with the strokes of my pen.
Also, due to health issues, updates have been posted by a friend on my behalf. To all those who have sent generous gifts, I haven't been able to list you properly in gratitude. Please allow me to extend my apologies and bow in thanks here.
Thank you to the esteemed "Bing from the South," and my beloved '? Last Shot?' Thank you to MD12君.
Thank you, Hui Hong, Annabellquan, Miss Jun, Xiuyu Zanghua, and Reader 160712005035044.
Thank you to the admins, the moderators, and all the readers. Thank you for being here. Your hard work is deeply appreciated.
(Total word count: 2,700 charged, including the author's notes: 2,900. It doesn't exceed 3,000, so there's no extra charge. Please rest assured. Special note provided.)