“What can we even do now?” someone beside him asked. “Just let things keep getting worse?”

“Neither you nor I can do anything. That’s the emperor’s stance — even if the Empress Dowager were still alive, there’d be no way around it!” the leading old minister sighed. “Great Liang is doomed…”

He Chang’an had just arrived and happened to hear those words. His heart sank at once, and he stepped aside out of view.

“Let’s go, everyone head back for now. If it truly comes to nothing, we’ll all retire and go home to live out our remaining years in peace,” someone said dejectedly, and the crowd scattered, heading off in different directions.

Frowning slightly, He Chang’an thought it over for a moment before striding into Zichen Hall.

“You’re here?” Unlike his earlier temper, the emperor’s voice was now full of exhaustion. “Come help me think of a way. They’ve made it plain they mean to go after Hua Chun.”

He Chang’an sat down at his bedside, brow furrowed. “The hearts of the people have scattered, and so have the hearts of the officials. I honestly don’t know what could turn this around.”

“It’s no longer a question of whether things can turn around.” The emperor rubbed his temples. “These mediocre men, faced with trouble, only know how to blame others. Before long, they’ll pin every bit of responsibility on Hua Chun and demand she bear the blame for the nation’s misfortune.”

“That…” He Chang’an’s face paled slightly. “Surely it won’t come to that?”

“If you don’t believe it, you’re welcome to wait and see.” Yuwen Jie said quietly. “It’s time to start preparing certain things.”

“What plan do you have?”

The emperor shook his head. “As bad as things are now, I have no plan. All I can do is wait — wait and see just how bad it gets.”

“Alright.” He Chang’an nodded and glanced at him. “When will you recover from this illness?”

“I don’t know.” Yuwen Jie coughed twice, frowning. “Until I’m well again, don’t send her back to the palace. Take good care of her.”

“Yes.” He Chang’an agreed, and thinking of Hua Chun, his heart filled with worry.

Listening to the rumors outside, Hua Chun too sensed that something was wrong. As the disaster dragged on, resentment would inevitably build, and since one couldn’t blame the heavens for a natural disaster, the blame would fall on a person — and in the end, that scapegoat would surely be her.

“What am I supposed to do about this?” Hua Chun propped her chin in her hand, wishing she could discuss it with Yuwen Jie. But they couldn’t meet now, and even writing letters wasn’t safe. She’d have to figure this out on her own.

Qing Niao tried several times in the dead of night to sneak away, but each time Hua Chun caught her and dragged her back.

“Why are you so gutless?” Hua Chun frowned. “Nothing’s even reached its end yet, and you’re already thinking about surrendering?”

“If this servant stays, I’ll only drag you down with me,” Qing Niao said. “It’s better if I leave. Once I’m settled somewhere, I’ll write to you with an address — you can visit when you have time.”

“Like hell you will— what nonsense is that!” Hua Chun glared. “You leave and then send a letter with an address? I’ll write my own name backwards if you do! Behave yourself!”

Qing Niao sighed and let herself be dragged back, shut up in the room, staring at the leaden sky, feeling that a great disaster was about to fall.

Her instincts weren’t wrong. At the height of spring, a city near Yanjing broke out in smallpox, and refugees fled in every direction. Before long, a mob of angry commoners came to storm the temporary palace, demanding the emperor execute the wicked consort who was cursing the nation.

“Wow, they’re pinning a hat that big on me?” Hua Chun said, astonished. “Don’t tell me my standing has risen high enough to rival Daji and Baosi now?”

Qing Niao was nearly frantic. “This is no time to joke! You need to think of a way to run, now!”

The temporary palace was surrounded on all sides by rioters, like something out of a zombie siege. The emperor wasn’t here, the Marquis of Gongyu wasn’t here — only the palace guards stood between them and the mob, and no one knew how long they could hold.

“Kill the wicked consort! Only her death can calm heaven’s wrath and the people’s fury!”

“Yes! Kill the wicked consort!”

The roar shook the sky. Hua Chun slumped over the table with a sigh. “Can’t even get out of here. What now?”

Qing Niao was in tears. “We should have just stayed at the Marquis’s estate! Now look at what state we’re in! This is the outskirts of the capital — even if the Marquis and the others rushed here, it would take forever!”

“What’s the mood among the court officials right now?” Hua Chun asked.

Rui’er hesitated, and Hua Chun waved a hand. “Just say it plainly. There’s no need to spare my feelings anymore.”

“Three days ago the ministers submitted a joint petition, asking that Your Ladyship and the… the demon in your womb be offered as a sacrifice to heaven.”

What? Hua Chun clicked her tongue. “They’ve really gone that far off the deep end?”

Rui’er lowered her head. “Master Zhili first spread word that something was wrong with you. Then someone claimed you were carrying a demon from another world. No one spoke up to defend you, so the rumor only grew wilder, until almost everyone believed it as truth.”

Hua Chun sighed. “So it turns out that saying ‘walk your own path and let others talk’ is foolish after all — if you don’t correct the rumor, people take your silence as agreement! It seems the situation can’t be salvaged now. Besides the emperor, everyone under heaven is probably hoping I die so their disaster will lift, aren’t they?”

Rui’er pressed her lips together and gave a small nod.

Qing Niao frowned. “If someone has to lift the disaster, it should be me.”

“Do you think, at this point, if you stepped forward, they’d believe you could lift the disaster?” Hua Chun pursed her lips. “They’d just think I was afraid to die and pushed a maidservant out to take my place!”

“Then what do we do?” Qing Niao asked urgently. “You’re pregnant! If something happens to you…”

Her eyes darted about, and then Hua Chun said, “There’s a saying — something about finding life in the face of death, or drawing water from beneath the cauldron. I think it might work here. Qing Niao, come here — draw me a hydraulic pressure diagram.”

Huh? Qing Niao blinked, and before she could gather her wits, Hua Chun had already pulled her along.

The mob surrounded the temporary palace and made a ruckus for an entire day before He Chang’an’s men finally dispersed them.

“Come with me.” He Chang’an said, his expression grave. “We’re going back to the palace first, we’ll figure out the rest there.”

“I can’t go back.” Hua Chun said. “If I go back now, it will only push the people into forcing the palace’s hand even further.”

“But…”

“Second Brother, don’t worry.” Hua Chun handed him a diagram. “Within two days, if you and His Majesty can find someone to build this, I still have a chance.”

What was this thing? He Chang’an blinked and took it, studying it with a puzzled expression.

“There’s a written explanation on it. Give it to the emperor — he’ll understand.”

“…Alright.”

While the court ministers were still restless, news suddenly broke —

The emperor and Noble Consort De had had a falling out.

“What happened?” someone asked urgently. “How did they fall out?”

“Noble Consort De refused to attend the Empress Dowager’s funeral procession first, and now she refuses to cooperate with the great master’s prayers for the nation. His Majesty has finally had enough of it and flown into a rage!”

Was that really true? The restless officials and commoners alike seemed to see a glimmer of hope. Several high ministers, led by Tang Yue and Lü Sanbian, hurried into the palace to beg the emperor to execute Noble Consort De to protect the nation’s fortune.

They had expected the emperor to hesitate a while longer. Instead, Yuwen Jie, his face dark, coughed and said, “As Master Zhili advised — burn Noble Consort De as a sacrifice to heaven!”