On this night, Jinling City was different from usual.
It began with the weeping willows along the Qinhuai River, their slender branches trembling inexplicably. Then, atop Yuhuatai, the colored pebbles began to collide and grind against each other, releasing faint, mournful sounds. Simultaneously, on the dark waters of the Rear Lake in the north of the city, inexplicable ripples appeared, gently lapping against the city walls and Qintian Mountain on the other side. In the Beiji Pavilion atop Qintian Mountain, the bronze armillary sphere—which should have been as immutable as the North Star itself—began to quiver, its iron chains at all four corners rattling ominously.
Under the dim moonlight, the beautiful landscapes both within and beyond Jinling transformed into a series of beacon towers, each passing on disturbing omens to the next. Suddenly, the great bells of Jiming Temple, Qingling Temple, Da Bao’en Temple, and Chaotian Palace began to toll of their own accord, as if struck by an invisible giant hand. The bell sounds were urgent and chaotic, instantly reverberating throughout the entire city.
Before the city’s residents could open their sleepy eyes, the entire earth began to shake violently.
The Buddha speaks of six aspects of earthquakes: moving, rising, surging, shaking, roaring, and striking—and at this moment, all six manifested simultaneously. In an instant, Mount Zhong swayed, the Qinhuai River ran wild, and the city seemed to be invaded by thousands of iron-hooved mad horses. Everything trembled under this overwhelming force: from the government offices along Chang’an Street to the treasury warehouses and common houses at the Western Water Gate; from the Three Great Halls in the Imperial City to the shipyards of the Longjiang Supervisor; from the barbican of Jubao Gate to the unfinished glazed porcelain pagoda within Da Bao’en Temple.
The grandest and most magnificent city of the Great Ming now resembled a prisoner prostrating on the ground, submitting to Heaven’s punishment by the rod. Amidst the tremors, a gilded water clock in the Fengyi Hall crashed to the ground. Its float permanently stopped at the Hour of Zi on Dinghai Day, the eighteenth day of the fifth month, in the first year of the Hongxi reign of the Great Ming.