Because of the advance notice, many people were absent-minded today, occasionally raising their heads to glance at the sky.

Zhao Hu and Zhao Song were the same.

As noon approached, seeing the sun still hadn’t appeared, the impatient Zhao Hu returned to his room. He couldn’t help complaining in his heart, “Why publish such things in the gazette? If the guess is right, there’s no benefit, but if it’s wrong, the consequences are endless.”

He had just sat down in the room and hadn’t even taken a sip of tea when there was a cry of alarm outside. Wu Yin stumbled in, shouting, “Master, Master, the heavenly dog is really eating the sun!”

Zhao Hu’s hand trembled, and he dropped the teacup he had just picked up and rushed outside, scolding, “What are you shouting about? The gazette already said this isn’t called a heavenly dog eating the sun, it’s because the moon is blocking the sun…”

Bursting out the door, there was still sunlight outside, but the sunlight was quickly being replaced by shadow. He raised his head toward the sky and saw that the originally brilliant and round sun had lost a corner, and then that missing corner rapidly expanded, slowly covering the sun’s entire appearance…

A shadow fell. Unable to resist looking directly at the sun, tears streamed from Zhao Hu’s eyes, but at this moment, the panic in his heart overwhelmed the discomfort in his eyes, and his hands began to tremble.

It truly was a solar eclipse. Could it be that Heaven was warning Zhao Hanzhang and the Zhao clan?

Those with guilty consciences are indeed timid. Unlike Zhao Hu, the common people on Luoyang’s main streets watching the solar eclipse were initially panicked, but after someone shouted, “Immortal Guo really calculated it correctly, there really is a solar eclipse!” everyone felt less afraid.

Then people raised their heads together to watch the gradually darkening sun in the sky, continuously discussing excitedly, “Is it really the moon blocking the sun, thus causing the solar eclipse?”

“If it’s not a heavenly dog eating the sun, do we still need to beat gongs to scare away the heavenly dog?”

“Perhaps we can scare away the moon.”

The gongs were already prepared. Not beating them would make their hearts feel uneasy, and their hearts were still somewhat panicked, so they wanted to beat something.

Others felt the same way, especially as the sun gradually disappeared and a shadow covered them. Although it wasn’t dark enough to impair vision, this shadow not only covered their heads but also covered their hearts.

No one knew who started it, but with the first gong sound, people on the main street began to make a ruckus. Those with gongs beat gongs, those without gongs beat whatever was nearby, and those with nothing at all simply shouted “Hey! Hey!” toward the sky, as if driving away a dog.

It seemed that even after hearing the educational explanations, they still couldn’t change their understanding of the heavenly dog eating the sun.

The sounds from the streets and alleys converged in one place, seemingly transmitted not only to the imperial palace but also to the heavens.

At a certain moment, the sun was completely obscured, then, as if intimidated by their clamor and efforts to drive it away, the shadow began to recede, revealing a crescent-shaped sun.

When all the people saw this, they became even more excited and beat their implements even more vigorously.

A waiter in a restaurant desperately beat the basin in his hands. Seeing the sun beginning to reveal itself bit by bit, he excitedly patted the person beside him and said, “I scared it away, I scared it away…”

As the shadow gradually receded and the sun fully revealed itself again, people cheered and jumped, hugging and leaping. Only then did the waiter realize that the person standing beside him was the proprietor.

The proprietor was dazed from his patting, but he didn’t blame him. Seeing his unease, he praised, “Well done. You have a share of the credit for scaring away the heavenly dog.”

Only then did the waiter become happy and cheered with everyone.

The common people in Luoyang seemed to be celebrating as if they had won a great battle. The proprietor was also very happy and immediately said, “Today, everyone who comes to eat will receive a free plate of Beating the Heavenly Dog!”

Nearby people heard this and quickly asked, “How do you make Beating the Heavenly Dog?”

“The heavenly dog is represented by pork. If you want to know how it’s made, come in and eat to find out.”

Everyone became truly curious, so they crowded into the restaurant. Before long, the restaurant was filled with people from top to bottom.

Everyone had just worked together in battle, so their feelings were good and their conversation was lively. They didn’t mind sharing tables. Soon, the restaurant had barely any standing room left.

Not even during the busiest time preparing New Year goods before the year’s end had there been so many people.

The proprietor had already run to the back kitchen, having the kitchen urgently devise a dish called “Beating the Heavenly Dog,” then he leaned against the door watching outside, frustrated that iron wouldn’t become steel. “What are those other restaurants doing? Business is right there and they don’t know how to earn it, don’t know how to think. They should imitate us! My place is already full.”

The head chef ignored the proprietor. The back kitchen was incredibly busy at this moment—who had time for idle chatter?

Seeing no one responding, the proprietor could only regretfully go to the front to attend to customers.

The proprietors of other establishments also quickly caught on and successively launched “Heavenly Dog Eating the Sun” set meals, either offering free dishes, wine, or snacks. In any case, they all pulled the people from the streets into their shops to consume.

Luoyang was a scene of prosperity. Because there had been advance notice and so many people faced it together, the common people’s hearts didn’t feel panicked.

But not everyone had the optimism and ease of the common people. In the capital, many scholars slowly withdrew their gazes, their hearts like winds sweeping over ocean waves, unable to calm for a long time.

Zhao Hu felt mostly fear. Zhao Song felt bewilderment, murmuring, “Is this a bad thing or a fortunate thing?”

In the Jiangnan Assembly Hall, Gu Rong withdrew his gaze and let out a long breath, looking toward He Xun. “What do you think?”

He Xun blinked away the discomfort in his eyes, tears flowing from the corners as he said, “This is the Mandate of Heaven. Guo Jingchun was right—Heaven’s mandate lies with the Zhao clan.”

A celestial omen as warning—most likely even Heaven couldn’t bear to see the Sima family usurping the throne and tearing the realm into fragmented pieces.

However, for Zhao Hanzhang to succeed without leaving future troubles and to prevent ritual propriety and morality from continuing to collapse, she would still need to build momentum. These twenty-plus days of gazette publications were preparation for building that momentum, weren’t they?

He Xun hoped Zhao Hanzhang could treat the young emperor kindly. The morality of this realm had already collapsed into fragments because of the Sima clan—it couldn’t get any worse.

So he hoped she could pick up those fragments.

With this celestial omen, her replacement would be justified and proper. He hoped she wouldn’t make the scene too bloody and further corrupt people’s hearts.

Gu Rong also turned his head toward the direction of the imperial palace, murmuring, “I wonder if that young emperor can survive to adulthood, and the Prince of Langya’s family…”

He Xun sighed. “If he can survive three years, the morality of this realm can recover somewhat. How can we presume upon the conscience of a decisive military general?”

A hundred miles away from Luoyang, the solar eclipse had only progressed halfway when light slowly fell back upon Fu Tinghan. Not until the last bit of shadow receded did he withdraw his gaze, looking at his fingers marked with nail prints, murmuring, “Three hundred twenty-five counts, roughly five minutes and twenty-five seconds. An annular eclipse—here it’s an annular eclipse. So what they saw in Luoyang was a total eclipse? Then what they saw in Chen County should have been a partial eclipse. I wonder at what time it was seen, how much difference there was…”

All around was silent. Fu Tinghan turned back only to discover that Fu’an and the guards had all knelt on the ground, their faces pale as they looked at him.

Fu Tinghan smiled and waved at them. “What are you kneeling for? Let’s go, continue our journey. We won’t make it back to the capital today…”

—