The streets and markets of Chaoge had nearly thirty percent fewer people than half a year ago.
Zhao Sixth Brother, who sold cloth, packed up his stall, tied the three remaining bolts of cloth together, hoisted them onto his shoulder, and headed home.
When he passed the city gate, he glimpsed a fresh sheet of yellow paper pasted on the notice board and leaned in for a look.
It was a conscription order, stamped with the vermilion seal of the Yin Shang royal house, requiring every household to provide one able-bodied man and report to the great camp west of the city within three months.
Zhao Sixth Brother stared at that paper for a long while, remembering that there had been a conscription order like this last year too. His eldest son had gone to Dongyi and never come back.
He turned away with the cloth on his shoulder. After walking a short distance, he heard people behind him murmuring in low voices.
Have you heard? General Zheng of Lintong Pass took three thousand personal troops and defected to Xiqi the day before yesterday.
Really? But Zheng Lun was personally promoted by the king—
What use is a promotion? The king kills people at the drop of a hat. Who dares follow him?
Shh, keep your voice down! If someone hears—
The voices were scattered by the wind.
Zhao Sixth Brother quickened his pace.
When he turned into the alley, he looked back toward the city gate, and the panic hanging in his chest sank down, then rose again.
He felt the atmosphere in the city growing more and more wrong, as if even the wind carried a faint scent of alarm.
Households with a few connections on the streets had packed up their valuables early and gone east. A