Ren Qing came alone to the outskirts of the city, not far from the current grain-drying yard, and noticed that the nearby farmsteads presented a perfectly calm, rippleless scene.
The sun had already climbed overhead, and the farmers on the field ridges straightened their backs.
Behind them, a woman was wiping the faces of two children rolling all over the ground. The younger one was still babbling as he learned to speak, clutching a blade of wild grass and stuffing it into his mouth.
"Time to go, time to go. We're done with the fields—let's head home and have a couple ounces of rice wine!"
The farmer slung his hoe over his shoulder, the back of his coarse cloth shirt already soaked black with sweat.
The woman called for the children to follow, muttering, "A few days ago, Old Li said the city hasn't been peaceful lately. Quite a few people have died."
"Don't run your mouth."
The farmer grunted. As he passed the village entrance, he ran into an old man squatting beneath a tree and smoking a dry tobacco pipe.
"Have a drink some other day?" The old man knocked the ash from his pipe bowl.
"Haha, sure. I'll have the missus steam a couple more buns when the time comes."
As they chatted idly, several more people returned from the fields. They spoke of nothing more than whose pig had given birth, whose child had learned to write, yet before evening, they all made their way toward the farmstead outside the city without prior arrangement.
No one noticed that countless Mouse Children were silently moving around the farmstead.
Before long, they had completely surrounded it.
Ren Qing remained silent. At some point, four disciples had quietly arrived at his side, while Ling Weizi stood respectfully nearby, awaiting