Squeezed Dry, Officials Drive the People to Rebellion

The flames in the fire pit crackled and popped. Sparks bursting from the charcoal trembled in the wind, lighting the faces around them. The fire stretched their shadows long, like iron chains locking them fast to the ground.

"Is everyone here?"

A gray-haired old man looked over the familiar faces around him.

They were all familiar faces. Many had grown up under his watch; some had worked alongside him in business, while others had fought and cursed in the streets with their fathers.

Li Fourth of the Li Family, the eldest son of the Wang Household, Second Uncle Zhang, and all those whose words carried weight among the village's several clans had arrived.

"Er Xiao has returned from the Tian Family estate. Registrar Tian said that not a single fraction of this year's taxes can be spared. They must be paid as in previous years."

"But this year was struck by disaster. Didn't the court say that the money and grain taxes of disaster-stricken prefectures and counties would be remitted?"

A middle-aged man furrowed his brow.

"Registrar Tian said that among the counties reported as disaster-stricken, there was no Wenning County. The county magistrate even received the court's commendation for it, praised as loyal and devoted to the state."

"That dog of an official—is he trading our lives for his career?"

"That Tian bastard isn't any better. Doesn't he just want to skim a share while collecting taxes?"

The crowd below seethed with indignation. The old man said nothing, only edged closer to the flames.

When people grew old, they became especially afraid of the cold.

They hoped to stay close to the fire. They hoped there would be more people at their side.

"Registrar Tian said that this year's money and grain must be collected as usual. The rules