Jinghe Year Fifteen, Third Month, Twenty-Second Day.
Before dawn broke, frost bells shook the city.
At the beginning of the fifth hour, a killing chill gripped the streets, and horses' hooves trampled the mist.
Black-armored soldiers entered alley after alley. Sealing strips fell like snow, and the scrape of chains dragging over the ground never ceased.
Where carriages and horses had once clamored, red gates stood tightly shut and dust shrouded the plaques.
Between the seventh and eleventh hours, more than a dozen households had their property confiscated.
Bailiffs surged like a tide, account books piled into mountains, and wails mingled with harsh commands, startling birds from their roosts beneath the eaves.
In teahouses and taverns, everyone held their tongue, questioning one another only with their eyes.
By noon, the entire city knew...
The Imperial Envoy had bared his blade. The skies over Suzhou had changed.
Half an hour past noon, voices seethed outside the Shen Residence.
Blue silk and gray squirrel fur jostled together in a crowded jumble.
Those who had once greeted one another with clasped hands now exchanged not a single pleasantry.
They shoved against one another like fish stranded by the tide, flaring their gills in search of water.
Shopkeeper Zhao of the silk shop pushed to the very front, his robe askew and his headcloth crooked. His face swelled purple as an eggplant as he hammered desperately with the door knocker.
"Owner Shen! Owner Shen! Please open the door!"
No answer came from within.
Then, suddenly, a hoarse cry rang out!
Owner Sun of the grain shop forced his way through the crowd and pounded the door with both fists, his voice already thick with tears.
"Shen Mingxuan! We drank tea together yesterday, and today you turn your back and pretend you don't know