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“Don’t you…!” the farmer
shrieked; two other men were forced to restrain him.
“If I were you, little toady, I’d run before he breaks loose,” another
farmer said to the startled and terrified official, who retreated amid fearless
jeers of men, women and children alike.
“Do you see how easy it is…?”
Zhang Jue asked of the crowd. “Their
arrogance is built on our complacency! But soon, my fellow children of Heaven,
they shall know otherwise! Soon they shall know the Way of Peace!”
The crowd was energised, and were fuelled further by associates of Zhang
Jue, who urged them further still by repeating a slogan that was being carried
from village to village as the most effective message;
“Han’s mandate has passed!
Yellow Sky, soon here!
In this renewing year,
Prosperous all, at last!”
The crowd chanted the words, and Zhang Jue raised his hands in triumph.
“…They’re all going mad!” the
young official wheezed as he entered his administrative office. “Who is this ‘Prophet Zhang’???”
“…Zhang Jue, leader of the ‘Way of Peace’,” another official explained
as he came to the door to greet his colleague with a bow. “I thought you knew
about them. Aren’t they having a meeting in the square today…?”
“They’re having it now!” the
first official complained. “Those simpleton farmers actually had the temerity
to threaten me when I laughed at his
nonsense rhetoric!”
“Nonsense…?” the second
official said with irritation. “He’s a healer, and he does good work for the
people. And he speaks truthfully… the Han is corrupt. Look how we get no help
or support from the capital during times of crisis, and our wages are becoming
increasingly insufficient, while the men in the capital grow fat, and want for
nothing; we are chaff to the elite, just like those ‘simpleton farmers’ out
there. Can you not see…?”
“No, I can’t!” the
first official huffed as he walked to his desk. “And you… you…! Be lucky if I don’t
report you for what you just said!”
“I wonder if I care anymore,”
the second official sighed as he left the office.
“Where are you going???” the
first official demanded. “Come back here
at once!”
“You’re not my manager,” the
second official retorted as he left the building.
Two other junior officials - who were now the only other people present
- watched the altercation nervously.
“…I must write to the capital,” the first official decided as he knelt
in front of his writing desk.
“Might I go and hear the speech…?” one of the two junior officials
asked.
“I’m not your manager either, am I???”
the first official retorted. “And I’m
not sure that I care anymore!”
Both of the junior officials left immediately, leaving their colleague
to stare at the piece of cloth that he had selected for writing to the capital.
“…Is there any point…?” the
official murmured.