Chapter Twenty-Three The Flag of Righteousness

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE FLAG OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

“…Therefore, we have nothing to fear from the revolution!” The Vanguard, who introduced herself as a committee member of the xiǎoqū ’s residential association, waves a laser pointer at a graph on the screen in the gazebo. “The whole concept of ‘middle class’ was really created to divide the masses. Ultimately, we have more in common with a street beggar than the one percent of people who own six percent—excuse me, sixty percent of Huaxia’s wealth. It’s in our interests to defend the revolution!”

We end up staying for the entire outreach session, which Tang Anding listens to with her dog on her lap. The Vanguard doesn’t sound perfectly familiar with the material herself, tripping over it a few times. Yizhi tells me it’s one of many presentations Qin Zheng wrote for the Vanguards to disseminate among their communities.

Qin Zheng was also serious about training the masses to use firearms. After the Vanguard’s presentation, the soldier explains the components of a gun and how to handle it. The nervous--looking residents pass an empty gun among themselves, getting chided if they hold it the wrong way. Qin Zheng hasn’t revoked the old order’s limits on gun ownership, but shooting lessons are now mandatory. In addition to rudimentary introductions like this, everyone will have to go to a military training base at assigned times to practice real shooting. It feels a little absurd, yet, at the thought of what might happen if Qin Zheng suddenly vanishes again, I drop any idea of protesting it.

I spend the ride back through Chang’an wondering how Shimin would’ve reacted to this revolution. He definitely wouldn’t have mourned the old order that crushed his brilliance and resolve at every turn. I can see him becoming a Vanguard and doing outreach sessions, though I’m not sure how he’d feel about Qin Zheng, fire versus ice as they are. I can see them talking for hours about the books they’ve read, but whether they’d end that discussion as allies or enemies is beyond my guess.

I’m resting my head against my carriage window, daydreaming of leading rallies with Yizhi and Shimin, when Yizhi’s and Qieluo’s tablets chime at the same time. Qieluo checks hers first with a frown.

Then she goes deathly pale.

“It’s the counter-revolutionaries again.” She turns her tablet toward me. Three men are on the screen: one at a podium, another on his left, and Zhuge Liang on his right. The rebel White Lotus Flag hangs behind them.

With screeching speed, Yizhi pulls the carriage over to the side of the road.

“Citizens of Huaxia,” the man at the podium begins, his words channeling through both Yizhi’s and Qieluo’s tablet speakers—and maybe more devices across Huaxia? My hand flies to the button that controls my carriage window. The moment I open it a crack, the man’s voice echoes from countless directions, carrying on the wind. “I am Kong Zhuxi, a member of the Council of Sages and nephew to the late Chairman Kong.” He puts a hand over his heart.

Fuck! A Sage from the old order survived ?

I fumble my veiled hat over my head and pull my door open. I stumble out onto the busy street. Kong Zhuxi’s face is everywhere, speaking in sync on people’s handheld devices, on screens mounted in shops, and on displays that stretch down the sides of buildings.

“By chance, I was away from the Palace of Sages during the tragedy that took the lives of my uncle and colleagues. Thus, I escaped unscathed. Through good fortune and a perilous journey, I met up at last with Chief Strategist Zhuge.” He gestures at Zhuge Liang. “I share his sentiment of wishing for nothing more than to return to Chang’an to serve His Majesty, but it has become apparent that as long as the wicked thieves Sima Yi and Wu Zetian are whispering falsities in his ear, my life would be forfeit as soon as I showed myself. However, I cannot bear to watch Huaxia descend into madness any longer! I cannot stand by as innocent citizens are robbed of their properties, exemplary men are humiliated and slaughtered on fabricated charges, and the fruits of the hard-working are being pilfered by bandits! These monsters do not spare even our elders!”

Acutely violent scenes of the revolution play while he speaks—including a shot of Ye Xingzhen being pushed along the rally just now, stumbling in her bound feet.

I make an offended noise. “Four hundred million!” I splutter to no one in particular, so incensed I can’t form a coherent sentence. “Brothels! Context!”

“Do not believe the wicked thieves’ honeyed lies about having the good of the people in mind!” Kong Zhuxi’s voice keeps booming through the streets. “They have nothing in their hearts but envy and greed! Their deception runs deep, going as far as to poison His Majesty!”

The feed cuts to a video of Qin Zheng collapsing while coughing up blood at my coronation—footage that was supposed to be erased from existence.

Dread crashes over me like ice water. I turn in a circle, but there is no escape from the secret we tried to bury. It plays out on screens big and small, everywhere my eyes can see.

“Wake up to the truth, citizens!” Kong Zhuxi reappears, his arms held high. “This so-called ‘revolution,’ these preposterous policies His Majesty was deceived into enacting—they may sound wonderful on paper, but this is reality, where naive fantasies will spell disaster! First they’re coming for our best and brightest; next they will come for you ! No honest man is safe when the lazy and undeserving now have free rein to take your earnings! This terror will not cease. It will plunge us all into ruin, unless we raise the flag of righteousness and banish the wicked from His Majesty’s side!”