In Luoyang, a most peculiar factory began recruiting workers.
Within the compound stood two colossal glass bottles, each towering more than thirty meters into the sky. They rose above rooftops and city walls alike, so enormous that from nearly any street in Luoyang one only needed to tilt their head to see the twin silhouettes gleaming in the sunlight like strange monuments left behind by the gods.
Strange characters were inscribed upon their surfaces. The strokes looked Chinese, yet not quite the Chinese people were accustomed to. Some lines were missing, some corners simplified, as though an immortal hand had grown impatient with complexity.
To elders such as Bai Yuan, a single glance was enough. These were objects from the heavens. The writing upon them could only be Celestial Characters.
The greatest difference between these Celestial Characters and mortal script lay in their startling simplicity. Where ordinary writing tangled itself in layers of strokes, these symbols shed weight without losing meaning. For example, what the common script would render as "seafood soy sauce" or "seafood salad dressing," the Celestial Characters expressed with fewer strokes, cleaner shapes, and a clarity that felt almost refreshing.
Writing became easier. Carving became easier. Printing became easier.
Even within Gao Family Village, a few of the more curious had already begun studying this new script, muttering to themselves as they compared stroke counts and marveled at its efficiency.
Standing before the two immense bottles was Saintess Gao Yiye. At her side stood Fan Shangzheng, Governor of Henan, who had brought with him a retinue of yamen runners and clerks. Together they called out to the growing crowd.
"Workers wanted. Packaging laborers needed. Your task is simple. Transfer the soy sauce from these two Celestial Realm bottles into smaller porcelain bottles. Three catties of flour per day."
There was nothing complicated about the work. No craft, no skill, no literacy required. If a person had hands and the strength to stand, that was enough.
For refugees who had only just staggered into Luoyang after fleeing famine, such an offer might as well have been a lifeline thrown across a raging river.
Henan was still locked in drought. Fields lay cracked and barren. Bands of rebels roamed the countryside like hungry wolves. The people had suffered to the point of exchanging children for grain. Entire villages had emptied.
Yet Luoyang still held on.
Within its walls, survival remained possible.
Before long, long lines of refugees formed in front of the recruitment tables. Many, as they passed Gao Yiye, lowered themselves into deep bows. To secure work was already a blessing beyond expectation. To see the Saintess with their own eyes felt almost unreal.
Yet Gao Yiye's expression carried a trace of sorrow that had not yet faded. Gao Yingxiang's death still pressed against her heart like a stone she could not set down.
From the side, Gao Jie slipped forward and bowed respectfully.
"Saintess," he asked, lowering his voice, "what exactly is Dao Xuan Tianzun's intention in bestowing upon us these two enormous bottles of such peculiar soy sauce?"
Gao Yiye glanced up at the towering glass giants and allowed herself a faint smile.
"From what I understand of Dao Xuan Tianzun," she replied, "there may not be any specific intention at all."
Gao Jie stared at her as though she had just suggested the heavens might occasionally misplace the sun.
"How could that be? Dao Xuan Tianzun is exalted beyond measure. Every action must carry foresight and profound design."
Her smile deepened slightly, the sadness in her eyes easing for a moment.
"You think too much. Dao Xuan Tianzun sometimes acts on a whim. Have you forgotten the Sudden Whim Festival? Or the Hot Pot Festival? If today becomes a Soy Sauce Bottling Festival, would that truly be so strange?"
Gao Jie clutched at his head as if struggling to protect his worldview from collapse.
"No, impossible. Dao Xuan Tianzun must have a grand purpose. Perhaps he intends to use this peculiar soy sauce to conquer the palates of every coastal city, turning all who taste it into devout believers."
Gao Yiye shook her head, amused despite herself.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun often enjoys earthly amusements. You simply have not witnessed enough of them. Stop exhausting yourself with speculation."
Fan Shangzheng approached and tugged Gao Jie gently by the sleeve.
"Come. Let us inspect the workshop instead of arguing about divine motives."
The two men entered the factory.
Inside, rows upon rows of small porcelain bottles had already been arranged neatly. They had been specially fired for this task. Every kiln in the pottery village had taken on the order, and the potters had earned a respectable sum from the sudden surge of demand.
Funnels, ladles, wooden racks, and sealing tools had all been custom made.
Gao Jie looked around and slowly began to nod.
"I understand now. Dao Xuan Tianzun provided this soy sauce to create work for the kiln workers and craftsmen, ensuring they could earn wages."
Fan Shangzheng chuckled softly.
"Not only the potters. The carpenters who made the funnels and ladles profited as well. Even the transporters who carried materials have found employment."
Gao Jie stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"I knew those two colossal bottles could not have appeared without reason. But that raises another question. How are we supposed to retrieve soy sauce from containers that tall? We cannot exactly climb thirty meters with a bucket."
Fan Shangzheng gave him a sideways glance.
"You still measure in zhang. Learn to say thirty meters. That is the proper measure now."
Gao Jie laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Old habits are stubborn things."
Fan Shangzheng sighed.
"I have pondered the same question. We cannot scale them, and no ladder in Henan reaches such height."
At that very moment, a gigantic golden hand descended from the sky.
It did not rush. It did not tremble. It reached calmly toward one of the massive bottles, grasped it with effortless precision, and tilted it ever so slightly.
To the enormous Celestial bottle, the movement was no more than a minor adjustment. To the people below, it was like watching a mountain shift.
A thin stream of soy sauce poured down into the vast vats prepared beneath. From the perspective of the celestial container, it was merely a trickle. Yet each vat below filled to the brim in seconds, dark liquid shimmering like polished lacquer.
Gao Jie's mouth fell open.
"So Dao Xuan Tianzun is personally pouring the soy sauce."
Across Luoyang, inside and beyond the city walls, countless citizens saw the golden hand in the sky. One by one, then in waves, they dropped to their knees.
Voices murmured prayers. Foreheads pressed against stone.
Gao Jie swallowed.
"Even tens of thousands of vats may not suffice to empty a single bottle. The refugees will have work for a very long time."
Fan Shangzheng nodded, though his expression grew more serious.
"It is best to keep them employed within the city. I once assigned them to road construction outside the walls, but the rebels in Henan grow bolder each day. A single lapse in vigilance and bandits appear from nowhere, slaughter the workers, and seize their rations. At least within Luoyang, the walls offer some protection."
Mention of the rebels darkened both men's faces.
News of Chuǎng Wang's death had long since reached Henan. Yet the rebel forces showed no sign of collapse. In truth, they had never been entirely dependent on him. He had been a banner more than a commander. The true driving force was the Dashing General.
Before his followers, the Dashing General had wept loudly and sworn vengeance to the heavens, promising to avenge his elder brother, overthrow the corrupt court, and continue the unfinished cause. The speech had stretched endlessly, filled with grief and righteousness in equal measure.
When it concluded, he formally assumed the title of Chuǎng Wang.
Thus a new Chuǎng Wang rose, not diminished but invigorated.
Under his command, the rebels seemed even more energetic than before. They scattered and regrouped like locust swarms, descending upon towns and villages, plundering grain, seizing goods, and vanishing before imperial troops could fully respond.
Meanwhile, in the capital, Zhu Youjian still celebrated. In his mind, the removal of Chuǎng Wang meant the Ming foundations were secure once more. Surely now the tide could be reversed. Surely now the empire could be saved.
He did not yet see that the storm had merely changed shape.
With Lu Xiangheng's main army absent and Zuo Liangyu idling away precious time, the burden of pursuit fell upon men like Bai Yuan, Cao Wenzhao, He Renlong, and Gao Jie. They chased the rebels tirelessly across Henan's dust-choked plains, always a step behind, always racing against a fire that refused to be extinguished.