Dawn in late autumn was bitterly cold.
A thin line of pale light crept up the eastern sky, barely illuminating the glazed tiles and stone paths of the imperial city. The Forbidden City lay shrouded in gray mist and lingering darkness, like a colossal beast holding its breath.
The long palace road leading to the Hall of Supreme Harmony, usually solemn and imposing, was eerily quiet.
When the first weak glow of morning revealed the outlines of the white marble railings, figures began to appear at the far end of the road.
One. Then two.
They wore faded gray-blue cotton coats, washed so many times they had lost their color. Their backs were bent, their steps slow and cautious. They were elderly eunuchs—men from the Imperial Kitchen who rose before dawn each day to light the fires.
Then more figures emerged.
From side paths. From hidden gates.
A maidservant carrying empty water buckets.A menial eunuch clutching a broom.A washerwoman from the Laundry Bureau, her fingers red and swollen from icy water.
They came from every forgotten corner of the palace—lowly, nameless, invisible.
No one spoke.
They didn't even exchange glances.
With their heads lowered, they walked along both sides of the palace road in silence. Their footsteps landed softly on the frozen stone, dull and restrained, merging into a slow, suppressed current.
More people joined.
Like streams converging without sound.
Kitchen helpers who weren't on duty that day. Firewood girls. Even two young eunuchs who had once attended the Culinary Workshop, clumsily practicing how to slice radish.
Others came from different palaces—those who had once been comforted by a single bowl of calming soup, or a small plate of appetizing snacks sent by Qing Tian. Some had only heard of the "warm soup" in passing, or rumors that the Food Consort treated servants kindly.
Most of them didn't know each other.
Yet something invisible pulled them in the same direction.
There was no organizer.No instigator.No command.
This was not a planned gathering.
It was instinct.
When court officials began arriving for morning assembly—some in sedan chairs, others on foot—they froze in shock.
The palace road was filled with people.
On both sides, the ground was packed with kneeling figures.
All of them were low-ranking palace servants.
They faced the direction of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, bodies bent low, foreheads pressed almost to the stone. No one lifted their head. No one made a sound.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of silent, kneeling backs stretched into the distance, trembling faintly in the freezing wind.
It was an overwhelming sight.
The air seemed to solidify.
Whispers among the officials died instantly. Even the bearers of the sedan chairs slowed their steps, unconsciously holding their breath.
"What is this? A rebellion?!""Outrageous! Who dares gather here and disrupt the imperial way?!""Disperse at once! All of you—disperse!"
A few officials barked angrily, attempting to drive them away.
No one moved.
The kneeling figures were like stones embedded in the earth. Only the hems of their thin clothes fluttered faintly in the wind.
Vice Minister Liu Chenghan's sedan chair was forced to halt.
He flung open the curtain and saw the scene.
His face turned iron-blue. Veins bulged at his temples.
He jumped down and strode toward the nearest row of servants, pointing at them, his voice sharp with fury.
"You wretched slaves! Gathering on the palace road—what are you plotting?! Rebellion?! Who ordered this? Speak!"
Silence.
Liu Chenghan shook with rage. He lifted his foot, about to kick the elderly eunuch kneeling at the front—
"Minister Liu!"
A hurried voice interrupted him.
From the direction of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Gao Dexuan rushed over with several attendants. Even he—who had weathered countless political storms—gasped when he saw the kneeling masses.
He quickly stepped in, blocking Liu Chenghan.
"Please calm yourself. His Majesty is already aware of the situation and has ordered this servant to investigate."
Liu Chenghan clenched his fists, pointing at the crowd.
"Investigate? Look at this disgrace! This must be Qing Tian's doing—seducing the masses even at death's door! She's stirring unrest to pressure the court! This cannot be tolerated!"
Gao Dexuan ignored the accusation.
He walked straight to the front, crouching before an elderly eunuch he recognized—Fu Shun.
His voice dropped, urgent and stern.
"Fu Shun. What are you doing? Do you want to die? Take your people and leave—now. If His Majesty chooses mercy, you may be spared. Persist, and this becomes a capital crime!"
Fu Shun slowly lifted his head.
Months of regular meals had brought color back to his wrinkled face. But now, his cloudy eyes brimmed with tears—along with a stubborn, quiet resolve.
He looked at Gao Dexuan. Then at the countless figures kneeling behind him.
His lips trembled.
"Eunuch Gao…" he said hoarsely. "We… we don't intend to rebel. No one ordered us."
He paused.
Tears slid down the deep creases of his face.
"Our hearts just feel too heavy. None of us could sleep. So we thought… we'd come here and kneel."
"The Food Consort… she is a good person."
"Before she came, we stood night watch cold and starving. We endured sickness in silence. When she came, we had hot soup. Bread. Food in our bellies. Warmth in our bodies. Even work felt… possible."
"She taught us skills."Fu Shun's voice cracked."In all my years, no one ever bothered to teach people like us anything real. We're slow. We're clumsy. But our hearts… felt lit for the first time."
Behind him, heads trembled. Suppressed sobs echoed faintly.
"We don't understand court politics. We don't understand ancestral law," Fu Shun said, voice growing firmer. "But we know this—when someone treats us like people, we remember it."
"We kneel today for no other reason."
"To tell His Majesty—Qing Tian did nothing wrong."
"Everything she did… helped people like us live just a little more like human beings."
"And if… if His Majesty truly believes those officials and chooses to punish her…"
Fu Shun lowered his head again, striking the stone with a dull thud.
"We beg His Majesty… for mercy."
As his forehead touched the frozen ground, the servants behind him followed—
like a field of wheat bending under the wind.
No cries.No chaos.
Only the heavy silence of grief—and the soft, repeated sound of foreheads touching stone.
Gao Dexuan stood frozen.
He stared at the dust clinging to Fu Shun's white hair. At the reddened hands pressed flat against the ground. At the countless bowed figures shaking in the cold.
His throat tightened. His eyes burned.
In all his years serving emperors, he had witnessed schemes, betrayals, and endless flattery.
But never—
Never had he seen a plea like this.
This was no rebellion.
This was not unrest.
This was the verdict of human hearts.