Chapter 1: The Shifting Ziwei Star

The fourteenth year of the Zhengtong reign, Great Ming.

In early August, with autumn just beginning, the air was growing cooler.

“To flee, or not to flee?”

Inside a modest farmhouse in the western quarter of the capital, Xue Rui was weighing a question that concerned his very life.

Today was the second day of the eighth lunar month, less than half a month away from the Tumu Crisis. Soon, the Oirat army would besiege the capital, aiming to conquer it and overthrow Ming rule.

It would end in a pyrrhic victory for the defenders of Beijing.

This, Xue Rui knew well. The disastrous defeat at Tumu would claim two hundred thousand of Ming’s elite troops. The ensuing defense of Beijing would be won only by a desperate stand of the old, the sick, the infirm, and newly conscripted soldiers, fighting with their backs against the wall.

As an ordinary citizen, Xue Rui could not predict what the war would bring to his doorstep.

As for stopping the defeat at Tumu, becoming the savior of the dynasty, and earning the adulation of the masses?

That was out of the question—far too late for that.

Now he was just a commoner, possessing nothing more than some modern knowledge in his mind. Powerless and without influence, he could not sway a single decision in the imperial court.

Worse still, his father—his so-called “cheap father,” Xue Yuanhao—had already been seized and imprisoned by the powerful eunuch Wang Zhen.

Xue Yuanhao was an apprentice astronomer at the Directorate of Astronomy. Amidst the tumult of the Emperor’s military expedition, he had been persuaded by a high-ranking official surnamed Chen to privately urge the Duke of England to petition against the Emperor’s campaign. When Wang Zhen found out, he sent the Embroidered Uniform Guard to arrest Xue Yuanhao and throw him into the imperial prison, waiting to make an example of him upon their return to the capital.

Was Xue Rui supposed to prevent the disaster at Tumu, welcome the Emperor and Wang Zhen safely home, and then watch his father be executed as a scapegoat?

If such a dramatic turn of events were to unfold, he would owe it to his status as a transmigrator to die in shame.

“I should leave after all.”

After much deliberation, Xue Rui made up his mind.

During the defense of Beijing half a month from now, the city would be under martial law, with the surrounding countryside stripped bare and hundreds of thousands of civilians forced into the city. Order would disintegrate. Supplies would be scarce, prices would skyrocket, and the people would suffer terribly. There would even be riots over food, and only the court’s fierce suppression would prevent utter chaos.

Xue Rui felt that, in such turbulent times, it would be wiser to seek safety elsewhere and return only after the capital was secure again.

After all, he and his mother had already been driven out by his uncle and aunt. With no family property to speak of, embarking on an impromptu journey to see the customs and scenery of Ming China wasn’t such a bad idea.

As for abandoning his father in the imperial prison, Xue Rui felt little guilt.

According to what his father’s colleague Zheng Debiao had found out, someone seemed to have intervened with the Embroidered Uniform Guard. His father had not been tortured. In fact, the prison—usually the most dangerous place—was now the safest.

No matter how chaotic things became, the turmoil would never reach inside the imperial prison, would it?

He only had to wait for the Tumu Crisis to break out, and then he could broadcast the news of his father’s imprisonment by Wang Zhen. Surely, the official surnamed Chen would then be compelled to help.

But persuading his mother, Lady Liu, to abandon her husband in prison and flee with him—that was the real challenge.

Knock, knock.

Lost in thought, Xue Rui was startled by a sudden rap on the wooden gate of the farmhouse courtyard.

He tensed up, instinctively grabbing a stick from the ground.

In the kitchen, the clatter of pots and bowls abruptly ceased as Lady Liu stopped cooking.

It was hardly an overreaction—they had been frightened out of their wits.

These days, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was as fearsome as the reaper himself. When news of Xue Yuanhao’s arrest had spread, even Xue Rui’s uncle and aunt had kicked them out overnight, terrified of any connection.

Lady Liu had carried her unconscious son from door to door, begging for shelter, but the neighbors kept their doors tightly shut; no one dared take them in.

Fortunately, the weather was mild, and mother and son made it through the night on the alleyway. Had they not chanced upon Zheng Debiao, Lady Liu was prepared to carry Xue Rui to her family’s home in Wanping County.

Such was the dread of being associated with the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Their current refuge was found with Zheng Debiao’s help. He alone knew where they were. If the visitor was not him, then the “living reapers” had come.

Knock, knock, knock—three slow, deliberate raps followed.

“It’s Uncle Zheng!” Xue Rui exhaled in relief. Two short knocks, then three long: the code he had agreed upon with Zheng Debiao.

Prompted by Lady Liu, Xue Rui confirmed Zheng’s identity before opening the gate.

A square-faced man with a thick beard and a robust build, Zheng Debiao looked every inch the warrior, yet he was in fact a clerk at the Directorate of Astronomy’s registrar’s office.

Zheng slipped inside, glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been seen, then quietly closed the gate and clapped Xue Rui on the shoulder with a laugh. “Not bad! Back on your feet so soon—looks like you’re almost healed.”

“It’s nothing, just a little pain now and then.” Xue Rui subconsciously touched the wound at the back of his head.

He was deeply grateful to this hearty man; his recovery was thanks to the skilled physician Zheng had found.

Lady Liu brought out tea and asked, “Uncle Zheng, did you find out who that official Chen is?”

Zheng took a sip and shook his head. “No. There’s no fewer than a dozen officials named Chen in the capital. From what I’ve learned, half of them have joined the Emperor’s campaign. I can’t say if our man is among them.”

“What are we to do?” Lady Liu’s anxiety mounted.

Xue Rui reassured her, “Uncle Zheng said someone has already smoothed things over in the prison—most likely this Chen. If he can reach into the prison, he must wield real influence. Don’t worry, Mother. At most, in half a month, Father will be released. I’ve been having the same dream every night—surely the gods are sending us a sign to ease our hearts.”

“Dreams are hardly something to take seriously,” Lady Liu retorted, rolling her eyes.

Her son had changed since waking—sensible, yes, but always muttering about dreams: dreams of Ming’s army suffering a disastrous defeat, Wang Zhen dying in the chaos, and Father eventually escaping danger.

But who could believe in dreams?

If dreams could come true, she would gladly dream the Emperor and Wang Zhen—the muddle-headed monarch and his treacherous minister—never returned at all. Wouldn’t that be even better?

Her words were casual, but Zheng Debiao’s ears pricked up.

Working at the Directorate of Astronomy, he was privy to court matters. Pondering Xue Rui’s dreams, he said slowly, “It’s not impossible. After all, when news of the Emperor’s campaign came out, many ministers sent in memorials urging him to reconsider. The Duke of Huangfu advised that, after observing the heavens, he found the stars of the Purple Forbidden Enclosure in motion—and a meteor had recently fallen over the capital, a dire omen. He pleaded with His Majesty to abandon the campaign. But Wang Zhen dismissed him, saying the Duke had been retired for years and was overstepping his bounds. At that time, the current Director, Peng Deqing, reported that the stars showed no sign of disorder and all auguries foretold victory. The Emperor believed him and rebuked the Duke. But if the Duke’s warning proves true…”

Zheng did not finish, but Xue Rui understood.

The Purple Star was the imperial star; if it moved, the throne itself was in peril—a warning from Heaven. If the Emperor ignored it, Heaven’s wrath would follow.

Xue Rui had caught a familiar name and couldn’t help asking, “Uncle Zheng, is this Duke Huangfu’s full name Huangfu Zhonghe?”

“You know the Duke of Huangfu?” Zheng was surprised. Huangfu Zhonghe, the former Director of the Directorate of Astronomy, was revered in the capital as the ‘Immortal Elder,’ though he had long since retired from courtly affairs. If not for the turmoil of the Emperor’s expedition, he would not have intervened.

Zheng was surprised because he knew Xue Rui well—though a hereditary scholar, the boy had little interest in astronomy or the occult arts, caring only for pleasure. For him to recognize the reclusive Duke Huangfu was unexpected.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard much of him. It’s a pity I’ve never met the Immortal Elder in person,” Xue Rui lied without a blush.

It wasn’t entirely untrue, though—his knowledge of Huangfu Zhonghe came from his previous life.

As a researcher in archaeo-astronomy, he was naturally familiar with the great astronomers of every dynasty, and the Duke of Huangfu was one of the best. If circumstances allowed, he would dearly love to seek the old man’s advice.

Professional habits die hard, even after crossing worlds.

After chatting a while, Zheng Debiao’s expression suddenly changed. He slapped his thigh. “Damn! I almost forgot why I came!”