After a night of fierce battle, the rebels were crushed.
The streets of Shangjing remained dead silent.
The old woman held her breath, keeping her doors and windows tightly shut, trembling in fear as she couldn't sleep all night.
The grandson in her arms was still young, and even though he had been frightened, how could he know worry? He was sleeping soundly in her embrace.
She looked at her daughter-in-law who was pacing back and forth with worries.
"Stop pacing, it's making my head hurt."
"Do we know what's happening outside?"
The old woman, after all, had aged, seen much, and understood things clearly. Her analysis was sharp and to the point: "Whether it's the traitorous Second Prince succeeding or the timely rescue by the Fifth Prince, whether the Holy Emperor is well or dead, it makes no difference to us common folk."
Either way, it's just a corrupt dynasty.
At most, every household would hang bleak white lanterns at their doors to show mourning.
