"This is Gao Family News…"
The voice spread steadily through streets, courtyards, academies, and barracks, carried by devices that had long since become part of daily life. People paused out of habit more than curiosity, yet the habit itself had already begun to shape how they listened.
"Today's broadcast begins with the international situation. Not long ago, the British East India Company acquired a narrow strip of land along the Ebony Coast of the Indian Peninsula. They have been granted permission to establish trading agencies and warehouses."
The report continued without pause.
"Britain's strength in the Indian Ocean will soon increase significantly. The old maritime powers are being replaced. In the future, our navy will face competition with Britain upon the seas."
In inland cities, the words passed through the air and dispersed without resistance. Shopkeepers continued weighing grain. Carters argued over price. The ocean remained far away, its waves unable to reach these streets.
At the Zhoushan Maritime Academy, no one spoke for a moment after the report ended.
The cadets stood in front of the screen, their expressions tightening almost in unison.
Among them, Er'zhe suddenly clenched his fist.
"Let them come," he said, lifting his chin as if already standing on a deck facing open water. "I'll beat them until they crawl back across the sea."
Laughter broke out immediately.
"You still have a long way to go, Er'zhe."
"How am I far?" Er'zhe shot back without hesitation. "I can already swim like a fish. I can fight on a rocking deck. My boarding hook throws have improved a lot lately."
"You little brat, not bad."
"Of course," Er'zhe said, grinning wide. "The Mongol navy is waiting for me to revive it."
The group burst into laughter again, the sound echoing through the hall.
The screen shifted.
A new image appeared.
Gao Shan stood on a raised platform in Yan'an, his figure framed by rows of bookshelves behind him and a dense crowd of scholars below. His voice rang out without restraint.
"The emperor is a foolish ruler. A foolish ruler!"
The crowd responded instantly.
"The foolish ruler must step down!"
Their voices overlapped, rising and falling together until they became a single, unified wave.
The broadcast lowered the volume of the shouting, and the anchor's voice returned, calm and measured.
"In recent days, scholars across various regions have begun openly criticizing the Ming emperor, Zhu Youjian. They accuse him of placing personal emotion above state affairs, delaying military action at a critical moment."
The image continued to show the crowd, mouths open in synchronized chants.
"At present, the opportunity to launch a counteroffensive against the Qing is considered highly favorable. However, due to the emperor's personal decisions, no official within the court dares to propose such action. This has drawn widespread concern regarding its impact on the greater cause of national unification."
The words "national unification" passed through the hall.
Er'zhe's laughter disappeared.
He shifted his weight slightly, eyes still fixed on the screen, but his expression had already settled into something quieter. The others continued watching, some nodding, some whispering to each other, but no one paid him particular attention.
Good.
He kept his face relaxed, even letting out a small, absent-minded chuckle at something someone said beside him, though he had not heard it clearly.
Best not to speak about that.
He had learned that much already.
Better to let others argue. Better to let others decide. As long as no one turned and asked him directly, he could remain where he was, neither agreeing nor opposing, simply present.
The broadcast changed again.
The studio feed flickered, and a familiar figure stepped into view.
Gao Yiye appeared before the camera, smiling as if she had simply wandered in out of curiosity.
"It's been a while since I've shown up," she said lightly. "We have a special segment today. Our reporter in the capital has sent back a rather interesting interview. Let's take a look."
Interest sharpened immediately.
The scene cut to a courtyard in the capital.
A young female reporter sat across from a man whose presence alone made the air feel heavier.
Chen Qianhu.
"Commander Chen," the reporter began with a polite smile, "you recently killed Zu Dashou in Jinzhou—"
The image abruptly shifted.
The courtyard vanished, replaced by the battlefield at Jinzhou. Steel clashed. Figures collided. The sequence moved quickly, fragments of motion stitched together: fists, blades, blood, and then, in a final moment, Chen Qianhu's strike driving Zu Dashou to the ground.
The scene ended as abruptly as it had begun.
The broadcast returned to the courtyard.
Across cities, voices erupted.
"Zu Dashou!"
"That's the villain from that film!"
"Wait, didn't he kill a Ming general?"
"What are you talking about? Chen Qianhu killed him!"
"Then why did it look the other way around?"
"Which one is which?"
Laughter mixed with confusion, arguments breaking out in front of every screen. For a brief moment, people spoke over one another, trying to match what they had seen with what they thought they knew.
Then the noise gradually settled.
The reporter continued as if nothing unusual had happened.
"How did you feel, personally, after killing him?"
Chen Qianhu did not hesitate.
"I was very happy," he said plainly. "When I acted as Zu Dashou in that film, I already hated him. I often thought about killing him myself. I didn't expect that one day I would actually get the chance."
A few people in the crowd exchanged glances.
Some frowned.
Others laughed uncertainly.
"Please don't call me Zu Dashou anymore," Chen Qianhu added, turning slightly toward the camera. "I am Chen Qianhu. I may not look good, but I am a good person. I do good things. I want to become someone people like."
Silence followed his words.
Not complete silence, but the kind where people stopped speaking and simply listened.
Chen Qianhu scratched his head, suddenly looking a little unsure.
"I have a song I want to sing," he said. "Is there enough time? I heard Gao Family News schedules every minute very tightly."
The reporter smiled.
"The Heavenly Worthy has given you enough time for this segment."
A murmur spread through the audience.
That explained it.
Normally, the broadcast moved quickly, one report after another, never lingering. Now the pace had slowed, and no one changed the channel.
Chen Qianhu faced the camera again.
He took a breath.
"Every night, in the wilderness of my dreams, I am a proud giant…"
His voice was not smooth. It wavered slightly, catching on certain notes, but he did not stop.
"I am ugly, but I am gentle. My eyes may seem cold, but my heart burns…"
His eyes reddened.
"I am ugly, but I have music and beer. I may be a little humble, a little weak… but I never retreat…"
His voice broke.
He lowered his head, shoulders trembling as the song dissolved into quiet sobbing.
For a heartbeat, no one reacted.
Then the silence shattered.
"Chen Qianhu!"
"Chen Qianhu!"
Voices rose from every direction.
"He's… not what I thought…"
"I'm not scared of him anymore."
"He looks so pitiful…"
"I won't mock him again."
"Someone like him… wouldn't be so bad…"
The noise spread from one street to another, from one city to the next, echoing through markets and courtyards. People who had never met him spoke his name as if they had known him for years.
On the screen, Chen Qianhu was still wiping his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.
The reporter did not interrupt.
The camera did not cut away.
And across the land, more voices joined in, calling his name, their tone no longer cautious, no longer distant.
By the time the broadcast moved on, the man who had once been feared and misunderstood no longer stood in the same place in people's minds.