“I was originally a courier. Your Majesty reduced the number of post stations across the land, and I was dismissed for losing official documents. I brought this upon myself, so I have no complaints. I could only return to my hometown to farm, but then drought and locusts struck the northwest one after another. The grain I grew couldn’t even feed my own family, let alone leave money to pay taxes to the court. I knew I couldn’t escape the taxes, so I had to borrow usurious loans from Mr. Allen to pay them. When the time came, Mr. Allen pressed me for repayment. At that time, the northwest was still suffering from severe drought—people were eating people. Children abandoned by their parents and starved to death were everywhere in the mountain valleys. How could I possibly grow enough grain to repay the debt? In the end, Mr. Allen sued me at the county office, and then The Sheriff put me in the cangue for public shaming and, at Mr. Allen’s request, planned to use me as an example to intimidate other debtors, intending to kill me in prison. My nephew broke into the jail and rescued me. In my rage, I went and killed Mr. Allen’s whole family, then fled to Gansu to join the army and eat the emperor’s grain. But there was no grain to eat—the officials embezzled the soldiers’ pay and lived off the blood of the troops. We soldiers were almost never full. In the second year of Franklin Roosevelt, the Gansu border troops were ordered to fight the Jurchens. That meant we had to risk our lives, but even then, we still didn’t get paid. So we mutinied and killed the vice general. From then on, there was no turning back.”

　　Abraham Lincoln took a cup of wine and said.

　　“It’s not that I don’t want to be a good citizen. If there was food and drink, who would want to rebel? But this world won’t let me be a good citizen!”

　　He continued.

　　Franklin Roosevelt remained silent.

　　“And you?”

　　Brian Carter asked Benjamin Thompson.

　　“My whole family starved to death—only I survived. You tell me, why wouldn’t I rebel?”

　　Benjamin Thompson sneered.

　　“Your Majesty, you truly are not a foolish ruler, but unfortunately, you still can’t provide the people with enough to eat and wear. All the civil and military officials in the court are corrupt and pervert the law. Local tyrants and evil gentry seize and plunder. The common people are starving everywhere. In Shaanxi and Gansu, even the grass, trees, and clay idols have been eaten clean. The starving people have eaten even the flies. Fathers and sons, husbands and wives, all eat each other. Since starving to death is death, and rebelling is at most just another way to die, why shouldn’t we rebel? Should we really, as the officials say, just be docile, starving corpses?”

　　Abraham Lincoln said.

　　“This—this is all natural disaster. How can you blame Your Majesty?”

　　David Clark said.

　　“Natural disaster? Why not provide relief? Is the whole country suffering famine? Isn’t there surplus grain in Jiangnan and Sichuan to help the disaster victims? Even if there’s no relief, couldn’t you at least exempt or reduce taxes to give the people a way to survive? Why, instead of reducing taxes, did you increase them? Does the court only know how to collect money and grain from the people, without caring whether they live or die? Even a shepherd knows not to let his flock starve to death! And why, when taxes are increased for the people, do officials and gentry not have to pay at all? Corrupt merchants hoard grain and sell a bushel for several taels of silver—why does no one stop them? Your Majesty is the ruler of the world, and all under heaven are Your Majesty’s subjects and should be treated equally. So why do you sit by while some feast on others? Since you give us no way to live, we’ll give you no way to live either. If we must die, we’ll drag you down with us!”

　　Abraham Lincoln sneered.

　　“If so, then you are not truly vicious and evil.”

　　Franklin Roosevelt said slowly.

　　“Vicious and evil? Your Majesty should see how those officials and gentry force people to pay grain and donations. Then you’d understand who is truly vicious and evil.”

　　Abraham Lincoln sneered.

　　“What will you do with me?”

　　Franklin Roosevelt asked.

　　“Michael Brooks and Edward Harris just presented me with a petition urging me to take the throne. Since that’s the case, I can’t let them down. But don’t worry—once I ascend the throne, I’ll make you a king. Just for those patched clothes of yours, I won’t make things hard for your family. You and your son can just live quietly here in the capital.”

　　Abraham Lincoln said.

　　“Um, Lord Chuang, although my words may not carry much weight, there’s something I’d still like to say.”

　　Brian Carter said cautiously.

　　“Speak.”

　　Abraham Lincoln said.

　　“Have you thought about who your greatest enemy will be in the future?”

　　Brian Carter said.

　　“The Jurchens!”

　　Abraham Lincoln said.

　　“Uh, Lord Chuang, you are wise. The current situation is very clear: north of the Huai River is yours, south of the Huai is still Ming territory, but beyond the pass belongs to the Jian slaves. George Washington has already obeyed the imperial order to abandon Ningyuan and withdraw to Shanhai Pass. Previously, Your Majesty had already received intelligence that Ulysses Grant is leading eighty thousand troops south, aiming to reap the benefits. When you and Your Majesty are both exhausted from fighting, he’ll strike and defeat both sides, then take over the Central Plains. After George Washington withdraws to Shanhai Pass, there will be no one left along the way to stop him, so it won’t be long before he knocks at the gates of the Great Wall.

　　Congratulations on your ascension to the throne.

　　But I must also remind you: to be the emperor of this land, you must also shoulder the responsibilities of an emperor.

　　Next, you must prepare to fight a decisive battle at Shanhai Pass against eighty thousand Eight Banner cavalry. Otherwise, your reign will be nothing but a fleeting moment, and soon Ulysses Grant will drive you out of Beijing. Then he’ll relentlessly hunt you down. Even if you retreat to Guanzhong, it will be useless. The Shanxi merchants have been colluding with the Jian slaves for years—they’ll hand over Shanxi without hesitation. You don’t think a devastated Guanzhong can withstand Ulysses Grant, do you?

　　You can only stop him at Shanhai Pass.

　　Once he enters Shanhai Pass, those local officials and gentry will welcome Ulysses Grant just as the poor welcomed you. You should know they’re all hoping for your death—they resent you for taking their money, their land, even killing their people.

　　Including those here in Beijing.

　　They could sell out a three-hundred-year-old emperor—why not you?

　　You don’t actually believe they’re loyal to you, do you?”