The Eastern people of District Pik quietly awaited their next march.

  It’d been less than seven cycles since Lord Mingchi’s tragic coronation, now being called ‘The bloodiest feast in the East.’ Rather than answering to his people, the young lord immediately withdrew from the public eye and locked himself in his estate.

  Having lost faith in their leadership, Pik’s starved citizens now look to other figures of authority within their community, such as the local Dongist clergy, who often emerged in times of disaster to organise community action.

  Instead of simply blaming the inexperienced lord and calling for new leadership, the spiritual leaders of Pik demanded something far more impactful – District Pik’s secession from the Unification Pact, the ancient contract binding them to the dynasty, a move that could bring substantial change to the region. There was one problem: the last time Kowlooni’s demanded secession, 27 annui-cycles ago, it resulted in civil war.

  “O mighty rulers, who among you possess the authority to wield such power, to determine the fate of my creation? Do you, by assuming the role of arbiters of their life, challenge the dominion of your creator? If the ability to create life is not yours, why then do you presume the authority to take it away? Seclude your hearts from the sway of emotions when administering justice, and never forget that each soul was placed upon this realm for a purpose. To terminate another is to defy my ordained plan for them. Seek absolution for your transgressions, and assuredly, the creator shall swiftly bestow his Light upon your spirits beneath the eternal heavens. For the creator is the most merciful, the most benevolent.” Verse 25:17, The Prayer of Justice

  Shufen’s finger lingered on the final characters of the prayer, his voice trailing into silence. He looked up from the page at the small circle of six teenagers seated before him, who were each holding a well-worn copy of the Book of Light.

  They sat on floor cushions – Dongist pray plushes – in the main room of Shufen’s modest flat. The walls were draped with embroidered cloths in soft, colourful patterns. A faint aroma of incense hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of spiced cha that steamed gently from a tray at the centre of the circle.

  These six were Shufen’s scripture study students, secondary-school kids between 16 and 18. They would usually have worn their school uniforms, but Pik’s schools had been shut for over three menses-cycles. Now they came in casual streetwear: loose track pants, hoodies, jackets patched at the elbows. Their shoes had been left at the door.

  Shufen, 26 years of age, sat slightly elevated on a low wooden stool. He wore the mustard-yellow vestments of a Dongist sage-apprentice over a plain black shirt. His long black hair fell just below his ears, and a short, well-kept beard framed his calm, thoughtful face. He may have been their mentor, but he always felt more like their older friend.

  Qiu sat to Shufen’s right. Though this friend was often absent and easily distracted, Shufen held deep respect for him. Qiu faced formidable challenges in his life: his elder brother’s involvement in local crime weighed on him, his parents’ separation had left him under the care of a frail grandmother, and he struggled with pressure from other local troubled youth, pulling him away from his faith.

  Yet Qiu’s presence in the prayer circle, rare though it was, embodied resilience. To Shufen, he was a strong spiritual warrior, quietly battling unseen forces that others in the group were not entirely aware of.

  To Shufen’s left sat Lim, his eyes closed in a state of deep meditation following last prayer. He was always the most pious and spiritually knowledgeable one out of all the others, aspiring to become a member of Pik’s Dongist clergy, just as Shufen was. Everyone knew he was cracking up to be a Shufen 2.0.

  Across from Shufen in the circle sat Hua, her eyes closed in reverence. Unlike some of the others, Hua wasn’t the most spiritually inclined, but her eagerness to learn and delve into the profound teachings of Dong was unmatched. She was determined to bring all her school friends to Shufen’s weekly scripture studies and ended up recruiting most of his regular participants. Her dedication and warmth reminded him of Anju, Dongism’s first evangelist and the one who had rallied its earliest believers.

  Seated beside Hua was Chun, who was always somewhere near her. Shufen couldn’t ignore the subtle undercurrents between Chun and Hua; she listened intently whenever Hua spoke, her eyes occasionally flicking toward her when no one else would. Shufen had long picked up on the quiet fondness in Chun’s gaze, and some of the others even questioned Chun’s motivations for coming, joking that she was here only for Hua. But Shufen always staunchly defended Chun. He recalled a poignant quote from the Book of Light, asserting that our love for others mirrors our love for the Light. According to Dong’s wisdom, if Chun’s attendance was propelled by love for Hua, then she had the noblest of reasons to be attending, needing nothing else.

  To Hua’s left sat Ze, her younger brother, who joined these readings with eager devotion, requiring no persuasion from his sister. At barely six, much younger than the rest, Shufen saw in Ze’s presence a pure embodiment of sibling love that naturally transitioned into the love of worship. With Hua by his side, Ze’s small stature was no obstacle, shielded as he was by his sister’s support and encouragement.

  A smile spread across Shufen’s face. He looked around at the six young faces lit by the warm lamplight, each of them holding onto Dong’s words with care. Care that he taught them to foster. The ability to instil his love for Dong’s words in these children made Shufen feel like the luckiest man in Kowloon, these scripture studies were quite easily the highlights of his pious lifestyle.

  ‘My humble brothers and sisters, today we unite in the spirit of service to humanity. Our purpose here is to acknowledge the injustices suffered by the people of District Pik. Beyond these walls, our brothers and sisters face starvation and disease and are falling victim to senseless violence. It is crucial to understand that the blame does not lie with the leaders of Pik, nor with our Kuishi, who strive to uphold laws they cannot control. Instead, the responsibility rests on the shoulders of the Emperor alone. While many acknowledge this truth, we need to be different to other districts that have resorted to violence during their protests. Remember the powerful tools at our disposal – the teachings of our Prophet Dong.’

  ‘Brother Shufen, did you hear of the news from Ho Man Ting?’ asked Lim. ‘They’ve started protesting against the dynasty too!’

  ‘We are not alone in our struggles, Lim. Today, joined by others gathered downstairs, we will embark on a peaceful march to Mingchi’s residence. Our voices will carry song, prayers, and our fair demands: action to alleviate the suffering of our people and an end to the unjust taxes burdening your mothers, fathers and grandparents.’ Shufen rested his gaze on the study participants, surprised that none of them looked anxious. They were all eager. Finally, he rose, and his six companions joined him in standing.

  A lively buzz of chatter ensued as they got ready to leave. Some ventured to the bathrooms for a moment of relief, while Shufen and some others sought refreshment in the adjacent room.

  Amidst the social hum, Qiu, holding a cup of cha, initiated a conversation with Lim before their departure. ‘Is this your first march?’

  ‘Yes, it is. I’m a bit nervous, to be honest. How about you?’

  Qiu shrugged, ‘Eh, I’m all right. I’ve been to a few. I even remember my first. When I was small, my mother took me to the march where everyone demanded Lord Gaochi release those young boys caught graffitiing the walls of his residence.’

  ‘I think I remember that from my primary school days. Weren’t they executed?’ Lim asked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

  ‘I think so. Lord Gaochi’s tyrannical rule over Pik feels like a lifetime ago. Truly, Dong watched over us when he delivered Gaochi to his deathbed. He delivered us from his evils.’

  ‘We mustn’t say that, Qiu,’ Lim corrected. ‘Remember, Dong says death is never the solution to any problem. The prayer we studied today mentioned as such.’

  Qiu nodded and looked down. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. I forgot.’

  ‘Hey, don’t be sorry! Our prophet may have said we shouldn’t celebrate death, but he didn’t say every death is deserving of tears,’ Lim patted Qiu’s shoulder gently. ‘Come, let’s grab the banners and start getting ready. This is a great learning experience.’

  The two made their way to a wall where a large banner lay rolled up.

  ‘Which quote do you want to carry?’ Lim asked.

  ‘Which one had that quote from the Book of the Redeemer again?’

  ‘I think it’s the one from the left.’

  Qiu picked up the banner, while Lim carried the other.

  Meanwhile, from the other side of the room, Ze tugged on his older sister’s dress as she and Chun were in conversation,

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  ‘Big sister?’ He called Hua. ‘I want to come too, please let me come with you. I want to do good, too!’

  ‘No, Ze!’ Hua exclaimed. ‘This is no place for a small kid. Mum and dad will already be furious at me for going. If they found out I took you to the march as well, I’ll be exiled to No Man’s Land!’

  Ze pouted. ‘But Qiu said his mum took him to a march when he was little! I’m big enough to come! Please, please, please?!’

  Hua looked as if she was about to give in to her little brother’s pleas, but she turned to see Shufen approach, who had been listening from the side.

  ‘My little Ze!’ he said. He picked the child up and threw him up into the air before catching him, which prompted unrestrained giggles. Shufen then placed him on the ground, turned around, and knelt on the floor, signalling Ze to climb onto his shoulders. Ze effortlessly crawled to the top of Shufen’s back with both legs hanging over his chest. He held onto Shufen’s thick hair like handles.

  ‘You holding on tight?’

  Ze giggled. ‘Yes, Brother Shufen.’

  Smiling to himself, Shufen stood up and turned to face Hua and Chun, standing by.

  ‘You know, Hua, Dong used to say that one of society’s greatest mistakes is being too protective of children. They’re born with spiritual capacities that often surpass those of adults. Altruism, compassion, a deep sensitivity to injustice, all without being taught. But somewhere along the way to adulthood, all that gets dulled.’ Shufen glanced up at Ze atop his shoulders and gave him a quick wink. ‘Our prophet believed in nurturing the spiritual strength of the young so it could guide them into adulthood. They’re the ones who’ll shape what comes next. Imagine that; a world where the adults are just as innocent and pure-hearted as their children. As future stewards of Kowloon, the least we can do is treat children with the same dignity as adults.’

  ‘I know, Brother Shufen, but it’s just that—’ Hua protested, but Ze playfully chimed in.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, big sister! Listen to Brother Shufen!’ he chirped.

  ‘Ah, Ze,’ Shufen said quickly, ‘your sister always listens so well when I speak. So today, it’s your turn to listen to her. You’re such a smart and strong boy, that’s why I know you can help me with something important.’

  He gently let Ze off his shoulders and knelt down to his level.

  ‘While I take your sister out, there’s a chance your parents might get upset with her. And if that happens, they might not let either of you visit me again. So, Ze, do you think you can stay back and help remind them she’s safe with me and the others? If you do a good job, then next time there’s a protest… You’ll be right at the front!’

  Hua nodded confidently towards Shufen and then pointed her finger at her brother. ‘That’s right, young man! Big brother Shufen is saying it, so you must listen!’

  ‘Okay… I s’pose I can do that… Big brother Shufen, promise me you will come back soon with my sister? I want to hear more stories about Dong on the surface!’

  ‘I promise, little one. I’d never abandon you. We’ll be back before you can say “Emperor Puyin is a stinkin’ sewer rodent!”

  Ze trilled with laughter. ‘You’re funny, big brother!’

  Shufen stood up and quickly got ready. Soon he was wearing a different set of religious garments – light-blue vestments, black shoes and backpack, in which he carried bottles of water, incense, and a few spare copies of the Book of Light, tools of their spiritual crusade. The others eventually joined Shufen, carrying their own backpacks and comfortable clothing. Shufen had advised them to wear track pants and runners, as they’d be walking almost five kilometres to Mingchi’s residence, with little time to sit and rest in between.

  The six went outside and walked down the steps onto the street, where another fifty or so members from Pik’s clergy had gathered, men and women in vestments of different shades. Shufen was greeted with solemn hugs, and they began their slow march to the estate.

  The five students and their teacher walked side-by-side in the front rows. Bearing posters and banners adorned with various quotes from Dongist scripture, their purpose was clear – to demand justice for their people. The clergy had listed some crucial needs first: reduced taxes, food redistribution, housing commitments, and most importantly, independence from the Yaozhi dynasty. As the slow march proceeded with prayers and song, onlookers on the streets and those who could hear the commotion from their windows joined them.

  Initially, the 50 marchers grew to 80, then a 100, and eventually swelled to 150. Despite it being the middle of the work cycle, word of the clergy-led protest spread quickly through the town. Shopkeepers along the march route shuttered their doors and stepped out to join the cause. The numbers continued to grow – 200, 250, 300 people. Soon, the march took up the entire width of the streets. News of the march travelled faster than the marchers themselves, drawing residents from neighbouring towns out of their homes to join the burgeoning crowd.

  Shufen turned with his students and paused, momentarily frozen by the sight before him. Hua’s bright eyes, Chun gripping the banner tight, even Qiu chanting without hesitation. ‘Oh Lord, raise thee, with thy mercy…’ they sang in unison.

  These kids never cease to amaze me, he thought. If only all the children of Kowloon were like them. The street behind them stopped being a quiet procession a while ago. Some in the crowd carried musical instruments, softly accompanying the hymns with drums and tatiquins, a small Kowlooni string instrument played with a stringed bow. It had become a tide of heads, banners and prayers that rolled through Pik like an unstoppable force. His chest rose and he found himself standing a little straighter, shoulders drawn back.

  Their numbers swelled to 400 people, and then 500 people, all fervently following Shufen and his students. He felt a sense of invincibility pervaded the air, as if Dong had bestowed upon them the Light’s favour.

  As the crowd neared Mingchi’s residence, people began linking arms, with the students joining hands first and those behind them following suit. A lump caught in Shufen’s throat.

  No one had any weapons. No one carried weapons or felt the need to cover their faces or wear protective gear, as was usually done in protests to prepare for violence. This march defied all those norms, a true reflection of the discipline expected from a clergy-led demonstration.

  At last, the street opened into a T-junction. Shufen and the children at the front stopped before a wide balcony overlooking a ten-metre drop, beyond which rose the solitary tower of Lord Mingchi’s estate. The crowd behind pressed forward, fanning out along the balcony’s length, leaning over the railings and waving their banners. Shufen’s gaze swept the estate. On its upper balconies stood rows of Kuishi soldiers, rifles in their arms and looking at the demonstrators across the gap.

  They’re armed to the teeth, Shufen thought. They expected a mob, not peaceful Dongists.

  ‘GO BACK TO YOUR HOMES!’ shouted one of the Kuishi above. But Shufen raised both his palms in the air. ‘Please, listen to us! We mean no harm to our Lord! Please put your weapons away! There are children in this crowd!’

  The Kuishi’s rigid stances gave away nothing of what they might do next. ‘STEP BACK!’ bellowed the guard, his voice muffled by the intimidating black Kuishi helmet. ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED HERE!’

  Shufen gripped the railing and placed a foot on one of its lower bars, lifting himself slightly. His heart thudded once, heavy in his chest, his eyes fixed on the guards on the balcony above.

  ‘Brother, I only wish to start a dialogue! I understand you are worried about us! All Pik has ever known is violence, but today we are changing that reality. We present our demands in peace,’ Shufen reassured the guard above.

  ‘THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING!’

  ‘We are dying as a people,’ Shufen implored. ‘All we want is to see our lord, speak with him.’ But the only sounds he got in return were the collective charge of all the rifles. Gasps came from all around.

  Shufen raised his hands in a pleading gesture. ‘Has our lord left no room for negotiation? Does he no longer care for his people? We only wish to tell him what we think will help us! We hold no malice!’

  Then, the line of guards on the balcony took aim.

  Shrill gasps and shrieks came from the crowd behind. Shufen’s heart jumped, palms sweating. He took a step back from the railing. His breath caught in his throat, shoulders locking tight. His eyes darted between the rifles, wide and unblinking, and a cold tremor ran through his hands as he fought the urge to disappear into the crowds. No one had ever aimed a weapon at him before. But he remembered that Dong and his disciples had stared down the barrels of guns many times in the early days of Dongism. Knowing his Prophet was watching, Shufen closed his eyes, placed his unwavering trust in the Light, and prayed silently.

  ‘O Dong, strengthen me with your resolve as I prepare myself to face foes threatening to destroy my brothers and sisters.’

  Clamping his eyelids shut, Shufen grabbed the railing once more. He heard the clicking of the rifles, the sound of the weapon safety being switched off. Shufen began to chant the prayer aloud without realising it, placing one foot on top of the railing.

  ‘I move against my enemies with no sword or bow, no armour or shield, only love in my heart.’

  As he tried to lift the other, he wobbled and nearly fell forward, but two students caught his hands and steadied his knee. With their support, he slowly straightened up atop the railing.

  ‘And even if the world rises against me, I will arm myself with the word of the Light and become a fortress for the weak against the Dark.’

  Shufen could hear his students whimpering from behind. But not long after he heard them join with him in prayer.

  ‘THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING, DO NOT TAKE ANOTHER STEP FORWARD! WE WILL FIRE!’ the Kuishi guard growled from above.

  He spread his arms wide, his vestments billowing in the wind from the high altitudes. Eyes closed, he stood firm while his students held his legs from behind to keep him from falling.

  Qiu clung to his mentor’s right leg with both arms, but his eyes were fixed on the Kuishi aiming their rifles at them. Terror rooted him in place. He tried to shut his eyes, yet he couldn’t tear them away from the barrels. Desperation crept in and he no longer wanted to be a part of this march. He wanted to go home. But as he loosened his grip, he felt his teacher, his friend, about to slip forward, so he quickly tightened his hold once more.

  Shufen, in a crescendo of faith, started shouting his prayer with tears. The Kuishi’s hadn’t shot yet, and so the crowds behind Shufen grew louder in chanting the prayer. Some started banging their drums. Qiu thought Dong’s protection was working.

  ‘For once I defeat those that threaten harm to my siblings, the Light will reward us all! LORD MINGCHI! PLEASE COME OUT! YOUR PEOPLE NEED—’

  In an instant, Qiu’s world shattered. Shufen’s head exploded in a gruesome hail of blood, bone, and brain matter, and he flew back from the railing on top of the crowds. Waves of gunfire came upon the everyone at the front.

  Qiu found himself on the ground, numb and drenched in blood. The chaos unfolded in a blink. Bullets whizzed overhead, and the once vibrant procession fell to the ground.

  Am I dying? I can still see the world.

  Since he was a little child, he had believed his death would be met with the embrace of Light. But currently, his vision was only darkening. He couldn’t see the Light.

  He saw a fleeting vision of himself back at Shufen’s quiet home, during the late 17th hour of the work cycle with the rest of his friends, all reciting prayers as one. Qiu opened his eyes. There they all were, Shufen, Lim, Hua, Chun, and even little Ze, like always. He wished he had attended these study sessions more instead of hanging out with his other school friends, who thought the religious stuff was lame.

  A spark of Light bloomed before Qiu’s eyes. At last, he thought.

  The promise of the Light had come for him.