On the evening Li Su's (李肅) hoofbeats reached the dust of Meiwu, beneath the sky of Chang'an a company of children was singing a strange nursery rhyme.

Qianli cao he qing qing (千里草何青青)

Shi ri bu bu de sheng (十日卜不得生)

"How green, how green is the grass of a thousand li; at the tenth day's divination, one cannot live." At the end of that rhyme, four Chinese characters lay hidden. The three characters "qian (千), li (里), cao (草)" combined into "Dong (董)"; the three "shi (十), ri (日), bu (卜)" combined into "Zhuo (卓)". From the young mouths along the roadside of Chang'an, the two characters of a Grand Preceptor's name were leaking out first.

An old official passing along the road heard the rhyme. He bowed his head deeply and read the two characters inside himself. He went home, closed the gate, and drew a low sigh. That sigh was the lowest grain of the sighs heard on the streets of Chang'an this evening. Behind his closed gate, the sigh laid itself down beside a long row of other sighs that had gathered, quietly, in every anti-Dong household of Chang'an through these past months, like small stones gathering beside a riverbed before the water rises.

At Meiwu, meanwhile, Li Su knelt before Dong Zhuo and offered up the false edict. "The jade body of the Son of Heaven has just recovered from illness. In that joy, he gathers the hundred officials of civil and military at the Weiyang Palace (未央殿) to offer the great seat to Your Grace by abdication. This edict is that very one."

Dong Zhuo's hand, taking up the edict, trembled for a breath. "And Minister Wang's will?" "Minister Wang has ordered the building of the Altar of Received Abdication (受禪臺), and awaits Your Grace's step."

Dong Zhuo laughed greatly. The flesh beneath his jaw shook heavily. "Last night I dreamt a dragon covered my body. Today I receive this glad news indeed; I cannot miss a breath of the hour."

Dong Zhuo gave the order at once. Three thousand of the Flying Bear Army (飛熊軍) were committed to Li Jue (李傕), Guo Si (郭汜), Zhang Ji (張濟), and Fan Chou (樊稠), to guard Meiwu. He himself had a carriage prepared and set out for the capital. As the carriage cleared the first turn of the Meiwu road, a hubcap caught on a stone and produced an unusual creak. Dong Zhuo heard it and laughed. "An axle groaning for joy." Li Su, riding behind, did not laugh. An axle does not groan for joy; it groans when its own weight has begun to no longer match the shape of the road.

Before leaving, Dong Zhuo spoke a low line to Li Su. "Su. Today's merit is the greatest. At the court seat in the days to come, your name will stand beside the seat of Grand General." Li Su bowed his head deeply. Inside that single bow, the two characters of this evening's nursery rhyme were hiding, quietly.

The wheel of the carriage began to roll. The gate of Meiwu closed behind them. Dong Zhuo's carriage began to run toward Chang'an. Two days remained until it would reach the gate of the capital.

A small wind blew upon the path ahead of the carriage. Within the grain of that wind, the words of the thousand-li-grass rhyme were quietly being carried. Dong Zhuo's ears did not hear the grain of that wind. Only the grain of a dragon's dream filled his two ears.

Inside Meiwu, Diaochan heard from the gate-guard's footsteps, rather than from any message, that the Grand Preceptor had ridden away. She did not ask where. She only walked to the pond of the rear garden and stood beside its water for a breath. Upon the water, for a moment, her own face reflected back to her. She laid her hand upon her own chest and read, inside herself, the two characters hidden within the children's rhyme she had heard through a palace maid. She did not smile; she did not weep. She only returned quietly to her chamber, and tied the knot of her sleeve a little tighter.

On the road toward Chang'an, Li Su rode behind Dong Zhuo's carriage at a proper distance. His hand at the rein was warm. The hand of Day 13, today, carried a folded paper in its sleeve pocket in place of a halter. That folded paper weighed less than a halter; yet it carried the lever of a greater weight.

The eighth evening of Book 2 deepened, quietly, across two seats: the gate of Meiwu, and the streets of Chang'an. The three characters Cheolicho (千里草) were planted as a seed: the hidden grain of a nursery rhyme in which four Chinese characters combined into a single name. The twelve-person seat of Day 37's Dangmilgye had leaked, this evening, in advance into one line of a Chang'an children's song.

—