Where was Nieh Shen-seng all this time? On the evening that Hankow was burnt, his wife had retired early. He was sitting up reading by the light of a rush pith-lamp, looking every now and then toward his wife's chamber. He did not study far into the night as a rule, but this was a special occasion.

At the fifth watch the dogs began to bark, and wooden bolts to be withdrawn. Soon the cry was “Fire! Fire!” and there were answering shouts of “Where? Where?” Every man was soon outside, and there over the north peak of the Hill of the Nine Recluses was a glare which seemed to turn night into day. Nieh had caught up his book in his hurry, and could see to read the characters. The north-east walls of the cottages were bathed in rose-coloured light. “The rebels are upon us!” screamed the women. “Run!”

Nieh went back to see his wife, and tried to comfort her. He was answered by wild laughter interspersed with groans. He watched by her side, going out every now and then to look at the ever-increasing glare, and as the vivid red paled before the dawn, he was a widower.