Chapter 130: Disaster

Chapter 130: The Disaster

Snow piled on the signboard of Qingzhou’s prefectural office. Zheng Shanci lifted the carriage curtain and saw soldiers allowing passage. The streets were nearly empty, but as they advanced, noises emerged from a narrow alley. Zheng Shanci noticed it as the carriage proceeded straight to the yamen.

The Prefect of Qingzhou was a third-rank official. Facing the Imperial Commissioner dispatched by the court, he led his men to greet Zheng Shanci at the yamen. Zheng Shanci alighted and exchanged greetings with the Prefect, who had heard of Zheng Shanci’s name but was meeting him in person for the first time. Just three years prior, Zheng Shanci had been just a county magistrate under his jurisdiction. Now, he had risen to become the Director of the Ministry of Revenue in the capital. The Prefect couldn’t help but admire the young man’s capability, noting how much easier it was to advance in rank in the capital.

The Prefect ushered Zheng Shanci into the yamen and ordered hot tea. “Honorable officials, having traveled all the way from the capital, you must be exhausted. I’ve arranged accommodations for you to rest. Tonight, I’ll host a banquet in your honor.”

Two months of travel had indeed exhausted the group, but their itinerary and future tasks were all up to Zheng Shanci.

“Thank you for your kindness, Prefect Ping. However, we shall first inspect the disaster victims before resting.”

Prefect Ping stopped short. “Since Lord Zheng is so concerned for the people, I shall take you to the disaster area at once.”

They left the yamen, and a cold wind blew past, prompting Zheng Shanci to tighten his cloak. The northern blizzard was fiercer here. Prefect Ping had Yamen Runners bring them piping hot hand warmers.

“The snowstorm in Qingzhou has been severe—collapsed houses have killed a thousand and injured three thousand. The survivors fled in wretched conditions. Additionally, two thousand froze to death after the disaster. Currently, the yamen organizes gruel distribution twice daily. The snowstorm sent grain prices soaring, and though I suppressed some merchants—arresting some, releasing others—many have powerful connections, making them difficult to touch.” Prefect Ping looked troubled.

“The victims suffer from cold and illness, and many have perished from prolonged exposure.” The Prefect spoke frankly, but Zheng Shanci kept his anger in check. From what he could see, Prefect Ping was still in charge here, and by all appearances, the Prefect had done nothing overtly wrong. Erecting shelters for the people was already commendable.

He watched as Yamen Runners dragged away a frozen corpse, its breath long gone. Such bodies were everywhere, loaded onto carts and buried in mass graves. Why not burn them? Winter made firewood expensive. Digging pits was the easiest solution.

Zheng Shanci called forth a minor official from the Ministry of Revenue. “Dispatch men to bring the prepared cotton clothing.”

They had come to relieve the snow disaster and had brought cotton garments. Though mindful of propriety, Zheng Shanci had ensured they carried all essentials. These clothes were produced by the Ministry’s textile workshops, purchased at cost for disaster relief.

The minor official obeyed.

Zheng Shanci then summoned another minor official, whispering instructions before the man nodded and departed.

“Prefect Ping, I must borrow a few of your men,” Zheng Shanci said courteously.

“Use them as you will, Lord Zheng. As the Imperial Commissioner sent by His Majesty, you command all affairs here.” Prefect Ping spoke briskly, effectively shifting all responsibility onto Zheng Shanci. Success would bring universal praise; failure, sole blame.

The minor official had Yamen Runners bring the cotton garments—compressed and tightly bound with rope, appearing flat and unremarkable. At the official’s call, victims hesitantly approached.

“Sir… are these really being given out?”

The Ministry official produced paper and brush. “Give us your hometown, household size, name, age, and occupation. Then you may receive a garment.”

This system was devised by Zheng Shanci and his officials en route. Registering the victims’ details allowed the Ministry to efficiently manage records, assess skills, and later organize reconstruction through labor-for-relief programs. It also prevented disorder.

The first to rush forward was a young carpenter. After providing his details, he received a cotton coat and immediately put it on, sighing with relief.

“Thank you, sir!”

He left joyfully. Seeing this, others flocked to claim garments. More Yamen Runners brought additional bundles—limited in quantity, first come, first served. Grain shipments also arrived steadily in Qingzhou. As for medicine, doctors from the capital had been brought to oversee treatment.

Those with persistent fevers were isolated. The illness, the doctors assured, was non-fatal and would improve with a few doses of medicine. Zheng Shanci breathed a sigh of relief—no major crisis here.

“Prefect Ping, once they’ve eaten, have them start rebuilding houses. Assign Yamen Runners to supervise. Those who work fastest may occupy the new homes first. Healthy people who refuse to work will receive only one meal of plain gruel daily and no housing. As for carpenters and the like, inquire with local shops and wealthy households for labor shortages. Let them work where needed.”

Prefect Ping agreed.

“No wonder you rose from local governance, Lord Zheng. You really know how to handle disaster relief.”

Lord Zheng modestly declined the praise. As Prefect, he could have handled the matter well, but Prefect Ping had only done superficial work—nothing particularly wrong, yet nothing outstanding either.

"By the way, add some small stones to the porridge," Lord Zheng added.

People are greedy by nature. Some, seeing free porridge, would take advantage of the free meals. Only when the porridge had flaws would they hesitate, thinking it wasn’t worth it. The quilted jackets Lord Zheng brought were all the same drab green—unattractive but thick and sturdy. Moreover, anyone wearing such a jacket on the street would immediately be recognized as a disaster victim. Since everyone knew each other, those who hadn’t suffered losses would whisper behind their back or even call them out openly for taking what wasn’t theirs.

Though quilted jackets and food weren’t major matters, they were crucial for the disaster victims. Lord Zheng wanted the court’s aid to reach each victim directly, not be exploited by opportunists.

Every penny comes from the people and should serve the people.

After making preliminary arrangements, Lord Zheng declined Prefect Ping’s offer of a welcome banquet. He wanted to have dinner and rest early, unwilling to deal with official niceties. The other officials, having traveled with him and endured the exhausting journey, also refused Prefect Ping’s invitation, eager to sleep.

After all, they were officials from the capital with no real ties to local dignitaries—getting too close would only invite trouble.

Any simple meal would do; all they wanted was a good night’s sleep.

Lord Zheng asked Wang Fu to bring him a bowl of pork noodle soup. The dish was delicious—pickled julienned carrots, tender meat layered over the noodles. He stirred it with his chopsticks and ate it while hot.

After washing up, he lay down and was asleep almost instantly, whether from exhaustion or not.

This was the first time Prefect Ping had thrown a welcome banquet only to have it refused. Pacing in his room, he reflected on Lord Zheng’s methods and found the young man intriguing. Powerful as he was in Qingzhou, he dared not oppose an Imperial Commissioner, especially one from the Ministry of Revenue. Local officials might wield authority in their domains, but in the capital, they had to tread carefully—someone might impeach them at court, and they wouldn’t even know until months later.

Ultimately, officials from the capital could influence the emperor’s decisions. With this in mind, Prefect Ping grew more composed. As long as Lord Zheng resolved Qingzhou’s disaster, all would be well.

Other counties had sent petitions for aid—except for Xinfeng County.

While overseeing relief efforts in Qingzhou, Lord Zheng arranged for the low-cost recovery of quilted jackets and persuaded Prefect Ping to have wealthy households donate unused old clothes to the victims. With the Prefect’s endorsement, some families saw it as a minor gesture—costing little but earning goodwill. They donated unworn or outdated garments.

Thus, the donated clothes provided additional relief. Lord Zheng’s work-relief program proved effective: victims repaired houses after meals, while women and able-bodied men helped with cooking or snow-clearing. Clearing snow from city roads earned them a few coppers a day, motivating them to work harder.

Rebuilding houses was originally the Prefect’s responsibility, and Lord Zheng unceremoniously made Prefect Ping pay for the materials. He assigned a group to oversee reconstruction, instructing them to work alongside the victims.

"I'm honored by your trust, Lord Zheng. Rest assured, I’ll lead them to rebuild properly."

Lord Zheng nodded in approval.

As an Imperial Commissioner’s order, he would naturally handle it meticulously, ensuring the victims moved into new homes.

Wealthy merchants in Qingzhou, learning of the Imperial Commissioner’s arrival, sent invitations to meet Lord Zheng. He declined them all. The head of the Xiao family devised a plan—donating grain and silver to the disaster area first, then sending another invitation the next day. They became the first merchants in Qingzhou to meet Lord Zheng.

Xiao Dalang, heir to the Xiao family, accompanied his father, while his younger brother Xiao Er had recently gone to the Shuchang Academy in the capital. Building ties with Lord Zheng now might benefit Xiao Er in the future.

Over tea in the main hall, Patriarch Xiao first greeted Lord Zheng, then remarked, "I’m familiar with Xinfeng's famous liquor and perfume businesses. Since your departure for the capital, the perfume has become widely known in Qingzhou." As a shrewd merchant, Patriarch Xiao knew exactly how to pique interest.

Lord Zheng had served as Xinfeng’s magistrate—well known—and spent three years there. Naturally, he might be curious about its later developments. Seeing Lord Zheng listening, Patriarch Xiao elaborated further, sharing information gathered after Lord Zheng’s arrival in Qingzhou.

Eventually, Patriarch Xiao steered the conversation toward his second son.

Lord Zheng found the name somewhat familiar.

"Did he go to Xinfeng to buy liquor?"

Patriarch Xiao’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "My son loves liquor—he once traveled to Xinfeng to purchase strong wine."

Pleased that Lord Zheng remembered his second son, Patriarch Xiao said nothing more, merely chatting a while longer before returning home. There, he donated a hundred thousand taels of silver and a thousand catties of grain.

"Father, you didn't even negotiate any favors—isn’t this donation too much?" Xiao Dalang protested.

"You don’t get it. If it were anyone else, I’d have chipped in less. But this time, since it's Lord Zheng who’s here, I can donate with confidence. This money’s going straight to the victims. It’ll make his record look good, and naturally, he'll remember the Xiao family's goodwill. If your younger brother encounters any emergencies in the capital in the future, we can hope Lord Zheng will lend a hand out of gratitude for today’s contribution."

Qingzhou’s merchants were floored when they heard about the Xiao family's massive donation of money and grain.

"Are the Xiaos nuts?"

The Xiaos had always been oddballs. Just like when they miraculously sent their drunken second son to take the imperial exams—somehow, Xiao Er excelled and even made it into the Hanlin Academy, astonishing everyone. The merchants quickly realized that this was Old Master Xiao currying favor with Zheng Shanci. But donating so much? It was like tossing meat to a dog and hoping it’d return.

Zheng Shanci did indeed remember the Xiao family's kindness. After a brief stay in Qingzhou's prefectural city, he had to move on to the next county—no time to waste. He informed Prefect Ping, then set off with his entourage by carriage.

The situation in the county town was even worse than in the prefectural city. Right before Zheng Shanci’s eyes, many had frozen to death. The county magistrate of Jiang County received Zheng Shanci courteously, arranging accommodations first before they went to inspect the disaster victims.

The sight was horrifying. Some victims didn’t even have shelters. Zheng Shanci had already lost two months traveling from the capital and staying in Qingzhou's prefectural city. Yet, after two months, this county hadn’t even managed to set up basic shelters? How many froze to death by now?

"Magistrate Bai, it's been so long since the snow disaster, and you haven’t even built shelters? Where are the people supposed to live? And look at this—this gruel’s just water with a few grains! How are they supposed to survive?" Zheng Shanci was so furious he nearly laughed.

He tore into Magistrate Bai first, ordering immediate distribution of grain to cook gruel for the people, followed by cotton clothing and the urgent construction of shelters—anything to block the wind and snow so the people wouldn’t have to sleep in the snowdrifts.

Zheng’s clerks didn’t hesitate to command the Yamen Runners, who, awed by the capital officials, dared not disobey. Even their own magistrate was meek before the imperial envoy—how could mere runners act tough in front of these officials?

Magistrate Bai went white as a sheet. He had hoped to reconnect with Zheng Shanci, given their past as fellow magistrates. But Zheng Shanci immediately berated him, leaving him humiliated.

Knowing the severity of the accusation, Magistrate Bai defended himself, "Lord Zheng, the county’s broke. If we had more, I would gladly ensure the people’s welfare. Moreover, after the snow disaster, grain prices soared. Buying relief supplies now costs far more silver. The folks’ll have to tough it out."

"You make the people tough it out, yet spare yourself? I’m here to aid Qingzhou’s disaster relief, not clean up your mess. Your actions will be reported to the court," Zheng Shanci said bluntly.

"Lord Zheng, why be so rigid? They’re just dirt-poor peasants—how can they compare to us? Besides, if they had silver, would they be living in shelters? Their plight is their own doing, unrelated to the county office. That we’re helping at all is already going above and beyond," Magistrate Bai argued self-righteously.

"Lord Zheng, 'Don’t rock the boat.' One must be flexible." Magistrate Bai’s tone turned suggestive. "If Lord Zheng desires silver, I’d be happy to offer some."

"Didn’t you say the county’s broke?"

"The county’s broke, but I’m not." Magistrate Bai bowed respectfully. "It’s my personal savings, and I’d be honored to present it to Lord Zheng."

Zheng Shanci shook his head. "Damn idiot."

Ignoring Magistrate Bai, Zheng Shanci went to oversee the distribution of cotton clothing. The victims were skin and bones, dressed in tatters, their feet stuffed in straw sandals that provided no warmth.

The Yamen Runners began cooking gruel with the grain. A few victims gathered around the fire, and the runners didn’t shoo them away.

When the gruel was ready, the victims eagerly brought their bowls. This time, the pot smelled like real food for once—far more fragrant and substantial than before.

The victims stared hungrily at the pot, wishing they could grab handfuls and stuff them into their mouths. Starving half to death, they had scavenged leftovers from restaurants, only to be chased away by owners who found them unlucky and filthy. Some even ate snow when hunger became unbearable.

Those with shelters could withstand the wind and snow for a while, but those without had to huddle wherever they could—even the ratty temples were packed. Once, they had been decent folk who took care of their appearance before entering the city. Now, survival was all that mattered.

After receiving cotton clothing, the victims finally had some protection against the cold. The runners helped set up the thick shelters brought from the Ministry of Revenue—far sturdier than the county’s flimsy ones. Zheng Shanci sent some to buy charcoal. Spotting an old man collapsed on the ground, he rushed to help him up. Finding him still breathing, he carried him to the fire, removing his cloak—a cloak Yu Lanyi had given him—to wrap around Old Man Liu.

Leaning close, Zheng Shanci heard the old man murmur, "Hungry... hungry..."

"Bring a bowl of gruel," Zheng Shanci ordered, tightening the cloak around Old Man Liu. The warmth quickly revived him. A runner handed Zheng Shanci a bowl of gruel—still undercooked but edible.

Zheng Shanci held the bowl to Old Man Liu’s lips. At the scent of rice, the old man clutched the bowl and gulped the scalding gruel, oblivious to the heat. The warmth spread to his stomach, bringing both relief and pain, but his hunger persisted. For a moment, he had feared he would starve to death.

Noticing someone nearby, Old Man Liu realized he was wearing the imperial envoy’s cloak—and that Lord Zheng was watching him. He hastily knelt to kowtow, but Zheng Shanci stopped him.

"Skip the formalities. Keep the cloak. It’s cold—go to the shelter and take refuge from the wind and snow."

Old Man Liu felt his eyes grow moist. "Thank you, Imperial Commissioner." He paused, then added, "Thank you, my lord Commissioner."

The cloak on his shoulders still carried warmth, clearly a valuable item. Old Man Liu returned to the shed and saw a woman muttering 'cold...' in her sleep. He placed the cloak over her. Having already eaten porridge, he now felt much warmer.

Once the cloak covered the woman, her furrowed brows relaxed, and she stopped muttering about the cold.

A yamen runner bellowed for everyone to come out and get porridge.

The refugees grabbed their bowls and hurried out. Old Man Liu, having already had a bowl, stayed back. Knowing a few characters, he didn’t want to appear too desperate. Besides, with the Imperial Commissioner sent by the court now here, their lives would improve. Old Man Liu went to register with the minor official, who issued him a cotton-padded jacket.

After putting on the jacket, Old Man Liu returned to the shed. The refugees had already finished their bowls of porridge and were now licking them clean. Clad in their new jackets, the first glimmer of relief could finally be seen in their expressions.

"How much do the quilts here cost?" Zheng Shanci called over a clerk to ask.

While the Ministry of Revenue had brought supplies, most were food and medicine. Quilts and such were scarce, so they had to be purchased locally.

"After haggling with the shopkeeper, one quilt costs a hundred coins. We’ve ordered five hundred in total."

That amounted to fifty taels of silver.

Officials from the Ministry of Revenue certainly knew how to bargain. First, they pointed out flaws, then mentioned the large quantity needed. And since they were dressed in official robes, the shopkeeper wouldn't dare cheat them.

"Distribute the quilts to them first. They'll have to share—two or three people per quilt. Use your judgment when distributing."