Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Old Man Zhao couldn't help but glance at the ox he was leading along. No wonder the cattle market was so active—with so many village men off to war, oxen were needed to replace human labor. In truth, it was wealthy families relocating their clans, selling off these inconvenient livestock, which let them snag a bargain.

For a regular person, buying an ox meant scrimping and saving for God knows how many years, but the rich had no such worries. Their ox sheds were lined with rows of animals, swapped out daily. When traveling far, they could ride in carriages, naturally looking down on oxcarts. Old Man Zhao figured that over the past two months in Shilin Town, it wasn’t just the cattle market—land, houses, and shops were probably flooding the market too.

The town gate was packed. Folks who'd heard the news came flooding over to watch. Old Man Zhao and his two kids were squeezed to the edge, listening to the chatter around them. They learned that the family pulling up stakes this time was the Qi family.

The Qi family was one of Shilin Town’s long-standing gentry, generations living here, rising to prominence on this very land, putting down roots. That they'd go to all this trouble for a big move caught everyone off guard. Though there'd been rumors about a few big families selling off their stuff, it was just talk. Now, seeing Old Master Qi actually leave, regular folks watched for the show, but those in the know were worried to the bone.

The Qi family was selling off their fields, shops, and homes at low prices. The houses weren't much in demand, but the fields and shops were rare finds—especially fertile land. In the past, if someone offloaded a bunch of land, word wouldn't even get out before it was snapped up internally.

But this time was different. Aside from a few clueless commoners buying some fields, short-sighted small-time landlords snapped up land like starving dogs going after meat. The big-name families, though, sat tight like they were glued to their stools, not budging.

Anyone with eyes could tell something was off. The wealthy and powerful usually had some sense—everyone grabbed what was good, but when everyone held back, something good turned into a hot potato.

Now that the Qi family was leaving, the other wealthy households grew more anxious, hesitating and unable to decide.

The traffic jam lasted half an hour. The Qi family had too much stuff. Several carriages had already left the town, followed by an endless line of donkey carts hauling their stuff...

Old Man Zhao squeezed into the crowd, getting an education. No wonder folks said servants in rich houses lived better than regular people. Regular folks pushed carts, but servants rode donkey carts—what a difference.

“Old Master Qi really left? Where’s he going?”

“You kidding? The Qi fields are sold, the shops too. With this move, the house will go as well. All that family wealth built up over generations, gone in a flash. Hard to wrap your head around what Old Master Qi was thinking, saying he's taking the whole family to join his aunt who married up north. They're not broke—why lean on a daughter who's married off?”

“Can’t wrap my head around it, truly.”

The crowd jostled, folks shaking their heads. They'd only heard of people running to relatives when they couldn't make ends meet, not selling ancestral fields and homes to drag the whole family elsewhere. Some muttered that Old Master Qi was a spendthrift, that if his ancestors knew, they'd spin in their graves and come back to curse him.

Old Man Zhao led his ox, slowly trailing the donkey carts out of town.

Shilin Town had two main roads: one to Lukou Town, one to Tongjiang Town. The Qi family’s caravan headed toward Lukou Town. Old Man Zhao, eating their dust, found a spot to rest after the road split, watching their procession vanish into the distance.

Zhao Dashan took off his straw sandals, rubbed his sweaty feet on the ground, then slowly put them back on: “Dad, if the big families are bailing, should we bail too?” He wiped sweat from his brow, staring at the road to Lukou Town. “The weather’s getting hot...”

“Run where? We've got no relatives anywhere, no one to turn to.” Old Man Zhao took a wild pear his daughter handed him, wiped it on his clothes, and bit into it with a crunch. The burst of juice soothed his restless heart. “Even if we could go to Jinyu, we don't know the road to the border!”

He wasn't stupid. Seeing the rich flee made him uneasy. The rich could buy oxen without going to market—they'd hear about good calves and take them home, leaving nothing for outsiders. Their sources were far better than common folks.

Last time, he'd only heard talk they might leave. Now, they were actually packing up and taking off. Whether they had real info or sharp instincts to dodge danger, it was clear.

Avoiding danger was human nature. Old Man Zhao wanted a quiet life, but the problem was, Xiaobao said half the Daxing Dynasty was hit by drought. Even if they ran, they'd just end up in another dry place, no use. As for where it wasn't dry, Xiaobao didn’t know. Old Man Zhao figured it might be somewhere with big rivers or lakes.

But even that water couldn't be drunk—it'd kill people. It could only water crops for a harvest. If people were dying of thirst, what good was a good harvest? It'd just go to outsiders.

Avoiding war was the same—nowhere to go.

Going to the border to find Jinyu? Old Man Zhao figured staying put was better. What was the border? A place where fights break out every few days, more dangerous than Qingzhou Prefecture. He and his sons had killed a few refugees, but refugees were still Daxing folks—not too scary.

The border was different. They'd face outsiders. Just hearing 'outsider' made him nervous. Without ever meeting them, people always imagine the worst.

But the most basic reason: no travel permit.

The Qi family had money and power. Old Master Qi's clan move cost a fortune in silver and effort. He was smart to dodge potential disasters, but that smartness was built on piles of silver. Without money, you couldn't move an inch—that's how it's always been.

Old Man Zhao knew this year would be a big drought, and the Qi family's move stirred up his unease. But what use was it? Even going to Qingzhou Prefecture would be tough. They'd ticked off the Village Head.

To get out, they needed a travel permit from him. Crossing prefectures required official approval. Though the conscription wasn’t their fault, people hold grudges. The Village Head wasn’t a generous man. After that incident, he hadn’t even come for spring planting, sending a random villager instead. Clearly, he was angry at their Dawn Village.

Now, asking him for a travel permit wouldn’t be solved with a basket of eggs.

Tough!

After a short rest, the family of three continued, but they left the main road and cut into the mountains.

In a secluded spot, Zhao Dashan kept watch while Old Man Zhao guarded his daughter as she put the ox in the divine land. Still uneasy, he went in himself, tied the rope to a peach tree, warned Blackie not to bully the ox, grabbed seven or eight steamed buns for a quick lunch, then pressed on.

By the time they reached Falling Stone Village, it was nearly noon. Old Man Zhao didn’t stand on ceremony—he headed straight for the Sun family with his eldest and youngest.

The villagers recognized them. As they reached the entrance, a woman turned and shouted toward the Sun house: “Hey, Brother Sun! Brother Sun... your in-laws are here!”

Old Man Zhao jumped at the shout, looked up, and saw the old Sun couple running out of the yard, followed by Brother Sun, still fastening his belt.

Seeing the Zhao family leading a donkey, Old Man Sun slapped his thigh happily: “We’ve been waiting for you! This morning, the eldest went to guard the road outside the village. That useless one came back clutching his belly and ran to the latrine. I was about to go myself!” He wasn’t sure if his in-law was just humoring his son or really coming to stay, but he was genuinely welcoming. Early that morning, he’d had his wife kill a hen that wasn’t laying and stew it, sending his eldest to watch the road, insisting he bring them back.

“No need to wait—I said I’d come, and I meant it!” Old Man Zhao led the donkey into the yard, greeted by his in-law.

Falling Stone Village had oxen and donkeys, so they were curious about the Zhao family’s donkey but not intrusive. Villagers peeked from their doors for a bit, then dispersed.

Once they were alone, Old Man Zhao pulled seven or eight wild pears from the basket where his daughter slept. Each was as big as a grown man’s fist, unlike the usual mountain variety. He shoved them all at his in-law’s wife, smiling: “Bought these in Shilin Town. Rare this time of year—still around in spring. Not much to bring, just some fruit. Don’t mind it.”

“Not at all, not at all.” Old Lady Sun felt the weight in her arms and beamed. Out-of-season stuff wasn’t cheap. She urged them to sit: “Brother-in-law, eldest nephew, you must be tired. Rest a bit.” Seeing her eldest daughter-in-law bring out sweetened water, she nodded approvingly and took the pears to the main room.

Zhao Xiaobao had slept the whole way, unaware they’d reached Falling Stone Village. Waking up, she heard her dad bragging about their donkey before even opening her eyes.

“Awake? Have some water.” Zhao Dashan handed her a bowl. She took a sip—sweet—and her eyes lit up.

“Big brother, are we at third sister-in-law’s home?” She finished the sweet water, wiped her mouth, and looked around curiously. Two small heads peeked from behind the hall door. When she looked back, they hid, followed by a scramble of giggles and shuffling.

Smoke curled from the chimney, a rich aroma wafting. Old Lady Sun and her two daughters-in-law bustled in the kitchen, the crackle of firewood faintly audible.

Handing the empty bowl to her brother, Zhao Xiaobao stayed on his lap, swinging her feet, listening to her dad and Uncle Sun talk.

After admiring the donkey, Old Man Zhao hinted that the weather this year might be unsettled. Just walking left them drenched in sweat. Spring planting had barely started, and the heat was already strange.

Old Man Sun was sharp. Remembering the recent heavy rain, he knew something was off. Farmers lived by the sky’s mood, fearing erratic weather. A downpour at the start of spring—how could that be right?

“In-law, are you saying this year will be a drought?” Old Man Sun hesitated, then asked directly.

“I’m afraid it’s more than that...” Old Man Zhao shook his head with a sigh. Not just a drought—a great drought!

Old Man Sun’s heart sank. His in-law was a man of insight. Earlier, his advice had saved their family from conscription, one of the few in the village not to lose men. He was deeply grateful and had resolved to follow whatever his in-law said, no questions asked.

Now, hearing this, even without clear signs, he was already half-convinced.

“A great drought...” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.

Natural disasters—man-made ones could be avoided, but how do you dodge nature? Floods could be fled, but the crops couldn’t. Drought was worse: neither people nor crops could escape. It was the one disaster where even forewarning offered no solution.

Even if they dug ten or twenty wells now, they’d still dry up. The sun wouldn’t spare one and spare another.

Worry!

Old Man Zhao wiped his face. Still, knowing in advance had its uses. When signs of drought appeared, before others caught on, they could rush to the river to water their fields. Every extra bucket meant more chance for the grain to survive. Even half a handful more grain meant a better chance to live.

Drought would be followed by food shortages. In an instant, he understood why his in-law had urged him to stockpile grain. It wasn’t for now, or even this year, but for the next.

Old Man Sun’s emotions surged. Suddenly, he grabbed Old Man Zhao’s hands, his lips trembling. Finally, he choked out: “In-law, thank you. Truly, thank you!”

"Oh, we're all family, saying that makes it sound like we're strangers." Old Man Zhao patted his hand and went on to mention how the wealthy families in Shilin Town had uprooted their entire clans and moved away, sighing with worry, "It's getting tough, I feel like something big is about to happen."

Neither of them was a fool—how could Old Man Sun not catch on? The wealthy families were like bloodhounds; wherever there was meat, they'd be the first to sniff it out. Likewise, wherever danger lurked, they'd be the first to know and flee faster than anyone else. Wasn't that whole Qi family's relocation a signal in itself?

Old Man Sun was a peasant, but a sharp one. Good things come in small packages. His family had been short and stocky for three generations, giving him a sharper mind than Old Man Zhao's other in-laws. That's why Old Man Zhao always came to him first when something big came up—he could understand.

"I haven't heard of any in Qinghe Town, but I'm not sure about Tongjiang Town..." Old Man Sun hesitated, then said, "If the big families in Tongjiang Town are also pulling up stakes, then things are probably looking bad."

Old Man Zhao nodded. "But even if it's bad, all we can do is watch. Can we just up and run? We'd probably get thrown in jail before we even leave the county."

Hearing this, the hope that just rose in his heart fizzled out.

Right—they had nowhere to flee, and no means to do it. A bird in a cage might struggle like hell to get out, flap its wings to soar, but guess what? There's still a chain on its leg. Want to fly? Did the cage's owner say you could?

They were those caged birds. The cage is the imperial court, and the owner is the emperor. One or two birds couldn't escape—not unless the fire really catches, and thousands of birds took flight at once, the cage can't hold them anymore. As long as you could shake off the chain on your leg, the cage's owner would have no power over you.

But now, even if your nose was sharp, what good was it? You weren't a wealthy man with connections. You had no money to bribe officials, no way to get a travel permit, no grain or silver to sustain a flight, no destination in mind, no sense of direction. All you could do was eat the dust of someone else's carriage.

You knew it would rain tomorrow, but you had no umbrella to hold!

Fleeing a famine isn't like just getting caught in the rain—it's risking your life to gamble on a way out.

"In-law, if that day ever comes, you gotta give me a heads-up!" Old Man Sun gripped his in-law's hand, his eyes full of earnest pleading, afraid he might slip away secretly. "We're your own people, you can trust us. More people means less bullying on the road. My family ain't got much, but one thing—we follow orders. If you say east, we won't go west. When it comes to fighting, we won't hesitate. Don't underestimate my eldest and second—short and stocky as they are, they've got strength. One of 'em can handle two easy. If, and I mean if, things get so bad we have to run, please, please take us along. Don't leave us behind. We're your closest, dearest in-laws..."

Old Man Zhao couldn't help but laugh at that. "Closest, dearest—where'd you pick that up? You'd be willing to abandon your dozen acres of land to run with me?" He himself couldn't bear to give up his six and a half acres.

"What's the use of holding on? Houses and land are nothing compared to human life. If it comes to that, I'll take my whole family and run." Old Man Sun sighed, gripping his in-law's hand tightly. "I'm speaking from the heart, no joke. If we have to run, give me the word in advance, and I'll definitely go with you. More people on the road means we can look out for each other."

Old Man Zhao squeezed back and nodded. "Don't worry. If that day comes, I'll be sure to call you along."

Fleeing a famine—just the thought of it sent chills down Old Man Zhao's spine. He'd never done it himself, but his ancestors had. When the old folks in the village had nothing to talk about, they'd drag out those old tales. Fleeing a famine meant that from the moment you stepped out your door, your whole family's lives were hanging by a thread.

Long journeys, scarce water and food, illness with no medicine, corpses everywhere unburied, plague, selling off children and wives, swapping kids to eat...

In peaceful times, ordinary folks would work the land all year, only to have the officials skim off their grain with crooked measures, tightening their belts and toiling for months just to earn a few copper coins. They'd feel life had no hope, that it was better to die. But when the day of fleeing a famine came, they'd realize that the bitter, exhausting, endless grind they'd once endured was a paradise they could never return to.

With no food, the ruthless would raise blades and clubs to rob; the weak would sell their children, wives, abandon their mothers and fathers. The heartless would swap kids to eat—who could tell if what was roasting over the fire was human or beast?

When it came to fleeing for your life, it was best to travel with people you could trust. Everyone had to band together against outsiders. More men meant you could guard your grain, protect your women, watch over your children, and carry your crippled or bedridden parents.

Old Man Zhao remembered a story the village elders told. There was a family fleeing alone. The couple dozed off one night, too exhausted to stay awake. When they woke up, their child was gone.

They searched and searched, and finally, after the crowd had dispersed, they found a pile of gnawed bones in a patch of withered weeds.

The mother went mad on the spot.

That story was too horrifying. Old Man Zhao had been jolted by it back then, and now, at the mere mention of fleeing a famine, it came rushing back. He glanced at his daughter, yawning as she sat on her son's lap, and gripped his in-law's hand tighter and tighter. Damn it—he'd have to bring everyone along, no question about it.