Chapter 143

Chapter 143

Covering sixty miles a day was their absolute limit.

The farther they went, the worse everyone's condition became. The men had long stopped caring about modesty; when it got too hot, they just went shirtless. Even if their skin got sunburned and they hissed in pain, they refused to put on their clothes, couldn't stand the sticky, sweaty clothes sticking to them.

The women didn't dare undress, but they were a bit more relaxed than in the village. They rolled up their sleeves and showed off their legs whenever they felt like it, no longer caring if outsiders were around. If their own men muttered a few disapproving words, they would point at Zhu Shi and the others, sneering and yelling at their husbands until they shut up, saying things like, "Brother Dashan, Er Tian, and San Di are way more capable than you—none of them said a peep when their wives rolled up their sleeves and pants! You're the only one being so picky. You want me to die of heat or what?"

The older women felt like saying something, but when they glanced at the men with their shirts wide open, they felt a twinge of envy. Finally, they bit the bullet and loosened their own clothes, showing the yellowed undershirts underneath.

And indeed, it didn't cool them off, but it eased the stuffiness a bit.

The women were hurting inside. There were things they couldn't tell outsiders, or even to their own families. Their undergarments were soaked through every day, sticking to their skin and causing red bumps that itched like crazy. But the spots were in awkward places, and they were too embarrassed to scratch themselves, making them really uncomfortable.

With Zhu Shi and her two sisters-in-law taking the lead, at least they could use a cloth to wipe under their clothes, to avoid the misery of getting sores.

Mothers felt sorry for their daughters. Back in the village, if an unmarried girl was caught talking to a boy too long, her parents would grab her by the clothes and chew her out, telling her to keep away from him. Compared to women who had given birth, unmarried girls—still green and naive—had way more restrictions. Even in a family like Li Dahe's, which wasn't all that unfair, Huaihua and Lihua didn't dare push it.

But all that changed once Zhao Xiaobao barely ever touched the ground. She either slept in the donkey cart or got carried on her brothers' and nephews' backs in turns.

People always compare. Before, they hadn't thought much of it, but now, seeing that other family's kid hadn't suffered at all, and then looking at their own daughters—their once fair skin turned black as coal, their skinny legs trembling as they walked, heavy loads on their weak shoulders, biting their lips till they bled without a single complaint—the ache in their hearts surged like a wave, nearly overwhelming them.

These parents might not have much to offer. They couldn't afford a donkey cart, and they didn't have extra backs to carry their daughters. But they could still ditch those messy, outdated customs—the ones that said a girl lost her honor if a boy saw her arm or leg, or that she could be taken for half a sack of grain. They could still do that.

The first to undo her sweat-soaked, heavy linen clothes was Lihua, followed by the Wu family's Xiaohua. When the weird looks fell on them, Li Dahe and Wu Dazhu glared back hard, and it was like a dam had burst. In the end, even Zhou Chunya dared to walk along, pulling out her cloth to lift her clothes and wipe off sweat.

A boy from the family walking ahead of hers kept looking back. Old lady Zhou caught it and immediately yelled, "What are you looking at? Look again, and I'll poke your eyes out!"

"Old lady Zhou, who are you yelling at?! Whose eyes are you going to poke out?!" The boy's grandma was no pushover either. Damn it, how'd the Zhou family end up behind hers? Another family had been walking next to hers just a bit ago. "You think you're the only one with a loud voice, huh?! Loud means you're right, does it?! Come on, come on, let's see who's louder!"

The weather was stifling, and a fire of frustration was burning in her chest. Old lady Zhou had just walked right into it, perfectly timed!

"What was he looking at? What was he turning his head to see?" Old lady Zhou took a big step forward, pointing at the boy, her eyes wide as a cow's, scaring him into shrinking his neck. "Don't think I didn't notice—three steps, one turn. A kid not learning anything good, just picking up sneaky tricks. If I catch your eyes wandering where they shouldn't again, I'll tear you apart!"

The boy was on the verge of tears, feeling wronged. He pointed at Zhou Santou, who had a pot balanced on his head, and said, "I was looking at Santou! Isn't Santou's head hurting?"

Old lady Zhou paused, then whipped her head around to look at her youngest grandson. Somehow, that dimwit Zhou Santou had taken the pot he was carrying on his back and plopped it on his head. It shaded him from the sun, sure, but how heavy was that iron pot? Wasn't he worried it would crush his skull?

What a little idiot!

Zhou Santou was walking right next to Zhou Chunya. Old lady Zhou took a deep breath, realizing she had misunderstood the boy. But she couldn't bring herself to apologize, so she snorted hot air through her nose and turned her anger on her grandson. She looked around, grabbed a random stick, and swung it at Zhou Santou's backside as he trudged along, head down. "I'll teach you to carry a pot on your head! Is that something you just do?! You little fool—your brain's not sharp to begin with, and you're going to squash it flat!"

Zhou Santou jumped in pain, tears streaming down his face as he wailed, demanding his father carry him. He'd been walking along just fine and still got hit! As he dodged, he sobbed, "Grandma's gone crazy! My grandma's lost her mind! Waaah—"

The Zhou family had a commotion every day. It was grating on the ears, and Zhou Santou's crying irritated everyone, but it was hard to say that his beating didn't lift the mood a little during the dull journey.

"Santou's getting hit again." Zhao Xiaobao sat on the cart shaft, ears perked up, enjoying the drama. Curiosity got the better of her, so she grabbed her father's arm, stood up, and craned her neck to look behind.

She could vaguely see Old lady Zhou and another old woman yelling at each other, while pot-headed Zhou Santou had run to the front, shyly sidling up behind Xiao Wu and the others, who were lagging a bit with their stone bags, acting like a tagalong.

"Oh, when did Santou and Xi'er get so close?" In the village, they used to fight all the time. Zhao Xiaobao found it amusing. Bored with the donkey cart, she rolled her eyes and called out to Qing Xuan, who was walking nearby, "Brother Qing Xuan, carry Xiaobao down."

Qing Xuan had a tiger cub on his shoulder and walked over. "Why get down? You have a cart—why walk?" He almost said she was making trouble for herself, not knowing how to enjoy comfort.

"Let the little tiger ride in the cart." She reached out, clearly expecting to be picked up, and said matter-of-factly, "Xiao Heizi rides in the cart, the little tiger rides in the cart. The kittens and puppies have things to say, and Xiaobao won't bother them."

"So you're coming to bother me instead?"

Qing Xuan looked at the old uncle sitting on the other cart shaft, hoping he would stop this. How could an unrelated man carry her? When the girl grew up, would she still be able to marry?

Old Man Zhao casually took a straw hat and put it on his daughter's head, then said to Qing Xuan, "It's good for her to walk a bit. Staying cooped up in the cart all day will ruin even the best constitution. Keep an eye on her."

Qing Xuan expressionlessly reached out and lifted her down, but Zhao Xiaobao refused to let her feet touch the ground. She clung to him like a nimble cat, refusing to let go no matter how he pulled. "Brother Qing Xuan, carry me on your back. It's so hot. Xiaobao doesn't want to walk."

"...Then why did you get down?"

"Giddyup!" Zhao Xiaobao said nothing, just scrambled onto his back, clamped her legs around him, and patted his shoulder to make him go backward.

"Zhao Xiaobao, say 'giddyup' one more time, and see if I don't throw you off." Qing Xuan gritted his teeth, tempted to toss her back into the cart. But the old uncle had already driven the donkey ahead, probably scouting for a good place to rest.

As they passed by Wang Shi, Qing Xuan expected her to scold them. Instead, the old couple were both carefree, only saying, "Xiaobao, don't bother your brother Qing Xuan. He might not be able to carry you anymore."

"..." Qing Xuan gave the little brat on his back a good jostle. How could he not carry her? He could carry her just fine.

Zhou Santou was fixated on the pot, refusing to take it off no matter what. Zhao Xi, who had been carrying a stone bag all day and was breathing more heavily than he was exhaling, snapped at him, "Zhou Santou, you copycat! Did you eavesdrop on us? Did you hear that we brothers are learning skills and want to sneak in a lesson on iron-head kung fu, so you can impress everyone later?"

Zhou Santou was getting it from both sides. He felt like a punching bag. The good old days were gone forever. "What's iron-head kung fu? What skills are you learning? I want to learn too—can you teach me?" He wasn't greedy; just a skill to dodge his grandmother's stick would be enough.

Zhao Xi looked at him warily. "Why should I teach you? Zhou Santou, have you forgotten we're rivals? Who teaches their enemy skills? Are you stupid?"

"Didn't we already make up?" Zhou Santou sniffled. "Last time, you even took me to get water."

"Who made up with you? I took more than just you!" Zhao Xi didn't want to talk to him anymore. Zhou Santou was more annoying than before, impossible to shake off. "Go away, go away. Stop following us. I'm telling you, even if you master iron-head kung fu, you're no match for me. Just wait—once I learn my skills, I'll knock your teeth out."

Zhou Santou felt like crying again. His brother barely talked to him now, his parents ignored him, his grandmother beat him, and even Zhao Xi, who had taken him for water, was threatening to fight him and knock his teeth out.

He was so wronged. His head, still under the pot, drooped.

"Why aren't you leaving?" Zhao Xi felt like he was asking for trouble. Every time he saw Zhou Santou, his mouth itched to say something. "What are you crying about? I didn't bully you!"

"Why did your grandmother hit you again? Were you being lazy and asking your dad to carry you?"

"Oh, you need to wise up! Your dad's about to drop dead. If he really dies, you'll have a hard life ahead."

Why couldn't Zhou Santou understand? The only reason he only had to carry a pot was because he had a good father. Look at Da Xiao Luo Bo—fatherless kids, their small shoulders already burdened with big baskets. Xiao Luo Bo was younger than him, yet loaded down with stuff.

"I didn't ask Dad to carry me." Zhou Santou saw Zhao Xiaobao coming over, carried on someone's back, and couldn't help but thump his own weak legs. He started wiping his tears again. "Your aunt's here, Zhao Xi. Your aunt's so lucky—riding the cart every day, and when she gets down, someone carries her. I wish I were your aunt."

Zhao Xi was so angry he reached out to hit him. Zhou Santou, not knowing what he'd done wrong again, fled with his head in his hands.

"Zhao Xiaobao, someone wants to take your place." Qing Xuan had heard clearly and couldn't resist being mischievous.

Zhao Xiaobao struggled to get down. The moment her soles touched the ground, she was scorched and jumped up, shamelessly clinging to Qing Xuan's legs to climb back up. "Brother Qing Xuan, pick me up! The ground's so hot—Xiaobao doesn't want to walk anymore!"

To save his pants from being pulled down, Qing Xuan grimly scooped her back onto his back. "So why did you get down?"

"To hit Zhou Santou!" Zhao Xiaobao straightened up, waving her little fists. "Charge!!"

Charge your head!

Qing Xuan was exhausted. He let her bounce around as she pleased, his legs rooted firmly. He glanced at the sun, then around at the surroundings, estimating their position in his mind.

He remembered that ten miles ahead was a village, the border between Xinping and Wuling. Past the village, half a day's walk would bring them to Wuling Mountain.

Leaving the relatively stable Xinping, compared to the bandits of Wuling Mountain, he was more worried about the soldiers Brother Dashan had mentioned.

Wuling and Juanping were counties under Qingzhou Prefecture. As for Hebo, it had originally belonged to Qingzhou but was later reassigned to Fengchuan Prefecture. Though some Hebo people still claimed to be from Qingzhou, Hebo County's grain taxes went into Fengchuan's granaries.

Qingzhou Prefecture was rounding up refugees, forbidding them from fleeing. The land couldn't stay dry forever—one rain, and Qingzhou would survive. Prince Cheng had already rebelled. He needed more commoners to farm for him. Whether able-bodied men or peasants, in war, logistics and soldiers were paramount—neither could be lacking.

Similarly, refugees have always been an unstable factor. Fengchuan Prefecture probably won't let refugees into its towns—they might even send soldiers to chase 'em off, not wanting to stir up trouble. Starving refugees will burn and kill, no crime they won't commit—a decent person turns into a thug after just two missed meals.

Leaving Juanping, they might not be able to enter Hebo.

This had been eating at him the whole trip, especially knowing that Old Uncle held great expectations for Fengchuan Prefecture. He almost didn't know how to bring it up.

He carried Zhao Xiaobao around for a bit, listening to her chat up the Wu girl, the Li kid, and old Mrs. Zhou—the whole lot. By the time that was done, his back was soaked with sweat. As the sun sank toward the west, he finally heard the clop of donkey hooves getting closer.

Old Man Zhao came back, but he looked pretty rough. He had found a village.

The village was dead quiet—at first he figured nobody lived there, but as he entered, a foul stench hit him.

Following the source of the smell, he pushed open the gate of the first house at the village entrance and immediately spotted a skinny corpse hanging from the main room's beam, covered in flies and mosquitoes.

No telling how long it'd been dead—the stench was everywhere, the acrid odor making one want to vomit.

Old Man Zhao still hadn't snapped out of it, just picturing it made him gag. He didn't dare look any longer, but he had a feeling that stink was coming from more than one spot in that big village.

He yanked the reins, hopped off the cart shaft, unhitched the carriage, and hollered to the crowd: "No good spot up ahead—we'll stop here, find a grove to rest."

Zhao Dashan and the others quickly passed the word back. Those at the front had already plopped down on the ground, while Zhao Sandi and the rest at the rear only just received the message.

Shi Erlang was already done for. He abandoned the cart at once, groaning in exhaustion, and collapsed as soon as he sat down, unable to get back up. Kicking off his sweat-soaked straw sandals, he rubbed his soles against the ground: "When will this damn life ever end?"

After grumbling, he noticed his older brother frowning and said carelessly, "Big brother, aren't you tired? Why are you standing around? Give sister-in-law a hand—she's carrying Er Wa."

"Second brother, I remember there's a village ahead," Shi Dalang said, frowning. It wasn't that he wanted to stay in the village, but along the way, Old Man Zhao always took people to check out nearby villages, saying he wanted to see if the old wells had water.

If there was no water, they'd look elsewhere.

When they came across abandoned, uninhabited villages, they would stop to rest. Staying in a mud-brick house was safer than in the woods. The weather was hot, with many snakes and insects, and plenty of mosquitoes. Earlier, a child had nearly been bitten by a venomous snake—one the color of dead leaves coiled in the middle of the road, so easy to miss that a single misstep could have been fatal.

"Is there?" Shi Erlang scratched his head, struggling to remember.

He picked at his feet without looking up: "Who cares? If they say rest, we rest. Why overthink it?"

He had barely managed to latch onto this group—why should he worry about where to rest? His big brother just didn't know how to enjoy life, which was why he aged so fast and had so much gray hair.

Oh, look at him—clearly brothers, yet his big brother looked like his father, so old it was hard to look at!