Chapter 145

Chapter 145

The next day, before dawn broke, the ragged line continued onward.

After many days of fleeing their homes, everyone was feeling down and discouraged, staring at the rutted ground under their feet, gritting their teeth and pushing on. They ate, drank, and did their business all on the road. Look down, there’s the road; look up, there’s the mountains; sleep, there’s the woods. With no future in sight, everyone felt pretty damn frustrated.

Their legs felt like lead. Even though they’d had a good night’s rest, they felt way more beat than the day before.

Their hearts were tired too, a weariness you couldn’t put into words, and it showed in how they talked and acted, making them short-tempered.

Old Man Zhao had sharp eyes and could see the gloom in the crowd. Instead of saying something nice, he scowled and started cussing them out, spit flying everywhere: “What’s with all the sour faces? You running out of flatbread, water, or sleep? Other refugees have to worry about their stuff getting stolen, bust their asses getting their families settled, and go into the mountains to find water. When they cook, they’re so careful they’d rather choke on the smoke than let anyone see it. They’re scared shitless every step of the way, taking detours, avoiding strangers, and the calluses on their feet are thicker than the mud walls of their houses!”

“And you? Look at yourselves! You open your eyes and start whining about being tired, about dying, about not being able to go on, calling for the King of Hell to take you away. I say you’ve been living too easy! He ought to take you—why are you still alive? There’s hoes and axes in the baskets. Before we move on, dig yourselves a hole and lie in it. As a fellow villager, I’ll even help shovel the dirt over you!”

“And some of you—I won’t say who—seem full of energy! Arguing is just opening your mouths, and fighting is just raising your fists. I heard you yelling at the crack of dawn. The latrine pit is big enough for four or five men to squat around at the same time, but you’re the only one bitching about the smell, chasing people off. You can’t even take a shit without starting a fight. Why hasn’t the town’s theater troupe hired you already? One performer like you could put on a whole show!”

By the end, his furious glare was practically glued to old lady Zhou’s face.

Old lady Zhou felt guilty and kept her mouth shut at first, but after a lifetime of bullying in the village, her mouth was faster than her brain: “You didn’t smell it, oh my god. Eating the same flatbread and cornbread, how does old lady Wu manage to make such good fertilizer? No wonder her vegetable patch grows so lush. I always wondered why, thinking she had a green thumb, but it turns out it’s because of this shit! Truly, as the old saying goes, ‘Better to be born lucky than to marry lucky, better to do well than to shit well.’ Tsk tsk, this old woman is jealous!”

She aired this private, dirty business in front of the whole village, including two families from another village. Old lady Wu’s face turned red with rage. The two had been old rivals in the village, like oil and water, their relationship had only eased a little after they transported grain to town together earlier. Now, throwing caution to the wind, old lady Wu, with her bulging backpack, charged over to tear old lady Zhou’s mouth apart: “You old hag, spreading lies! Let me rip your mouth open!”

There were a lot of people between the two families. Old lady Wu charged through like a bull, and Old Man Zhao’s yelling couldn’t stop her. The whole village stopped to watch them tear into each other.

Luckily, both had some restraint, going for each other’s faces instead of their stuff.

Seeing he couldn’t stop them, Old Man Zhao gave up and bellowed, “Fight, let them fight. They’re still not tired enough, still got energy. Good, real good. Up ahead, there’s a village with plenty of straw stacks in the fields. When we pass by, everyone grab two bundles. Whether you weave straw shoes, hats, or flowers, keep your hands busy.”

He shouted at the two old women, “If you’ve got energy to spare, use it on fighting!”

He cracked his whip, not wanting to hit the donkey, slapping the cart shaft loudly instead, and took the lead to continue the journey.

Once he left, several Village Elders stepped out from their families, fuming and picking up the scolding. It was time to tighten the reins. Da Gen had told them last night to push on today; they might reach the new plain boundary before dark.

Entering Wuling meant stepping into bandit territory. On the road, whether seeing adults, children, or villages, they had to stay alert.

In the mountains and below, everyone might be in cahoots. One careless move could lead to the whole village being captured and taken to the bandits’ lair.

For safety, they needed to reach the border of two counties today, get a good night’s sleep, let the men regain their strength, and ensure the women and children didn’t hold them back.

Big knives, hoes, axes, sickles, kitchen knives—everything had to be within arm’s reach. Even sleep couldn’t be too deep; they had to be ready to flee or fight at any moment.

Old lady Zhou, who stirred up trouble at the drop of a hat, needed a harsh scolding to understand what “fleeing” meant!

Not just her, but everyone. Who were they making those sour faces for? Feeling tired and bitter? Unsatisfied with food and sleep?

The Village Elders sneered. In a word, they still hadn’t tasted the bitterness of fleeing. This was nothing, and they were already complaining? “Out of ten who leave home, not one returns”—this cruel old saying was built on the lives of their ancestors.

“If you keep messing around, go back to the village!” Zhao Shanao said harshly. “You’re all old enough, haven’t you learned anything? If you could survive in the village, who would be here? Since you’ve chosen this path, stop complaining. No one owes you anything. If you want a private latrine, dig your own. If you want exclusive meals, the road is wide—pack your things and leave the group now. No one will stop you!”

“I’ll say this one last time: anyone who holds us back, don’t blame us old folks for being ruthless. There are too many of us in this village. We can’t let one person’s carelessness cause trouble for everyone. You think life is easy now because the road you’re on was shaken by an earthquake years ago, killing so many. We’ve spent our whole lives in the village, used to seeing no outsiders for a year. But think about the scenes when you carried grain to town to pay taxes!”

A sea of people, no connections or acquaintances. If you lined up from dawn to dusk, you might not even get your turn before the officials left. Two or three days there, crowded like an anthill, suffering in silence, swallowing your bitterness.

“It gets harder from here. Don’t think I’m scaring you. Not just ahead, but even on the roads we’ve traveled, there might be bodies lying in the ditches and grass!”

The Shi family had made it this far thanks to their sugarcane field. Without it, with their weak and disabled members, even if they avoided outsiders and took detours, just finding water each day would take a lot of time, and they might not succeed.

In such heat, without water for two days, they’d be ready to cut their flesh and drink blood. Once hunger sets in, morality and humanity become worthless. You might not be able to eat your own flesh, but others’?

Having lived long, they’d heard of all sorts of strange things. In truth, the further they went, the more their hearts pounded—not from fear of what lay ahead, but from dread of what was behind.

How many more lives would be lost in this new plain?

The sun came out, getting hot, and they finally reached the village Old Man Zhao had mentioned.

The main road ran outside the village, some distance from the entrance. If not for knowing the village’s current state, just looking at the neat rice stubble in the fields and the tidy straw stacks would make anyone sigh at the pastoral beauty.

Back when they prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, they had cut the rice a few days early. After threshing, they didn’t bother tidying up or stacking the straw. They just picked up the fallen ears, hurriedly dried the grain in the sun for two days, and packed it away.

If Old Man Zhao hadn’t mentioned it, they wouldn’t have thought of this. They wore out their straw shoes and went barefoot, saved the few straw hats for the elderly and children, and never considered weaving new ones on the road. They only thought about being tired.

Now that someone dared to think it and told them to do it, the crowd was like dogs seeing meat. They dropped their loads and ran to the fields. Men and women swarmed over, looking less like they were grabbing straw and more like they were heading for a mountain of gold and silver.

“Xiao Luo Bo, watch the cart. I’m going to grab some too.” Da Luo Bo rubbed his hands together. His family only had two straw hats, and his mother, out of pity, refused to wear one herself. He used the excuse that she needed to push the cart to avoid taking one, instead finding a tree leaf on the road to shield himself from the sun. But it was inconvenient, needing a hand to keep it from falling.

Li Dahe, Wu Dazhu, Zhao Quan, and Zhao Yong’s families were the first to dash into the fields. Damn it, only after leaving home did they regret not bringing this or that. They had packed grain and clothes, even brought quilts in the heat, but never thought about trivial things like straw hats.

Back in their own fields, they were careless with them. Now they were scrambling for straw from others’ fields, proving the saying that expenses pile up when you’re away from home. Though they had no intention of paying, planning to grab and run.

“Dagouzi, go to that field and grab more. Our family’s big!” Li Dahe instructed his eldest grandson. They had a large family and planned to get a straw hat for everyone.

“Grandpa, don’t just stand there talking! Come grab some too. There are so many people, I’m afraid I won’t get much!” Dagouzi rushed into the field and scooped up a bundle. Seeing his younger brother and Zhou Santou about to fight over a handful of straw, he kicked Zhou Santou in the backside and roared, “There’s plenty around you, why are you fighting with Er Gouzi? Don’t think just because I’m not Xiao Wu, I won’t hit you! If you mess with my brother, I’ll beat you to death!”

Seeing his brother bullied, Zhou Datou, who had run over from afar, bent down, grabbed a rice stump from the field, and threw it at him: “Li Dagou, kick my brother again?!”

Dagouzi had a hot temper, and Zhou Datou wasn’t much different. Just as a fight was about to break out, Da Luo Bo squeezed between them, scooped up the straw scattered on the ground, and ran back, tossing out a cold remark: “You fight, and I’ll go tell the Village Elders.”

“…” The morning’s scene of old lady Zhou being chewed out was still fresh. Dagouzi couldn’t stand it. He glared at the Zhou brothers, grabbed his younger brother, and chased after Da Luo Bo, shouting from a distance, “Whose side are you on? Helping outsiders!”

Their families were known as close allies in the village! Da Luo Bo, with his elbow turned outward, was siding with outsiders and even threatening to report him.

“If you do that again, I won’t carry things for you next time,” he threatened.

“…” Zhou Datou glared at his brother. “Are you asking for it? Why do you have to snatch from others? Isn’t there enough here for you?”

Zhou Santou didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe, perhaps, others’ things always seemed better. By the time he realized it, his hand had already reached out. What could he do?

Facing his already displeased older brother, Zhou Santou sniffled hard, wiped the thick snot on his sleeve, bent down to grab a bundle of straw, and ran off without looking back.

“I’m never talking to you again!” he declared, both defiant and weak.

“…” Zhou Datou felt like his brother was possessed—annoying and helpless. He grabbed a big armful of straw and ran back.

People came and went. Every visible straw stack was stripped clean. They were like locusts, leaving nothing in their wake.

Li Laiyin, who still had a shred of conscience, couldn’t help but say, “Isn’t this a bit bad? What if the villagers see us and come after us with hoes? Should we run now?” Straw was valuable—it could be used as firewood or for roofing. Back in the village, everyone guarded their straw jealously. Anyone caught taking it would be chased to their doorstep and cursed out.

“Run? Just leave it,” Old Man Zhao sighed, his gaze on the village entrance filled with melancholy.

If anyone alive were there, they would have come out by now with all this commotion.

The stacks were neatly arranged in the fields. If people were truly dead, who would have the heart to tidy them up? Probably, like their village, they had cut the rice, threshed it, dried the grain, bagged it, and fled far away.

They hadn’t hanged themselves—they had met with disaster!