Chapter 165

Chapter 165

Does Qing Xuan know? We dare not ask!

Although Old Man Zhao knew the boy was smart, he hadn't expected the secret to slip so quickly. Worse, he had no idea how much had slipped—whether it was just a suspicion or full certainty. He was completely in the dark.

As long as the window paper wasn't pierced, no matter how unclear the view inside, there was at least something to cover it. Once it was torn, everything would be laid bare.

Despite his panic, Old Man Zhao didn't dare pull the child aside to probe. Mainly because Qing Xuan acted as if nothing had happened—his attitude toward them remained unchanged. Even on the night before they left the village, he had asked with a straight face, "We're leaving tomorrow. Aren't you going to look for water tonight, Third Brother?"

"..."

Two buckets of water had lasted them several days. After all, it was the dry season; they couldn't haul water out every day. The villagers were simple, not stupid. During a famine, everyone was thirsty—how could they be so lucky? If water were really that easy to find, why would the whole village be fleeing?

If they were to find water, tonight was the last chance. Otherwise, with no water on the road, their resolve would waver. With empty bamboo tubes and scorching heat, everyone's spirits would suffer.

People rely on a certain momentum. If they stay tense, their morale holds. If they let it slip, nothing goes well, and they look easy to bully.

Zhao Sandi, caught under Qing Xuan's gaze, stammered, "Well, yes, we do need to find some. After dinner, I'll take your second brother into the woods... Xiaobao said she's been bored at home, so we'll take her to the hills for a walk. Kids are lively, ha, lively—need to move around." The more he spoke, the less confident he sounded, until he finally turned his head and shot a pleading look at his father.

It was possible that Qing Xuan knew about the immortal land. The whole family had discussed it privately. Even Wang Shi didn't understand how they'd been caught. She thought Qing Xuan had seen them take Xiaobao into the immortal land and gave them a harsh scolding for being so careless—disappearing out of thin air like that! Even a theater troupe would use a cloth to cover up something so miraculous. That Qing Xuan hadn't called them demons on the spot showed how mature he was!

Later, she learned it was because Old Man Zhao and the others had washed their feet, and Xiaobao hadn't washed her hands, giving away the secret. Xiaobao had even repeated what Qing Xuan said. Wang Shi immediately forgot to be angry and started worrying instead. She thought Qing Xuan was right—they'd been too careless.

They had always thought that as long as they were careful entering and exiting and weren't caught in the act, everything would be fine. After all, they kept their movements hidden, especially with food—bringing it out and eating it immediately. Others cooked, and they cooked too. The journey was so hard and tiring—who would bother counting how many buns their family steamed or ate?

They never considered that someone might actually count.

Nor had they considered that clean feet were a dead giveaway in this season. Or that eating a piece of fruit left sticky syrup on their fingers—all small details people overlooked, but each one was a piece of evidence.

She was relieved that no outsider had discovered them. If someone with power or influence found out their secret, it would be over. They would risk their lives but still fail to protect Xiaobao.

Having Qing Xuan discover them, however, might be a blessing in disguise. It was a wake-up call, a harsh slap to remind them.

They'd been too relaxed lately, thinking there were no outsiders around, so they let their guard down. They forgot they were not in their own village, not behind closed doors where no one would notice.

Outside the home, every detail must be handled with care. The villagers might be honest, but outsiders were not.

They were farming families—simple, uneducated peasants. But outsiders were different. The county and prefectural cities were full of important people. Even an ordinary traveling merchant had seen and dealt with all kinds of things. Someone who looked insignificant might have a keen mind.

And the powerful nobles? They grew up eating fine white rice and drinking rare delicacies. How could they compare?

Wang Shi woke up with a start. Once again, she felt immensely grateful that Qing Xuan had pointed this out now, rather than having them fall into the hands of the powerful later.

Qing Xuan was a good kid. They had been through life and death together, and everyone had a sense of his character. Since he hadn't chosen to expose them but instead reminded Xiaobao to wash her hands after sneaking fruit, it meant he didn't intend to dig deeper.

Perhaps it was just intuition, but Wang Shi felt Qing Xuan wouldn't harm their family. He was kind at heart. Though smart, his cleverness was directed outward, not at his own people.

So, when the third son couldn't speak and the old man was too scared to say anything, with the whole family shrinking their necks, she turned to Qing Xuan and probed cautiously: "The men have been searching the mountains for cellars and setting traps these past few days. They've crawled through every thicket. If there were water, they'd know better than anyone. I'm afraid the mountains won't yield any."

Qing Xuan nodded, glanced at his third brother, who was shrinking his neck, and said with a smile, "Auntie is right. The mountains probably won't yield any. If Third Brother wants to take Zhao Xiaobao for a walk, he'll have to find another place."

"Then where do you suggest?" Wang Shi continued probing.

"Anywhere is fine, as long as we get water," Qing Xuan said earnestly. "Auntie, I also think Third Brother is quite lucky—wherever he goes, he finds water. So let's keep it the same as before. I don't care how the water is found, how the buns appear, or how the fruit is picked. I'm not one to dwell on things. As long as I have something to eat and water to drink, I'm deeply grateful."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the family sneakily lift their heads. He paused, then finally fixed his gaze on Zhao Xiaobao and said with an open smile, "If you eat, you have to work. If Third Brother draws water from the well, I'll wait by the well to carry it. If he draws it inside the house, I'll wait at the door. Uncle, Auntie, brothers, sisters-in-law—let's keep things as they were. Zhao Xiaobao likes fruit, let her eat it. I'll keep an eye on her and make sure she washes her hands. I won't let her leave clues for outsiders to catch."

"Don't guard against me," he said. "I will never do anything to harm you."

The whole family lifted their heads completely.

Qing Xuan stood straight, letting them look at him. He knew that because he had torn through the veil, Uncle and Auntie had been uncomfortable these past two days—awkward and uneasy.

Now they were fleeing the famine. It was too hot, and without water, they couldn't manage.

If they were holding back because of him, he thought it was better to speak plainly. No matter what secret their family had—even if Zhao Xiaobao was a fairy descended from heaven who could turn stone to gold—he didn't care.

He had eaten their food and drunk their water. He had known hunger before, especially knowing how hard it was to spare a mouthful of grain in a famine year. The old Zhao family were all good people—tolerant, generous. Whether toward the villagers or toward him, they were beyond reproach.

If there really was some great secret, he would risk his life to help keep it.

People must be grateful. That's what his master taught him—a drop of water should be repaid with a gushing spring. A single meal could be remembered for a lifetime, let alone eating with them for two months. The old Zhao family's kindness to him was as heavy as a mountain.

...

Once everything was out in the open, things became easier.

But Xiaobao was involved, so they couldn't fully trust him. Naturally, they wouldn't voluntarily tell him about the immortal land or let him see them come and go, bringing things in and out.

But changes did occur. For example, with her parents' tacit permission, when Zhao Xiaobao secretly gave snacks to her nephews, she no longer left out Qing Xuan.

At first, it was cornbread, then flatbread, and eventually even rice balls. Flatbread could be explained as leftover from before, but rice balls were hard to justify—especially ones wrapped with cured meat. That wasn't something you could make on the road, especially since they all ate together. Qing Xuan knew well that the way this food came was probably beyond ordinary imagination.

After eating with them twice, he understood why, despite the hardships along the way, the men of the Zhao family looked even stronger. They had never actually gone hungry—they just ate their fill in secret, away from prying eyes.

By then, they had left the village and were walking along the straight road by the river toward Hebo County. Along the way, refugees converged from all directions, drawn to this shortcut.

After a day's walk, they stopped at a riverbank before dark.

The river was dry, the riverbed cracked. The closer they got to Hebo County, the fewer trees and the wider the embankments became. There were more and more refugees.

Many people had gathered on the riverbank, each group claiming a spot, keeping seven or eight paces from strangers.

Bonfires were lit, illuminating faces that were gaunt and exhausted. Their skin, roasted by the sun, hung like cured meat over their bones—sunken cheekbones, bodies as thin as monkeys.

The night temperature hadn't dropped much, so people stayed a little away from the fires. Men, women, old, and young either sat or lay down, fanning themselves lazily with palm-leaf fans and straw hats.

They arrived late, but with their large group, several scattered parties resting near the main road hurriedly got up when they saw them, pushing carts and carrying baskets, moving away as if afraid of being chased away.

Countless eyes stared at them from all directions. Old Man Zhao pretended not to notice. Since someone had willingly given up the spot, he decided to take it. He waved his hand and said, "Rest here!"

They unloaded the donkey and cart, put down the handcarts, and sorted the baskets and loads—a flurry of activity.

Surrounded entirely by strangers, even the naughtiest children became well-behaved, sticking close to their parents as they helped spread mats and gather firewood.

By the time they settled completely, the sky had gone pitch-black. Cicadas chirped, frogs croaked, and all kinds of unknown sounds rang out across the riverbank.

The people from Evening Glow Village sat in a circle, silently gnawing on cornbread. Thirsty, they dared not take out water. They watched others from the corners of their eyes, just as others watched them.

Zhao Xiaobao pressed close to her mother, wide-eyed and curious as she looked around. Near them rested a group. The girls were so thin, barely holding onto life. The adults ate one cornbread, the boys half, and the girls only a quarter.

A little girl was staring at her. She held a cornbread smaller than her hand, nibbling it bite by bite. She finished it in two bites, then kept staring.

Her eyes were green with hunger, and she kept swallowing, her blackened face indistinguishable, as she licked at the blood beading on her cracked lips.

Zhao Xiaobao got scared and snuggled deeper into her mother's arms. "Mother."

"There, there. Mother's here. It's late—time for Xiaobao to sleep." Wang Shi picked up her daughter, turning her away from that side, and patted her back gently, humming a lullaby.

She raised her head and gave a casual glance at the little girl, not looking away until the girl turned and squeezed into the crowd, her small figure disappearing behind the adults.

That group was sizable, at a glance about the same as theirs—whether from the same village or fellow travelers on the road, except for a few leading men who still had some energy left, the rest all looked listless and worn out.

The timid ones had already hidden themselves; they didn’t budge, clearly counting on their numbers and unafraid of trouble.

Besides them, all around were various other groups—large and small—with donkey carts, oxcarts, mule carts, and even horse-drawn carriages everywhere.

As for the handcarts, they were packed tightly together, and everyone watched them closely, not daring to blink.

The night watch was increased by five, including women as well as men. Now they had to keep an eye not just on the handcarts and belongings, but also on the children. When food ran out during the exodus, some would start robbing others' grain; the capable ones did that, while the weak, unwilling to starve, would wretchedly turn to stealing other people’s children.

In this world, human life is worth nothing.

Along the way, they had consumed a lot of their grain, and so had the others. If things were worse—their fields back home had completely failed—then anyone who’d made it this far had to be ruthless. They had to be on guard.

"In the future, we'll arrange it this way—both men and women will stand watch, with more people assigned," Old Man Zhao said quietly. "There are fewer people from Xinping County and fewer from Wuling Mountain, but it's different out here. The closer we get to Hebo, the more refugees there are. Everyone needs to stay alert. We've come this far; we can't afford to stumble halfway. We must make it safely to Fengchuan Prefecture."

Fengchuan Prefecture was like a carrot—a carrot named hope—dangling in front of them, keeping them going.

Once they reached Fengchuan Prefecture, everything would be fine. Fengchuan Prefecture surely had water; it wasn't dry there, and they could survive.

"Da Gen, we all listen to you," Zhao Shanao nodded, and the other Village Elders nodded too. The increasing number of refugees on the road made their hearts pound with unease. How severe must the drought be, with people fleeing from all directions?

They couldn't even understand what the others were saying; they just stared at their group, jabbering in a language they couldn’t understand a word of.