Chapter 226

Chapter 226

After tidying up the grain, Old Man Zhao went to the kitchen and steamed a whole steamer basket of rice.

Slices of cured meat hung from the rafters. He cut off half a slab, lined a bowl with pre-soaked dried wild herbs, and after scrubbing the meat clean, placed it on the cutting board, sliced it thinly, and layered it neatly to cover the bowl.

He took the steaming rack off the wall, set it in the pot, added two scoops of water, placed the heaping bowl of meat on top, then covered the pot and let it steam.

The whole sequence was smooth and practiced, showing he’d done plenty of kitchen chores.

Smoke curled from the chimney as dogs barked in fits. Old Zhao tossed a thick log into the stove, wiped his hands, and left the kitchen.

Hearing faint chatter from the backyard, he went around and saw the brother and sister squatting on the ground, chatting and giggling—the older and younger one sure could jabber.

Zhao Ertian was sawing wood. Back when they left Wanxia Village, his father and little sister had dismantled the wooden fence around the house, not leaving a single piece of wood behind. Now the storage room was packed tight, no room for anything else. At the moment, he was busy and couldn’t spare time to work in the immortal land. For now, he was just getting the wood sorted so it’d be handy for building later.

The brother and sister were chatting about how big to build the new granary. Zhao Ertian didn’t brush off his younger sister’s question; he answered seriously, “Dad and Big Brother aim to put up a real proper big granary—no junk, just grain. Our current granary is too cramped, a pain to get in and out of, and it’s a hassle to fetch grain. Once the new granary’s built, we’ll sort things out—move what needs moving, toss what needs tossing.”

“That will need a lot of wood and stone,” Zhao Xiaobao said, squatting beside him, cupping her little face in her hands, nodding like a little grown-up. “Second Brother, when we get back, I’ll ask Brother Qingxuan and Xiao Wu and the others to cut timber from the high mountains. I’ll find lots of good stone too. We all gotta help out.”

“Good,” Zhao Ertian nodded with a smile. “Right, we gotta stock up before we leave so we don’t have trouble on the road. Also firewood—before coming to the prefectural city, Dad gave Xiao Wu and the village kids a job, told him to have the village kids gather plenty of dry firewood. It’s getting colder by the day; we might still be on the road in the dead of winter. If we end up where it snows, who knows how cold it’ll be. Better safe than sorry.”

With mountains, firewood, and stone available, they needed to prepare in advance—whether for building the granary in the immortal land or for keeping warm in winter. In past winters, even holed up in bed with doors and windows shut, they still felt bone-chilling cold, let alone on the road, with the sky as our blanket and the ground as our bed. If we can’t find a windbreak, we might just sleep and turn into popsicles by morning.

Both villages had many elderly people, women, and children—those with weak yang energy and not much warmth in them. A chill could turn into a sickness. We’ve come this far—can’t let anyone die from the cold. That’d be a damn shame, after all the suffering we’ve been through.

The brother and sister, with their backs turned, didn’t know their father had been standing behind them for a while.

It was a rare moment of leisure and peace. Old Zhao didn’t interrupt their chitchat and work. After a while, he picked up a hoe and, while supper wasn’t ready yet, headed to the fields to get some work in.

…

Just as dusk fell, the family of four sat down to eat in the western room.

The smallish table was loaded with food: a large bowl of steamed cured meat with dried wild vegetables, a big basin of cold mixed greens, a basket of various fruits, and a steamer basket full of rice—plenty to fill their stomachs.

For once, there were no outsiders, so the family ate heartily, indulging in a proper meal.

“Isn’t this better than the vegetable noodle soup that costs over ten wen a bowl?”

After devouring everything, they were stuffed to the brim, with no room left for a single bite. Old Zhao belched, rubbing his belly with one hand and putting down his chopsticks with the other. He glanced at the empty steamer and the scraped-clean bowls—not even a leftover scrap of food, the juice all licked up. “We need to fatten up here in the prefectural city. Once we go back, we won’t be able to eat like this.”

Zhao Ertian and Zhao Sandi were still shoveling rice into their mouths, only nodding briefly in response.

“The fish we caught earlier are still alive in the water tank. Tomorrow, after we finish work, let’s see if we can buy some tofu. We’ll make a fish head and tofu soup, plenty of it, and save some for your mother and sister-in-law.”

“Mm, alright.”

Zhao Xiaobao had already put down her bowl and chopsticks and was playing in the yard.

This alley was lively; during mealtime, every household made a racket. One kid complained there was no meat in the dish, and his mother scolded him, saying, “Eat it or not—our jar of rice is almost empty and you’re still being picky!”

If he really refused to eat and made a fuss, the stick would come down, and soon the alley was filled with the wailing of a child.

She took a small bowl of pear slices and sat on a low stool, nibbling as she listened to the bustling sounds of the prefectural city.

The courtyard gate was shut tight. She could hear the clatter of bowls and chopsticks from outside, mixed with slurping and chewing noises—probably some neighbors who liked to stroll around with their bowls at mealtime, who happened to pass by their place.

“Xiaobao, time to sleep,” Old Zhao called from inside.

Zhao Xiaobao ran into the house with her empty bowl. “Coming!”

Outside, two old women were holding bowls, slurping thin congee with more water than rice. They listened to the violent coughing from the Guan family next door, a stark contrast to the quiet at the end of the alley.

“We’re all neighbors—why should she get all the money? When Yao first left, she asked us to keep an eye on the house. The money should be split among everyone. The yard hasn’t been burgled for half a year because we all did our part, right?”

“I heard Yushan County was flooded. Do you think those mother and son...”

“Most likely!” The first woman who spoke looked around, then leaned in and whispered, “If they’re gone, do you think the people at the alley entrance will just take over this yard? The key is in that woman’s hands!”

“No way!” The other woman gasped.

“Why not? She dares to rent it out short-term today; tomorrow she’ll rent it long-term. After a few years, if Yao still hasn’t returned, and she’s got the key, she can pull some strings, forge a fake deed of sale, and claim Yao sold the yard to her before leaving. With no one to contradict her, she can say whatever she wants.”

“Cough, cough, A—CHOO!”

A piercing fit of coughing interrupted the two women’s conspiracy theories. They frowned and shouted toward the second house at the tail end of the alley: “Hey, Guan family! Your kid is coughing like that, why haven’t you taken him to a doctor? All day long, cough, cough, cough—keeping people awake at night!”

A stool banged against the door with a loud crash, followed by an old woman’s angry voice from inside: “If you can’t sleep, go to the clinic and get your pulse checked—see if you’re about to die! Our boy is perfectly fine! Why should he see a doctor? I think *you* need to see one!”

“You’re the one who’s going to die! Your whole family is going to die!”

“Go eat rotten meat from the river! If you don’t die of poverty, you’ll die of wickedness!”

The two women were startled, but they weren’t about to back down. As the Guan woman’s footsteps approached, they yelled a string of curses at the closed door, then, hearing the door being yanked open, they grabbed their empty bowls and scurried away.

“You two damned wretches! Short-lived things! Who are you saying is going to die?!”

“Gutless sluts born without a pecker! Filthy pigs eating shit mixed with muck! If you’ve got the guts to shout, don’t run—I’ll tear your mouths apart!”

The banging and crashing of doors, mixed with obscene curses, roused the entire neighborhood. People rushed out to mediate and calm things down.

Amid the chaos, there were also painful, gasping coughs that seemed to tear through the lungs. That night’s commotion was so loud that Zhao Sandi, sleeping outside, found it truly agonizing.

The north city truly was the most chaotic part of the prefectural city. The fighting and arguing went on for half the night without anyone stepping in to stop it. The next morning, when the family of four passed by the Guan family’s house, they saw the door panels were loose, with visible knife marks and splintered wood on the ground. Things had escalated to the point of drawing weapons.

Old Zhao carried his daughter while Zhao Ertian and Zhao Sandi each carried a bamboo basket. They didn’t linger; after a quick glance, they left the alley and headed for the main street.

Day had just broken, and the streets were already bustling. The breakfast stall’s steam rose thickly; the owner had a hand towel slung over his shoulder, hurriedly attending to impatient customers, too busy to stand still.

When they passed a fried dough stick stall, Old Zhao bought two.

“Here you go. Enjoy!” The owner handed him the fried dough sticks wrapped in oil paper.

They were still hot from the pan. Old Zhao thanked him, didn’t hand them to his daughter, but held them up for her to take a bite.

Since it was rare to come to the city, he didn’t want to let her go without treats. He bought things as they walked, and soon Zhao Sandi’s basket was quite full.

They also bought tofu—they happened to see it and grabbed several pieces.

Passing by a general store, they went in and bought various sewing supplies like needles and thread, as well as sauces and seasonings like soy sauce and vinegar. They also bought a good amount of malt candy. There were many kids in the family and the village; malt candy was the cheapest snack. A small piece could be shared—none of the grubby village kids minded—each taking a lick to sweeten their mouths.

When they passed a wineshop, the three men couldn’t help lingering. After some hesitation, they ended up spending a considerable sum on several large jars of fine liquor, plus some cheap rice wine. In and out, their purse was lighter by a dozen silver taels—quite the spendthrifts.

They didn’t buy liquor just to drink. It had many uses: a sip could warm the body in cold weather; a spray could disinfect wounds to prevent infection. In short, it was worth the cost.

As always, it was hard to come to the city, so they had to stock up on everything.

Passing by the salt shop, they saw a crowd and heard arguing—seemed like a dispute between a customer and a clerk.

A customer came early in the morning to buy salt, only to find it had gone up in price again. "A different price every day—how's a person supposed to live?" The salt shop assistant naturally wouldn't take the blame. "It's not up to me to decide the price. If you don't want it, don't buy it. What're you yelling for? No amount of yelling will make it cheaper."

"Cause any more trouble and I'll throw you out!" the assistant said, his tone aggressive. "If you think it's too expensive, why bother buying salt at all? Why not just run a few laps around the north of the city, work up a sweat, let it dry, and then lick your arms? Guaranteed to taste salty!"

"Don't you country folk all cook like that? Just scrape off your own sweat and sprinkle it in the pot."

The guy arguing with him was dressed plain—you could tell he wasn't rich. The assistant's words was a roundabout way of calling him a broke-ass. Coming to buy salt at the salt market early in the morning meant he was probably a city resident living north of the city. Calling him a peasant was insulting his poverty.

"You, you—" The man, red-faced with anger, unable to bear the humiliation, clenched his fists and was about to charge forward to hit him.

Two thugs immediately rushed out, each grabbing one of his arms and directly tossing him out.

A crowd of onlookers had packed in tight, rows deep, but Old Man Zhao didn't join them. He simply led his children away.

He didn't know how the north side used to be, but based on this brief day's experience—whether it was the explosive neighbors or the soaring prices—they all gave him a very bad feeling, that suffocating, chaotic feeling right before a big storm hits.

Zhao Sandi also felt something was very wrong. Last night, his father had worried that the foul language outside would dirty Little Bao's ears, so as soon as the shouting started, they had gone to the "Immortal Realm" (a safe space) and hadn't heard much. Now he said, "The family next door to us seemed to have fished livestock out of the river. Their second son got sick from eating the dead meat. He coughed all night. From the sound of it, I reckon he's not doing well."

Old Man Zhao stopped in his tracks, startled, and turned his head: "He ate dead meat?!"

"Yeah." Zhao Sandi leaned closer to his father and said in a voice only the family could hear: "From what I heard, it wasn't just the Guan family who fished livestock out of the river, but they got the most and ate the most."

"A freshly slaughtered pig won't keep for even two days even if hung in the well. The two old women were shouting that during that time, the Guan family had meat aroma every day, eating three full meals. Guan's second son, who used to be a strong man, suddenly fell ill. The symptoms weren't just coughing—they said he was running a fever too and hadn't left the house for days."

The common folk in the north of the city lived hand-to-mouth; not everyone had meat every day. Even visiting the butcher shop every few days was considered well-off for a family. Children craved meat, and adults did too. A flood was a disaster for the victims, but for some folks, it was like gold just lying around for the taking.

"The noise went on half the night. Fighting and arguing always make people spill the beans. Profiting from a disaster ain't nothing to be proud of, so people kept it hidden. But neighbors can't hide everything. Everyone knew who'd fished and how much they got. As they argued, they spilled all their dirty laundry—nobody kept a secret."

"I reckon a lot of people in the north of the city, and even some from the south, went fishing. After all, it was free for the taking. A hen usually costs several dozen wen, and the river was thick with floating livestock—it was like picking up money. Once that greed kicked in, you couldn't hold it back. Long as it didn't stink or look spoiled, who'd say it was bad?"

As long as it wasn't bad, it could be eaten.

And once you took a bite, how could you stop? You'd eat as much as you could, bellies stuffed, mouths dripping with grease.

He even figured that some shady merchants in town—restaurants, butchers, noodle stalls—anything dealing with meat—might have gotten in on it. In business, having a conscience won't make you any money. It wasn't for their own consumption; selling to others, who cared if it was freshly killed or fished from the river? Skin it, gut it, as long as the meat wasn't spoiled, add heavy spices, cook it up, and serve it—who would know?

It all depended on conscience, but in this world, few had one.

Old Man Zhao thought of this, and a chill shot down his spine.

He had anticipated it and had even seen people fishing livestock from the river, but he never imagined that even the city's residents would do it. Refugees without rations fishing for food was understandable, but city folks, no matter how poor, shouldn't have been desperate enough for that. It was pure greed!

Lost in thought, he wandered without paying attention to his direction until he was blocked by a dense crowd ahead. Looking up, he saw it was a medical clinic.

Sick people were being carried, supported, or helped by their families—men, women, old, and young. They were all lethargic, pale-faced, red-eyed, with fits of coughing.

This sight startled Old Man Zhao so much that he hugged his daughter and grabbed his son, stumbling back several steps, bumping into someone who cursed him out, calling him every name in the book, but he somehow didn't lose his temper.

He took a deep breath, glanced around, and couldn't help looking back at the clinic. His heart was pounding like crazy. He covered his daughter's mouth with one hand, signaled his son to follow, and the family quickly hurried away.

After walking several streets, they found a slightly secluded corner with few people and stopped.

They crouched down, watching the passersby, as if searching for something.

After a long while, a young woman dressed plainly but neatly, as if she had just finished grocery shopping, passed by. Old Man Zhao got up and stopped her.

"What are you—" Startled, the young woman thought she was being robbed. She was about to scream when the old man raised a finger to his lips, "Shh," and said something that made her freeze in her tracks.

"Don't scream." Old Man Zhao glanced around, leaned in, and whispered, "I have grain. Do you want some?"