Chapter 237

A group of people worked with hatchets for two days, cutting down the bamboo grove and catching all the bamboo rats. Rows of new backpacks and baskets were stuffed full of grain and clothing. Wild chickens, rabbits, bamboo rats, venison, and fish—half-smoked, half-cured, half-dried—hung all around. The clatter of pots, pans, bowls, and chopsticks rang out, and the sound made everyone feel their belongings were ample, filling them with a sense of security.

That wasn't all. Even the adults and children didn't sleep. At night, they wandered the mountains with torches, scrambling to gather any food they could get their hands on. The wild vegetables on the mountain were devastated, as Old Man Zhao put it: "This bunch of shameless bastards have scraped off two layers of the earth’s skin. They can even pull snakes out of their dens with bare hands. Even the most fertile rabbits would go extinct in their hands. If a plague of locusts came, they’d have to kneel and call them ancestors."

The commotion was something else.

The old folks skilled in weaving bamboo strips sat under the bamboo grove working all day. The women gathered around the stove, stir-frying rice, beans, and baking flatbreads. The men worked bare-chested, chopping trees, sharpening sticks, and shouting as they made carts and carriages, as well as hoe handles, axe handles, and other tools necessary for the journey of escape.

The Zhao family's carriage had been abandoned during the flood when they fled for their lives, but Er Niang's carriage had been dismantled and brought back with the donkey. In the eyes of outsiders, that was the case. So they had to quickly make a cart. Winter was bitterly cold, and the children couldn't withstand the wind. Having some shelter would be better and could also save a bit of leg strength.

When everyone works together, work gets done quickly. They worked nonstop for two days, staying up late, not bothering with details, and just roughly finishing things. By the time everything was nearly ready.

On the night before departure, everyone wrapped meat, grain, coarse salt, thick clothing, and bedding—anything precious that couldn't get damp—in rainproof cloth as much as possible, ensuring that rain wouldn't damage them. If anything accidentally fell into water, they could retrieve it immediately and still wear or eat it. From then on, whether they would be full or hungry depended entirely on these supplies, so they had to take extra precautions and not skimp.

In the prefecture city, they had already considered this. Old Man Zhao had bought a lot of rainproof cloth and oiled paper.

Especially the rainproof cloth: it would definitely rain later, maybe even snow. Oiled paper umbrellas were too expensive, and it was impossible for each family to have one, but one large piece of rainproof cloth per family was simple. If it rained on the road and they couldn't find shelter, each family could quickly set up the cloth to protect the children and the elderly. Getting caught in the rain would cause chills, which could lead to illness, and illness could lead to death. Every family had children, so everyone was very satisfied with the rainproof cloth Old Man Zhao and the others had bought, feeling it was money well spent.

Besides that, another use for the rainproof cloth was to keep out mosquitoes and insects.

Although they hadn't gone down the mountain in the past two days, they could guess the situation wasn't good. There were many mosquitoes and insects at the foot of the mountain, even more by the river. If the food they put into their mouths wasn't sealed properly, and it got contaminated with unclean things, eating it would definitely cause illness.

At this juncture, no one could afford to get sick. If anyone had a headache, fever, or cough, everyone would stare at them and take a step back, as if avoiding a plague.

They had drunk peach juice for a full two days, using three whole slices. Old Man Zhao's heart ached, and he muttered to his wife that every single one of these people owed his daughter a kowtow—they were truly blessed.

But no one else knew about this, so regarding Sun Xuyang, who had been sickly all along, apart from the Sun family's own branches, others didn't dare get too close. They didn't say anything out loud, but they were cautious, guarding against the possibility.

"Did you tell the village head that we know someone in Yanlin Prefecture?" Over the past two days, everyone was busy with their own tasks, and Wang had forgotten about this. Now, it suddenly came to her, and she slapped his arm. "Don't be foolish and say that."

"What are you hitting for! Hitting! Don’t you care about your own husband!" Old Man Zhao, on the verge of falling asleep, wasn't angry when woken up. He turned over, deliberately fierce, glaring at her, and whispered, "Do you think I'm stupid? If I said that, people would have hopes, thinking they could rely on connections or relatives."

If it were really his relatives, he wouldn't mind hoping. But this matter... well, it was hard to say, and he couldn't say it either. The Zhao family's relative was Wang Jinyu. When they sent the child back, his maternal uncle's wife had given them a lot in return. Speaking from the heart, he couldn't figure out how wealthy families operated—whether they were truly grateful or just bought off ties with silver.

Even though he knew Jin Yu was in Yanlin Prefecture, deep down, he didn't dare go there with the intention of relying on him. He was also afraid of disappointment, that it wouldn't turn out well.

After all, the child was young. He had only stayed at home for two months, a short time. Whether their bond was deep or shallow depended on the person and the circumstances. He couldn't be sure if Jin Yu had changed after leaving their family or if his heart had shifted.

He couldn't make rash promises about uncertain things, especially involving General Chen. If he said casually that they had someone in Yanlin Prefecture, oh heavens, it would be like trying to claim kinship. He really couldn't do that.

He had his dignity.

Zhao Xiaobao was counting stars when she saw her parents whispering. She rolled over on the mat and got close, whispering, "Xiaobao misses Nephew Jin Yu."

Old Man Zhao rested his head on his arm, looking up at the star-filled night sky, and sighed, "We all miss him quite a bit."

His own family knew themselves better than anyone. They were people who valued relationships. Usually, they didn't mention the child because they were too shy to bring it up. If he were really Wang Jinyu, they might mention his name every other day. But the child's status was too high, so they didn't dare think of him all the time. That feeling was embarrassing, as if their longing somehow tainted them with a hint of wanting to curry favor. Even if no one said it, the hurdle in their hearts wasn't easy to cross. They were honest, straightforward people, without any thought of climbing the social ladder.

So they preferred to keep it inside and never showed any sign of it in daily life.

Except for Zhao Xiaobao and those few simple-minded boys. The aunt spoke whatever came to mind, and the brothers weren't sensitive enough to think about it. Children didn't have the same reservations as adults.

Now, when he said "we all miss him," Wang didn't say anything. In the darkness where no one could see, she quietly nodded. Yes, she missed him too.

"I haven't dared to think about it much since the child left. I didn't have time to think about it either, with one thing after another." Old Man Zhao smiled. "Then came the trouble: first the Yu family, then the Duke of Chen. Both were relatives of Jin Yu who died. I dared not think about it even more—couldn't imagine the child's situation, or what was happening in Yanlin Prefecture, how his uncle and aunt would react, whether they would think about..."

He paused and said in a voice only his family could hear: "Rebel."

General Chen had troops under his command, real power. His wife's family had been wiped out, and his own father was dead. To put it bluntly, all the people and things that could be used to threaten him were gone. He had been stationed at the border for years. Vice Minister Yu and Duke Chen had worked diligently all these years, not bullying others or doing anything to anger heaven or earth. They had not wronged the imperial court, let alone the common people. Yet they ended up like this. No matter from what angle you looked at it, if he raised his arms and called for justice, to clear the court of traitors, no one in the world could call him a "traitor."

The current court was like a lotus root cut open with a single blow—full of holes. Anyone could dig in, claim a piece of land, and call themselves a king.

Earlier, when everyone was shouting about wanting to be commoners, he felt a bit guilty. He thought that if Yanlin Prefecture rebelled, then what commoners would they be?

He chuckled and reached out to rub his daughter's chubby cheek. "There's no way around it. It's our bad luck to have been born in such times. We're just ordinary folks. Whether we're called refugees or rebels, it's the higher-ups who stamp those labels on us. We don't have the strength to shake them off. Actually, as long as we don't do anything immoral, and just farm and live our lives honestly, it's the same wherever we are."

Upon hearing this, Wang gave him a dismissive look. She couldn't be bothered to argue with him. This old man was so biased it was beyond belief.

Prince Cheng had rebelled, and the people of Qingzhou Prefecture became rebels. This old man yelled day and night about wanting to be commoners, not rebels, and that they should run quickly. Now that they were about to head to Yanlin Prefecture, before even setting out, he was already defending the General, saying it was the same everywhere, that the labels were given by the higher-ups and had nothing to do with them.

"Whether he rebels or not has nothing to do with us. Right now, only the people in the capital are commoners. Outside, it's the same. Who knows, maybe everyone has some ideas." Wang lay on the other side, closing her eyes. "Go to sleep. Why bother thinking so much? With the little hair left on our heads, we ordinary folks can't figure out such matters. They're all affairs of the great ones."

"Mm," Old Man Zhao replied softly.

The couple both looked at the sky but couldn't fall asleep.

How could they not be worried, knowing they were about to leave? Great people had great worries; ordinary people had ordinary worries. The lives of two villages weighed on their shoulders. Although Old Man Zhao had agreed readily and seemed very capable of holding up the sky, in private, he too became anxious and would scratch his head.

Wang saw this and couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy.

"Dad, don't be afraid. Xiaobao and the brothers are here." As if sensing his emotions, his little padded jacket, who had been lying with eyes closed, suddenly rolled over and squeezed into his sweaty, warm arms, muttering softly, "Our family will always be together. Xiaobao will protect Dad and Mom."

The divine land could only take two people. Zhao Xiaobao believed it was because she loved her parents too much and couldn't bear to be separated from them that she could go from one to two.

Wang shifted slightly, reached out, and patted his chest. The mother and daughter spoke in the same tone: "What's there to worry about? We don't owe anyone. Whether we live or die is fate. You just think too much and take everything onto yourself, weighing yourself down." That was precisely what they meant—tough on the outside, soft on the inside.

There were advantages to having many people, and benefits to having few. They called it banding together for safety, but only the family knew what it was really like.

Leaving aside winning or losing, just thinking about going to the prefecture city to exchange grain and clothing: if it were just their family, it wouldn't be such a hassle. With no outsiders, they could have already been hundreds of miles away, and with a little effort, they could have reached Yanlin Prefecture by now.

Old Man Zhao grinned, holding his little girl and wrapping his arm around his wife, and said nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

He had warned everyone to rest well tonight, because after tonight, there would be no more such easy days.

The people from the two villages got along well. The experiences of escaping from famine passed down through generations in Wanxia Village were nothing compared to what this group had actually gone through. The people of Liuhe Village deliberately asked, and the people of Wanxia Village didn't hold back. They told them all the hardships of the road: walking seventy or eighty li a day was considered slow; if they really wanted to make progress, they had to speed up. Rest time was squeezed out. The beginning of the road was the hardest. The old, weak, women, and children would suffer the most. They didn't have enough stamina. In a couple of days, the soles of their feet would be full of blisters. They would crush the blisters and keep walking. The skin would be scraped off, and every step hurt. But as the skin thickened step by step, their stamina gradually improved.

"If you don't improve, the group won't wait. If you sit down to rest, you'll fall behind. We won't stop specifically for anyone. That's the rule." Old Lady Zhou was elated. She was now quite proud. When she first left the village, she was the one shouting the loudest: "Oh, I can't walk anymore!" "Oh, why aren't we stopping?" She was always the straggler, very unpopular.

Now it was different. From their hometown all the way to Liuhe Village, they had experienced night raids, fights, and bandits blocking the road. To survive, they had to run. To not fall behind, they had to keep walking. She had been trained well. Now, among the women and children of Liuhe Village, she was quite respected. She talked endlessly, sharing her experiences.

The women of Liuhe Village were happy to flatter her and begged her to tell them more about things they didn't know. They all listened carefully, determined not to fall behind too much.

Old Lady Zhou squeezed out bits and pieces from here and there, forming a rough picture.

For example, from the very first step of the escape, they couldn't afford to be too doting as parents. The road was long; don't think about carrying everything on yourself. You can't. Your body would be too tired, which would slow down the group. Whether it was a pot or a bowl, make the children carry some. Forget about carrying or holding them. If the children were disobedient and fussy, beat them hard. There was no room for indulgence.

"Adults have to build up their leg strength, and children do too. Spoiling them isn't called love. Making them able to keep up with the group on their own is the right way." This was what Old Lady Zhou had learned from Wang. Although the Zhao family had a donkey cart, all along the way, except for Zhao Xiaobao, who never touched the ground, the grandchildren below her walked on their own two feet.

The children suffered, but from Qingzhou Prefecture to Fengchuan Prefecture, not a single family member was lost. Sometimes adults are too hard on themselves, which is actually another form of irresponsibility toward their children. If they managed to survive, fine. But if they died of exhaustion on the road, their wives and children would truly have no support for the rest of their lives.

In the village, she used to treat her two grandsons as the apples of her eye. But after escaping all the way, now she could put the heaviest pot on San Tou's back. The child had to learn to shoulder responsibilities.

"This... can the child bear it?" Grandma Jin had only one granddaughter, whom she doted on like a precious treasure. She disagreed with this idea strongly, but since it was someone else's hard-earned experience, she didn't directly refute it.

"Oh, how can they not bear it? They haven't lost an arm or a leg. What's wrong with walking? Our village even had a lame boy named Gou Sheng. He walked all the way with a stick. Unless he was too tired to move his legs, his father didn't carry him. He had to push the cart. He was also an only son, very precious." Old Lady Zhou knew her situation and chuckled, saying "only son" to really jab at her heart.

Granny Jin opened her mouth but didn't say a word.

Old Lady Zhou didn't bother with her either; she was truly keeping nothing back, not treating anyone as an outsider, and had said everything that needed to be said.

This led to the next morning, when everyone was packing up to head down the mountain, and they saw the people from Liuhe Village with their trouser legs untied, having ignored every word she'd repeated. She felt her good intentions had been thrown away and grumbled endlessly: "I said to bind your legs, bind your legs! Why didn't a single person listen? Would I harm you? Just take two strips of cloth and wrap them tightly around your calves—it relieves fatigue and keeps mosquitoes and bugs away. Yesterday it was all agreed, but overnight you forgot! Ah!"

"We did bind them, but it was so uncomfortable, the bindings hurt our legs—better not to bind at all," the people from Liuhe Village said, feeling wronged. They hadn't ignored her; they had listened, truly listened, but it was so uncomfortable they had to take them off.

"Fine, do as you please! Do what you want! See if I care!" Old Lady Zhou was angry now. She shook her head and stopped bothering with them. These old and young folks didn't take her words seriously, treating kindness as if it were nothing—they'll learn the hard way.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and people from halfway up the mountain began to descend one after another.

At the foot of the mountain, they were busy moving baskets, bamboo backpacks, and handcarts. There was a lot of stuff, and they still needed to test the water depth, but the route had been settled beforehand. The waterway was only a short section; as long as they got everything across, it would be fine. Troublesome, yes, but not a big deal.

Zhao Xiaobao, still drowsy, was placed in a bamboo basket. She was already used to this spot. She let her mother put a hood over her head, curled up in a thin quilt, and listened to the bustle of the impending journey. Amid the noise and chatter, she was so sleepy she could barely open her eyes.

"Don't dawdle, we have to go," someone urged.

"Let me take one last look," someone said, voice choked with tears. "Once we leave, this is the end. We'll never come back. Our ancestors are buried on the mountain, and we've lived here all our lives. Every look is one less chance to see it."

Sigh.

"Father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, I'm leaving now. I'm taking the whole family to find a way to live! If your spirits are watching from above, bless your children and descendants. No matter where our family ends up, on Qingming Festival and holidays, we will burn incense for you!"

Waa...

Suppressed sobs and open wails echoed at the base of this nearly forgotten mountain, lingering long.