Chapter 242

Chapter 242

Sleeping in the mountains during winter, with no roof or walls for shelter and no heated floors for warmth, not even the men on the night watch, let alone the little ones bundled in thick clothes and wrapped in quilts held tightly by their parents, could stop shivering, murmuring about cold hands, cold feet, and frozen ears.

Firewood was added again and again, but the soles of their feet just wouldn't warm up. The elderly, weaker in constitution, put on every piece of clothing they owned, regardless of season, and even stuffed dry branches and leaves into their clothes to fend off the chill.

It was a season that claimed lives. For the elderly, even without fleeing famine, back in their hometowns, the scarcity of winter clothes and food, combined with hunger and extreme cold, often meant they would never wake up on the eve of early spring.

Now, although life was hard, at least they ate from the communal pot and wore distributed winter clothes. As long as the village had food, they had their share. Many felt content and even began to rely on this way of life, as if they had support, a solid back to lean on, their hearts no longer adrift, a sense of security.

Though a bit ashamed of their own weakness, the secret joy filling their hearts could not be ignored.

They were simply not capable people—they accepted that.

The cold wind raged on. In the deep of sleep, a group of people chattered their teeth from the cold, constantly shrinking their necks.

The firewood crackled. The men on the night watch got up from time to time to add wood, stomping their feet, rubbing their faces, tightening their clothes. Even with an extra thick quilt, they couldn't withstand the biting cold that seemed to seep right into their bones.

Zhu Laicai’s eyelids drooped. His head suddenly lolled, then snapped upright. He instinctively wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, the other hand still gripping a stick, absently poking at the fire. The warmth that swept over his face brought him back to his senses a bit.

Beside him, Man Liang rubbed his hands together vigorously. When his palms were warm, he pressed them tightly to his face. His slightly warm fingertips rubbed his nose, but a stream of clear snot slid out unbidden. He swore under his breath and blew his nose hard, then grumbled, "This damn weather's too cold. My nose feels like an icicle, it's unbearable."

"Tell me about it. Another few days on the road and even taking a piss'll freeze into an icicle." Zhu Laicai gave a lewd chuckle.

Man Liang cracked up—what a crude bastard!

The winter night was bitterly cold. Without some chatter to keep them awake, their bodies would freeze and their eyelids would keep drooping.

"Look at those two, hugging so tight. Tsk, they've even forgotten their kids, kicking them to the corner. How can they be such parents?"

"What, you don't want to hold your wife?"

"Oh, I'd love to." Zhu Laicai was shameless. "But my wife has no time for me. She sleeps every night in the same bed as her mother. Hah, in other households, it's nothing but mother-in-law and daughter-in-law quarrels. In mine, they get along so well, I don't have to worry about a thing."

"Damn, you're lucky to have such a good wife!" Man Liang laughed and punched him on the shoulder, unable to stand his smug expression.

Zhu Laicai glanced toward their resting spot, squinting with delight.

The firewood crackled. Man Liang got up to walk around the area, checking for signs of animals descending the mountain, and took the chance to tuck in the quilts of children who had kicked them off while tossing in their sleep.

In summer, they couldn't stand the heat and wanted to keep distance from others. In winter, they dreaded the cold and would press into anyone. A boy from one family would roll into the arms of another family's old woman; a girl from the south would be tightly held by a woman from the north. It was impossible to tell who was warming whom.

Over the journey, they had long since become one family—eating from the same pot, sleeping under the same blanket.

In the second half of the night, light snow began to fall. Before long, the people sleeping in every direction were covered in a thin white layer, unaware.

Fortunately, it seemed like just a declaration of deep winter's arrival.

Before dawn, people woke and the snow stopped. Messy footprints trod through the mud, and the group continued on the foggy road.

…

They traveled through many villages along the mountain paths. Unlike before, there were no locals blocking the road.

They avoided people, never making contact with strangers. When villagers approached to ask where they were from and where they were going, the old women of Wanxia Village would babble nonsense in the Qingzhou dialect. The other side couldn't understand, and the conversation got nowhere. The villagers wanted to get angry but had nowhere to vent; they could only tell from the accent that they weren't from Fengchuan Prefecture.

Seeing that they seemed in a hurry to move on, still wary, the villagers eased up and just shooed them away, telling them to leave quickly and not linger. They did nothing else.

The group pretended not to know the current situation in Ci'an County. They set out before dawn every day and stopped only near dusk. When they encountered other refugees on the road, they kept to their own path—no conversation, no response.

Pushing ahead without rest, they managed to enter Hexi Town two days ago.

After a brief rest, braving the fog, trudging through snow and slush, after several more days of travel, they finally set foot on the official road of Suiyun Town at dusk today.

People were everywhere—some behind them, some ahead. Even the fast-moving carriages slowed their pace, their clatter no longer so urgent.

The chaos of voices mixed with livestock calls, sweat mingled with the stench of excrement. The clamor never ceased, the stench was overwhelming.

"Dad, we've finally made it to Suiyun Town!"

"Sir, the city gates are already closed."

"Old man, are you going to Suiyun Town to visit relatives?"

"Who are you?"

"Just asking, why are you so defensive? What are you doing with that hoe? Hey, hey... you, an old man who digs in the dirt, can't you tell friend from foe? You, you, I won't ask anymore! Put down the hoe first!"

"Mom, how much longer until we reach Liangjun Prefecture? I miss Dad."

"Be good, sweetie. Dad is waiting for us in Liangjun. Listen, don't quarrel with Niuzi and the others. We have to rely on your uncle's protection on this journey. When we get to Liangjun, you can complain to Dad about how Grandpa and Grandma have been favoring the others..."

Old Man Zhao wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at the crowded official road, suddenly feeling a chaotic sense of déjà vu—back to when they first fled their hometown. The number of refugees was far beyond what he had imagined.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the mother and daughter whispering nearby. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but his ears had been getting sharper every day. Other old men, after this ordeal, had lost at least twenty or thirty jin, some even fifty. But him? His face was almost ruddy, so full of vitality that Zhao Shanao and the others often suspected he had secretly killed a wild boar and devoured it all himself.

"Fellow villagers, we've arrived at Suiyun Town!" He exhaled a big puff of warm air, raised his arm, and shouted in a loud voice to the group groaning with exhaustion behind him: "Don't sit down yet—once you sit, you won't want to get up! While it's not yet dark, let's walk a bit further and find a sheltered spot to rest!"

"Da Gen, I can't go on. Let's stop here!" Zhao Shanao, walking in the middle of the group, could barely hear from a distance. It was only after someone relayed the message from the front that he knew they had arrived.

He didn't know the way and couldn't keep up the pace, so he just focused on walking with his head down. Whenever the front stopped, he stopped. When they started moving again, he dragged his trembling legs to follow.

Seeing many people plop down on the ground, as if afraid a good spot would be taken, seemingly unwilling to move on, he couldn't help saying, "They've already sat down—how can they get up again? All that drive is gone!"

Then he added, "We're sleeping right on the road—no one will chase us off!"

Having been whipped by wealthy families before, they were traumatized. They didn't dare walk on official roads, let alone rest on them. But they were so tired today, barely stopping since noon when they had a couple of flatbreads. Then, in the afternoon, they had slipped and slid for hours, their whole bodies aching. They really couldn't go on—their legs felt like they didn't belong to them.

Those in the middle quickly relayed the message forward.

"After Suiyun Town, we'll reach Liangjun Prefecture?" an old woman asked quietly, rubbing her calf, afraid she had misremembered.

"Yes." Zhao Shanao leaned on his stick, his face even saggier, the skin barely hanging on his bones—a haunting sight. "Once we pass Suiyun Town, we'll have one foot inside Liangjun Prefecture." Far from Fengchuan Prefecture, the plague should not catch up to them.

He left the last part unsaid, but everyone understood. No one dared speak that word aloud.

Everywhere they passed, not only the locals were on edge, but as outsiders, they also couldn't relax. Fearing they might catch the plague, they boiled a large pot of medicinal herbs every day to ward off epidemics and colds. Luckily, their luck held—no one in the group caught the plague. Even if someone caught a cold or coughed, a few bowls of medicine would cure them.

Even Xu Geer, who had initially been a little sick, had fully recovered and looked healthy again.

They credited this to staying ahead and moving fast. As long as they kept ahead of the plague, they were safe.

"Halt here!"

"Rest here!"

"Pass it back—rest here!"

The front stopped. A cascade of shouts, growing louder, passed from front to back. Old lady Zhou, bringing up the rear, leaned on her knees and let out a wail, then collapsed to the ground, unable to go on.

“That goddamn Rebel King, blast this cursed sky! Fighting your damn wars, flooding your bastard lands!” she gasped, wiping sweat as she cursed. “I nearly fell and broke my neck on this road! Lucky for me, this old woman’s bones are tough—can’t be cracked, can’t be snapped!”

She kept on cursing, drawing the glances of many people around.

As soon as the donkey cart stopped, Zhao Xiaobao couldn’t wait to lift the thick windproof curtain. Qing Xuan, already prepared beside the cart, reached out, grabbed her under the armpits, and lifted her down without waiting for her to say a word.

“Brother Qingxuan, are you cold?” Zhao Xiaobao hopped a couple of times on the ground, mimicking her father’s usual habit of swinging his arms. Feeling her body relax, she let out a contented sigh, only to be immediately hit by a mix of foul odors from all sides, forcing her to cover her nose.

“Mother told me to ask you,” she said in a muffled voice, her big lively eyes wide. “If you feel cold, don’t hold back. Our family’s not short of clothes. If you’re cold, get a jacket. Don’t just bear it.”

“Auntie, I’m not cold. It's just fine right now. If I wear any more, I’ll start sweating.” Qing Xuan turned to look at Wang Shi, who was lifting the thick curtain to get off the cart. “Let me help you.”

“No need, I can manage.” Wang Shi waved her hand with a smile and got down from the cart by herself. “There’s dry rations in the cart. Take some, bring Xiaobao to find your uncle up ahead. She’s been talking about him the whole way.”

With that, she called her second grandson over, told him to watch the donkey cart, and went off to find Feng Shi.

Though they were now eating from a communal pot, the bond between the families that had fought the bandits together was special. When the father and daughter went to the big granary, they also brought back the tax grain for these families. Back then, they had said they would find a way to repay them later.

The days of fleeing were hard—short of food and clothing. If not now, when would they make it up?

Qing Xuan went into the cart and took out half a cloth sack of dry rations, filled with flatbreads and corn cakes—nothing flashy. Since their family had the donkey cart as cover, outsiders only assumed it was food Wang Shi and her daughters-in-law had saved from their own mouths. After all, they had the cart to ride, saving energy, so naturally they’d eat less to save more for the men in the family.

Qing Xuan carried the sack for a while, with Zhao Xiaobao yelling that she stepped in poop. When they reached the front, they happened to hear Old Uncle Zhao and the others discussing whether to enter the city tomorrow.

“The carts that used to carry grain are now loaded with firewood. We still don’t know what the situation is in Liangjun Prefecture. Since we can enter the city now, I think we should buy some provisions. The road is still long. We can’t wait until the grain runs out before we start worrying about finding rice to cook in the pot,” said Village Chief Sun.

Village Chief Sun was still spry on his feet, unlike Zhao Shanao and the other old men who couldn’t keep up. He had been walking at the front and just heard from a guard of a wealthy family who had scouted news in Suiyun Town that the town didn’t even check household registrations. At the city gate, there were just two old soldiers in battered armor. As long as no trouble was stirred up, no one stopped anyone from entering or leaving, nor was any entry fee charged.

What travel permits could refugees have? Honestly, if officials wanted to bust people, they just had to stand on the road, and nine out of ten couldn't show one.

The common folk’s courage was fickle—big enough to travel with their families across the land without any papers, yet small enough that even when their rations were nearly gone, they dared not approach the city gates for fear of being checked for household registration and travel permits, being punished, or thrown into jail.

News that Suiyun Town didn’t check papers stirred a commotion along the main road, and many people started to take an interest.

Village Chief Sun was one of them. Back when two villages pooled money to buy grain, everyone had held something back privately. No one would empty their entire savings, would they?

Without silver on you, nowhere felt safe. And money wasn’t something that could be talked out of people with a few smooth words. They weren’t fools. Though this matter was never made explicit, everyone knew it in their hearts. If they needed to pool money again to buy grain, every household could still scrape up a bit more.