Chapter 249

Chapter 249

In the thick fog and snowy weather, even the scent could not drift beyond a few inches, snuffed out by the biting wind.

After daybreak, Zhao Xiaowu started sending Dagouzi and the others off to search for firewood in the woods.

The campfire needed a steady supply of dry branches to maintain warmth, ensuring that those sleeping would not fall ill from the cold; the cooking hearth also required fuel without interruption, as half a month of dry rations needed cooking, and the fire in the stove couldn’t go out; moreover, they needed to stock up for the road ahead. Now that it was cold, whenever they stopped, they had to get a fire going right away. Breaking into a sweat only to be hit by a cold wind would surely lead to illness—this was a must.

Even a three-year-old child, who knew little else, had gotten into the habit of picking up dry twigs and fallen leaves along the road and stuffing them into their baskets or backpacks. Without food, people starved; without firewood to keep warm, they froze to death. It was precisely these common but hard-to-find bits of wood that had helped the women, kids, and old folks get through one freezing night after another.

“Don’t go too far; just search in this area nearby,” Zhao Xiaowu instructed them. “Use a sickle to dig through the snow; don’t use your hands, or you’ll get frostbite.”

After speaking, he still wasn’t sure: “You guys know how to do this, right? Dig away the snow, then rake away the pine needles and dead leaves underneath; you’ll find branches that aren’t wet all the way through. Pick the good ones, the kind that burn slow. Our handcarts only have so much space, so we have to load them with the best.”

“What, you think we don’t know? We’ve seen Dad and Grandpa do it!” Dagouzi led a group of children in a loud response. “We’re not stupid; who would want wet branches? They won’t even catch fire—just a waste of time.”

“Exactly! My dad doesn’t dig through the snow with his hands. I’m not doing it either—I already got frostbite! I’ll use a stick to dig!”

“We’ll gather lots and fill the cart up, so when Mom, Dad, and Grandma wake up, they won’t have to worry about it.” Donkey, sniffling, held a sickle in one hand and a basket in the other. He thought wooden sticks would break too easily, so a sickle was more convenient. Together with Niu Egg, Fendan, and Duck Egg—the four “egg” kids—he picked a direction, with the older ones leading the little ones, and they all headed into the woods in a line.

“Will Grandma say we’re hard workers when she wakes up?” Fendan tugged on the other side of the basket.

“Of course! The children in our family are the most hardworking; Grandma praises us every day!” Donkey affirmed confidently.

The three “eggs” were immediately delighted, all puffed up like little roosters, crowing. They marched valiantly, beginning to dig for firewood everywhere.

Seeing this, Sun Xuming hollered to the kids of Liuhe Village to grab their tools and follow: “Come on, let’s go! Grab firewood fast—we can’t let them beat us!”

“Should we ask your cousin to come along?”

“Last time, Fourth Aunt said to call Sun Xuyang when we work. Should we call him or not?”

Although they were part of the same clan, the younger generation of the Sun family in Liuhe Village had little interaction with Sun Xuyang, who had always lived in the prefectural city as a scholar. Moreover, they were in awe of him and didn’t dare go near, let alone speak to him or call out to him.

Sun Xuming didn’t even turn around: “He’s cooped up in the cart reading and studying all day, worn out. He hardly ever gets to sleep in peace—why bother him?” Studying used up brainpower, and Sun Xuyang was the only scholar in their Sun family. Although he was physically weak, the days of fleeing were already hard enough; even if he needed to exercise, now was not the time. He even figured his Fourth Aunt was being dumb—making him work so hard and exhausting himself. What if he just breaks down instead of getting stronger? That wouldn’t be worth it at all.

All along the way, his grandmother had repeatedly called him to ride in the donkey cart, but he had stubbornly refused, knowing full well that the donkey exerted itself by carrying people, and that was hard on the animal. Having gone through this journey himself, he had a deeper appreciation for the hardships of fleeing. As for labor, he would never call upon the scholar in their family to join. He would rather do more himself.

It was nothing good anyway!

Seeing that they hadn’t strayed too far, Wang did not speak. Her rough hands grabbed a handful of dry branches, snapped them in half against her knee, and stuffed them into the stove’s firebox.

The mud around the stove hole had cracked in several places. Zhu Shi and Ma Erniang were busy cooking, while Aunt Ma and Sun Shi were responsible for packing the steamed dry rations into cloth bags. Luo Shi then wrapped the filled bags tight in a few layers of rainproof cloth and stacked them into the cleared-out baskets and backpacks.

These packed cloth bags would later be split evenly among a few families with good reputations for carrying, such as some village elders from Wanxia Village, as well as the sons and grandsons of Village Chief Sun of Liuhe Village and Old Man Zhou—families that had real pull in their villages, wouldn’t steal, and could keep others in check.

The Zhao family was one of them, of course.

But unlike others, whose cloth bags would run out as they distributed them, the dry rations given to them always left everyone baffled. They felt like they took out the same amount each time, yet somehow, it was only when they set up the stove again to make flatbread that those cloth bags would finally be empty—as if the bags had a mind of their own.

No one could figure out this puzzling discrepancy.

As for the families who had been secretly subsidized, they were even more at a loss. Every time they were secretly given flatbreads or steamed buns, Wang told them not to make a fuss. They felt embarrassed, thinking Auntie had stolen public supplies, and they didn’t dare accept.

Even if they finally gave in and took it, their hearts were in their throats, afraid that someone would discover the missing rations and stir up trouble or conflict. Yet, every time they stopped, the Zhao family would always manage to produce food, and no one ever suspected them of sneaking food or stealing, because the rations never seemed to decrease.

It was utterly strange.

Zhao Xiaobao patted Xiao Heizi, who was curled at her feet for warmth, and sneakily shoved a piece of jerky into his mouth.

His warm tongue licked her chubby fingers. The little piece of jerky only gave a quick taste before it was gone, but under the circumstances, it was already a treat. Meat was precious; lots of people along the way had eyed this sturdy black dog hungrily, but the dog never strayed from the side of the donkey cart, so no one could get their hands on him.

A loyal little dog that used to pee on the cart wheels, sleep curled under the shafts, and run alongside the donkey cart had grown into a big, majestic dog.

“Owww.” The wet tongue licked her fingers back and forth. Zhao Xiaobao couldn’t resist and fed him several more strips of jerky before pacifying her dog.

“You’re a dog; you should go ‘woof woof,’ not ‘owww owww owww.’ Only wolves in the mountains go ‘owww,’” Zhao Xiaobao said, patting his wet nose. It was moist and a bit cool. Then she stroked his back; it was smooth, but a thin layer of snow had accumulated on it, making it cold to the touch.

Worried that Xiao Heizi’s fur might not be enough to keep out the cold, since it was so freezing, she quickly turned to her mother, who was tending the fire, and begged, “Mom, can you make a padded coat for Xiao Heizi too? Use Xiaobao’s old clothes. Xiaobao won’t be cold even if she wears one less.”

A village dog’s fur is thin and close to the skin, unlike a tiger cub’s thick coat that provides warmth. Wang also cherished this loyal watchdog of theirs. At home, he guarded the courtyard; away from home, he watched over the cart. He spent his days either curled up at the entrance of the cart bed or running alongside the wheels, growling with bared teeth whenever anyone came close—yet he rarely bit anyone from their group. The fact that their family could move freely around the donkey cart was also thanks to Xiao Heizi’s constant vigilance.

“I’ll make some adjustments and sew a thick winter coat for him,” Wang said.

Thinking that all members of the family should be treated fairly, she added, “And one for the tiger cub too.”

“Great! The tiger cub will have one too!” Zhao Xiaobao happily rubbed the dog’s face. Her big eyes darted around before she glanced at Sun, the old lady nearby, and said cleverly, “Use Xiaobao’s clothes. Xiaobao wants to wear the same winter coat as Xiao Heizi and the tiger cub!”

“Alright.” Wang nodded with a smile. The little bean was surprisingly shrewd, knowing how to speak in a way that would make people feel comfortable.

Although winter clothes and bedding had already been distributed to each person, everyone’s supplies had worn out along the way. Now that it was so cold, people themselves didn’t have enough to wear. Giving some to what outsiders considered mere beasts might stir up resentment if others found out.

But when a child insisted on taking off her own padded coat to share with her pets, others had no room to criticize. At most, they might mutter among themselves that the adults were too indulgent and spoiled the child, but they couldn’t complain about anything else.

Old lady Sun thought the same way. She felt this old sister was too lenient with the child—how could she actually agree to that? Yet, just as she opened her mouth to speak, the fourth daughter-in-law kept signaling her from the side, so she ultimately remained silent.

Forget it. After all, it wasn’t her child, and it wasn’t her clothes being used. If Wang wanted to do it, so be it.

“Xiaobao is a kind-hearted, good child,” old lady Sun said with a smile.

“That she is.” Whether sincere or not, Wang took it as praise and nodded proudly. “Since the day she was born, she’s been a little padded jacket close to the heart. Her father, her brothers, these three sisters-in-law before us, and the nephews below—who doesn’t dote on her?”

“When the little girl is unhappy and pouts—” Wang used her index finger, stained with fireplace ash, to lightly tap her daughter’s upturned nose, her eyes full of teasing. “The whole family’s hearts tighten.”

Zhao Xiaobao laughed foolishly as she grabbed her mother’s mischievous finger. Though young, she understood that her mother was teasing her, but she wouldn’t accept that statement.

“Xiaobao is never angry! Xiaobao never pouts!”

“Really?”

“No!”

“Haha, look, the little girl won’t admit it!”

Zhu Shi and her sisters-in-law all covered their mouths and giggled, their eyes full of affection.

The road stretched far; love went deep.

…

Shortly after noon, refugees began arriving from the direction of Suiyun Town.

The official road had regained its former appearance: lone travelers, small groups of five or three, families traveling together, entire villages or clans migrating. They wore grey winter clothes, some thin, some thick. The adults looked miserable, the children carefree, but most wore an expression of numbness.

They trudged forward through wind and snow, carrying with them confusion and melancholy about the future, leaving a trail of messy footprints in the snow, coming from afar and fading into the distance.

A day of sound sleep.

The empty handcarts were once again piled high with dry rations and firewood. The broken wheels were like patched clothes on a body, mended time and again, looking tattered yet somehow still sturdy enough to bear the weight of a bitter life, carrying them onward into the unknown road ahead.

They left Suiyun Town, entered Liangjun Prefecture, passed countless villages, crossed towns and counties, climbed mountain paths, and traveled by water, with refugees coming and going around them—some were buried where they fell, while others, tattered and skeletal, stubbornly persisted.

To live. To live, no matter what.

The prosperity and peace of Liangjun Prefecture seemed like a celestial palace, intimidating and unattainable.

Even before reaching the prefectural city, its subordinate counties and towns were guarded by the strictest, most impartial soldiers at the city gates. They kept a strict watch on passing refugees. If one had a travel permit, it was acceptable; but if they couldn't produce one and tried to sneak in, at best they'd be driven off with drawn swords, or at worst beaten half to death and left by the roadside to fend for themselves.

And anyone with a household registration from Fengchuan Prefecture, whether they had a travel permit or not—whether from wealthy families or ordinary folk—was absolutely forbidden from entering the city. If they had the sense to leave immediately, they wouldn't be blocked; but if they dared to cause trouble, they would be immediately detained and sent to the quarantine station.

It was said that all across the land, prefectures and counties had set up epidemic prevention stations to curb the spread of disease. Anyone with a fever or cough would be locked up in these stations—a people-eating cage that trapped everyone who couldn't escape.

"Every day, medicine and food are sent in. After enduring ten or fifteen days, if you're lucky and get better, you can be released. But if you're unlucky and die, your body is dragged out and burned. They mix the ashes of dozens or hundreds together, bury them in a pit, and sprinkle lime around. You won't even have a whole body in your next life—it's horrible."

"I heard that many refugees take desperate chances. Even if they're not sick, they pretend to be ill to get into the quarantine station, just for the two coarse corn buns they hand out every day."

"The slop buckets in the prefectural city could feed so many people if they were emptied out, but the city gates keep them out..."

The lives of refugees are like weeds, like specks of dust—cheap and insignificant.

Liangjun Prefecture was a place of splendor and peace, yet its officials never gave a second thought to the refugees.

To live, they had to take risks, they had to fight. Fight with people, fight with disease, fight against heaven, and above all, fight with fate.

Life was worthless, yet infinitely precious.

Liangjun Prefecture had not been greatly affected by the outside world—no floods, no plagues, no wars.

The floodwaters went a different way, sparing Liangjun. Mountain ranges cut it off, and Yanlin Prefecture stood in the way, holding back foreign cavalry; on the other side, Fengchuan Prefecture had suffered a plague outbreak, so the war hadn't spread here yet; apart from bandit troubles within the prefectural city, it was a pretty good place for refugees to try to survive.

But Old Man Zhao and the others didn't stop at all.

They spent a very simple New Year on the road.

That day, they found a spacious, wind-sheltered resting spot, set up several stoves, generously boiled a few pots of meat soup, gave everyone two extra steamed corn buns and flatbreads, along with three thick chunks of dried meat. The group had a very filling and satisfying New Year.

Once the New Year passed, the old woman who had been following them left.

It was late at night. Because Old Man Zhao had given advance notice, as long as she didn't go too far, the night watch was told to look the other way.

When half a basket of dry rations was stolen, the watchman, pretending to doze, almost dug his fingernails into his palms trying to hold back the urge to run over and kick her.

But after Chen Pingan also stumbled away following the old woman, he couldn't help but stir.

...That was all. He made no further move.

It was hard to stop him, and no one could have stopped him anyway.

That kid's heart never left with them; it stayed trapped in Suiyun Town, in the Wuling Mountains a thousand miles away.

Grandpa Dagen said everyone makes their own choices, even a kid.

He didn't stop him, didn't say a word, just silently watched his figure vanish into the night.

Leaving might not mean death, and staying might not guarantee life—fate is always uncertain.

After all, they couldn't be sure that, with the heavy snow sealing the mountains, they could survive crossing the sprawling mountain range that led to Yanlin Prefecture.