Chapter 262: Washed Away

Chapter 262: The Breach

Meng Wan strong-armed the landlord surnamed Lu, forcing him to convene a town-wide meeting to announce that a flood was imminent and that the townspeople must evacuate within three days.

It’s no lie that ancients were attached to their homes. Most people in the town had stable incomes, and some had run family shops for generations, so there were many who clung to wishful thinking and were reluctant to leave.

Fortunately, the words of the local gentry and yamen runners held some weight, and with the runners issuing harsh orders to leave, everyone reluctantly began packing up their belongings.

But the progress was still too slow. Five days had already passed one day—at this rate, how many villages could they persuade to evacuate?

The villagers of Minle Village and its surrounding areas understood the severity of the breach and were quick to comply. Without Meng Wan needing to step in, the Village Head had already resolved the issue.

But heading northwest, there were countless villages. Some Village Heads even casually brushed off the yamen runners, not taking things seriously. Would they have to go door-to-door to persuade them?

Word had it that a village about six miles away was openly hostile, with the Village Head leading the charge to beat up the yamen runners who had come. That night, Meng Wan didn’t sleep. He gathered the workers from the nearby post stations in Deqing County and formed a large team to confront that village.

Perhaps the villagers were uneasy after beating the runners, and when they saw unfamiliar faces approaching, they immediately gathered all the villagers to confront Meng Wan and his group at the entrance.

But Meng Wan had no intention of wasting time on a physical confrontation. Gathering the post station workers was more to make his group look more imposing.

He scanned the nervous, hostile faces of the villagers, watching as their unease grew. Suddenly, he let out a sharp laugh.

The young Village Head’s face twitched. “You... what are you laughing at?” If they were here to argue, fine. But Meng Wan’s knowing smile unnerved them.

Meng Wan sneered, “I’m laughing at how foolish and ignorant you are. Once all the nearby villagers have moved away, if your village gets flooded, you’ll cry out to heaven, but no one will answer you.”

“Impossible! Our ancestors have always...”

“Xue Sheng, let’s go!” Meng Wan cut him off, as if he were just going through the motions. He delivered his message and pulled his men back, not even demanding an explanation for the beaten runners. It was as if...

As if he was absolutely certain the villagers wouldn’t survive more than a few days.

This tactic actually worked better than brute force. The villagers returned home, unable to sleep, jumping at every noise outside as if the flood had already struck.

The Village Head felt the most pressure. Tossing and turning in the dead of night, he sneaked off to Minle Village, only to find that all the villages along the way were packing frantically to flee.

In disbelief, he went to a distant relative’s house and asked, “Are you really leaving? Even abandoning your fields?”

For farmers like them, the fields were their only asset, the source of their livelihood and their children’s future. Few were willing to give them up.

“What choice do we have? If nothing happens, we can come back and farm. But if the flood really comes, we’ll lose our lives—our whole families will die. Forget the fields—even our houses will be washed away!” The people of Minle Village spoke from bitter experience. Their village had been flooded before, and though few had died, they had become expert at evacuating.

They had thought Prefect Song’s reinforced dam would hold, especially since during the heaviest summer rains, not a grain of soil had fallen from it. The whole village was thrilled, hoping for a peaceful year. Who would have thought trouble would come just before winter?

Dazed, the Village Head returned to his own village. Slipping on the muddy path in the dark, he fell into a ditch. Luckily, he was young and strong and wasn’t hurt. After much thought, seeing villagers from other places passing by, he finally gritted his teeth and ordered his village to evacuate, using the exact same words of the Minle villagers.

“Go! If nothing happens, we can come back and farm. But if the flood comes, our whole families will die. Forget the fields—even our houses will be washed away!”

Meng Wan managed to visit four villages a night. Not every village required his personal presence, but the farther a village was from the dam, the harder it was to convince them.

Over the next five days, he, the yamen runners, the post station workers, and others worked non-stop around the clock, convincing twenty-six villages and two towns to evacuate.

There were certainly those who refused to leave, even at the cost of their lives. All he could do was respect their choice—he couldn’t let a few stubborn individuals delay the rescue of others. Their goal was to save as many people as possible.

Meng Wan’s voice was icy as he said this, showing no pity for those who refused.

On the fifth day, gunpowder explosions erupted near Maolin Town, spreading from the dam area. The remaining diggers, yamen runners, soldiers, and government officials near Minle Village retreated as they set off explosions.

Villagers who had stubbornly stayed behind only now began to panic when they heard the explosions. Some fled without packing, while others sobbed and clung to their belongings.

The last group clung stubbornly to their decision, afraid to face the consequences, and hid under blankets with their families, covering their ears.

Explosions echoed throughout Deqing County all night non-stop.

By then, Meng Wan was in one of the more distant villages, talking to the Village Head. The village was far from the Minle Village dam, so the Village Head naturally didn’t believe him.

But the next second, a deafening roar shook the entire village, sending the Village Head toppling off his stool.

Thinking Song Tingzhou might be nearby, Meng Wan jumped up to rush outside. But after days without rest, his vision blurred, and he nearly fell backward like the Village Head.

A strong, steady arm caught him. Song Tingzhou’s urgent voice cut through the ringing in Meng Wan’s ears: “Wan’er! Are you all right?”

Rubbing his temples, Meng Wan’s eyes gradually refocused. “I’m fine—just didn’t get enough sleep... Maybe low blood sugar.”

He trailed off and nearly burst out laughing when he saw Song Tingzhou, covered in soot and mud. “Haha, you’re so dirty! Go wash your face!” The mud from digging and the soot from the explosions would ruin even the most handsome face.

Seeing that Meng Wan was unharmed, Song Tingzhou’s tense nerves relaxed immediately. He gave a helpless smile. “No choice. I still have several more places to go.”

He took Meng Wan’s hand and gazed toward the Maolin Town dam. “We’re far enough from the dam now. You can rest for a couple of days. Once I finish blasting the remaining channels, I’ll handle the rest.”

Song Tingzhou had been digging canals and running around nonstop, likely far more exhausted than Meng Wan himself. How could Meng Wan let him worry about the evacuation on top of everything else?

Outwardly, he agreed with Song Tingzhou, but during their brief reunion, he pulled out snacks and pastries from his bag to offer him.

Soon, a soldier came to report: “Your Honor, the channel here has been blasted.”

“Tell the rear wagons to follow. Next, we move to Cao Huan River.” Song Tingzhou’s goal was to blast open all the major channels and rivers nearby.

He glanced back at Meng Wan. His face, still smudged with dirt, would soon be dusty again. But his eyes were calm and resolute.

Whatever this night would bring, he would face it without flinching.

“Wan’er, you’ve worked hard.”

But Song Tingzhou had worked hardest. Staring at Song Tingzhou’s retreating figure, Meng Wan suddenly felt more patience for these stubborn villagers.

These people were the ones Song Tingzhou was sworn to protect.

And for the sake of his beloved, he, too, would help protect them.

“If you refuse to leave, that’s your choice. But children are innocent. Let me take them to the city for a day, as my guests.” Meng Wan returned to a nearby village where a single lamp was still burning.

At this late hour, most farming families would never waste oil on a lamp. But this household, though stubborn, was clearly afraid.

“What if you sell my son?” the woman of the house clutched her sleeping child tightly.

“The Prefect’s husband would never sell your son!” Xue Sheng stepped forward, scolding the woman.

The impatient husband said, “I don’t care who you are. My son is not going with you!” To commoners, the County Magistrate, Prefect, or a mere secretary all seemed the same.

Meng Wan wasn’t angry. Why waste anger on people who might soon die?

“Fine. Then I’ll respect your choice. But what about that child?” He pointed to a corner where a “bed” had been cobbled together from broken planks, covered with hay. A tiny, frail figure—a child of about five or six—was curled up there.

The child had already woken up, his eyes half-closed, pretending to sleep.

“That little beggar?” The man’s eyes darted around. “You can’t just take someone else’s child for free. Give us two bags of coarse grain.”

Afraid Meng Wan might refuse, he immediately lowered his demand: “One bag will do!”

A sack of coarse rice costs only a few dozen wen, but Meng Wan didn't want to pay that price.

"I have a roast chicken here. How about I swap him for this chicken?" Meng Wan took the chicken from Xue Sheng.

He had visited this village before and had tried to persuade this family, but afterwards he couldn't be bothered. If it hadn't been for meeting Song Tingzhou just now, which tugged at his heart, he would never have come back this time. This chicken was his last act of kindness.

"Roast chicken!" The man and his wife exchanged glances, beside themselves with joy. This was more valuable than coarse rice.

The woman still had a bit of reluctance in her heart, but the man had already eagerly yanked the kid off the bed.

"Jian'er, your father can't afford to keep you anymore. From now on, go with them."

Jian'er had disheveled hair covering half his little face. After being brought to Meng Wan's side, he gazed blankly at his younger brother on the bed whose face was flushed in sleep, and at his mother who wouldn't meet his eyes. He showed no reaction to his father's words, not even a single tear.

"Is he slow?" Meng Wan mused.

The man, afraid that Meng Wan would change his mind, stashed the chicken behind him and had his wife take it and stash it under the covers. Then he gave Jian'er's head a hard push and explained to Meng Wan, "He's not slow, nor mute. The child just doesn't like to talk."

Meng Wan didn't even want to look at the man again. "Let's go."

Xue Sheng followed Meng Wan out, and Jian'er followed behind them. The little child moved his legs as fast as he could. Except for a moment's pause when crossing the doorstep, the rest of the time he scrambled to keep up with Meng Wan.

When his own father had pulled him off the shabby wooden bed, he hadn't even worn shoes. Now he was barefoot, and the moment he stepped outside, his feet were instantly caked with mud.

Xue Sheng frowned, stopped walking, and suddenly bent down to pick him up.

Jian'er was startled. He clutched the fabric on Xue Sheng's shoulder in panic, blinked, and then a trail of hot tears rolled down his face.

Xue Sheng felt the cloth on his shoulder suddenly become wet. He skillfully patted the child in his arms—a habit he had developed from taking care of A Yan. He had no children of his own, but his technique for soothing a child was even more practiced than Meng Wan's or Song Tingzhou's.

That night, most of the people in Deqing County spent a night on tenterhooks, but it passed peacefully.

The man from the family Meng Wan had visited stared with bloodshot eyes and said disdainfully, "Wang Laoqi and the others actually believed it, abandoning their houses and land here... What is that sound!"

A deep, muffled boom that shook the world, like a giant axe splitting an ancient tree that had stood for a thousand years, making the air itself tremble.

Immediately after came the thunderous roar of countless sound waves piling up together, like a giant beast that had just broken free of its shackles roaring at the sky, a sound brimming with a madness bent on destruction. It tore at trees, demolished houses, bent on gulping down everything in its way.

The man didn't even have the courage to push open the window and look outside. He clutched the roast chicken tightly in his arms and said in a trembling voice, "Run... we gotta run... Run!!!"

Just like Jian'er, the couple ran out without even grabbing shoes, carrying their still-asleep child.

In just the span of three breaths, after the family of three pushed open the door and went out, they were frozen in their tracks in terror, because it was already too late.

Before them was a murky, towering flood roaring and surging toward them. Uprooted trees were swept into the once lively village, crashing into countless houses. The raging flood swallowed the village in an instant.

No—it was not just this one village.

Human beings seemed so tiny in the face of a natural disaster.

At dawn, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Meng Wan finally returned to the county town. He couldn't hold on any longer; without even taking a bath, he flopped onto the bed and fell asleep.

He'd barely rested for the length of an incense stick when Na Tuo barged in, shoving past Huang Ye's protests.

"Master, the reservoir at Maolin Town has collapsed!"

Meng Wan sat up with a start, but another dizzy spell hit him, and he immediately collapsed back onto the bed, scaring Na Tuo out of his wits.

"Master, what's wrong with you?"

Meng Wan took a moment to recover, then struggled to get out of bed. "Where is your master? Is he alright?"

Na Tuo quickly said, "Rest assured, the master is fine. He's dealing with the aftermath and watching where the flood is heading."

Meng Wan splashed some water on his face to sober up, but he was still half-asleep. "Where's the flood now?"

Huang Ye brought Meng Wan a bowl of hot soup. Na Tuo swallowed and stepped aside a bit. "It was supposed to be near Liurong Village a moment ago."

"Huang Ye, ladle one for Na Tuo too, and pack us some food." Meng Wan lifted the bowl and drank.

Huang Ye quickly brought over a bowl of hot soup and a few meat pies, asking worriedly, "Master, are you going out again?"

His face pale, Meng Wan forced down half a meat pie and the soup. "It's fine. I'll be back soon. Stay home, watch A Yan and the others, and don't let them step outside."

Huang Ye packed two more cloth bags of meat pies for him. "I understand, Master. Rest assured."

Meng Wan left Xue Sheng at the academy as well, and went with Na Tuo to find Song Tingzhou. Song was standing on the bank of a deep canal. The canal was already swollen with floodwater, now a river that threatened to spill over both banks.

A large contingent of soldiers, villagers, yamen runners, and even Fei Jing, the County Magistrate of Deqing County, were there. Everyone was silent, facing the raging flood without a word.

Meng Wan stepped forward with thick mud on his feet. No one turned around; they were all staring intently at the river in front of them.

What floated on it weren't just trees torn up by the flood, but also bodies bloated beyond recognition.