Chapter 99

Chapter 99

Magistrate Liu knew exactly what this would lead to, which is why he just sat there slumped in his chair, unable to process it for a long while.

He wasn't a lazy official—he just had never dealt with anything like this.

A plague! One that hadn't shown up in decades. Why did it have to hit him, of all people?

They were already at over seventy infected. If this really was a plague, it wouldn't take more than a few days to hit several hundred...

Magistrate Liu's vision went dark. He was already drowning in problems these past few days—why was an even bigger disaster waiting for him now...

Huo Jilin kept pressing him: "Magistrate Liu, do you have a plan? We're running out of time. You need to make a call soon."

He was a military man, and Magistrate Liu was a civil official. They usually stayed out of each other's lanes, but in a crisis like this, they had to work together—same as they did during the flood.

Civil officials ran the government side of things, so Huo Jilin still had to ask for his input.

But Magistrate Liu had nothing to offer. He fumbled for his teacup, hoping a sip would steady his nerves, but he couldn't even hold the damn thing still.

Magistrate Liu shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at Huo Jilin. "Regional Commander Huo, what do you suggest?"

Huo Jilin laid out what he'd already talked over with Chen Jue and the others.

"Seal the city? Set up medical tents? Centralized treatment?" Magistrate Liu echoed each point, his heart racing, like the end of the world was coming.

Huo Jilin nodded. "We seal the city until we find the source. The canal docks get locked down too—this thing might've come in by sea. And we need medical tents up fast..."

Magistrate Liu nodded, agreeing to the first point.

On the second point, he hesitated. "Can't we just use the Taoist temple where we moved the villagers last time?"

Building new medical tents meant spending a ton of silver. And the funds for the dike still hadn't come through—where was the money supposed to come from?

And to get them built in such a short time—who the hell would show up for forced labor during a plague?

Every single one of these was a dead end.

Magistrate Liu kept shaking his head.

Huo Jilin shook his head too. "This isn't like the flood. The temple's halfway up the mountain—hard to get around. The sick won't have the strength to climb up there, and hauling herbs up would be a pain."

Magistrate Liu gritted his teeth. "Then... what about commandeering some of the bigger empty houses in town?"

In other words, going after the merchants and the rich landowners.

Huo Jilin shook his head again. "This is a plague. They won't go for it."

Sure, some wealthy families had opened their doors to shelter flood victims before, playing the philanthropist. But this was a plague—one that could wipe out whole clans, even whole villages. They wouldn't take that risk.

Besides, Huo Jilin wouldn't let them do it anyway.

"Then what about the army camp?"

Huo Jilin shot that down immediately. "The army camp is even worse. You can't turn a place packed with people into a medical tent. Plague patients need to be somewhere isolated, or the infection rate will just keep climbing."

Nothing worked. Nothing at all. Magistrate Liu snapped: "Then where the hell do you suggest we put them?"

"At the foot of Western Mountain. The temple's about three hundred meters up—under the Three Pure Ones, with ten li of incense smoke. Maybe it'll bless us and get us through this fast."

Huo Jilin said it slowly. Now it was Magistrate Liu's turn to stare at him—he had no idea Huo Jilin was into that kind of thing.

Huo Jilin didn't bother explaining. He didn't actually believe in it—he just wanted a good sign.

He genuinely hoped this plague would blow over fast.

Because he knew that as long as the plague wasn't wiped out, Chen Jue wouldn't get a moment's rest.

In his past life, Chen Jue had been on the front lines during the outbreak.

And in this life, he'd be right there again.

Magistrate Liu had no choice but to accept the spot, but there was one huge problem. He paced around the room. "This place you picked is in the middle of nowhere. How the hell are we supposed to build anything there? In three days, no less? Regional Commander Huo, what are you gonna build it with? I don't have a single coin to spare! If you want to sign a military pledge, go ahead and sign it yourself."

Huo Jilin had expected Magistrate Liu to push back, so he wasn't too disappointed. He just said, in a low voice: "Shirking responsibility won't get you anywhere. I'm a military officer—guarding the gates is my job. And you're the parent-official of this city. As long as the people live, you live."

In other words, if the people died, Magistrate Liu died.

Magistrate Liu's face went white, then red, then white again. Finally, he ground out: "But what am I supposed to do?! This is a plague! I've never dealt with one before!"

Huo Jilin just looked at him. Finally, Magistrate Liu clasped his hands in a salute and said: "Regional Commander Huo, I know you're a capable man. I won't get in your way. I'll follow your orders completely. Just tell me what to do."

"First, you issue the order to seal the city gates. Put out a notice that everyone showing cholera symptoms gets sent to the medical tents. Issue a water safety order. And do everything you can to track down the source of the sewage contamination.

Second, round up as many doctors as you can and get them treating people. All the major pharmacies have to cooperate—no turning patients away. Any cholera cases get reported right away and sent to the medical tents.

Third, you take charge of fundraising. Get the merchants, the wealthy landowners, and the big pharmacies on board—anyone with silver donates silver, anyone with medicine donates medicine..."

Magistrate Liu couldn't help but cut him off: "Easy for you to say! I already made them donate during the flood relief just a few days ago. If I go back to them now, they'll think I'm pocketing the money!"

Magistrate Liu was starting to panic.

Huo Jilin paused, letting him get it all out. When he was done, Huo Jilin went on: "Raise whatever you can. The people will remember your good deeds.

When heaven is about to hand someone a great task—as an official, you eat the emperor's salary, so you solve the emperor's problems. If you handle this well, it might even count as a credit to your name."

In the end, Magistrate Liu had no choice but to agree to everything Huo Jilin said.

After Huo Jilin left, he collapsed back into his chair and slowly took off his official hat.

It wasn't that he didn't think they could beat this thing—it was that he knew his career was over either way. Whether he kept his head on his shoulders depended on how many people died.

The Chief Clerk watched him, his face giving nothing away. He was a local, while Magistrate Liu was an outsider brought in to govern.

He also figured Magistrate Liu's career was finished.

Maybe this time he wouldn't even keep his head.

But he, the Chief Clerk, was different. He was a low-level official, like a local snake with deep roots. He might never climb the ranks, but when disaster hit, it wouldn't land on his head—Magistrate Liu would take the fall.

Magistrate Liu caught his look from the corner of his eye. He laughed coldly to himself. This Chief Clerk loved watching the show—even now, he was still watching.

He wasn't even half the man Huo Jilin was.

Huo Jilin might not share the blame with him this time either, but at least he was doing something.

Just like during the flood, Huo Jilin was the one standing at the very front.

With that thought in mind, Magistrate Liu slowly put his seventh-rank official hat back on, then stood up and ordered the Chief Clerk, "Fully cooperate with Regional Commander Huo."

Do what you can and let fate do the rest. Even if you die, die on your feet.

After Huo Jilin left the county office (yamen), he stood for a moment at the crossroads in front of it. His deputy, Zhang Jun, saw him staring at the pitch-black road ahead with a stern expression and dared not disturb him.

He also knew the road ahead was too difficult, just like the road before them—pitch black, with nothing visible at all.

But Commander Huo had promised Magistrate Liu he would build the medical sheds in three days. Though it wasn't a formal military pledge, the reality was more pressing than any written oath.

Huo Jilin glanced in the direction of Pingshan Village. By now, Chen Jue should have made it home. The night was truly dark—end of the month, no moonlight. Even the star-filled sky couldn't light the way.

After that glance, Huo Jilin turned his horse around: "Let's go!"

Zhang Jun quickly followed him: "Commander, where are we going?" This wasn't the way back to the barracks.

"To prepare the medical sheds." That was all Huo Jilin said. His horse galloped on; it was late and the streets were empty.

Zhang Jun shouted after him: "Commander, are we going up the mountain to cut wood now? Should I return to the barracks first to round up the others?"

He had serious doubts—even working around the clock, they couldn't finish in three days.

Building took time—even the mud bricks alone needed three days to dry.

But Huo Jilin just said, "No need."

Zhang Jun could only follow close behind. The two rode at full speed for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, then stopped in front of a factory.

Zhang Jun rubbed his eyes and recognized this was the largest Tung Oil Paper Mill in Dongling County.

What were they doing here?

Huo Jilin finally explained to him: "No mud bricks—use oilcloth. It's summer now, no need to worry about cold; we just need to block wind and rain."

The rain cloth back then was thick and sturdy, not like the Oxford cloth or leather of later times. It was made by coating thick hemp with tung oil and wax—the same principle as tung oil paper.

It cost more than plain cloth, but still less than tiles. Poor families would buy a piece to lay over their thatched roofs for rain and moisture protection.

Now Huo Jilin planned to use this kind of cloth directly to build the medical sheds.

Huo Jilin had considered the Taoist temple halfway up the mountain, but even though the temple was large, this was a plague—many would fall sick, and within days the numbers would reach hundreds, even thousands.

Even the county office didn't have enough rooms for all these patients, and no generous squire would volunteer their own homes.

Getting them to donate was already the best they could hope for.

So Huo Jilin had already figured this out before going to see Magistrate Liu.

Zhang Jun paused, then slapped his thigh: "Right! Why didn't I think of that! Excellent! Commander, you're always one step ahead! I'll go call for the gatekeeper."

Zhang Jun dismounted and called out to the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper was about to ask something, but when he clearly saw Huo Jilin on horseback, he personally led him to the young master's quarters.

It wasn't until Zhang Jun heard the young master greet their commander that he understood—their commander was a shareholder in this mill too.

No wonder the young master of the Zhao family had come out half-dressed, still in his robe, to greet him.

"Huo, why so late? If you need something, just send a soldier to let me know."

Huo Jilin smiled at him: "I wouldn't be here if it weren't important."

This time he needed a large quantity of rain cloth, and he hoped the head of the Zhao family's mill would give him a fair price and deliver it to him as quickly as possible.

Huo Jilin could make such a bold ask because he'd been working with the mill for six months, and the paper they'd produced had brought in excellent profits.

Sure enough, Zhao Jinming smiled and said, "Huo, if you're willing to visit the mill, I'd roll out the welcome mat, let alone if you've got business. Please, have a seat."

Once tea was served, Huo Jilin took a sip and got straight to the point. Time was short, so he skipped the pleasantries.

All the rain cloth in the mill was to go to the military first, no questions asked. At half price, with an IOU the county office would pay later.

After hearing him out, Zhao Jinming joked, "I knew it—why would Boss Huo come in person today? That's a big ask! I've never seen someone cheat their own partner. Are you even a businessman?"

Zhao Jinming was the young master of the Zhao family mill, the same age as Huo Jilin. When the mill first opened, the old master saw Huo Jilin's youth and talent and decided to let his own son learn the ropes.

His son's ideas were bold—he and Huo Jilin had come up with toilet paper and straw paper together.

Those two products turned a profit several times over in just two months—matching a whole year's earnings. And that was just the start; they'd only covered Dongling County, not the whole country yet.

So Zhao Jinming thought highly of Huo Jilin and often joked with him.

Huo Jilin smiled back at him: "I'm just milking the connection. So, deal or no deal?"

He hadn't yet told Zhao Jinming about the plague, but he was already confident Zhao Jinming would agree to this price. After all this time working together, there should be some trust.

Sure enough, Zhao Jinming cracked a few jokes, then had the manager take Huo Jilin's men to load up the rain cloth.

But Zhao Jinming asked, "Boss Huo, why do you suddenly need so much rain cloth? Didn't we just finish with the flood relief?"

Huo Jilin didn't hold back and quickly explained the plague situation—this was now a county-wide fight.

People didn't know how terrifying the plague could be.

Yesterday there were thirty-five cases; today it would be more than that. Within the coming week, it would reach a peak. We're talking several hundred people, maybe more—they'd need places to isolate.

Sure enough, Zhao Jinming's expression changed the moment he heard the word "plague," and he understood why Huo Jilin was in such a hurry.

He took several deep breaths, then said, "Huo, what else do you need? If my mill can do it, we're in—all the way."

Huo Jilin set down his tea and clasped his fists to him: "Thank you. I'm not taking your goods for free. I'm a shareholder too—everything I do is for the long haul. The mill contributing a thousand feet of rain cloth for this epidemic fight—it's a small gesture, but it means a lot. I won't be the only one who remembers this—all of Dongling County, even all of Great Liang, will. Scholars will remember you too, and maybe you'll even get a mention in the history books."

Huo Jilin wasn't just blowing smoke—if they beat this plague, the people who stepped up would be remembered.

Zhao Jinming was stirred. He was already an ambitious man, and the booming paper profits had only made him hungrier. He knew exactly what Huo Jilin meant.

Business was about the long game and reputation.

His mill had made its name through paper, and that fame had brought the profits. If his reputation grew even greater—remembered by the scholars of Dongling County, no, of the entire Great Liang—can you imagine?

Zhao Jinming could see a brilliant future ahead. Though he knew he shouldn't feel joy amid such a grave epidemic, he couldn't hold back the excitement bubbling up inside him. He took a deep breath, forced the excitement down, then clasped his fists: "Thank you, Commander Huo. From today, the Zhao family mill will supply rain cloth for the Western Mountain medical sheds for free, and donate a thousand taels of silver!"

"Thank you. When the epidemic ends, your mill's name will be on the donation stele at Sanqing Taoist Temple."

This meant his name would also appear on the merit documents submitted to the higher-ups.

Huo Jilin also clasped his fists to him. This was precisely why he had come—Magistrate Liu could only use official authority to force donations, and since they had already collected once during the flood, a second round of fundraising wouldn't be easy. So Huo Jilin was stepping up to lead by example.

Zhang Jun had already jotted down the Zhao family's donation in his notebook, afraid that if he hesitated, Zhao Jinming might back out.