Chapter 85 Assistance

Xiong Zixiang gestured to Qian San'er: "San'er, help Auntie tie the bundle up tightly."

Qian San'er stepped forward and quickly helped the old woman re-tie her bundle.

Xiong Zixiang pointed to a relatively dry and sheltered corner under the eaves not far away: "Auntie, go and wait there first. Don't wander around. We'll talk about it when it gets light. There will be government officials distributing porridge at the charity hall entrance tomorrow morning."

The old woman thanked her repeatedly, then, clutching her bundle, staggered over.

The three continued on their way and soon arrived near the charity hall.

The charity hall was originally an abandoned warehouse, but now it was bustling with noise. There were yamen runners guarding the entrance, so there was no trouble, but the smells coming from inside were mixed and unpleasant.

Xiong Zixiang didn't go inside. Instead, he took Zhao Delu and Qian San'er and walked around the streets around the charity hall a few times.

Their steps were steady and powerful, and the scabbards of their swords occasionally clinked gently with each step.

The three remained silent, their sharp gazes scanning their surroundings.

Those figures that had been peeking out from the depths of the alley quickly retreated into the darkness when the lantern light shone on Xiong Zixiang and the two constables behind him.

To Xiong Zixiang's surprise, when he was patrolling a street near the county government office, he saw a familiar figure: Registrar Qian.

This man, known in the county government as a money-grubber who would rather sit than stand and would rather shirk than work, was now trudging briskly through the mud.

He was carrying several thick volumes in his arms, and two minor officials carrying account books followed behind him.

Qian, the registrar, was covered in mud, his hair was disheveled, and his face showed obvious signs of fatigue.

But his eyes held an unusual urgency.

"Registrar Qian?"

Xiong Zixiang called out.

Upon hearing the voice, Qian, the registrar, looked up and saw that it was Xiong Zixiang. He didn't stop walking, but only nodded hastily.

"Officer Xiong! On patrol? Good, I suppose the scoundrels won't dare to come any closer."

As he spoke, he flipped through a booklet lying open in his hand: "I can't go on! I need to hurry to the grain shop. Old Zhao at the rice shop promised to spare some old rice, but the price still needs some negotiation. Also, the clothes donated by those wealthy families need to be counted, cataloged, and distributed quickly. Several children at the charity hall have fevers; we need to find a doctor..."

He muttered to himself, and without waiting for Xiong Zixiang's reaction, he hurried forward, oblivious to the mud and water sweeping across the ground by the hem of his robe.

Xiong Zixiang stood there, watching Qian Zhubu's noticeably thinner figure disappear around the street corner, feeling genuinely surprised.

In just over two days, this money-stringer seems like a completely different person.

He didn't go to rest or recuperate, nor did he yawn constantly in his duty room. Instead, he ran around the county government office, shops, and charity halls until his legs were worn out, which shows that he was truly worried about these disaster victims.

It was late at night when I got back to the shop.

The shop was lit up, and Zhang Liuji had returned, sitting on a stool drinking water.

He looked tired, but his eyes were bright.

She handed him a bowl of hot water and asked, "Brother Liu Ji, is everything settled at the charity hall?"

Zhang Liuji took the bowl, gulped down a large mouthful, and wiped his sweat.

"Yes, we set up a few frames and used the coarse cloth and sheets we brought to draw the curtains. The space is cramped, but at least we can partition off a few small rooms for women with children and elderly people who are sick or weak."

He paused, a smile appearing on his face. "Master Si happened to be inspecting the place. He saw what I had done, praised me a few times, and said he would make a note of it and reward me. I said no reward was needed, just being able to help was enough."

Xiong Zixiang also recounted what he had seen and heard during his street patrol and the changes in Qian Zhubu.

Everyone fell silent for a moment after hearing this.

This natural disaster, like a boulder thrown into stagnant water, created ripples that changed many people.

Old Xiong tapped his pipe and exhaled a puff of smoke: "Sometimes, people have to be pushed to this point to show their true colors."

Over the next few days, the weather finally cleared up completely.

The long-awaited sunshine, carrying warmth, began to dispel the damp chill and musty smell in the air, and order in the county town was being painstakingly rebuilt amidst the chaos.

With the simple partitions built by Zhang Liuji at the charity hall, the women and children at least had some privacy, making it less awkward when they went to the toilet at night.

Water was still scarce, and the line at the large well in the east of the city was long from morning till night. The porridge provided each day was thin and barely enough to survive.

Thanks to the strict orders issued by the inspector from the prefectural city, all the dikes were reinforced.

Standing at the shop entrance, looking at the river flowing peacefully and turbidly below the riverbank not far away, I felt secretly fortunate.

Otherwise, this county town would probably have suffered as well.

After the shop was settled in a bit, they noticed that the women in the shop also took turns going to the charity hall.

The charity hall was still noisy, crowded, and smelly.

He noticed that the two cooks were struggling to lift the heavy porridge bucket, so he stepped forward to lend a hand and gritted his teeth to help them lift the bucket steadily to the distribution point.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. A woman she didn't recognize quietly handed her a fairly clean cloth.

"Thank you." Xiaoshi took it and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Don't mention it, it's not easy for anyone," the woman replied softly, then lowered her head to soothe the crying child in her arms.

Not far away, Li Xiulan was squatting beside an old woman with a fever, using a handkerchief soaked in warm water to gently wipe the old woman's burning forehead and chapped lips.

The old man, in his dazed state, grasped her hand and mumbled something incoherently.

Li Xiulan didn't find it annoying, and just responded softly, "Yes, yes, please rest assured..."

Xiong Zijuan was then entangled by several children who were crying their hearts out.

She wasn't annoyed. As if by magic, she pulled out a few relatively clean wild fruits she had picked up on the road from her bosom and gave them to the children. Then, with her rough hands, she clumsily but patiently patted their backs, humming an off-key country tune, which actually managed to coax the children to gradually stop crying.

On the other side, Song and Aunt Wang huddled together beside a pile of old and worn-out clothes.

Song threaded the needle with nimble movements, while Aunt Wang carefully examined the needles, picking out those that could still be mended.

The two chatted in hushed tones, their hands never stopping.

A young woman standing nearby was holding her child, looking distressed as she examined her child's torn clothes.

Aunt Wang glanced up and handed over a little jacket she had just mended: "Let the child wear this for now, and I'll mend it for your child later when I have some scraps of cloth."

The woman was taken aback, her eyes reddened slightly, and she thanked him repeatedly.

And so they did these mundane things within their capabilities.

In the charity hall, there were many people like them who helped each other out, shared saliva, and exchanged clothes; no one said much.

Xiong Zixiang, along with Zhao Delu and Qian San'er, continued to patrol the streets daily, focusing on the areas around charitable halls and shops.

They used shovels to clear away several patches of mud that had accumulated in the road due to rain. Zhao Delu quickly grabbed a young hoodlum who was trying to take advantage of the chaos to molest a woman, while Qian San'er caught a petty thief who was stealing other people's belongings at the charity hall. They were all taken to the county government office.

The sabers gleamed in the sunlight, bringing some reassurance to the anxious disaster victims.

Zhang Dashan, Xiong Laohan, and Zhang Dahe became regulars at the charity hall.

Zhang Dashan helped maintain order in the porridge-gathering line; his loud, butcher-like voice would always quiet the chaotic line for a moment.

Old Xiong and Zhang Dahe followed the yamen runners to clear the roads outside the city that had been destroyed and blocked by floods. They shoveled mud and stones one shovel at a time, their clothes soaked with sweat.

Although Old Man Xiong was old, he was very experienced in directing the clearing of roadblocks, and even the yamen runners listened to him.

Qian, the registrar, was still seen in various shops. He rolled up his ink-stained silk sleeves and climbed up and down among piles of grain and clothing, arguing with the grain shop owner until they were red in the face.

"Manager Zhao! The price of this old rice can't be raised any higher! It's life-saving food!"

He cursed "bad luck" as he tenderly wiped the ink splattered on his robe from the accounting, while his hands moved quickly across the abacus beads.

They went door-to-door to count the clothes donated by wealthy households, and then distributed them to the families most in need according to the number of people.

His face was noticeably thinner, and his eyes were sunken. The county magistrate was also busy; he personally went to the charity hall almost every day to check if the rice bins were full, ask if anyone was sick, pat the heads of crying children, and say a few words of comfort.

The Master Engineer, along with the craftsmen, began to build more standardized temporary sheds around the charity hall.

Zhang Liuji's skills caught the eye of the master craftsman, who asked him to help with carpentry. Without hesitation, he picked up his tools and went.