Chapter 90 Boyue, don't be afraid, I'll be with you this time.
God willing?
Some people believed in fate, kneeling in the mud and kowtowing, begging the Dragon King to calm his anger and the court to show mercy. But in the end, some starved to death, others died of illness, and their bodies swelled up in the muddy water. There wasn't even anyone to collect their corpses.
Some people don't believe it.
Li Dashan knelt in the mud, his hands digging deep into the damp soil. He felt neither the pain of his split nails nor the cold rainwater trickling down his neck and into his collar. His hands, like two pieces of dead wood, mechanically dug and dug until a shallow pit, barely big enough to accommodate his small, thin body, appeared before him.
"Yingzi, I'm sorry..." His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "This is the only way..."
His wife lay on half a tattered straw mat, so light she seemed weightless. Three months ago, her cheeks were full, but now they were frighteningly sunken; her lips were cracked and purple, and her eyes were half-open, as if waiting for something. Li Dashan reached out with trembling hands, wanting to close her eyelids, but found they were already stiff.
I just can't close my eyes.
The rain intensified. Muddy water mingled with tears streamed down Li Dashan's face. He lifted his wife and placed her in the shallow pit, then covered her with handfuls of damp earth. There was no coffin, no tombstone, not even a decent plank of wood. Only mud, endless, rain-soaked mud.
Just as he finished burying the last handful of soil, a commotion arose in the distance. Li Dashan slowly raised his head and saw several figures moving in the direction of the village entrance. He instinctively shrank back, but quickly straightened up again—what was there to be afraid of now?
The sounds grew closer, mingling with rude laughter, curses, and painful groans. Li Dashan squinted through his rain-blurred eyes and finally made out: it was the rogue Wang Er with his gang, dragging two ragged old men. The old men were clutching something tightly in their arms, and Wang Er was whipping their hands hard with a stick.
"You old geezer! You dare to hoard grain?" Wang Er kicked the old man in the waist. "Hand it over!"
The old man fell to the ground, his cloth bundle spilling open to reveal several dark, brittle cakes. Wang Er's eyes lit up immediately, and he bent down to grab them. Another old man lunged forward to protect the food, but was struck on the head by Wang Er's accomplice with a stick, causing blood to gush out.
Li Dashan's fingers dug deeply into the flesh of his palms. He recognized the two elderly people; they were Old Zhao and his wife from the east end of the village. Every autumn harvest, Old Zhao would always share some of the jujubes he had grown with the village children. Now, this once kind old man was huddled in the mud, watching helplessly as his last remaining food for survival was taken away.
"What are you looking at?" Wang Er suddenly looked up and spotted Li Dashan not far away. He grinned, revealing a few yellowed teeth. "Hey, isn't this Li Dashan? Burying his wife?"
Wang Er sauntered over, weighing the bran cakes he had just stolen in his hand. He was a bit fatter than the last time they met, and the fat on his cheeks squeezed his eyes into slits. His belt was obviously new, and a gleaming dagger was clipped to it—it belonged to the village head, which Li Dashan recognized.
"Want a piece?" Wang Er broke off a small piece of bran cake and waved it in front of Li Dashan. "As long as you nod your head, you'll work for us from now on, and you're guaranteed not to go hungry."
Li Dashan smelled the aroma of food. His stomach immediately cramped, and his throat bobbed involuntarily. He hadn't eaten for three days; the last half of a moldy bran cake had been given to his son...
son.
Thinking of his son, Li Dashan suddenly came to his senses. He turned his face away, his voice low and deep: "No need."
"What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for?" Wang Er sneered. "Do you think the government cares about lowly commoners like you? The county magistrate's granaries are overflowing, but he won't give you a single grain of rice!" He leaned closer to Li Dashan, the smell of alcohol and meat filling the air. "Yesterday we even robbed a cartload of grain, pure white rice... Guess what? It was meant to be secretly transported to the prefect's birthday celebration!"
Actually, Wang Er was also robbing along with others.
Li Dashan suddenly looked up, a glint of fire flashing in his eyes. Wang Er seemed pleased with this reaction and continued, "I heard there's been a rebellion up north, and they've killed several corrupt officials. If you ask me, it should have happened sooner! Better to rob the hell than starve to death!"
“You’re robbing ordinary people,” Li Dashan finally spoke, his voice rough like sandpaper.
Wang Er paused for a moment, then burst into laughter: "People? What people are there now? Only the living and the dead!" He patted Li Dashan on the shoulder, "Think it over carefully, we'll be distributing grain here again tomorrow."
Wang Er turned and left, leaving Li Dashan kneeling before his wife's new grave. The rain continued to fall, washing away the freshly turned soil and the bloodstains on Old Zhao's head. In the distance, Wang Er and his gang had already set up a pot, the aroma of rice mixed with the smell of meat wafting over, a stark contrast to the stench of decay in the mass grave.
Li Dashan slowly stood up, his legs trembling with hunger. He took one last look at his wife's grave, then dragged his feet toward home—if that leaky thatched hut could still be called home.
It was colder inside than outside. In the corner, a small figure huddled on a pile of hay, motionless. Li Dashan's heart sank. He almost rushed to his son's side, his hand trembling as he reached out to check the child's breath.
There was still breath, but it was very weak.
"Doggy, Daddy's back..." Li Dashan called his son's nickname softly, pulling out half a bran cake from his pocket—a cake he'd risked his life to steal after secretly noting the location of the grain hideout from Wang Er. "Eat up, there's food..."
The child didn't respond. The six-year-old boy was so thin he was practically skin and bones, but his belly was strangely swollen—a result of eating clay for a long time. Li Dashan broke the bran cake into small pieces, put them into his son's mouth, and gently massaged his throat to help him swallow.
"Eat, my dog..." Li Dashan's tears finally fell. "Eating will make you better... The government said the relief grain will be here soon..."
They live on this illusory hope that relief food might arrive tomorrow or it might never arrive.
The child's throat moved slightly, swallowing a small piece of bran cake. Li Dashan was overjoyed and quickly stuffed another piece into his mouth. But this time, the child didn't swallow. His eyes suddenly widened, and then froze in that moment forever.
"Doggy? Doggy!" Li Dashan shook his son's thin body, but it was too late.
Outside, the faint sounds of Wang Er and his gang's laughter drifted over, mingling with the aroma of rice. Li Dashan held his son's still-warm body tightly, letting out a mournful wail that sounded inhuman.
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds that had covered the area for days, Li Dashan had already dug the second shallow pit. This one was even shallower than the day before, because he was utterly exhausted. He wrapped his son in the last relatively intact piece of cloth he had at home and carefully placed him into the pit.
"Doggy, don't be afraid..." he murmured to himself as he filled the hole with soil, "Daddy will be here with you soon... soon..."
But as he finished filling the last handful of soil and stood up, his gaze fell on the rusty wood-chopping knife in the corner. The knife hadn't been used in a long time; it had been lying idle there since the crops failed, its blade covered in reddish-brown rust.
Li Dashan walked over and picked up the wood-chopping knife. The rust stung his cracked hand. The pain jolted him awake, and a thought gradually became clear in his mind: Why wait to die? Why not those corrupt officials die? Why not a beast like Wang Er die?
He wrapped the machete around his right hand with a strip of cloth and tested its tightness. Then, he took one last look at his son's new grave, turned, and walked north.
I heard there's been a rebellion over there.
I've heard that rebels get to eat.
——
The people of the Tang Dynasty were naturally overjoyed to receive 50,000 coins.
However, those dynasties that did not receive 50,000 coins were filled with disappointment.
They also wanted to change their fate.
The people of Shu Han clenched their fists, their knuckles turning white, their eyes filled with regret and resentment. How could they have missed such an opportunity? Had they known that the elixir of immortality truly existed, they would have risked their lives to obtain one for their Prime Minister.
Jiang Wei was originally unaware of the secret that the Prime Minister would die at Wuzhang Plains. It was all thanks to Lü Meng's dullness that he was able to extract the entire contents of "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" from Lü Meng with just a few words. At this moment, his heart was breaking, and he was completely unaware that his nails were digging deep into his palms.
"Prime Minister..." Jiang Wei choked up, gazing at the slender figure. He knew better than anyone that Zhuge Liang was the pillar of Shu Han's spirit. If Zhuge Liang died, Shu Han would surely perish.
The Prime Minister was the spiritual leader of the people of Shu Han.
Before his desk, Zhuge Liang was intently writing the report entrusted to him by Jiang Ge. His pen flew across the paper, occasionally pausing to ponder. Finding the right balance—neither too humble nor too ostentatious—was not difficult for him.
Jiang Wei paced back and forth within three steps of Zhuge Liang like a protective puppy, constantly moving closer as if afraid the Prime Minister might need something. His bright eyes were filled with worry, and he even rushed to serve tea and grind ink before the other servants.
Zhou Yu leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as he watched the scene: "Are you acting as a wet nurse or a prime minister? Why can't you be separated from someone for even a moment?" He was wearing his third brocade robe today, the wide sleeves of which fluttered lightly in the wind.
She also had a faint fragrance on her body.
Just as Jiang Wei was about to retort, Zhuge Liang put down his brush, his sleeve casting a faint shadow on the bamboo slips: "Grand Commander, you jest." As he looked up, his feather fan twirled gracefully between his fingers. "But you change your clothes three times a day. Is it perhaps a new trend in Jiangdong to 'bathe three times a day'?"
Not only today, but Zhou Yu actually changed his clothes several times a day. Each outfit was exquisite and gorgeous. All the women in Songyang County looked forward to the appearance of Zhou Lang because he was not only beautiful but also had a great eye for aesthetics. Every outfit he wore looked beautiful.
He was not ashamed of changing his clothes frequently. Even Sun Quan would send Zhou Yu hundreds of sets of gorgeous clothes every winter and summer to please him.
Upon hearing this, Zhou Yu laughed heartily, and the jade pendant at his waist jingled.
Even a beautiful woman's laughter is beautiful. Her laughter is clear and melodious, like shattered jade thrown into a pot, and her eyes and brows are bathed in the bright light of spring. Even the weeping crabapple tree in the courtyard seems to bloom even more vibrantly because of her laughter. It's breathtaking.
After laughing, Zhou Yu suddenly remembered the important matter. That kid Lü Meng was actually quite clever. If it weren't for Cao Cao's interference, why would he have had to tell that history to everyone in Shu Han in its entirety?
It's all Cao Mengde's fault for being too cunning.
Who could have predicted that Cao Cao never intended to return that television set after it was sent there? Now, Sima Yi is almost dead, and that precious television set is still sitting in Cao Cao's camp.
hateful!
In the end, they underestimated Cao Cao's shamelessness.
Zhou Yu originally thought that Cao Cao would at least care about his reputation, but who knew that this man didn't even care about saving face.
According to the established order, it should have been Huo Qubing's turn to watch next. However, Zhou Yu already knew the course of history, and dared not tell Huo Qubing that Cao Cao had taken the television set—if the young general knew, he would probably draw his sword and kill him.
Let's discuss this with Zhuge Liang.
After all, he had solved a major problem for Zhuge Liang—Sima Yi.
Cao Cao's suspicious and ruthless nature made him unable to tolerate it. He summoned Sima Yi and, without wasting much time, took action and spread the news.
Sima Yi's death was ordained by Heaven.
It was divine guidance.
God willing.
Humans often cannot escape the will of Heaven. When Zhuge Liang heard the news of the death of his old rival with whom he had once fought wits and courage, his hand holding the fan paused slightly, and he was unusually lost in thought.
Should we be overjoyed? Or should we feel relieved?
The feather fan hovered in mid-air. Zhuge Liang gazed at the book on his desk and suddenly realized—this Sima Yi was ultimately not the Sima Yi of his time. They were like different branches from the same ancient tree, seemingly from the same source, yet ultimately heading in different directions.
Ultimately, you have to finish the game of your own chess game.
"Prime Minister!" Jiang Wei's voice pulled him back to reality. The young general's eyes gleamed brightly, and he couldn't hide the smile on his lips: "Now that Sima Yi is dead, then you..."
—Then you'll be fine.
They won't get sick and will live a smooth and successful life.
Jiang Wei didn't say these words aloud, but they were clearly written in his eyes. Zhuge Liang looked at this disciple who had always followed him and suddenly remembered the figure who had held up the banner of Shu Han alone in the long river of history, never giving up until the very last moment.
"Boyue," Zhuge Liang gently patted Jiang Wei's shoulder, his voice gentle yet firm, "you shouldn't have placed your hopes on me alone a long time ago."
The sun cast long shadows of the two people, intertwined yet independent, a crossover that transcends time and space.
"Do you know?" Zhuge Liang looked at the pile of reports on his desk, "that you were the first person in history to define the rise and fall of a nation by the death of a subject."
That person was neither Zhuge Liang, who perished in the autumn wind at Wuzhang Plains, nor Liu Shan, who was enjoying himself here and forgot about Shu, but the young man in front of me who always pursed his lips—Jiang Wei.
Jiang Wei was stunned.
The wind rustled past, filling his ears, and the Prime Minister's voice seemed to come from another world; he didn't seem to hear it clearly.
“Boyo, I will accompany you this time.”
Zhuge Liang knew Jiang Wei's fears. Jiang Wei was afraid that he would die of illness and that all of Shu Han's previous efforts would be in vain. "It's alright, Boyue, I will accompany you this time."
I understand your fear and your helplessness.
This time, we'll replace you with us.
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Author's Note: Writing long novels is too draining, so I'm starting a pre-order for a mindless Mary Sue story to lighten the mood. If you like it, please add it to your favorites! [droopy-eared rabbit head][droopy-eared rabbit head]
Pre-order novel 2: Xia Ji woke up to find herself transmigrated into a villainous female supporting character in a wealthy family campus novel—she came from a prominent family, was beautiful, but was jealous of the female lead and caused all sorts of trouble, ultimately ending up abandoned by everyone.
According to the plot, she should be targeting the kind and innocent female lead at every turn, getting entangled with four proud young men, and finally getting a severe slap in the face.
Xia Ji originally wanted to go abroad to study immediately and escape the original storyline, but unexpected events would occur whenever she tried to travel, forcing her to stay by the side of the main characters.
then--
The male lead coldly warned her not to bully others, and she nodded directly: "You're right, I'll reflect on my actions."
The female lead feigned weakness and grievance, and she immediately applauded, saying, "Well done, keep going."
She no longer gets jealous or hysterical; all she wants to do every day is swipe her credit card to buy bags, relax on vacation, and live like a happy, carefree person.
But gradually, the way the male leads looked at her became increasingly strange...
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