Xiaolinzhuang, Qiaotou Township, southeast of Shanhua County, is a small village located not far from the bank of the Xiangshui River. At this moment, there are far fewer people in the village than usual. Some have gone to the city to ask for relief food and porridge, and some have left forever.
Qin Sanniang was in a daze, carrying her two-year-old child on her back and pulling another one in her hands. Her house was gone.
Only two and a half rammed earth walls remained on all sides, most of the roof collapsed, and the wall facing the Xiangjiang River completely disappeared in the waves, leaving only the collapsed rammed earth stones in the house.
The right window was still half-drooping, and the door panel had been washed away by the flood, its whereabouts unknown. Most of the pots and pans were gone, and those that were still there were only broken pieces of porcelain. The bed was intact, but the bedding was tattered.
The house was covered with a thick layer of mud and sand. Qin Sanniang let go of the child's hand, and the rough and slender rural woman's arms and hands reached down, struggling to search the house for something useful. This was her last hope of survival.
Two relatively intact porcelain bowls, a black iron pot with a huge chip on the edge but still barely usable, a few copper coins, half a bag of moldy rice, and the two remaining clothes of her husband.
Looking at the clothes, Qin Sanniang remembered her husband who had been leading them up the mountain with great difficulty, but slipped when the dam broke and rolled into the flood and was swallowed by it. She felt hopeless and suddenly knelt on the ground, wailing loudly, her shrill cries piercing the sky.
Perhaps infected by her, a moment later, the whole village was sobbing.
Zhou Wu from the neighboring village was also sitting blankly in the dilapidated and desolate house. He was only twelve years old. His father died early and his mother remarried. He was raised by his grandparents.
But during the disaster, my grandfather was trying to take away the valuable things in the house, and he was drowned at the moment the dam broke. He didn't have time to run away. My grandmother cried all day long. She was weak to begin with, and she fell ill after being caught in the rain. She died a few days later, leaving him behind.
The lonely grave was dug by a few young men who had suffered the same disaster. They took pity on him and dug a hole for him and put his grandmother's body in it. There wasn't even a tombstone.
Overnight, he became an orphan.
"Mom, I'm hungry"
Qin Sanniang's five-year-old eldest son tugged at his mother's sleeve. Being so young, he probably didn't know about the major changes in his family.
Zhou Wu's neighbor saw him sitting in the ruins and couldn't bear it anymore. He called out to him, "Xiao Wu, the county government is giving out porridge. I'll take you there."
Countless disaster victims outside the city slowly staggered towards the gate of Changsha. Many of them were still dirty and had a hint of numbness on their faces. No one knew whether they could survive this winter.
The fields were destroyed, the food in the house was washed away, and there was no hope. The only good thing was that because County Magistrate Chen saw the opportunity early, not many people were killed or injured.
But the number of people affected by the disaster was at least 200,000. Even if they survived, what would it matter? Many people like Qin Sanniang and Zhou Wu might not live long.
Outside the South City Gate, the accumulated silt had yet to be removed. The county and prefectural governments were organizing efforts to clean up the city and restore order. It was already September, and it was too late to plant late rice. They needed to clean up the city first, then organize the reclamation of the fields outside the city in preparation for next year's spring plowing.
There were at least twenty porridge-giving stalls near the city gate, with long lines forming behind them. Thousands of disaster-stricken people were collecting supplies. After receiving their porridge, they drank it, and then clerks would come to investigate.
Zhao Jun stood aside, and next to him was a clerk sitting at a table, recording the family status of the disaster victims who were receiving supplies, including where they lived, how many people were left in the family, how much food they had, etc. This was not only to prevent those who had surplus food from asking for relief food, but also to investigate the severity of the disaster.
If the family situation is serious, the government will take care of it as soon as possible.
At this moment, Zhao Jun's face was visibly haggard, with faint white hairs visible on his forehead and temples. He was only twenty-four years old this year, but he had been so worried recently that he couldn't sleep all night.
In addition to mobilizing grain from the Changping Warehouse in Jinghu North Road to provide relief to the victims in Changsha and surrounding disaster-stricken areas, he also used the money and supplies he carried with him to purchase grain. He bought large quantities of grain and fodder from wealthy landlords in neighboring states to provide relief to the people.
But there were too many people affected by the disaster. The victims lost their food reserves at home, and the amount of food consumed every day was countless.
Even though they are collecting food and supplies everywhere, they can only maintain basic food and clothing. It will take another eight or nine months from spring plowing to summer and autumn harvest. How are the victims supposed to survive for such a long time?
"Name."
"Zhou Wu."
"How many people are left at home?"
"They're all dead."
"No other relatives?"
"there is none left."
At this moment, the voice next to him interrupted Zhao Jun's thoughts.
He turned his head and saw a half-grown child standing there, dirty and with tear marks on his face.
This time, thanks to Chen Xiliang's early warning, most of the victims' lives were saved. It is rare for a family to be lost, as in the case of this child.
Seeing the child's gloomy face and his ragged and dirty appearance, Zhao Jun couldn't help but touch his head and asked softly, "How many acres of land do you have at home?"
"There's only one acre of marginal farmland in the village and a few vegetable plots."
Zhou Wu replied.
"well."
Zhao Jun couldn't help but sigh again and was about to ask the adult next to him.
At this moment, the sound of a clerk talking to a woman pulling a child came into his ears again.
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