Chapter 356: The Charcoal Seller's "Dreamy Wonderland" [Seeking Double Monthly Tickets]
There are three days left until the autumnal equinox.
The boundary marker between Hebei and Yinzhou.
Official road, teahouse.
"Shopkeeper, could you please bring me a bowl of strong tea?"
"Coming!"
"Shopkeeper, another stack of beans."
"Okay!"
"Shopkeeper, do you have soup noodles?"
"Yes, please wait a moment, sir."
This simple teahouse was built not far from the official road.
Merchants passing through would stop here to rest, replenish their energy or eat some dry rations when they passed the boundary marker. A quick glance revealed that there were about twenty people here.
The tea shop owner and his two assistants were busy running around outside, their feet barely touching the ground, and their voices were hoarse from answering so many questions.
I was busy for a long time before I finally had a moment to catch my breath.
Just as he was about to wipe his sweat and massage his legs, he caught sight of a middle-aged man leading a mule coming from the direction of the main road. His clothes were covered in patches. The shopkeeper wanted to take a break, so he sent his assistant over to entertain him.
The helper greeted him warmly: "What would you like to order, sir?"
Only when you get closer can you see the middle-aged man's face clearly.
He looked honest and unassuming, with a head of black-gray hair wrapped in coarse black cloth. His skin was dark, and his face bore the marks of summer sunburn, clearly the result of years of sun exposure. His hands were rough, his knuckles calloused and swollen, and dirt clung to his unkempt fingernails. A close sniff revealed a slightly sweaty, sour odor, and his accent suggested he wasn't a local.
The middle-aged man rubbed his hands awkwardly.
With his head bowed, his voice hoarse from not having water for a long time, and his timid, low voice meant the helper almost didn't hear what he said: "I...I just wanted some water..."
He couldn't afford tea.
He was unfamiliar with the area and didn't know where the streams were nearby.
Seeing the teahouse, he was tempted to shamelessly ask for a drink of water, but the waiter unexpectedly greeted him warmly, leaving him bewildered. He was prepared to be met with disdain and sarcastic remarks from the waiter, but instead, the waiter simply smiled and said, "Yes, yes, yes!"
He turned around and brought over a bowl of warm water steaming from the teahouse; the earthenware bowl didn't even have a single chip.
"This... young man, just give me a sip of cold water..."
It was still warm.
The helper handed it over, laughing, "We're not allowed to sell cold water here. If you get caught, you'll be fined. It all has to be boiled."
The middle-aged man was flattered.
He wiped his muddy hands repeatedly on his clothes, then took the earthenware bowl from the helper. The moment the lukewarm water touched his dry, cracked lips, he eagerly opened his mouth and gulped it down. The water flowed down his throat, like parched land finally receiving nourishment. He finished drinking, let out a long sigh of relief, but still felt it wasn't enough.
He clicked his tongue inwardly, but was too embarrassed to ask for more.
The helper, busy at the teahouse, had seen all sorts of people. He had long since developed a knack for reading people's expressions and said, "It's not busy right now, I'll get you another bowl. Has your mule had any water? Should we take it to the back and feed it some?"
The middle-aged man thanked him repeatedly.
The mule was so hungry that it was almost skin and bones, with its ribs clearly visible. It was also an old mule that was quite old.
The mule was thin and old, but it could still work. Its saddlebags were crammed full, and it carried a tall bamboo box on its back.
I have no idea what's inside.
Out of curiosity, I casually asked a question.
The middle-aged man did not hide it either.
"I had some charcoal and straw sandals that I had saved up at home. I heard that people here buy them, and if I sell them together, I can get more money..."
They said it would cost a little more, but only four or five coins more.
However, he walked for two whole days and two nights for those four or five coins, and had to be careful not to encounter bandits along the way. Fearing that he would encounter jackals and tigers if he slept in the wild at night, he dared not close his eyes or stop walking no matter how tired he was. He could only find a secluded place to nap during the day, and he had to tie the old mule to himself with straw ropes, for fear that someone would steal the mule and the charcoal.
Of course, it's not safe either at night or during the day, so try not to sleep if you can. After two days, you'll look haggard and dazed.
Only then did the helper notice that the man's straw sandals were worn almost to pieces, his toes sticking out, and the dark red blood mixed with dried mud on them, while there were about ten new pairs in the mule's saddlebags. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
I fed the mule a small handful of bean curd residue.
The middle-aged man's eyes reddened slightly after reading it.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he kept thanking the helper. The helper escorted the middle-aged man to the road and kindly gave him directions. Following this road, it wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to walk on it.
His feet will suffer less.
The middle-aged man didn't think much of it.
They reluctantly said goodbye to the helper.
He also had a large pancake in his arms, given to him by a helper.
The shopkeeper had already seen all this, and smiled, saying, "The water doesn't count; the rest will be deducted from your wages..."
The helper replied, "Of course, of course."
In fact, he only enjoyed a few months of good life.
Seeing the middle-aged man in such a state, he felt deeply for him and couldn't help but want to help. The laborer was a destitute refugee who had fled to Heyin after having nowhere else to go. He thought this place would be his final resting place, but unexpectedly, he was rescued by the kind-hearted innkeeper.
I help out at the teahouse every day.
They provide food and lodging, and even pay you.
The helper was initially hesitant to hire him; the little work he did wasn't worth so much pay. But after listening to the innkeeper, he realized it wasn't much at all. If he went to the government office, the pay would be much better. Here at the teahouse, he'd barely be able to starve.
Because the helper's entire family had died and he was the only one left, he had managed to save up some money over the past few months—it was only thirty or forty coins and a dozen or so pancakes. The shopkeeper didn't care if he deducted his wages, since he was provided with food and lodging, so the helper didn't mind.
The shopkeeper smiled and shook his head.
They didn't deduct any wages when settling accounts that day.
Inside and outside the teahouse, passersby whispered amongst themselves, occasionally letting out bursts of laughter and banter; a cheerful atmosphere filled the air. Meanwhile, a middle-aged man walked along a bumpy, muddy path, then froze in shock.
Nothing else—
The road ahead is far too wide and smooth.
He almost thought he was hallucinating.
He hesitated to step on it.
Looking left and right, finally, with a gentle nudge from the old mule, he stealthily took a step forward, like a thief caught in the act. This road stretched all the way to the horizon, wide enough for three chariots to drive side by side! It was the complete opposite of the previous dog-chewed road.
The roads are easier to walk on, and our pace is quicker.
After walking for less than half an hour, we came to see a neat field.
The middle-aged man was stunned once again.
Looking out, the millet fields resembled golden waves, each stalk laden with heavy, plump grains, bending low so low that a gust of wind seemed poised to topple them. He was a skilled farmer, owning two acres of meager land, but even in a good year, his efforts only provided his family with enough to eat…
These are things he had never even dreamed of seeing.
I have heard some of the older people in the village mention it.
If there is fertile land, and in a good year with favorable weather, perhaps the yield per acre can be compared with what is currently available.
"What are you looking at? What are you looking at?"
Perhaps it was because he lingered too long, and his dazed, bewildered look seemed too suspicious, that the tenant farmers working in the fields instantly became alarmed. They pointed at him with their carrying poles and machetes, shouting at him. He was being mistaken for a thief by the common people…
It took a lot of persuasion from the middle-aged man to finally explain things clearly.
The tenant farmers' expressions softened.
The middle-aged man said a few auspicious words to celebrate the harvest, which made people feel very comfortable and more pleasing to the eye. Some people were even willing to give him a pair of their worn-out straw sandals.
The middle-aged man was somewhat bewildered.
He had heard of the place called Heyin.
It was nothing but poverty, a desolate and impoverished place.
It is said that even the best grain varieties will result in reduced yields here.
Fleeing refugees would avoid this area to avoid not being able to find food and being captured and eaten by the local scoundrels.
Now that I see it, that's not the case.
I don't understand why there's such a big difference between the rumors and reality!
As the group chatted, the middle-aged man shamelessly asked for the secrets of farming, only to be met with a wave of his hand.
"Where can I find such a thing?"
"It's all thanks to Shen Jun's protection!"
"What you see here is nothing compared to what you'll find out about 'abundance' when you go to Fugu's place. Ah, I'm so envious."
"Fugu's fields are truly fertile..."
"Of course, how could one not get fat after being touched by Shen Junxian's aura?"
Everyone chatted away, enjoying themselves immensely.
The middle-aged man listened for a long time but still couldn't understand.
All I know is that there's a new prefect in Heyin, who only took office last year. He's very young, incredibly handsome, and doesn't have the airs of a high-ranking official. If I'm lucky enough to go to Fugu, I might even see Lord Shen himself. The changes in Heyin this year are all the result of the hard work and struggle of Lord Shen and his subordinates.
The middle-aged man even saw an old woman with her hair wrapped up, tears streaming down her face as she spoke, sobbing and bowing repeatedly in a certain direction; the others were also infected by her.
Middle-aged man: "..."
He still didn't understand.
Following this road, which was even smoother and more comfortable than the best official road, we continued downhill. The villages along the way were all much the same, with every household busy with farming, preparing for the autumn harvest. Their faces were beaming with smiles, their steps were brisk, and their clothes were clean.
Only two or three out of a dozen people encountered men with patched clothes, and even those with patches had few, unlike his old clothes which were covered in patches. The people here were simple, honest, and hospitable. A few commoners would often see him thin and tired, and the old mule emaciated and weak, and would give him a piece of bread or half a cake.
I also kindly gave him directions.
As dusk fell, he was wondering whether to find a stone bridge to sleep on when a commoner warmly invited him to his home. Although the house was small, with only one room, he could sleep in the courtyard, which was safer than sleeping in the wild.
The middle-aged man hesitated before agreeing.
The host then gave me a bowl of warm water.
The middle-aged man finally couldn't hold back any longer.
"Boil it and drink it, sigh, how much firewood that takes..."
The host said, "You'll be fined if you don't boil the water before drinking it."
The middle-aged man vaguely remembered that the teahouse helper had said something similar, and for a long time he was speechless. Life was so hard for ordinary people; they were lucky to have clean water to drink. In years of drought, they couldn't even get a sip of muddy water.
What kind of family wealth do they have...?
Do we need to boil water before drinking it?
The middle-aged man couldn't help but voice his doubts, and the host burst into laughter: "Oh, this? They say our Shen Jun heard from a deity that unboiled water contains some kind of 'violence,' and if you drink it, you'll get sick..."
Orders from the local government offices are always enforced.
If you get caught once, twice, or three times, you'll be fined.
If there's a fourth time...
Hehe, just kick He Yin out directly.
Ordinary people are not afraid of anything else, except being driven away.
They know what the world is like outside. Being able to stay in Heyin is a blessing from their past life. They have enough to eat and wear, work to do, and land to cultivate. Even the gods don't have such a wonderful life.
Furthermore, the Fugu government was willing to buy charcoal from each household at a relatively high price, so everyone was willing to go through the trouble of boiling water before drinking it. Besides drinking hot water, they would also pool their resources to raise cats to catch mice.
The raccoon gets a reward for catching a lot of mice.
The raccoon in their village won three catties of pork, two big fish, and a bolt of cloth by relying on his rat-catching skills!
The middle-aged man listened with rapt attention.
They even considered leaving their hometown and moving here.
The host knew the middle-aged man had this thought, and kept repeating it to him, the core idea being—"Shen Jun is a good person, a good official!"
Following Shen Jun will ensure you get enough to eat!
The next day, the middle-aged man set off with his well-rested old mule, and their journey was much the same as the day before.
No, there is one difference.
The old mule was fed more.
Upon inquiry, it was learned that Shen Jun's mount was a beautiful mule, pure white with not a single stray hair. It was said to have a name called "Motorcycle," and the common people within the He Yin region gradually developed a fondness for mules, extending their affection to the mule. Although they still had to work, their food and treatment were much better than before.
The old mule was so thin that its ribs were clearly visible, and it walked unsteadily, which made the common people feel sorry for it and couldn't help but feed it some.
After walking and stopping frequently, we finally arrived at the nearby market.
Every market had a charcoal collection point set up by the government.
Upon inquiry, the price was indeed higher than in his hometown.
Besides the charcoal they had collected, they also sold straw sandals and woven bamboo baskets. They sat by the roadside and sold almost all of their wares in half a day.
At this moment, someone asked the price and threw down a bamboo stick as payment. Enraged, the thief grabbed the person's hand, clenched his fist, and tried to hit him. This startled the nearby stall owners, causing a commotion, and passersby backed away. The thief who was caught was furious.
"What are you doing? What are you doing? Why are you grabbing me?"
"You stole my things!" The middle-aged man's eyes reddened with anger, and he almost burst into tears on the spot.
Passersby and vendors gathered around to watch the spectacle.
Finally, the local market official was alerted.
The minor official came over to inquire what had happened.
The thief retorted angrily, "How should I know? He's gone mad!"
The middle-aged man, holding the bamboo stick, said angrily, "He... he dropped this thing and tried to steal my things..."
Everyone: "..."
Market clerk: "..."
I understood what was going on in an instant.
The market clerk pressed a throbbing vein on his forehead and said angrily, "Don't you know these slips can't be given to outsiders?"
The "thief" was so rebuked that he dared not utter a sound.
He snatched his bamboo stick back from the middle-aged man, threw a copper coin back down, and muttered, "Bad luck, how was I supposed to know he was from out of town?" The market clerk told the onlookers to "disperse, disperse." Only the middle-aged man remained bewildered.
Why don't you catch that thief?
At this moment, the stall owner next door asked with a smile.
"You're from out of town, aren't you?"
The middle-aged man nodded.
Her eyes were still wet with tears, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, feeling wronged. The money wasn't much, but it was the lifeblood of her family's livelihood.
Who would rob someone in the street!
Why doesn't Shen Jun teach these madmen a lesson?
The stall owner smiled kindly and said, "Hey, it's common. If you don't want those tickets, just tell them you're from out of town. You'll understand after a few more times. I'm also from out of town doing business. I was the same as you the first time. Hey, don't panic, don't rush."
Middle-aged man: "..."
hi(。。)
My darlings, please vote for me!
Sigh, pay-to-win players are rampant.
P.S.: I'm about to lose my top spot in monthly votes, my position is in grave danger, sob sob, please vote for me! _(:з」∠)_
(End of this chapter)
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