Advice and warnings were given, but gradually, complaints and grumbling filled the air.
Uncle Qi continued to bow to all four directions, finally looking at the ashen-faced overseer.
"Don't worry, everyone, I will definitely keep an eye on Qingshan. He can't accept the fact that Lao Zhao was buried underground in the flooded mine. Please be understanding..."
Zhao Hengjiang and Lao Qi were both from military backgrounds and had a good reputation in the mine, so everyone had to give them some face.
They were all exhausted. If they hadn't been pushed to the limit, they wouldn't have had time to talk back. A warning would have been enough to make them disperse.
The foreman gave Zhao Qingshan a final, fierce glare as a warning before turning and leaving.
"Let's go home first!"
Uncle Qi forcibly grabbed Zhao Qingshan's arm and led him home, not giving him a chance to say anything more.
Many villages have formed around the iron mine, all built by miners over the years.
A flood submerged many areas, and now their homes are more like shacks than villages.
Chiyan County has few other products besides iron ore, with bamboo being the most abundant.
A bamboo frame is built, and some clay is filled into the gaps; it's enough to make do and get by in the summer.
The temporary village implemented a system of collective punishment, prohibiting these laborers from living alone. Old Qi, because of his close relationship with Zhao Qingshan's father, lived with them.
It consisted of two connected bamboo houses, plus a small shed about half a person's height used as a kitchen.
Old Qi dragged Ren Sheng into the house, ignoring him. He first poured water into the earthenware pot, added the disaster relief grain issued by the county government, and started a fire to cook it.
When they returned to the room, they found Zhao Qingshan still looking dazed. They patted him on the shoulder.
"Don't take it to heart. Nobody really holds a grudge. Regardless of whether it's your fault or not, none of us can escape our work."
"But it's really possible that my dad and the others are still alive."
"Qingshan, more than twenty days have passed," Uncle Qi sighed. "Even if they didn't drown, how did they survive in the cave?"
Zhao Qingshan gritted his teeth; there were some things he couldn't say.
"Don't think about it anymore, just rest for a bit, and get a good night's sleep after dinner."
The forty or fifty households in the temporary village were exhausted after working continuously, and there was little noise, not even quarreling or arguing, or the bamboo beds shaking.
Wisps of smoke rose from every household, but they all blended into the rain.
There were overseers in the village, and patrols around the area. If someone was caught trying to escape, the entire village would be implicated.
Even if they didn't kill him on the spot, it would be easy to kill someone in the mine, which is why everyone had been so harsh and angry with Zhao Qingshan before.
"Dad, will Brother Qingshan cause any more trouble?"
In a house in the center of the village, an old father sat on a bamboo stool, while his son squatted at the door, each holding a bowl of coarse grain porridge and slowly drinking it.
The old man, in his fifties, was deathly pale with dark circles under his eyes. At his age, he had to work hard in the rain for four hours straight. If his son hadn't been there to take care of him, he probably would have collapsed long ago.
Fortunately, the imperial envoy arrived and arranged for the imperial guards and garrison to build walls and dig canals.
I suppose that out of respect for the important person, things won't turn out too badly at this point, and perhaps this old man can still cling to life for a while longer.
"With Lao Qi watching over him, there shouldn't be any problems. Qingshan is just too attached to family ties. A warning is enough; don't make things too difficult for him."
The son pursed his lips, still somewhat disagreeing.
My father shouldn't have needed to work at his age; he was the only able-bodied man in the family. But he was dragged down by Zhao Qingshan.
After taking two sips of porridge, the rough texture slid down my throat, making swallowing difficult, but I still couldn't help but complain softly:
"What kind of princess is she? She mixed bran into the disaster relief grain. What a load of rubbish about being wise..."
The old man shook his head and chuckled, "What do you know? No matter how good the grain the imperial court distributes, what ends up in our hands..."
He held the bowl up gently with both hands, saying, "This is the only one that can be it."
"What do you mean? All the good rice has been embezzled?"
The old man offered no further explanation.
If he were still an official, he would naturally teach his son the principles involved, but what's the point now? He could only murmur softly, "Be content..."
To be able to drink thick porridge that's big enough to stick chopsticks in, regardless of whether it's mixed with bran or not, that prince is truly wise.
After finishing their porridge, everyone washed up and changed into dry clothes; this was the routine for every household, and soon the village fell into silence.
In the stillness of the night, Zhao Qingshan slowly opened his eyes and got out of bed with the gentlest movements.
There was no oil lamp lit in the room, and not a ray of moonlight in the rainy night. In the pitch-black environment, he perfectly avoided all obstacles without making a sound.
He walked slowly to Uncle Qi's bedside next door and reached out his finger to precisely press on his Shenmen acupoint.
He had a secret that no one knew: he had cultivated true qi, though it was only a tiny wisp.
After making sure Uncle Qi was asleep, he quietly left the house.
They made their way forward in the dark, and finally found the only well in the village.
With no one around, he grabbed the rope and slowly descended until he slid into the water.
I took a deep breath, and then resolutely plunged into it...
Two quarters of an hour later, Zhao Qingshan emerged from the well of an abandoned old house in the east of the city.
Forget everything else, he braced himself against the well wall and gasped for breath for a long time.
Taking the underground sewers is never an easy method, even if you know all the routes by heart.
After finally catching his breath, Zhao Qingshan slowly turned around and searched with his hands.
But after going around and around, his face darkened.
His father had told him that if anything happened, the female constable would leave a mark here as a meeting place.
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