Chapter 14
After that morning's conversation with Xue Heng, Li Rong remained in Hanoi County for only two days. During that time, he was often thronged by crowds on the streets. The government, however, set up stalls and distributed porridge daily to the refugees, resulting in long lines, much like his own approach to disaster relief and peace.
Xue Heng, on the other hand, stayed in his room every day, never leaving the house. Li Rong stopped bothering him, but Su Si would occasionally come and talk to him. Li Rong, naturally, couldn't say anything about the man's unusual silence. He followed Xue Heng, and the three of them sat together, calculating the date, preparing their respective provisions and water bottles, and set a date for departure.
The long street was deserted in the early morning, a thin mist shrouding the entire Hanoi County. Li Rong packed his bags and went downstairs to find Xue Heng and Su Si waiting at the door. "My humble servant has been waiting for a long time," Xue Heng replied with a faint smile. "I just arrived and happened to be waiting for Zi Qu."
Su Si followed behind them, Xue Heng holding a map to show the way. They were heading west out of Henei County. The chill of autumn had barely ripped off many dead leaves, and the occasional frost and sand on the ground obscured the footsteps of the travelers.
Li Rong adjusted his backpack and walked beside Xue Heng. He glanced sideways at him as he studied the map, and then he took in his surroundings. Thinking of it this way, this trip through Yingchuan was the only time he'd actually been able to spend several days trekking through mountains and rivers during his study tour. It was a much more novel experience than lying in a carriage and enduring the bumpy ride all day. Occasionally, he'd see a bird chirping on a dead branch, and he'd watch until he got close enough to startle it away.
The road stretched endlessly. When Li Rong looked ahead, he could only see endless fields, dotted with patches of autumn green. No trace of the previous days' heavy rain could be seen. The soil had been dried by the sun. He began to feel tired, a familiar fatigue from walking.
Compared to the scenery he could see from the curtains, he could now see it more clearly. Shallow footprints were left on the ground as Xue Heng, a carefree smile on his face, gradually moved to the front of the three. Su Si caught up and asked if he needed a break. Li Rong shook his head slightly, preventing him from taking the bag from him.
The previously swollen river gradually receded, revealing the fertile soil of the Central Plains. Dried fish and shrimp fell beside the drowned grass, emitting a foul stench. They spoke little along the way, simply hurrying westward.
One day, two days... At night, he rested by a fire beside a tree. Unpacking his bag, he chewed the extra rations he'd bought. The rations he'd bought in Hanoi were more expensive than those in Linyi. He vaguely remembered Su Si muttering in his ear for a long time. How had he responded?
Li Rong sat down and thought for a moment. It was probably the flood in Yingchuan. Opening the granaries to release grain was bound to cause some shortfalls in the treasury, so a slight price increase was only natural. He swallowed the sigh that was about to escape his lips, forcing himself to look at the burning fire, at Xue Heng leaning against a tree, stargazing, and then at Su Si, who had fallen asleep. He closed his eyes as well, listening to the north wind blowing from the distant mountains, the quiet flow of the nearby river, and the mournful moans that seemed to come and go, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
They claimed to be taking the Yingchuan route, but they were merely taking a detour around it. The three men grew increasingly silent as they journeyed, mostly due to fatigue from the harsh weather, but also due to other factors. Li Rong glanced at the river's errant course. The muddy, silty water wound its way up the once-cultivated land, bending the withered vegetation. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the bodies floating or exposed on the river's surface in the distance.
The blistered flesh gave off an indescribable stench of decay, and the face, which could not be seen clearly, was filled with hideous misery. The clothes on the body were floating around in tatters, perhaps eaten by fish and shrimp, and occasionally white bones could be seen.
Li Rong covered his mouth and nose with his sleeves, suppressing the urge to vomit. He hurried to catch up with Xue Heng, so they walked very quickly, a day or two faster than they had expected. Xue Heng still walked in front, his upright posture, an expression that was either leisurely or indifferent, and it was difficult to discern any urgency from his posture. But he continued to walk quickly. When Li Rong looked at him, he occasionally had the illusion that Xue Heng's eyes were carefully scanning the floating corpses, dead fish, and objects that didn't belong in the river.
Then, he would cast this illusion aside. He would admire Xue Heng's exceptional insights, but he wouldn't dwell on the natural principles he adhered to. These principles were useless to him, even contrary to morality. Li Rong also hoped, hoping that Xue Heng would continue on the path he had declared, without hesitation or looking back. Simply because he was Xue Heng, Xue Zhuozhi.
As for himself, he would toss and turn during his nighttime rest, resting his head on dry grass and gazing at the sky. In the late autumn nights of the north, the sky was often covered with thick clouds, obscuring not only the daylight but also the darkness of the night. Therefore, Li Rong could not see many bright stars. He could only silently gaze at the moon, which was barely visible, and wonder whether it would be fuller or crescent tonight.
When he fell asleep, his dreams were again a jumble of confusion. He dreamed of the endless red maples outside Gusu City, only to see the skeletons of people floating on the river he had glimpsed from afar during the day. The murky, smelly water was slowly receding, revealing even more of these bones. He dreamed of the water-soaked redwoods within Jinling City, only to see the rolling hills in the distance. The cold of the north could be masked by thick clothing. Along the way, they would see refugees, occasionally stopping to share some dry food with them, and then watching them hurried on.
Like them, he hurried on his way, aiming to pass by where they had come from. They finally stopped because of the floodwaters, and stayed in a nearby thatched cottage that was about to collapse. An old woman, unable to continue on her way, still stayed there. Su Si took out some dry food and shared it with the old woman, watching her chew it slowly.
Xue Heng lit the fire, and the half-wet firewood crackled, illuminating the entire thatched cottage. They sat down to talk with the old woman, who spoke in halting, fragmented Mandarin, though not entirely fluent. Although Li Rong had learned the Central Plains Mandarin, he still had difficulty understanding it, relying entirely on Xue Heng to repeat it to them.
The old woman had been a widow for several years and had three sons, two of whom had gone to Chang'an to serve as corvée labor. This year, seeing the harvest was promising, she planned to harvest enough wheat in the fall to pay the labor exemption, allowing her youngest son to stay with her. Su Si wanted to ask if there were any other people in the old woman's family, but as he looked into her cloudy eyes, he gradually fell silent and just listened.
Li Rong listened to the old woman's sighs, so gentle yet so heavy. She wiped her eyes with her withered hands, willing to continue her story for them, even if it was incoherent.
One moment she spoke of the fields crammed with golden ears of wheat, the next of the heavy rain that fell from the sky. Then she spoke of her two other sons, whom she hadn't seen in years, and then fell silent. A moment after Qingming Festival, she asked if the government would release grain this year, so that her youngest son would be able to return with food for the winter.
Even if they couldn't escape the pain of corvée labor, at least they could spend one more winter together. Perhaps before the winter was over, she would be able to go out to the fields and see her husband. The old woman was talking to herself, and Su Si was able to interrupt, comforting her that she would, that this winter wouldn't be that long, and that she would eventually see her son again.
The old woman said she was tired from all this, so Xue Heng helped her onto the bed and spread his cotton robe over her to keep her warm. They gathered around the fire, ready to spend the night. Li Rong heard Su Si's sigh and was no longer surprised that his own servant could also be filled with sorrow.
He was simply calculating the amount of grain that could be released from the treasury, then smiled bitterly, thinking to himself that he clearly couldn't figure it out. He kept calculating again and again, recalling what he had read about the Central Plains in the bamboo scrolls. The grain released by the government might be enough to keep them fed for a while, or even better, to keep them going through the winter. If he were an official here, he would probably petition the authorities to exempt them from this year's corvée labor.
Li Rong pondered this over and over, finally closing his eyes. He had no idea how much grain remained in the treasury, nor did he know what the officials would do. He could only sigh endlessly, but he felt he couldn't even sigh in such a place.
The roaring river that gave them life and nurtured them washed away the fields they depended on for survival, drowning their bodies and everything else in the Central Plains that could be drowned. When the turbid, stinking waters receded, the scattered bones would become winter nourishment, nourishing the fertile soil of the Central Plains.
By mid-autumn of the following year, when the river was calm, wheat with hanging ears crowded in the fields, absorbing nutrients buried in the ground, and was harvested and sent to the treasury.
He suddenly became alarmed, wondering if such a flood would also wipe out the grain in the treasury. Li Rong, remembering his own words about not believing there was no grain in the granaries, subconsciously believed his own conclusion. He repeated this thought, reassuring himself, just as Su Si had comforted the old woman, that the granaries in the Central Plains would not be without grain.
He gradually sank into a tormented dream, completely unaware of how much grain the government would release even if it were still in the granary. He also had no idea. Perhaps there would always be corrupt officials who would repeatedly complain about the granary being swept away by the flood, how many people had drowned, and how many tons of grain had been lost. He dared not even imagine it. This happened year after year, in every place. Only those who saw it could tell whether there was grain in the granary or not.
Xue Heng woke up in the middle of the night and re-lit the fire to dispel the late autumn chill. Li Rong seemed to dream back to that early morning, telling Xue Heng about his worries about the flood in Yingchuan.
Xue Heng continued grinding ink in silence. He dreamed of Xue Heng saying that there might be no food in the granary. Of course, he didn't believe it, and he was determined not to believe that there was no food in the granary.
Perhaps they had never argued correctly about this matter, or perhaps they themselves had made other assumptions during a sleepless night. Of course, there is no right or wrong in this world. When it comes to the people, to your superiors, and to yourself, it would be bizarre to describe all of life with the phrase "no food in the granary"...
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