Chapter 39: A Qilin Son in Our House

No one felt safe leaving such a large amount of grain behind. Fortunately, the deserters guarding the supplies had not mistreated themselves; they had built several makeshift thatched huts nearby.

Jiang Guang went in to inspect the area, found the cleanest hut, and after a quick tidy, told Yun-ge’er to stay there.

He had to stand guard over the grain tonight. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Yun-ge’er alone at the Zhao family’s house in the village, so the safest option was to keep the boy and the grain under his watchful eye.

It was very late, and even a energetic child like Yun-ge’er began to feel sleepy. Although the thatched hut was not as comfortable as home and smelled of sweat, it would suffice for a night's rest.

Yun-ge’er fell asleep as soon as his head hit the bed. When he woke up, the sky was already beginning to pale.

This time, there was no mother to prepare warm clothes for him. Jiang Guang, with little gentleness, clattered the clothes onto Yun-ge’er, waking him up completely in an instant.

Then, Yun-ge’er remembered the heart-pounding events of the previous night.

"How is it outside?"

Jiang Guang straightened the boy's clothes before answering, "We spent the night counting the grain. I’ve also arranged for people to keep watch over the villagers at the foot of the ridge, instructing them to stay in their homes for the time being."

Ma Yi had previously hoodwinked all the able-bodied men, leaving behind only women, children, and the elderly, such as Dog’s mother and her young ones. There was no need to worry about these people, who were on the verge of starvation, causing any trouble.

"There is too much grain here, and a large number of refugees. I need to find my father to come and handle this."

Jiang Guang nodded. "Understood. Yun-ge’er, eat your breakfast first. I will have Le Dan set off immediately."

After finishing his breakfast, Yun-ge’er looked at the vast stores of grain spread across the mountains. He first called over Lu Tou and his men, ordering them to go house-to-house and distribute a bag of grain to each family. The women and children at the foot of the ridge were so hungry they hardly had the strength to get out of bed; with so much grain, it had to be put to use.

Furthermore, it had been chaotic the night before, with cries of battle and shouting; the villagers were likely terrified. Giving them some grain would soothe their hearts and stabilize the situation.

Lu Tou and his men accepted the task with great joy. They had been eating their fill since last night, and their bellies were round and full.

Under these circumstances, they displayed an unexpectedly fierce loyalty.

To speak somewhat irreverently, when Lu Tou was smacking his greasy lips in his sleep, he even thought to himself that he had never seen the Emperor. But since Yun-ge’er was so kind at such a young age, if only the Emperor would let Yun-ge’er take the throne, their lives would surely be better.

This thought flashed and vanished, and Lu Tou went back to dreaming about the grain he would soon be able to move home, grinning in his sleep.

Yun-ge’er cast a strange glance at the highly motivated Lu Tou and his group, then ignored them.

Having made arrangements for them, Yun-ge’er called for Uncle Jiang to bring Ma Yi over; they needed to see the refugees. The road was a bit long, but since they weren't taking a carriage and relied on foot, Jiang Guang and his men were so fast that they could cut the travel time significantly.

After walking for about an hour, while still at a distance, Yun-ge’er caught a whiff of a sour, foul odor.

"Is this the place?"

Ma Yi was shoved forward by Deng Qiang. One of his legs was terribly swollen, and his neck was crudely bandaged with cloth to stop the bleeding; he looked as if he had one foot in the grave.

He nodded tremblingly. "Yes. The refugees haven't been given much to eat—only one meal every two days. They have no strength left. I only assigned five 'Foodless Messengers' and a squad of ten men to watch over them."

A squad was ten men, plus the five Messengers; in short, it was nothing to worry about.

As usual, Ma Yi called the soldiers over. This time, it wasn't just Jiang Guang’s group taking action; Yun-ge’er took out the bell and controlled the tireless, patrolling Foodless Messengers to turn against their masters. The ten men were subdued upon contact, without a shred of resistance.

The squad leader, his face bruised, felt just as aggrieved as the captain from the night before. He thought to himself, if you, little Master, wanted to surrender, you could have just said so. We would have listened to you. Why bring people here to beat us up? How unjust!

Ma Yi, suffering from excessive blood loss and a fever, huddled in a heap, shivering and lacking the strength to engage in a staring contest. He didn't pick up on the squad leader's resentment at all.

Yun-ge’er tore off a piece of cloth to cover his face, and had Jiang Guang and the others do the same. Even though this was an open mountain valley, the stench was unbearable.

The refugees lured here by Ma Yi were piled up, filling the entire valley; at a rough estimate, there were forty or fifty thousand of them. Each one was so starved they lacked the strength to move, and they had essentially been relieving themselves where they lay.

What Yun-ge’er found most unbearable was that many had already died of hunger or cold. These bodies were simply dragged out and dumped in piles of withered grass, left to rot and stink.

It was fortunate that it was winter, which slowed the decomposition.

If it were summer, everyone in this valley would be struck by a plague, and those who survived would only do so by sheer luck.

Yun-ge’er kicked Ma Yi in anger.

"Quickly, all of you, dig a large pit! Bury those exposed bodies first!" Yun-ge’er looked at the people lying on the ground, their hands and feet bound. The eyes of the people in the valley had almost entirely lost their luster.

If one had to describe them, they were like livestock waiting to be slaughtered, having completely accepted their fate and grown numb to their own suffering.

It was no wonder Ma Yi was so arrogant, leaving only a squad of men and five Messengers to watch this group. They didn't even have the strength to stand up and take two steps; what kind of trouble could they possibly cause?

The squad of men, under the threat of broadswords, went to work digging the pit honestly.

What other choice did they have?

They were deserters themselves, merely seeking a way to live and a bite to eat; it didn't matter who they followed. Since Ma Yi had already turned traitor, what was the point of resisting?

It was better to honestly curry favor with the new master.

Thus, they worked with great diligence, exerting every ounce of strength they had.

Yun-ge’er had Jiang Guang call out to the crowd, asking who still had the strength to walk a few steps. He told them they were sent by the Magistrate of Long County to rescue them, and that they had brought disaster-relief grain to keep them alive.

Among such a massive crowd of refugees, only a few swayed and stood up; many remained completely indifferent.

They were so starved they had no strength left, and they had been deceived until they were numb.

They had completely lost trust in everyone.

*Sigh.*

Yun-ge’er realized he had sighed quite a lot for someone so young.

He looked around, had Jiang Guang lift him onto a large rock, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "I am the son of Li Fu, the Magistrate of Long County! Look at me! Look at my clothes, look at my face—I am well-dressed and well-fed.

"If a child like me has come here, it means this is real! Otherwise, why would my family, who loves me so much, let me come to a place like this!?"

Yun-ge’er spoke in simple, plain language, without any grand philosophy, using himself as the subject of his plea. For these numb people, these were the very words they could take in.

They didn't believe anyone would come to save them, but seeing such a precious, well-blessed little child, they reasoned that his family would never let him go if it weren't true.

Soon, Yun-ge’er saw more people swaying as they stood up.

Yun-ge’er breathed a sigh of relief. No wonder it was said that the ancients liked to use their children as a bargaining chip to prove their credibility; after all, even a tiger does not eat its cubs, and people were still very willing to believe that.

He counted; about thirty or forty people had the strength to stand. These people were either emaciated or bloated from starvation, clearly in poor condition.

Yun-ge’er looked at them, his voice crisp and clear. "I will have people untie you. Try to gather some firewood; there will be food arriving shortly."

The forty or so people looked at the small child, then at the Foodless Messengers and Jiang Guang surrounding him, and were even more convinced that Yun-ge’er was a young noble. If this were a trick, such a young noble wouldn't appear in a place like this.

As for what he said about the Magistrate coming to save them, they didn't really believe it. To them, it didn't matter; having food was enough.

Yun-ge’er gave the bell in his hand to Deng Qiang, telling him to control the twenty or so Foodless Messengers from the night before to carry the grain. Those Messengers were immensely strong and were perfect for manual labor.

Deng Qiang looked at Yun-ge’er in surprise as he received the bell. A moment later, he bowed to Yun-ge’er and actually responded with a respectful "Nu." Previously, he had protected Yun-ge’er only out of gratitude to Uncle Li for saving his life, and for the lessons he had been taught; there was nothing more to it.

But Deng Qiang had not expected Yun-ge’er to trust him so completely as to hand him the bell and order him to work. When they went out to find the bell the night before, it was Uncle Jiang who went alone; clearly, he hadn't fully trusted him. Deng Qiang understood this—it wasn't just a matter of simple trust, but that Uncle Jiang was responsible for Yun-ge’er's safety and would not test anyone's nature.

Deng Qiang couldn't describe how he felt, only that this natural, effortless trust moved him deeply.

Perhaps this was what the books meant by "a scholar dies for one who knows him."

Deng Qiang didn't even realize why he had suddenly spoken so solemnly, before running off to handle the task.

Yun-ge’er didn't notice the change in Deng Qiang at all. However, Deng Qiang returned very quickly; the Foodless Messengers following him were each carrying four large bags of rice, and he had also brought several iron pots.

These were all available in the mountain valley where Ma Yi had been hiding.

Meanwhile, the deserters had begun dragging the corpses away. The pit wasn't large enough yet, but they could bury them in batches.

Perhaps because they truly saw the grain, Yun-ge’er noticed that the people lying on the ground finally began to show signs of life. Many had kept their eyes closed the whole time; if not for their shallow breathing, the place would have looked like a field of corpses.

There was no shortage of water; the reason this place was chosen to dump the refugees was because of a small stream nearby. They could only be given a little rice porridge every two days, but they still had water to drink.

Jiang Guang and his men were fast, and Deng Qiang was leading the "laborers" to carry the grain. The aroma of clear porridge began to waft through the air. There weren't many bowls or chopsticks, but with so many people, they couldn't cook everything at once, so they took it in batches.

There were too many refugees here. Jiang Guang and his men dared not leave; otherwise, once the deterrent force was gone, these starving, maddened refugees might turn the scene of the rice porridge pots into a riot of pillaging and killing.