The carriage wheels rolled over the last bump of the earthen ridge, and that teeth-jarring sense of jolting abruptly vanished.
It was replaced by a rare smoothness.
The tea in Song Yubai's cup didn't even ripple. He lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and looked out. A pale gray road stretched before him, flat as an infinitely long whetstone, without a single pebble in sight.
The muck from Qinghe County, caked on the wheels, was flung with a splat-splat onto this clean surface as they turned.
Those two streaks of black mud were like ink splashed on a sheet of rice paper, glaringly out of place.
Song Yubai frowned, pulling out a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth, then felt the gesture was somewhat unnecessary—outside the window, there was none of the expected dust clouds. The air even carried a strangely crisp, clean scent, mixed with a faint hint of something like wood ash.
"Are we here already?" he asked.
Su Bingzhang sat opposite him, his aged face looking somewhat gloomy in the light filtering through the curtain seam. He pointed ahead. "Look, young master."
Song Yubai followed his finger.
A hundred paces away stood a pair of iron-clad city gates.
And before the gates, a dense, black mass of people swarmed, the queue snaking back for nearly a mile. The clamor of the crowd, the shouts and arguments, could be heard even from this distance. Some waved their arms, some shoved desperately forward, and others clung to the legs of the yamen runners, refusing to let go.
"This..." Song Yubai tightened his grip on his folding fan. "These are the refugees?"
Su Bingzhang sighed, his voice heavy with anguish. "Indeed. Taoyuan County has shut its gates and will not admit them. These common folk have nowhere to plead their case and can only wait here in misery.
Look there, young master, in the middle. Those few waving papers are likely trading their family's entire fortune for a single entry permit."
Song Yubai narrowed his eyes.
Indeed, some people were waving what looked like silver notes, their faces red and necks thick as they shouted something.
The distance was too great to make out the words, but their expressions seemed both ferocious and despairing, like drowning men clutching at the last straw.
"And those guarding the gate..." Song Yubai pointed at the two rows of men in black at the entrance, "Why are they carrying clubs?"
"To drive them off," Li Wencheng, riding alongside the window, chimed in at the opportune moment, his voice tinged with indignation. "The Xu family's hounds, the most ruthless of the lot. If the refugees dare approach, they'll get a beating at best, or be beaten to death on the spot. Don't you see the ground, young master? That's bloodstains, not yet dry."
Song Yubai's heart gave a lurch.
He did see several dark red patches on the ground.
(That was red paint Pockmarked Liu had ordered splashed that morning to mark parking spaces; it hadn't dried yet.)
"Outrageous!"
Song Yubai angrily closed the carriage curtain, his chest heaving.
Born and raised in the capital, accustomed to a world of song and dance, of peace and prosperity, how had he ever witnessed such brutality in broad daylight? In the eyes of those wicked servants, were living human lives nothing more than worthless grass?
"Stop the carriage."
Song Yubai's voice was cold and hard.
Li Wencheng was startled. "Young master, we are still outside the city walls, with refugees gathered here. It might be dangerous..."
"If I dare not even step down from the carriage, what talk is there of 'touring on behalf of Heaven' and 'observing the people's condition'?" Song Yubai gave a cold laugh and kicked the carriage door open. "I want to see for myself if the Xu family's clubs dare strike me!"
The caravan halted.
The red sandalwood carriage stood out like a crane among chickens amidst the convoy of mud-spattered carts.
Song Yubai jumped down from the carriage shaft. He had deliberately changed into a plain white robe, forgoing his usual dazzling jade pendants and scented sachets, believing this attire was low-key and close to the people enough to blend into the scene of utter devastation and suffering.
But the moment his feet touched the ground, he sensed something was off.
This ground... was too hard.
Not the packed hardness of a well-trodden dirt road, but a seamless, monolithic solidity. His shoe soles tapped against it, producing a crisp tock-tock sound.
And it was too clean.
Not a single weed grew. Clear water flowed in the drainage ditches on either side of the road, and every ten paces stood a strangely shaped wooden barrel painted with odd symbols.
It was rather far from the refugee slum he had imagined.
Su Bingzhang and Li Wencheng hurriedly followed him. They exchanged a glance, both seeing panic in the other's eyes. Was this road newly repaired? How could there not be a single pothole?
"Young master, it's chaotic over there. Perhaps we should..." Su Bingzhang tried to stop him.
Song Yubai ignored him, striding purposefully toward the city gate.
As he drew nearer, the noise grew louder.
"Stop pushing! You stepped on my shoe! This is satin from the Imperial workshops!"
"Five hundred coppers? I'll give five taels! Give me a number!"
"Hurry up at the front! What are you dawdling for? Any later and today's quota will be gone!"
Hearing these shouts, Song Yubai's steps faltered.
These refugees... wearing satin shoes?
Pleading for their lives... involved bidding?
"See?" Su Bingzhang leaned close to his ear, his voice extremely low, as if afraid of disturbing someone. "This is the Xu family's method. Even in flight, you must cough up your last burial money. Those shouting bids are wealthy families driven mad, trying to secure a future for their line. As for those without money..."
He pointed at several men squatting by the roadside.
They wore coarse cloth tunics and were squatting, chewing on large, white steamed buns stuffed with slices of fatty meat that glistened with grease.
"Those without money can only wait for death by the roadside, without even the qualification to enter the city." Su Bingzhang's voice was full of grief and indignation.
Song Yubai looked at the white buns, then at Su Bingzhang.
Su Bingzhang's expression didn't change. "That's their last meal. To avoid having corpses of the starved look too dreadful, the Xu family doles out a bite to eat before the end. After this meal, it's... alas."
Song Yubai's knuckles turned white.
What a venomous scheme!
To drive people to the brink, then use such hypocrisy to whitewash the reality!
He took a deep breath, pushed through the crowd, and marched straight to the front.
At the city gate, Pockmarked Liu was brandishing a watchman's club, berating a fat man trying to cut in line. "Don't you know the rules? Huh? That's a yellow line! You crossed the line, you know? Get back! Dare stick one more foot forward, and I'll have your legs off!"
The fat man wore an ingratiating smile, nodding and bowing as he retreated. "Yes, yes, sir, you're absolutely right. My eyes are clumsy, very clumsy."
Witnessing this scene, the last thread of restraint in Song Yubai's mind snapped.
In broad daylight!
Under the clear sky!
A mere gatekeeping dog of a servant, daring to order common folk about so arrogantly! That fat man, though he might have some savings, was now humbling himself like a dog. To what depths of oppression had he been driven?
"Halt!"
A sharp shout.
Song Yubai stepped out from the crowd, his white robes pristine as snow, glaringly conspicuous among the dust-covered merchants.
Pockmarked Liu, in the midst of his tirade, was startled by the shout. He turned and looked Song Yubai up and down.
A pretty boy.
No luggage.
No goods.
Clearly a greenhorn who didn't know the rules.
"What are you yelling for?" Pockmarked Liu tapped the ground with his club. "Get in line! Can't you see the hundreds waiting behind? Trying to cut in? Don't you know whose turf this is?"
"I'm not cutting in line, and I'm not entering the city."
Song Yubai took a step forward, his chin held high, displaying the arrogance ingrained in the bones of a scion from a noble family. He pointed at the club in Pockmarked Liu's hand, his eyes as cold as ice. "I ask you only this: who gave you the audacity to set up a checkpoint here for extortion? Who granted you the authority to casually insult and beat common folk?"
The surroundings fell silent instantly.
The merchants in the queue looked at Song Yubai as if he were a fool.
Who is this guy?
Daring to make trouble on the Xu family's turf?
Pockmarked Liu was also stunned. He tilted his head, as if he had heard a joke. "Extortion? Beatings?" He pointed to the wooden sign hanging nearby. "Can you read? 'Taoyuan County Entry Management Regulations.' This is a security deposit! This is maintaining order! Can't you see these people pushing and shoving like rutting boars? A few harsh words are the only way to make them listen!"
"Sophistry!" Song Yubai was so angry his hands trembled. "The people are displaced, coming here to seek survival. Not only do you fail to open the granaries to relieve them, you actually set up checkpoints to exploit them! These banknotes—how many families' life savings are they? Doesn't holding them burn your hands?"
He turned to face the crowd of queuing merchants, his expression one of profound distress. "Gentlemen! Do not be afraid! Today, I, Song, am here. I will certainly obtain justice for you all! This vile servant, these black-hearted rules—today we shall abolish them!"
The crowd was deathly silent.
After a long moment, the fat man who had just been scolded and pushed back cautiously raised his hand.
"Ahem... young master," the fat man said with an expression of looking at a lunatic. "If you don't have the money for the security deposit, could you please step aside?"
