"Ah—!"
A sharp cry pierced the air as the man struck by the wooden rod collapsed to the ground, clutching his head. When Pei Ying turned to look, she saw him writhing in pain.
Noticing the rod lying beside him, she realized the faint breeze she’d felt earlier had been stirred by its swing.
Huo Tingshan strode forward, seized the man’s collar, and effortlessly hauled him up with one hand. "Are you from this place?"
Zhao Sheng grimaced, his face contorted in pain. "Yeah, I am. Who else would be? And you’d better put me down—my master has close ties with the county magistrate. If you’re here to loot, he’ll make sure you regret it."
A derisive snort answered his threat.
Fury flared in Zhao Sheng’s chest. He opened his mouth to demand what was so funny—did they doubt his master’s influence?
But before he could speak, he was flung through the air like a ragdoll and slammed onto the ground again. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping as if his organs had been rearranged.
He was about to unleash a torrent of curses when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside.
In moments, a squad of armored men, swords at their waists, poured through the doorway. Some fanned out behind the audacious intruder, forming a disciplined line, while others swiftly dispersed into the house, as if conducting a search.
Zhao Sheng gaped.
What… what in the world was happening?
Pei Ying hadn’t expected the situation to escalate so quickly. She hurried forward, catching Huo Tingshan’s sleeve before he could advance further. "This boy misunderstood," she murmured. "Don’t take it to heart."
Huo Tingshan raised a brow. "He’s nearly of age, and you’re calling him a boy?"
Pei Ying lowered her voice. "He looks about seventeen. At seventeen, he’s still a child."
Seventeen—barely out of high school, by modern standards.
Huo Tingshan’s lip twitched, but he didn’t bother arguing.
Zhao Sheng, meanwhile, was reeling. The rod had struck his face, swelling one eye shut, and his back ached from the fall. Now, faced with a room full of armed men, his bravado crumbled into dread. He was sure he’d crossed paths with ruthless bandits—his life was as good as over.
But then a voice, gentle as a spring breeze, washed over him, soothing even his throbbing wounds.
His vision blurred, Zhao Sheng hadn’t noticed the slender figure beside the imposing man until now. Dressed in male attire, the woman’s fair skin and delicate features betrayed her true gender.
And she’d called him a boy.
Heat crept up Zhao Sheng’s ears. He’d been working under his young master for over half a year—being called a child was downright embarrassing.
"My apologies, young master," Pei Ying said, stepping forward to help him up. "He didn’t mean to harm you. But we’re not thieves—we’ve come to Honghu Medicinal Fields searching for someone."
A barrage of icy glares pinned Zhao Sheng in place. He shrank back, scrambling to his feet without her aid.
"Searching… for who?" His voice wavered, confidence all but gone.
Pei Ying explained, "My daughter came here days ago with her mentor to identify herbs. After the earthquake in Changping County, I heard casualties were high. I couldn’t rest until I found her."
Zhao Sheng blinked.
Pei Ying’s hope surged at his reaction. "Have you seen her? She traveled with a group of about fifty."
"I have."
Zhao Sheng strained to see Pei Ying clearly through his swollen eye. "You’re… Young Mistress Meng’s mother?"
Pei Ying nodded eagerly. "Please, tell me where she is."
Her heart hammered as Zhao Sheng confirmed it. The boy showed no pity—surely that meant her daughter was safe… right?
Regret flickered across Zhao Sheng’s face.
This was a colossal misunderstanding. He’d assumed mountain bandits had come to plunder after the quake—not honored guests.
He recounted the events of the past days.
Meng Ling’er and Feng Yuzhu had indeed arrived as planned. Their grand entourage and lavish spending quickly earned them the hospitality of Zhao Sheng’s master.
After a night’s stay, they’d intended to leave the following evening.
But as dusk fell on the second day, Meng Ling’er noticed something amiss.
Birds and beasts acted strangely. Warhorses, usually docile, grew restless. Fish in Honghu Lake schooled near the surface, leaping as if fleeing the water.
Mists rose from the ground—white, black, yellow, swirling ominously.
Meng Ling’er had never witnessed such phenomena, yet they were eerily familiar. Just days prior, Mr. Gongsun had described them in his lectures—textbook signs of an impending earthquake.
She’d warned Feng Yuzhu and the estate’s owner immediately.
Skeptical but cautious, the master evacuated with his family and most of the household, leaving behind a handful of doubting servants—Zhao Sheng among them.
Fate spared him; his quarters remained standing while others were buried.
Zhao Sheng added that Meng Ling’er’s group had fled toward the county town.
Honghu Medicinal Fields lay at the edge of Sanxiang County, deep in the mountains. Deeming it unsafe, Meng Ling’er had led the party out under cover of night.
Relief washed over Pei Ying.
Her daughter had made the right choice—flatlands were safer during quakes than mountainous terrain.
She thanked Zhao Sheng, who waved off her gratitude. As she turned to leave, he blurted, "Noble guests, this lowly one has an… impertinent request."
"If it’s impertinent, don’t voice it," Huo Tingshan said flatly, steering Pei Ying toward the door.
Zhao Sheng choked on his words.
He tried again, but a soldier behind Huo Tingshan silently slid his blade halfway from its sheath.
The cold gleam of steel silenced him.
"General," Pei Ying interceded, "he likely wishes to accompany us. Why not take him along?"
Huo Tingshan’s tone was dry. "My lady’s charity knows no bounds. When we return, I’ll have to expand the governor’s estate—lest you fill it with every stray your kindness collects."
Pei Ying's ears burned red with irritation—this man was speaking in that sarcastic tone again. "I didn’t bring him along out of charity," she retorted. "It’s just that he’s lived in Sanxiang County for years and knows the area well. Having him with us might be useful."
In the end, Zhao Sheng was indeed brought along.
As they traveled from the Honghu medicinal fields toward the county town, the number of houses gradually increased, but the devastation that met their eyes left Pei Ying shaken.
Eight or nine out of ten houses had collapsed.
It made sense—concrete wasn’t introduced to China from Europe until the late 19th century. In this era, most buildings were constructed from wood, clay, or ceramic tiles, far less sturdy than modern structures.
What would be a minor, negligible earthquake in later times was deadly in this age.
The journey was agonizing, each step tightening the knot in Pei Ying’s chest, until they finally reached Sanxiang County.
Ironically, despite the rush, Pei Ying arrived later than the relief troops who had come directly.
But there was a silver lining. While wooden houses weren’t as sturdy as concrete ones, they were also much lighter.
Rescue efforts were already underway. Soldiers from Youzhou worked in teams of five, led by their squad leaders, clearing debris.
Amid the shouts and the heaving of heavy objects, they first located survivors, then moved the wreckage to pull them out.
Some were still alive. Others were already dead.
The dead were piled together.
Pei Ying’s face paled as she stared at the rows of corpses.
Huo Tingshan glanced at her. "If it’s too much for you, don’t look."
Last time, just a few corpses had frightened her for hours. Today’s piles would likely haunt her for days.
Pei Ying did feel sick—her stomach churned violently, and every breath seemed to tug at her nerves, sending sharp pains through her chest.
She forced her gaze away, fixing it on the distant sky to steady herself. "After a great disaster comes pestilence," she said quietly. "If the aftermath isn’t handled properly, chaos will follow. General, we cannot neglect post-disaster precautions. The bodies can’t be buried—they must be burned. And the water—soldiers must boil it before drinking. No one should consume untreated water. We don’t know how many corpses, human or animal, have contaminated the upstream sources. Untreated water is full of bacteria and viruses. Drinking it will cause illness."
"Bacteria and viruses?" Huo Tingshan suddenly asked. "What are those?"
Pei Ying blinked rapidly. "They’re… things that make people sick."
Seeing he was about to ask more, she quickly steered the conversation back. She wasn’t sure how advanced medical knowledge was in this era, so she had to cover as much as possible.
Pei Ying continued, "The treatment areas for the injured must be well-ventilated. The medical tents should burn atropine, cloves, and mugwort nonstop to prevent the spread of disease. As the saying goes, ‘Where the dead lie piled, fragrance halts the plague.’ Also, the cloth used for bandages and the tools physicians use must be boiled in water first."
In the past, many commoners would shut themselves indoors when ill, sealing doors and windows, believing that avoiding drafts would speed recovery.
But without fresh air, bacteria and viruses festered inside like a brewing storm—how could anyone recover in such conditions?
At the mention of "pestilence," Huo Tingshan’s expression grew solemn.
He knew well that disasters were often followed by plagues—deadly forces that could surpass even the might of armies. Neglecting them was unthinkable.
Before coming to Changping County for relief efforts, he had brought all his military physicians.
Huo Tingshan called for Chen Yuan and ordered him to relay Pei Ying’s instructions to the physicians. He also issued a military decree forbidding soldiers from drinking untreated water.
Boiling water required firewood, and fortunately, this was an earthquake, not a flood—otherwise, soaked firewood would have made the task far harder.
Huo Tingshan chuckled. "You’re so knowledgeable, Madam, it makes me wonder if you were the one who wrote County Magistrate Meng’s examination papers for him."
Pei Ying: "..."
Even his compliments sounded grating. If he weren’t so powerful, he’d probably get jumped in an alley for that mouth of his.
Pei Ying ignored him and turned to Zhao Sheng, who had somehow shrunk into himself like a quail. "Young master, does your employer own any property in Sanxiang County?"
If Ling’er had left the medicinal fields with their owner, she was likely still with them.
"Y-yes. Follow me," Zhao Sheng stammered, his bravado completely gone.
Initially, he had assumed the man was just a wealthy merchant who could afford a large escort—a commoner, no matter how rich, was still beneath his master, who had close ties to the prefect.
But when the cross-dressing beauty called him "General," Zhao Sheng’s heart sank.
The most notable recent event in Jizhou was the joint campaign of You, Si, and Yan forces against the Blue Scarves, with Youzhou emerging victorious.
Generals weren’t uncommon in court, but few were stationed in Jizhou. And these men, towering and broad-shouldered, clearly hailed from the north.
Unaware of Zhao Sheng’s inner turmoil, Pei Ying followed him through Sanxiang County.
After crossing two streets, a Youzhou soldier spotted her and Huo Tingshan. After a brief pause, he quickly clasped his fists in salute. "Greetings, General. Greetings, Madam Pei."
At first, Pei Ying didn’t react, but Huo Tingshan asked, "Where are they?"
The soldier pointed. "In that house over there."
Pei Ying gasped and hurriedly asked the soldier to lead the way.
She had guessed correctly. Meng Ling’er’s group, having left Honghu medicinal fields at dusk with the Zhao merchant, had taken shelter in his property in Sanxiang County.
The Zhao merchant was wealthy, and his house was built with sturdier materials than most. Since Sanxiang County wasn’t the epicenter, his residence had fared slightly better.
Only three sections had collapsed, and the main hall was still barely standing.
Meng Ling’er and the others were gathered in the open courtyard—no one dared stay inside, fearing aftershocks.
Pei Ying spotted Meng Ling’er immediately. The girl’s face was pale, but she was calmly helping a soldier change the bandages on his arm.
Her beautiful dress was torn in several places, and her usually elaborate hairstyle was now just a simple tie. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she looked like a dust-covered sparrow.
"Ling’er…"
Meng Ling’er froze, thinking she’d misheard. Why would her mother’s voice be here?
She must be imagining it—she missed her so much.
"Ling’er."
Meng Ling’er whipped her head around. When she saw Pei Ying at the gate, she burst into tears.
Still sniffling, she hastily finished bandaging the soldier’s arm, then turned and flung herself into Pei Ying’s arms.
The composure Pei Ying had seen earlier seemed like an illusion, as the young girl now buried herself in her embrace, weeping uncontrollably, nearly fainting from the sheer force of her sobs.
"Mother, I thought I’d never see you again. The earthquake was terrifying—such a huge house collapsed in an instant, crushing so many people."
"Then at noon, there was another smaller tremor. I was almost hit by flying tiles, but Wei Wu saved me. He lost so much blood... Physician Feng said his tendon was severed, and he might never return to the battlefield."
"Uncle Zhao and the others were pinned under debris, just their legs at first. He kept comforting me and Young Master Zhao, talking to us for a long time. But when they finally moved the heavy beam, suddenly... he just... stopped breathing..."
Meng Ling'er cried as she spoke, her words tumbling out in a chaotic stream, as if she needed to pour out everything that had happened over the past two days to Pei Ying.
Pei Ying held her daughter, gently patting her back in reassurance.
Slowly, Meng Ling'er's voice grew quieter.
Pei Ying knew she was exhausted. "Sweetheart, why don’t you rest for a while? The general has brought many people for relief efforts, so manpower isn’t an issue right now."
Only then did Meng Ling'er gradually snap out of her "only my mother exists in this world" state. Noticing Huo Tingshan and several officers standing at the entrance, her face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
How mortifying—she had completely lost her composure in front of them!
With the post-earthquake houses all deemed unsafe, Pei Ying didn’t dare let her daughter stay inside. Fortunately, her carriage had arrived, so she directed the girl to rest there instead.
Now that she had found her daughter, Pei Ying’s heart finally settled.
Meanwhile, Huo Tingshan was listening to his subordinates’ reports.
Among the fifty cavalrymen who had accompanied Meng Ling'er to the Honghu medicinal fields, five were injured. The most severe case was Wei Wu, who had shielded her from the tiles—his right hand tendon was severed, rendering him unfit for frontline combat.
No soldiers had died, but the horses suffered heavy casualties, with fewer than five remaining. This was also why Meng Ling'er had been stranded in Sanxiang County.
Huo Tingshan began delegating tasks. "For the next few days, Sanxiang County will be the center of relief operations, extending outward. Chen Yuan, you’ll lead excavation and transport. Sha Ying, oversee the wounded—ten patients per medical tent, each with a physician, and keep the incense burning continuously. Xiong Mao, handle the deceased. Once bodies exceed ten, burn them immediately. Watch for signs of plague and report any suspicions at once. Qin Yang, manage supplies distribution. Chen Yuan and Xiong Mao, switch duties with your teams every six hours."
Some tasks were harder than others.
Digging and hauling, for instance, was grueling labor—without rotation, exhaustion would set in quickly.
Orders cascaded down, and the relief forces swiftly mobilized.
When Huo Tingshan finished, he turned—only to find the graceful figure he’d been unconsciously tracking had vanished.
"Where is Madam?" he asked.
A soldier replied, "Madam went toward the medical tents, I believe."
Huo Tingshan frowned and strode in that direction.
Really? She was afraid of corpses, but severed limbs and blood didn’t faze her?
Pei Ying was indeed in the medical tents, and yes, the sight of mangled flesh made her queasy. But her greater fear was inadequate disease prevention, which could trigger an epidemic.
In this era, without antibiotics or penicillin, an outbreak would mean life or death was left to fate.
After inspecting two tents—where precautions were properly observed and medicinal herbs burned as needed—she barely made it to the third before doubling over to retch.
Having endured the agony of searching for her daughter, she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Now, there was nothing to vomit but bile.
"Madam isn’t one of our army physicians. No matter how diligently you inspect, I can’t issue you a salary."
A waterskin was thrust into her hands. Pei Ying gulped down two mouthfuls before she could respond.
She turned to Huo Tingshan and abruptly asked something entirely unrelated: "General, were you ever beaten as a child?"
His gaze flickered over her damp, rosy lips before he drawled, "Scuffles among children are commonplace."
Pei Ying nodded sagely. "So you were. And I’d wager you fought more than most."
Huo Tingshan first grunted in agreement, then arched a brow. "Why do you say that, Madam?"
She tried to hold back but failed. "The things you say sometimes make people see red—enough to lose all rationality."
In short, his mouth had a talent for provoking fists.
After a pause, Huo Tingshan snorted. "And what if they do? With their pitiful half-baked skills, they’d never land a hit on me anyway."
Pei Ying: "..."
"We won’t stay in Sanxiang County for more than ten days," he suddenly said.
At first, she didn’t grasp the abrupt shift—until he added meaningfully, "If Madam doubts me, you can... experience it firsthand once we return to Yuanshan County."
Pei Ying froze, then flushed crimson as she realized what "experience" he referred to.
Once back in Yuanshan...
A shiver of trepidation crept into her heart.
Ten days. It wasn’t long at all.
Relief efforts progressed methodically. With countless homes destroyed, daily meals became a critical issue—fortunately, the Youzhou army set up ration distribution points.
Those unharmed or with minor injuries could collect food themselves.
A orderly line formed under the watchful eyes of spear-wielding soldiers, discipline holding firm.
"People always say Youzhou folks are barbarians, but they’ve been nothing but kind."
"Kind? They’re saints! My neighbor Erniu was buried alive—when the Youzhou troops dug him out, he’d starved down to bones. Without them, he’d have died in that rubble."
"Honestly, I never expected them to arrive so fast. Almost like they set out the moment they heard about the quake."
"Ah, I don’t care who rules Jizhou. I just want a peaceful life."
"Exactly, that’s what matters."
Soldiers busied themselves ladling porridge—a thick stew of millet, shredded flatbread, minced meat, and wild greens, lightly salted and oiled, yet a feast to the refugees.
When Meng Ling'er awoke, golden twilight spilled through the carriage window.
Dusk had already fallen.
Free of worries, she’d slept deeply and now felt refreshed. Stepping out to call for Shuisu, she was startled to find someone waiting outside.
"Young Master Zhao, why are you here?" she asked in surprise.
Zhao Ziyao bowed deeply. "Miss Meng, I have a favor to ask."
Meng Ling'er’s impression of him was favorable.
The man before her had refined features, scholarly yet not without charm. Back when she and Mr. Feng first arrived at the medicinal fields, it was he who had shown them around. However, compared to those days, he now seemed much more mature.
Alas, to lose both parents overnight—Zhao Ziyao had suffered even more than she had. At least she still had her mother.
Meng Ling'er said, "Speak freely."
Zhao Ziyao straightened his expression. "I wish to request an audience with your honored father."
Meng Ling'er coughed violently, her small face flushing red. Zhao Ziyao looked at her in confusion.
"Mr. Zhao," Meng Ling'er whispered, "my father... has long since passed away."
Zhao Ziyao was stunned.
Passed away?
He had assumed she used her mother's surname, "Meng," to maintain a low profile.
But it turned out that wasn’t the case.
If her father was gone, how could she still command such respect within the Youzhou army?
Had he guessed wrong? Perhaps she wasn’t the daughter of Huo of Youzhou after all, but merely the child of one of his trusted subordinates?
Regardless, he needed to meet Huo of Youzhou.
His father’s death had come too suddenly. Now, alone in the world, he knew his ruthless uncles would never let him keep what was rightfully his. He needed a powerful ally.
Zhao Ziyao immediately apologized to Meng Ling'er, who waved it off with a sigh. "I’ll ask for you, but don’t get your hopes up. That man is... very busy."
Zhao Ziyao smiled gently. "Thank you, Miss Meng. Just your effort alone is enough for me to be grateful, regardless of the outcome."
Meng Ling'er agreed, but the closer she got to the main tent, the slower her steps became, until she was practically shrinking into herself.
She had always been afraid of him—terrified, from the very first meeting.
As a child, she’d heard tales of man-eating tigers in the mountains, beasts that could shapeshift into demons to devour disobedient children. The moment she first laid eyes on him, she thought: if a tiger ever became a monster, it would surely look just like him.
Biting her lip, she mustered what little courage she had—then suddenly remembered something.
Her mother had said they’d struck a deal with that man. They were partners now; he wouldn’t dare be rude.
Why not tell her mother first and let her relay the message instead?
Heh. She really was a clever little thing.
