The man and the crowd still couldn’t believe it as they left the territory controlled by Qu Zhao. Had they truly made it out?
Moreover, the Qu Zhao people had even provided them with provisions, claiming it was to support their journey to Ge Feng.
Carrying his little niece on his back and holding his nephew in his arms, he stared at the blazing sun, momentarily unsure where to go.
“Uncle, should we go to Ge Feng?” He crouched down and looked at the gaunt, elderly man resting against a withered tree.
The village headman had fallen ill with the plague and was now unconscious, leaving him to consult the elder, his senior uncle.
But his uncle had also contracted the plague—just a few days ago, so he could still hold on for now.
The old man’s eyes were vacant, as if he hadn’t heard him. After a long silence, he sighed deeply: “We can’t go on. Those of you who haven’t caught the plague should go.”
The man lowered his head and looked at his bare, grimy feet: “Find a deep mountain and burn us, the infected. This is our Han land. We must not defile our own soil.”
The man felt as though his heart was being twisted. Choking back tears, he said, “Uncle, the Qu Zhao people said Ge Feng is taking in refugees. They also have medicine for the plague. If we go, everyone can survive.”
The old man finally lifted his eyes to look at him: “Plague has always been hard to cure but easy to spread. Why would Qu Zhao be so kind as to show us a way out? They just want us to pass the plague on to Ge Feng.”
“But it’s true that Ge Feng is taking in refugees. I’ve heard people talk about it. They offer free food and lodging for a few days, and only let people into the city if they’re confirmed plague-free.”
His voice was weak and barely audible: “In times like these, a city that takes in refugees and offers free food and lodging must have a good lord. We won’t do such a dishonorable thing.”
As for Qu Zhao’s claim that Ge Feng had a cure for the plague, he didn’t believe it.
Perhaps because he knew he was dying, many things no longer mattered. Among their three or four thousand people, nearly a thousand weren’t infected yet. Some of them would survive—their people wouldn’t be wiped out.
“Remember, when you get to Ge Feng, you must tell them the truth about your situation. Let things take their natural course.”
“Our kingdom is gone. If we then bring trouble to a city willing to shelter Han people, or even cause the soldiers and common folk of Ge Feng to… our Han people would have no hope left. How could we bear it? How could we live in peace?”
The man was sobbing uncontrollably: “Uncle, what if Ge Feng really does have the medicine? Let’s go together, please?”
A trace of sorrow and resolve flickered in the old man’s clouded eyes: “We can’t go on. We can’t hold you back…”
The sun was slanting westward when Jiang Jin finally settled on the site for the new village. She had even chosen a name for it.
The one near Ge Feng, she named Springwater Village, because there was a spring nearby—though, due to the drought, it was almost dry. For the village Jiang Jin planned, which could house thousands or even tens of thousands of settlers, this spring would be of little use. They would need to dig wells.
The one near the northeast, she named Green Mountain Village. This area had not only farmland but also a large expanse of gentle slopes and grassland. It was perfect for both farming and animal husbandry.
The one to the southeast, she named River Village. There was a river there that irrigated most of the nearby farmland—except that it had shrunk to a tiny stream. It wouldn’t be enough for irrigation, but it might serve a few thousand villagers for drinking water. That didn’t stop Jiang Jin from giving it the name.
They were now standing on a tract of wasteland in River Village.
Guo Li, pen in hand, was scribbling and drawing rapidly, asking questions as he went: “Lord, is this right? Here we build a cement road, here is the irrigation channel, here is River Village Hamlet One, this is Hamlet Two?”
The village was too large to be built all in one cluster. Following the plan, the settlements would be divided into hamlets—some along roads, others along rivers, and some nestled against hillsides, named Hamlet One, Hamlet Two, Hamlet Three…
Jiang Jin nodded as she looked at his sketch: “Good. This area is farmland. Here and here, I plan to build cement roads to make transportation easier…”
“To get rich, build roads first”—that principle held true. In her “granary,” connectivity was essential.
Not only that, but they also needed to build various water conservancy projects to channel and store water for irrigation.
“Here, I plan to dig a large fishpond. Now that we have more people, the demand for meat is growing. We can raise fish and ducks in large numbers…”
As the morning light began to break, Ge Feng City stirred to life amid the bustle. Chimneys sent up smoke—a scene full of the warmth of human existence.
Yun Ye opened his eyes. He slowly sat up and pulled back the curtain.
The warm sunlight, filtering through the glass window, fell on his pale, thin face. For a moment, he squinted in discomfort, feeling as if he had awakened from another life.
They had actually met the general and the young general!
They had escaped the control of Qu Zhao’s army, arrived in Ge Feng, and become members of Jin Yang’s army!
He looked down at his ankles, where shackles had once chafed for years. Now, only old, ugly scars remained. The chains were gone—they were free!
The others also sat up, exchanging glances. For a moment, they were at a loss, unsure what to do.
Bam, bam, bam.
A knock came from the courtyard gate.
When Yun Ye opened the door, the gate had already been opened by the people in the other wing of the compound.
The yamen runner, Zhang Rui, smiled as he said, “The higher-ups sent me to bring you some supplies.”
He directed people to unload grain, small iron stoves, honeycomb briquettes, charcoal, and other items into the yard.
Yun Ye and the others stared at the unfamiliar items before them, somewhat bewildered.
Zhang Rui explained, “It’s not cold now. If you don’t want to light a big stove, you can use these little stoves to boil water and cook. Very convenient.”
He pointed to the small iron stove and taught them how to light it and adjust the flame.
In his gentle tone, Yun Ye and the others gradually relaxed. It was as if they had discovered a new world as they gathered around the stove, asking questions from time to time.
Human interactions were strange like that—the barrier of unfamiliarity melted away in an instant, and they seemed to finally begin integrating into Ge Feng, accepting all sorts of new things.
But soon, they fell silent. They noticed that Zhang Rui’s right hand seemed to have a problem.
Zhang Rui noticed their silence. He casually patted his oddly misshapen right hand: “This hand of mine—it was cut with a sword during the jungle battle when Qu Zhao besieged the city.”
“Doctor Suo said some tendons were severed, and the bones… well, anyway, it’s lost all feeling.”
He lifted his chin: “Don’t underestimate me just because my right hand is useless. I came straight from the battlefield. With just my left hand, I’m better than those directly recruited runners. I’m now a head constable.”
Yun Ye was puzzled: “You… got injured and retired, yet you can still be head constable?”
Zhang Rui nodded: “Of course. Our lord doesn’t hold grudges in hiring people—as long as you’re capable and competent, you can get the job.”
He pointed to the grains and meat: “These supplies should last you half a month. We’ll bring meat and vegetables every other day. You’ll cook for yourselves.”
“Take two days to get settled. After that, you’ll go to the academy for literacy lessons.” As he said this, a pained expression twisted his face.
“Ah, let me tell you—these literacy lessons are torturous. That pinyin stuff? I can’t make sense of it at all. And those characters? Every one of them looks different. How am I supposed to recognize them?”
