Jiang Jin’s brows twitched slightly. “Register as a resident of Ge Feng?”
Mo Song stroked his beard, his eyes flickering. “I heard that you don’t accept citizens from Daqing, so I wanted to ask what the requirements are for registering here.”
Jiang Jin smiled. “Daqing is currently cooperating with us. We can’t very well steal the citizens of our own ally.”
Dong Si glanced at Mo Song, his expression softening. “Aside from Daqing, citizens from all other prefectures and commanderies only need to bring their original household registration documents to register in Ge Feng. There are no other requirements.”
Mo Song’s face lit up. “Excellent. The princess is truly wise.”
Dong Si looked pleased with himself. “Naturally.”
Hua Yuanyi glanced at Mo Song, his expression complicated. After a moment, he turned to Jiang Jin and asked, “Princess, is the Great General in Ge Feng? Might I pay him a visit?”
Jiang Jin shook her head. “He’s still in Liuxiang Commandery. If you want to see him, you can go there directly.”
Liuxiang Commandery had only recently been taken. There were still various defensive arrangements to make, and they also had to be prepared for Quzhao’s attacks at any time. That was why Zhou Sui had been staying in Liuxiang Commandery recently.
After leaving the council hall, Hua Yuanyi and Mo Song walked along the street in silence.
“You want to stay in Ge Feng?” Hua Yuanyi suddenly asked.
Mo Song nodded. “I want to die!”
Hua Yuanyi’s footsteps paused, though he soon continued walking as usual. “How do you want to die?”
Mo Song sighed. “You have more experience with this than I do. Why don’t you help me come up with a death that’s both dignified and painless?”
Hua Yuanyi: “...You could eat shit and die.”
Mo Song: “...”
He only wanted to find a reasonable way to die. Was that really so terrible?
He had no choice. If he returned, his family and friends would probably be implicated.
His death would be the best possible outcome.
Of course, he would write letters to his family and to several of his most trusted friends. If possible, he hoped they could all come to Ge Feng and experience this entirely different kind of world.
“What about you? Are you still going back?” Mo Song decided not to argue with a man of the sword.
Hua Yuanyi let out a quiet breath. “Not yet. I want to go to Liuxiang Commandery and take a look.”
He would return eventually. His soldiers were still in Sizhou.
Back then, the emperor had given him ten thousand soldiers. Over the years, some had died in battle, while others had retired for various reasons. Now, only a little over seven thousand remained.
If he left, he would certainly have to take those soldiers with him.
But before making a decision, he wanted to meet the Great General.
Mo Song was in no hurry either. “All right, go ahead. When you return, remember to tell me. I want to send a letter to my family.”
Inside the council hall, Dong Si took a contented sip of water. “That Commandant Mo seems to want to stay in Ge Feng.”
Jiang Jin nodded. “As long as they harbor no ill intentions, all Han people are welcome here.”
Dongzhi raised her brows slightly. “Are you saying he harbors ill intentions?”
Jiang Jin shook her head. “Of course not. But human nature is complicated. We’ll observe him for a while longer.”
“Have a great many commoners been arriving recently?” she asked, changing the subject.
Dongzhi nodded. “Most of them are from Ying Commandery. After losing two counties, the people there are panicking, and many have fled.”
“Mm,” Jiang Jin said. “Anyone who wants to come can be brought here. Our population is still far too small.”
At an inn in Ge Feng, Quzhao’s soldiers had paid a high price to hire a physician from the medical clinic. After considerable effort—mostly pinching the envoy’s philtrum—the envoy finally came to.
The soldiers were overjoyed. “Ambassador, you’re awake! Do you feel unwell anywhere?”
The envoy felt unwell everywhere. His entire body was limp and listless, and he did not even want to write the letter himself. He had someone write it on his behalf, clearly stating all the demands Jiang Jin had made. Then he had it sent at top speed to the Grand Chanyu.
Jiang Jin did not stop them, allowing the messenger to pass freely all the way.
In Feng’an County, Ze’a Commandery, the commoners were sweating profusely as they worked, striking the road with loud, rhythmic thuds.
Zhao Erniu swung his hoe, letting sweat drip freely from his face. His clothes were soaked through, yet he did not feel tired in the slightest. Working here earned him two hundred copper coins a month.
His wife worked beside him and earned the same amount.
He had never imagined that this place would hire women, much less pay them the same wages as men.
Together, the couple earned four hundred copper coins a month—enough to support an elderly parent and two children.
They had fled to Sizhou during the earlier famine. Because they had arrived early, they had managed to receive a plot of wasteland.
They had no money to build a house, so they had mixed mud with dead branches and weeds to make two thatched huts. It was enough to settle down.
The previous winter, Zhao Erniu’s father and youngest daughter had barely made it to Sizhou alive, only to freeze to death.
That left the couple, Zhao Erniu’s elderly mother, and their two older children—five people in all—to struggle through the winter. Before they could finish clearing the wasteland, the local government came to collect the per-head tax.
Where could they possibly find the money?
If they had possessed any money, his father and youngest daughter would not have frozen to death because they could not afford warm clothing.
Despite their pleas, the government officials searched every corner of their empty home but found no money or valuables.
In the end, they took the little coarse grain they had left, along with the wild vegetables they had just gathered from the mountain.
But even that was not enough to pay the per-head tax. The officials looked the family over, then finally fixed their eyes on the eldest son.
“This boy looks pretty good. Take him. He’ll count as your tax this time.” The official waved his hand.
His two subordinates immediately moved toward the trembling child.
The entire Zhao family was terrified. They fell to their knees and repeatedly knocked their heads against the ground, begging, “Please, let our son go! He’s only eight years old. He’s still a child!”
The official gave a mocking laugh. “Eight is just the right age. Take him!”
“No! Father, save me! Father...” The eight-year-old, thin and frail, turned deathly pale with fear. As he struggled, one of the officials slapped him across the face.
“Wretched commoner. We’re taking you to enjoy a better life. You might even thank me someday. Move again, and I’ll beat you.”
Ignoring the child’s struggles, he seized him by the arm and dragged him away.
At that moment, Zhao Erniu was utterly desperate.
He knew that many wealthy households liked young children of seven or eight years old. His eldest son happened to be eight, and though thin and weak, he had handsome, regular features.
When he saw the terror and despair in his son’s eyes as the child was dragged away, he suddenly no longer wanted to live.
He grabbed the carrying pole lying beneath the eaves and charged at the officials.
Seeing him move, his mother and wife did not hesitate. They each seized a stick and followed him.
Perhaps the three officials had never imagined that the “lowly commoners” they could bully at will would dare to resist. They were caught completely off guard.
It was the first time Zhao Erniu had ever killed someone—though he did not even know whether those three men had died.
He only remembered how panicked he had been. Very panicked.
After knocking the men down, he picked up the coarse grain and wild vegetables that had been confiscated. Then he hurried home, gathered what little belongings they had, and took his family into the mountains.
But Sizhou was overcrowded. Relying on wild vegetables and roots gathered in the mountains to survive was nearly impossible.
What was more, as someone who was “homeless” and possibly wanted by the authorities, he was driven away wherever he went. Once again, they were forced to wander from place to place.
Then, just as they were about to starve to death, he encountered a group of people.
They said they could take him to Fengzhou, where anyone willing to work would be given food—enough to eat their fill.
At the time, he had thought, How could that be possible?
Where in the world was there such a place?
If working was enough to eat one’s fill, then why were so many people starving to death throughout the world?
And yet he followed them. How much worse could things get? He was going to die anyway!
And so he boarded the ship, arrived in Fengzhou, and was assigned temporary lodging. He found work clearing the way, was allowed to draw his wages in advance, and bought grain and clothes.
His entire family had truly survived!
Even now, he still felt as though he were living in a dream—a dream so wonderful that it frightened him. He was afraid that one day, it would suddenly end.
