The Jinyang Army had already gained considerable experience in dealing with epidemics. They had divided the refugees into several quarantine zones according to their symptoms and the severity of their illnesses.
The flood-related epidemic was currently at its peak. In a short time, Suo Qian had already identified nearly a hundred refugees infected with the disease.
Concern clouded his eyes. The medicinal supplies might not be enough. After all, the thing Fengzhou lacked most was medicine.
Just then, a commotion broke out outside. The food was ready.
The moment the lid was lifted from the pot, the rich aroma of the meal—far stronger than before—made the refugees surge forward.
Then they saw the porridge inside. It was thicker than anything they had ever dared dream of eating. The refugees became utterly restless.
Seeing the agitated crowd, Xie Nanxiao raised a loudhailer and shouted, “Line up properly! Anyone who tries to snatch food or cuts in line will be thrown out immediately. If you refuse to heed the warning, you will be executed!”
The refugees, stirred into a frenzy by the smell of food, froze under his stern warning and obediently formed orderly lines.
Only then was Xie Nanxiao satisfied. “The porridge has just finished cooking, so it’s very hot. Eat slowly, everyone. You’ve held out this long—don’t lose your lives by eating too quickly.”
This was no exaggeration.
Something like this had happened before. Back then, the porridge provided during disaster relief had not been nearly as thick as this. It had been so watery that it was barely more than soup.
The refugees had been starving for so long that, once they received their porridge, they eagerly poured it straight into their mouths. The thin porridge slid down too quickly, and some people had been scalded to death.
“We understand!” the refugees hurriedly called out.
Only then did the soldiers begin serving the porridge, ladling one generous scoop for each person.
The refugees accepted their portions with reddened eyes and repeated thanks. After receiving the porridge, they instinctively tucked it against their chests and hurried toward a less crowded area.
The refugees in the quarantine zone also began to grow restless. Seeing that porridge was already being distributed in the distance, they feared there would be none left by the time it was their turn.
But before they could worry for long, they saw soldiers carrying over several wooden buckets.
“Form lines according to your zones. Bring your bowls and come collect your porridge!”
Song Erniang picked up her bowl and was about to go when she glanced back at her son, still uneasy.
“You go and help me bring mine back. I’ll stay here and watch him,” said the elderly woman from her village beside her.
The old woman had also contracted the disease. To avoid infecting her family, she had not allowed them to accompany her.
She was running a fever, her face flushed bright red from the heat, but she was still reasonably lucid.
Song Erniang nodded. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Auntie.”
She picked up the old woman’s bowl and hurried over to join the line.
The porridge was distributed quickly. There were not many people in the quarantine zone for the time being, and before long it was her turn.
Song Erniang nervously explained, “This bowl is for the old woman from my village. She has a fever, so I—I’m collecting it for her.”
The soldier frowned. “Are you her attendant?”
Song Erniang hurriedly nodded. “I—I’m here with my son. He’s six years old and unconscious. The old woman from my village is watching him for me.”
The soldier ladled more than half an extra scoop into one of her bowls. “Next time, make it clear how many people you’re collecting for. Otherwise, we’ll assume it’s only for you.”
The situation in the quarantine zone was unusual. Many people were unconscious and needed relatives to care for them, so it was understandable for one person to collect two portions.
Song Erniang’s nose stung, and she quickly offered her thanks. “Thank you, sir.”
She carefully carried the two bowls of porridge back to Zone Two.
First, she handed the old woman her bowl. “Auntie, the porridge is hot, so eat slowly. No one here will dare snatch it from you.”
This was something she knew from bitter experience. Not long ago, she had nearly been beaten to death over a handful of sprouted grain.
Now she was carrying two bowls of thick porridge, and no one dared lay a hand on her. Nor did they need to—everyone had enough.
The old woman accepted the bowl with trembling hands. “Th-this… this is for us?”
The porridge had been cooked with rice—fine grain—and it was exceptionally thick. Cabbage and several ingredients she did not recognize had been mixed in. It gave off a clean, fragrant aroma.
She had been hungry for a long time, but after contracting the disease, she had lost her appetite. Now, however, the aroma stirred a trace of hunger within her.
Song Erniang nodded. “You eat first, Auntie. If you can’t manage on your own, I’ll feed you after I finish feeding Dalang.”
As she spoke, she hurriedly ate two mouthfuls herself. She was simply too hungry. If she did not eat soon, she felt as though she would collapse.
She could not collapse. If she did, her son would be finished.
Once her stomach felt a little better and the weakness in her body had eased, she carefully lifted her son into her arms and called softly, “Dalang, Dalang, wake up.”
Dalang did not respond. Song Erniang was patient and continued calling him. After who knew how long, his eyelids twitched, and at last he opened his eyes.
“M-Mother…”
That simple word made Song Erniang’s tears fall. “Get up. Eat some porridge first.”
Dalang closed his eyes again. “I-I don’t want to eat, Mother. You eat.”
Song Erniang had already brought a spoonful of porridge to his lips. “Mother has already eaten. There’s still a whole bowl left. Her Highness the Princess has come to save us. You have to get better.”
The old woman ate half a bowl in one sitting before finally feeling better. She carefully set the bowl down, intending to finish it later.
She looked toward the busy Jinyang Army in the distance, light shining in her eyes. “These are Her Highness the Princess’s soldiers. She has come to save us. It’s just a pity that those of us who’ve caught the plague may have to disappoint Her Highness’s kindness.”
Song Erniang shook her head, her tone firm. “The physician said they have medicine that can cure the plague. Dalang will recover soon, and so will you.”
The old woman opened and closed her mouth, but ultimately said nothing.
Since ancient times, she had never heard of medicine that could cure a plague. People could only rely on whether they were strong enough to survive it.
But Her Highness the Princess had sent people a thousand miles with so many medicinal supplies. Surely they could not be completely useless.
Perhaps they really could be saved.
A little over half an hour later, the sound of medicine being distributed rang out through the quarantine zone once more.
The old woman hurriedly finished every last bit of porridge in her bowl. Just as she was about to go collect the medicine, Song Erniang said, “I’ll go.”
Although Dalang had managed only a little less than half a bowl, she was already satisfied. The fact that he could eat meant he had a chance to live.
She quickly finished the porridge that remained, took the old woman’s bowl, and hurried over to line up for the medicine.
The medicine had already been prepared and boiled. Each dose was measured according to the patient’s age and condition.
Xie Nanxiao and the others were drinking medicine as well, though theirs was a preventive formula.
Qi Pingwei pinched his nose and downed the medicine in one gulp. He quickly drank a large mouthful of water before finally relaxing, then could not resist complaining, “Are you sure this medicine works? Don’t make me drink it for nothing. It’s unbearably bitter.”
Xie Nanxiao finished his medicine without changing expression. “Of course it works. We already have plenty of experience dealing with epidemics.”
He was not exaggerating. With the prescriptions for the Major and Minor Green Dragon Decoctions Jiang Jin had provided, along with their experience from the previous outbreak, Suo Qian, Mu Zhuo, Liu Mi, and the others had become highly skilled at handling epidemics.
They had even developed a preventive formula specifically for medical workers and soldiers who needed to come into contact with patients, so that their own people would not contract the disease during rescue operations.
That was also why Jiang Jin had still sent people to Sizhou to provide disaster relief, despite knowing that the area might be teeming with plague.
Qi Pingwei looked toward his own soldiers in the distance as they pinched their noses and drank the medicine. His emotions were complicated.
“Thanks.”
Xie Nanxiao smiled. “There’s no need to thank me. We’re comrades-in-arms fighting together now.”
Seeing that there was nothing else to attend to, Xie Nanxiao bent down and entered the tent.
Zhou Leng followed behind him. He was just about to enter when the tactless Qi Pingwei also tried to follow.
Zhou Leng reached out to stop him. “The commander and I have business to discuss. As an outsider, you’re not welcome.”
