Chapter 651: What They Saw

The Sun-Moon-Wave banners were finally in sight. Everyone grew excited, each quickening their pace.

Very soon, they arrived beneath the stockade wall and gate tower. On the wall, soldiers wearing bowl-shaped helmets and deep-red long-body brigandines were watching them.

Every one of these soldiers was robust and fierce, with piercing eyes full of oppressive force. Compared to government troops outside, it seemed they could each take on many opponents even without weapons.

Most carried bird guns — the same kind Han Chao and the others had seen among the armed escorts of Shopkeeper Sun's caravan, ferocious beyond words, which the bandits along the road dreaded like ghosts and demons, drawing many extra glances.

Above the stockade wall, beside a group of soldiers, an officer in a brigandine and thigh-guards held a long, round, extendable object in his hand, gazing out toward this road, and was quietly exchanging words with someone beside him. Beside him rested a fierce hunting hound.

Han Chao had seen that object before — it seemed to be something called a peep-tube, also known as a thousand-li mirror. Such a thing was exceedingly rare; he never imagined an ordinary officer here would possess one.

Entering the stockade gate, they saw two rows of soldiers holding bird guns standing on either side. Every face was stern and disciplined, eyes fixed straight ahead. From them emanated an indescribable sharpness; the refugees felt as though they had entered a different world.

None dared look around too much. Fortunately, no entry fee was collected here, nor did anyone interrogate them. They hurriedly passed through the gate and wall, entering inside.

Then their eyes brightened. Behind the stockade wall was an enormous open ground, large enough to hold ten thousand people without difficulty.

At that moment, the open ground was filled, some standing, some sitting — a dense, dark mass of refugees speaking in every accent. Beside each person lay all manner of luggage and gear, though mostly ragged and unsightly. At the edges of the ground, there were men who, in Han Chao's eyes, were strong enough to serve as retainers, wearing fox-fur hats, short unlined jackets without armor plates or rivets, cloth belts tied at the waist, and red shoulder scarves.

They held short clubs in their hands, apparently serving as constables of some sort, preventing brawling and shouting, maintaining order. From their accents, they were likely military households from the Mamakou and Zijing Pass area.

Seeing yet another wave of refugees arrive, one constable shouted, "The midday meal is served at exactly noon — still a quarter-hour to go. Do not worry; all porridge and rice at this station are completely free."

"Free porridge distribution?"

Even Han Chao felt his spirits lift upon hearing this. They looked over and saw, on the left side of the open ground, an enormous mess hall, capable of seating several thousand diners. It seemed there was more than one such mess hall.

A buzzing murmur rose from the open ground — all excited conversation.

"Mama, that soldier-lord says eating doesn't cost money."

The sallow, thin little girl Yaya said happily in her mother's arms.

"Yaya be good. Soon Yaya can eat her fill."

The woman said to her daughter, even as she felt an unbearable hunger-fire, longing to eat and drink porridge at once.

Beside the mother and daughter, a man bit his lower lip, his heart heavy. The whole journey, the family had suffered cold and hunger. He had heard that within Xuanfu Garrison, everyone had work to do and everyone had food to eat. He hoped that in the days to come, by his own two hands, he could keep his family from going hungry.

"Clang, clang, clang."

The sound of a bell rang out, and then the crowd on the open ground stirred noisily. A constable shouted, "Mealtime has arrived. All line up and enter Mess Hall A in an orderly fashion. Once it is full, enter Mess Hall B."

"Large personal belongings, leave them where you are. This station is responsible for watching over them; they will not be lost..."

Several strong, sturdy constables, holding short clubs, stepped forward and, without courtesy, struck at some young refugee men trying to squeeze to the very front, beating them until they dared push no more.

Everyone lined up and entered the enormous mess hall on the left. Han Chao's group, Mr. Li's group, and Yaya's household followed the crowd into the mess hall. Just as twenty-some more people managed to enter, a constable called out, "This hall is full. Those behind, proceed to Mess Hall B..."

"Quite a few refugees are coming in every month now."

The speaker was Luo Defu, the former squad leader of the Niujiaowa Fire Beacon Tower. This former Squad Commander had now become a senior administrator of Zhaoge Stockade.

Watching the refugees stream continuously into the various mess halls, he clasped his hands behind his back and spoke thoughtfully.

The former beacon soldier Jiang Zhongmin stood beside him. He, likewise, had become a headman within the station — and not just him; the other former beacon soldiers had done the same.

He said, "Indeed. Here at our Zhaoge Stockade Refugee Reception Station, refugees flow in daily from the mountain roads to the east and from Zhuozhou — no small number each day. I've also heard that now, from the direction of Weizhou and Guangchang, just as many refugees are coming in every day..."

Han Chao and the others entered the mess hall. Before them, the hall was vast, spacious, and bright. Row upon row of long tables and benches were arranged; looking out, they stretched far to both sides, likely no fewer than two hundred tables.

At that moment, every table was packed with people, mostly grouped by household — a dense mass of heads in tattered clothing.

Having suddenly entered such a clean and orderly environment, everyone felt somewhat uneasy and restless, each sitting still, not daring to move rashly.

"Everyone sit properly. No wandering or moving about. The porridge, food, and side dishes will be brought over and distributed table by table. Do not worry about being missed..."

Inside the mess hall, constables were shouting back and forth. At the same time, groups of constables carried in large buckets of rice porridge, bowls, chopsticks, and side dishes, distributing them table by table. Smelling the aroma of the porridge and dishes, many refugees grew even more restless. Yaya's family, squeezed around a table, craned their heads as far as they could in that direction.

At last, it was their turn. Two constables carrying bowls and chopsticks counted their number — eight mouths at this table. Large sea-bowls were placed on their table, along with chopsticks. Even Yaya received a sea-bowl just as large as the adults'.

A platter the size of a washbasin was also set in the middle of the table.

Then, among the porridge carriers, a large ladle scooped steaming, thick rice porridge into each sea-bowl, and a big scoop of side dishes was poured into that washbasin-sized dish.

"You've been starving a long time. Don't eat too hastily."

The porridge-distributing constables left these words and moved on to the next table.

"Yaya, eat slower."

The woman said to her daughter with a face full of smiles. Her heart was joyful, yet also pained. How long had it been since her child had eaten so contentedly?

The sound of slurping porridge filled the mess hall. The refugees, having starved so long, mostly wolfed it down. Fortunately, it was only porridge, and just one large sea-bowl at that. Had it been solid rice, many might have died from stomach distension.

"Rice porridge so thick it stands without collapsing, and fragrant side dishes besides — every day like this. How much coin and grain must this stockade expend each year? Xuan Garrison's prosperity is truly well-deserved."

Han Chao drank his rice porridge and could not help sighing.

"It costs nothing. Hurry up, drink more. A pity there's only one bowl."

Han Chao's wife beamed, calling her daughters and sons-in-law to look at this porridge — all made from top-quality white rice. Though the Han family were landlords in Zhending, even they could not afford to make porridge from white rice every day.

Mr. Li's family sat not far from Han Chao and the others. He drank in silence, a smile on his face. From a single spot one may see the whole leopard; if even a mere refugee shelter was like this, it was clear that his family's choice to come to Xuanfu Garrison had been a good one.

Moreover, there was something here that stirred his heart even more — order.

Poverty is not the fear; unrest is the fear. Back in his hometown, though he could barely scrape by, he always felt as if sitting on a bed of needles, afraid that one day his home would be looted by starving famine victims and bandits driven mad by hunger. That danger was ever-present, leaving him anxious day and night.

One root of chaotic times is the loss of order, with anarchism running rampant — the roving bandits being the quintessential example.

Yet the moment they entered the outskirts of Xuanfu Garrison, a feeling of safety enveloped them. Surely, this would be a secure and peaceful place to settle.

After finishing the porridge, every face wore a smile, and everyone's spirits were much improved. Long-absent strength reappeared in their bodies. They exited the mess hall. On the open ground, each person's and each family's belongings remained exactly where they had been — no one had so much as turned them over.

"All elders who have finished their porridge, follow me to Zone B for registration and examination for epidemic disease."

Several loud-voiced constables shouted, and the dense, dark mass of people followed them forward.

Soon, they saw that at the far end of the open ground ahead stood a row of railings with many openings. Beside the railings were small huts, inside which were desks. Clerks wearing robes embroidered with the Sun-Moon-Wave pattern sat within. In front of some railings stood signs marked A, B, C, D, and so on.

"Those with correspondence from within the garrison or with guarantors, come this way. Those who can read and write, come this way. The rest, come this way..."

Quickly, the refugees divided into several streams, lining up to register one by one.

"I am Han Xianwei, a native of Xingtai in Zhending Prefecture. This is my wife, née He. These are my daughters Han Pannan, Han Wangnan, and Han Ruonan. My sons-in-law..."

Han Chao's group was mostly composed of those who appeared to read and write. Mr. Li's family was also among them. When his turn came, he stepped forward on behalf of the Han family, sat on a chair before the desk, took out his household registration papers, and spoke to the clerk before him.

As the clerk flipped through their household registers, he also brought out his treasured letters with his son Han Kaixi and said, "My son Han Kaixi serves in the army on the Eastern Route, and is now a Squad Commander under the Jingbian Army."

"Oh."

The clerk looked at the letters, his expression growing somewhat more solemn. Another clerk beside him said, "There is no mistake. Captain Han, along with Captain Zhao Zuo and their party, arrived yesterday at Zone C of Zhaoge Stockade. They said they had come to welcome his parents."

The clerk handed back the household registers and letters, smiled, and said, "Squire Han, the journey has been arduous. Welcome to Xuanzhen. From now on, this is your home."

Beside the small hut, one of the auxiliary guards watching the stockade gate stepped forward, cupped his hands, and said, "Squire Han, this way, please."

Very quickly, Han's father and his party entered Zone B. The Li family, who had been queuing behind them, hurried forward.

"This student is Li Xiangqing... This is a letter between me and a friend of mine. He is a clerk in the city of Baoanzhou..."

……

"...Zheng Xingxiang, a native of Tangxian in Baoding Prefecture. Eight members in the household. I myself am sixty-two years old..."

The clerk before him glanced at the old man with disheveled, completely white hair, then looked at the several figures, young and old, behind him, his gaze especially sweeping over the little girl Yaya in a woman's arms. He flipped through each person's household register, exchanged a look with the person beside him, and nodded.

He said gently, "I see that you, Old Man Zheng, and your family are all honest and dutiful folk. After entering the territory, would you be willing to go to the garrison farmstead to open up farmland?"

He said, "At present, what His Lordship the Marquis of Yongning values most are the farming settlers in each stockade. Once you reach the garrison farmstead, you will certainly eat your fill and dress warmly. If you are honest and willing to work, within three months, a green booklet will be issued to you, which means you will be entered into the naturalized register. If you put in more effort and enter the Han register, then you will be allotted fields and land, and living peaceful, stable days will be commonplace."

When refugees entered the territory, honest rural folk who could endure hardship had always been the main recruitment targets of the Civil Affairs Department and the Naturalization Department. The more they recruited, the greater the rewards for the clerks at these reception centers. Of course, if, for the sake of gain, they passed off slick and cunning individuals by mixing them in, they would also be punished.

"Willing, willing! We, your humble folk, are willing."

Zheng Xingxiang, Old Man Zheng, and the others had long since inquired clearly: to make a living in Xuanfu Garrison, the most important thing was to obtain the green booklet. Only then could one live permanently in Xuanfu Garrison. Those holding the blue booklet could, at any time, have their entire family, young and old, driven away.

And back in their hometown, they had tilled the fields all their lives. If they entered the garrison farmstead, not only could they eat their fill and dress warmly, they could also continue tilling the fields—nothing could be better. Perhaps before long, they could even obtain the red booklet, be allotted fields and land, and live peaceful, stable days.

"Good. You and the others will enter Zone B. Bathe, change clothes, have your hair trimmed, undergo observation, and wait quietly for a day or two. During this period, you will be issued the blue permit for temporary residence, and then special personnel and vehicles will transport you to the garrison farmstead."

Zheng Xingxiang thanked them profusely. His entire family, young and old, were overjoyed. Holding a special pass slip, and under the guidance of an auxiliary guard, they passed through a stockade gate and entered Zone B. (To be continued.)