Chapter 809: Surrender‑to‑avoid‑execution Secures the Crisis, Winning Hearts Governs the World

The report came from Chu Ci's Hidden Agent, who brought it back from the deep mountains in the southern part of Qinggui County.

The Hidden Agent disguised himself as a woodcutter, spent three days crossing two hilltops, and finally found the camp of the Liuren who had fled into the deep mountains in a concealed mountain hollow.

After Chu Ci compiled the Hidden Agent's oral report into a document, they sent it to Tongwan City overnight.

Before dawn, Gao Jiong placed the document on Chen Yan's Zitanmu Chang'an.

When Chen Yan opened the document, the wick of the copper oil lamp snapped with a pop.

His gaze lingered on the document for a long time.

"How many people?"

Gao Jiong stood at the desk, his voice pressed down to a very low tone.

"The Hidden Agent estimated roughly three to four thousand people, scattered across three mountain hollows, with the elderly, weak, women and children making up more than half."

Chen Yan's finger tapped a line of text on the document.

"What about food?"

Gao Jiong clenched their jaw.

"The Hidden Agent slipped in to scout; the remaining provisions at each camp would only last another two to three days, and some elders and children have already begun gnawing at bark."

Chen Yan folded the document, his palm covering the silk surface.

"What about the Qi State secret spy Xunuo's rendezvous?"

Gao Jiong's mouth curled into a cold arc.

"There isn't even a shadow; those secret spies have all been captured by us, so who would be there to meet them? The things drawn on the White Feather Letter are, from start to finish, a scheme to send people to their deaths."

Chen Yan leaned back into the chair, his finger slowly tracing an arc on the armrest.

The Shufang fell silent for about ten breaths.

Zhang Wenqian's footsteps entered from outside the door, steady and rhythmic, as always.

After crossing the threshold, they glanced at the document on Chen Yan's desk and pressed their lips together.

"The Prime Minister has already seen it."

Chen Yan gave a slight nod.

Zhang Wenqian stood at the desk, hands folded in front.

"Shuyi has already considered this before arriving, if the Prime Minister wants Shuyi's opinion."

Chen Yan lifted his hand slightly.

"Speak."

Zhang Wenqian's speech slowed by half a beat.

"Sending troops into the mountains for a sweep is a poor strategy; those mountain hollows have complex terrain, dense forests and narrow paths, with thousands of the elderly, weak, women and children scattered within. Once Weapons move, casualties become uncontrollable."

His fingers tightened slightly in front of him.

"Moreover, they are essentially deceived civilians; killing them would shatter the trust that the other Liuren have just begun to build."

Chen Yan said nothing, his finger continuing to draw arcs on the armrest.

Zhang Wenqian inhaled.

"Shuyi suggests issuing a surrender‑to‑avoid‑execution decree."

Chen Yan's finger stopped.

Zhang Wenqian's voice deepened.

"Give them a way out, set a deadline; those who descend and re‑register their households within the period will not be punished, spring planting grain will be issued as usual, their lands remain unchanged, and their household registration stays intact."

He paused for a beat.

"A person who has starved three or four days, give them a bowl of rice and they will remember it for a lifetime."

Chen Yan leaned against the chair back, his gaze falling on Zhang Wenqian's face.

"You and I are thinking the same thing."

He drew a Blank Silk Book from the desk and dipped the brush in ink.

The brush tip touched the silk, and the ink spread extremely quickly.

Surrender‑to‑avoid‑execution decree.

Anyone who fled into the woods during the White Feather Letter's deception, within ten days from the issuance of this decree, must voluntarily descend to the county offices to re‑register their households; they will not be punished, spring planting grain will be reissued, and their existing lands and household registrations remain unchanged.

Those who fail to return after the deadline will be treated as deserters.

Chen Yan placed the brush on the edge of the ink slab and stamped the Great Seal of the Governor of Xiazhou at the end of the Blank Silk Book.

He pushed the silk book to the edge of the desk.

"Let Chu Ci issue it first in Qinggui County, and the other five involved counties will follow simultaneously."

His finger tapped the desk again.

"Additionally, I will set up a Porridge Shed at every mountain‑entry road."

Zhang Wenqian's eyebrows lifted slightly.

Chen Yan's voice lowered by half a tone.

"People who have been starving for several days, posting notices at the foot of the mountain may not convince them, but their noses won't deceive them."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"Make the porridge thicker; the scent of the rice soup can drift several miles, and when they smell it from the mountain they will come down on their own."

Zhang Wenqian clasped his fists in acknowledgment, turned, and briskly left the Shufang.

The day after the surrender‑to‑avoid‑execution decree was issued in the name of the Zongguan Fu, three Porridge Sheds were erected on the official road leading from the southern part of Qinggui County into the deep mountains.

The millet porridge in the large iron pot bubbled hot, white steam scented with rice rose up the valley wind, drifting past the first Mountain Ridge and then the second.

On the morning of the third day, the first group came down.

Chu Ci stood beside the Porridge Shed, watching the figures stumbling down the mountain path.

Leading the group was an old man with graying hair, carrying on his back a child of four or five; the child's face was so thin it seemed to have lost its skin, cheekbones jutting high, lips cracked and peeling.

The old man's steps were light as if on cotton; when he reached three steps before the Porridge Shed, his legs gave way and he knelt on the ground.

Chu Ci stepped forward and steadied his shoulder.

"Don't kneel, have some porridge first."

The old man lifted his head, a face full of wrinkles bearing two lines of cloudy old tears, his voice hoarse as if grinding with sand and stone.

"Sir, I believed those White Feather Letters, I brought my grandson into the mountain, I deserve to die…"

Chu Ci placed a bowl of hot porridge before him.

"Eat first, we'll talk about other things after you finish."

The old man's hand that took the bowl trembled like a winnowing sieve; half the porridge spilled onto his collar, yet he didn't bother to wipe it, raising his head to pour it into his mouth.

The child on his back was taken by a nearby Cha Yi, who fed him spoonful by spoonful with a small wooden spoon; the child's eyes were startlingly large, staring at the porridge in the spoon for three breaths before opening his mouth.

The first batch that came down numbered over thirty, all old men and children.

On the fourth day, the second batch brought over a hundred, and youths began to appear.

The fifth day, the sixth day, the seventh day.

Each day the number descending the mountain multiplied; by the seventh day the open space in front of the Porridge Shed was already filled with people, a black sea, the Cha Yi's porridge barrels refilled again and again, the rice in the big iron pot cooked from dawn to dusk.

Chu Ci stood under the tent of the Porridge Shed, holding a continuously updated register in his hand, watching the numbers grow larger day by day.

Beside him, Chen Wu gnawed a cold bun, his voice muffled.

"Sir, how does the pillar know this trick works?"

Chu Ci closed the register, his gaze passing over the Liuren crouching on the ground eating porridge, landing on the small path leading into the mountains in the distance.

"Because he never believes a knife can solve every problem."

His voice lowered by half a tone.

"A knife can cut off a head, but it cannot cut away the hunger in the belly; a starving person cannot hear any doctrine, but give him a bowl of porridge and he will listen to anything."

The tenth day.

The final day of the deadline.

On the An Tou of Qinggui County's office, Chu Ci finished compiling the final surrender registration summary, eight hundred li of it rushed to Tongwan City.

When Gao Jiong placed the summary on Chen Yan's An Tou, his voice carried an unstoppable excitement.

"Report to the pillar, six counties have a cumulative total of 3,712 surrendering Liuren from the mountain, among which over four hundred hidden households were discovered and all re‑registered."

Chen Yan's fingers traced those numbers on the summary, pausing a breath when he reached the last line.

"What about those who missed the deadline?"

Gao Jiong's voice faltered for a beat.

"Fewer than thirty; Hidden Agent reported they are all people who got lost in the mountain and cannot find the way. We have already sent people to search and guide them; they should all be brought out within two days."

Chen Yan closed the summary, his palm covering the silk surface.

"Three thousand seven hundred twelve people, not a single one killed, all returned."

His voice, while saying this, dropped to a level only he could hear, as if confirming something to himself.

He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed open the window lattice.

Spring wind poured in from outside, carrying the mixed scent of earth and fresh grass.

"No bloodshed needed."

His finger tapped lightly on the window frame.

"Lao Zhang is right; a person who has starved for days, give him a bowl of rice and he will remember it for a lifetime."

He turned, looking at Gao Jiong standing at the desk.

"But this Duke gives them more than just a bowl of rice."

Gao Jiong's head lowered slightly.

Chen Yan's mouth corner lifted half a degree, the curve bearing an unreadable complexity.

"This Duke gives them a chance to choose: go down the mountain or starve to death, live or disappear."

He returned to the desk's back and sat down, his finger drawing the final arc on the armrest.

"Those who chose to go down the mountain, from now on are this Duke's people, not because this Duke forced them, but because they chose themselves."

His gaze passed over the summary on the desk, landing on the military Shupan on the wall.

The little flags on the Shupan representing each county of Xiazhou had all been changed to the same color.

"The road you choose yourself is the most stable."

Gao Jiong punched his Chest Armor, then exited the Shufang.

As the door closed, Chen Yan sat alone at the brightly lit desk, his finger rubbing the cover of the summary twice.

The final chapter of the great household registration sweep is about to unfold.

The figure three hundred thousand will be slammed onto everyone's heads at tomorrow's court meeting.