Chapter 143: Treating illness doesn

That remark was frightening.

But as soon as the words fell, two people actually stood up, clenched their fists, and took a step toward the city gate:

"Exactly! Either way, we're dead!"

"Since those nobles in the city are so afraid of death, and they don't treat us as people, we might as well charge in! Infect them, kill them—if we die, we die together!"

"Halt!"

A voice, neither loud nor soft, firmly nailed those two people's feet in place.

The speaker was a man in his thirties, surnamed Liu, who called himself the sixth son in his family.

He was the only one among the brothers who wasn't a native of the city—a drifter from elsewhere, with unknown origins, and he usually spoke little.

Yet he was usually the most steady, and the best at keeping the brothers' hearts at ease.

Liu Liu's body was also covered in red rashes, his neck swollen all around, but his eyes remained relatively clear.

He slowly rose to his feet, not stopping anyone, just looking at the short man, his voice hoarse:

"You charge in, then what? Who doesn't have a few relatives in the city? If you rush in carrying the disease, will they catch it? You might die and be done with it, but they'd have to die with you?"

The short man opened his mouth, the ferocity on his face crumbling bit by bit, until only defeat remained.

Liu Liu drew a breath, his gaze sweeping over everyone present:

"We've seen with our own eyes how many people died in Ju Cheng—corpses piled higher than the walls, rats gnawed out the eyeballs, flies so thick they could cover the sky!"

"Our city still has its gates shut, and at least some people remain alive inside… Do you also want it to become like Ju Cheng?"

Those words were like a bucket of cold water poured from head to foot.

No one spoke again, even lowering the sound of their breathing.

The wind blew over the yellow earth, rolling up a few dry leaves that fell onto the torn edges of their shoes.

After a long while, Liu Liu spoke again, his voice much lower, as if talking to himself:

"This plague has no cure. I know that, and you know it too."

"We're waiting here not hoping to live—we're hoping someone inside will come out and give us an answer."

He paused, his Adam's apple rolling up and down:

"No, it's not about getting an answer or not. What matters is giving our families an explanation. The compensation money—even if it's little—should let them rely on it for the rest of their lives. Otherwise, if we die out here with no word, will our wives and children be left to drink the northwest wind?"

He lifted his eyes and looked at each of them in turn:

"Brothers, hear me out—since we carry the disease, the authorities won't tolerate us for long. When someone from above comes out, we'll shamelessly demand money from them, as much as we can get."

"We may die, but if our wives, children, and parents can live one more day, that's one more day… This is the last bit we can earn for them in this lifetime."

He finished speaking.

No one responded, and no one looked at him.

But the eye sockets of those men reddened one after another.

The short man was the first to break down.

He crouched, burying his face in his knees, his shoulders shuddering, his voice muffled as if coming from underground:

"Fine, fine, I'll ask for more silver—this time not five taels, but ten taels of silver, yet it can't buy off my wretched life."

"My little son… he's just turned a month old, and I still haven't heard his cry clearly… The last time I left, he smiled at me, and I thought I could come back to hold him…"

Those words were like a knife, stabbing open everyone's wounds.

A young man wailed, snot and tears smearing his face:

"My mother is still lying sick in bed! If it weren't for the half‑coin subsidy, I wouldn't have made this trip at all—now I've seen no money, only lost my life."

The city gate fell silent except for suppressed sobs and the occasional scratching sound.

The sun shone on those seven or eight men, their shadows curled into a heap, like discarded straw stacks left by the roadside.

But just then——

"Boom—boom—"

The city gate burst open, and ten or so soldiers with thick cloths covering their faces and coarse gloves on their hands marched out.

They pushed four or five carts piled high with sacks, wooden barrels, bundles of white cloth, and several large iron cauldrons.

Once they stopped, they swiftly unloaded the lime, tents, iron cauldrons, and other items from the carts, without a word.

Behind the carts, a young woman walked out at a leisurely pace.

She wore plain-colored martial attire, a leather belt at her waist, her hair neatly tied in a bun, with no jewelry at all.

Although her mouth and nose were covered with a cloth, one could see she was extremely delicate in appearance, yet her brows and eyes bore a steadiness beyond her years.

Everyone present of course knew who she was!

Night of Capturing the City, Startling Soul Arrow.

Just a single encounter, and she was the Princess who had forced Dun Cheng to surrender without a fight!

The men outside the city never expected the Princess herself to lead the sortie; they were dumbstruck, forgetting all their earlier clamor and demands for rewards, and they all lowered themselves and knelt.

But Du Shanü didn't even glance at them, simply walking forward while issuing orders, her voice low yet crystal clear:

"Quicklime, spread a thick circle three zhang outside the city gate."

"Pitch the tents upwind, divided into three sections. Set up the cauldrons and brew the decoction according to last night's prescription."

The officials and soldiers replied in unison, then immediately dispersed to act.

The lime powder rose, making people cough, yet no one stopped.

Bag after bag of lime was scattered, and the yellow earth quickly became coated in a layer of gray‑white.

The tent frames clanged into the ground, the coarse‑cloth tops rattling open.

The iron cauldrons were set up, the firewood crackled into flame, and water buckets were hauled out from the city in loads.

From start to finish, Du Shanü never lifted a finger.

She merely stood there, her gaze sweeping over each ongoing step, occasionally lifting her chin or nodding, and everything proceeded as if wound up, advancing in orderly fashion.

In less than the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, the tents were pitched, the lime scattered, and the water in the pot boiled.

Only then did she turn and walk toward the seven or eight men squatting at the base of the wall.

The soldiers brought over bowl after bowl of medicine; Du Shanü stood aside, glanced at each of them, and said only a few words.

"First drink the medicine, then apply the ointment. Serious cases go to the left tent, mild cases to the middle, and those without symptoms yet to the right tent—no mixing."

From beginning to end, Du Shanü's pace of speech was neither fast nor slow, as if she were stating a mundane matter.

However...

Yet it was enough to feel like a hammer blow, striking hard at everyone's hearts.

Seeing everyone nod blankly and foolishly.

Afterward, Du Shanü added a sentence:

"Your families are all in Dun Cheng, already registered. For this illness, each household receives twenty taels in relief; if any mishap occurs, each household will be given two stone of grain monthly, paid out until the children come of age…"

"However, you must not let your guard down; you must hold on to a breath."

"Even if heaven and earth decline, you still need to see for yourselves how your families will fare to know it's reliable."

Having said that, just as an attendant led up a horse, she hesitated little, mounted, and led the people straight out of the city.

Those few men held their medicine bowls, stunned in place.

No wailing to heaven and earth, no kneeling in thanks.

Although Her Highness never gave them a chance to speak from start to finish, it was precisely this 'they ought to be alive as a matter of course' that made their noses sour repeatedly.

How lowly their lives are!

Putting it bluntly, the best outcome anyone could have imagined was merely to trade themselves for a few taels of silver.

But this benefactor not only treated their illness, even planned out the relief and how to treat their families well!

By contrast, those who just moments ago said they would raise a ruckus and kill the townspeople...

They simply have no face to meet people!

The short man lowered his head to look at the dark, scalding medicine in the bowl, the heat making his palm ache.

But it is still better than the scorching flour burn on his face.

He took a sip, bitter enough to make his teeth grit, yet the tear in his eye sockets ultimately could not be held back and plopped into the bowl.

The seven or eight men nearby, who had thought they were abandoned, sat around the tent holding their medicine bowls, all showing much the same expression.

Only Liu Liu watched that plain-colored figure riding off toward Ju Cheng.

After a good while, he steadied the bowl, lifted his neck, drained it in one gulp, and murmured:

"More efficient than the dog emperor."

?? Here it comes, here it comes! The main point is being swift and decisive!