Chapter 7: 007 — A Twist of Fate

Whether in films and television or when reading novels, whenever Zhao Han saw the protagonist point at the sky and scream hoarsely, "Thieving heavens!", he always felt an inexplicable embarrassment.

But now he himself wanted to curse viciously — fuck his mother's thieving heavens!

Ri, ru, zhi — all one meaning, in common use throughout the Ming dynasty.

"Zhi niang zei" sounds classical and refined, but those three characters are filthy, a hundred times more revolting than "ri X ma," and their appearance in a grand CCTV drama is pure nonsense. Yes, I'm talking about the television series Water Margin!

Ri tou, yue liang — these are the colloquial terms.

Tai yang, tai yin — these are the formal names.

After the character ri became popular, ri tou started sounding like a curse, which in turn pushed tai yang to the fore, so that the formal name gradually became the common folk term.

So why did Zhao Han want to do that to the Lord of Heaven's mother?

Because the thieving heavens had disgusted him!

When they hit a cold snap in Tianjin, Zhao Han had specially spent silver cash to buy several chi of cotton cloth, which the siblings wrapped themselves in at night to keep warm. Who knew that after leaving Tianjin, having walked only a few li, the weather would suddenly turn from overcast to blazing sun, scorching him and his little sister nearly to heatstroke.

The heat was unbearable.

Mid-journey, they had to stop and rest, finding a shaded spot to escape the sun.

On their first day heading south, they covered less than twenty li, spending most of the time cooling off in the shade and hiding from the sun.

At dusk they reached Yangliuqing Town. Several decades ago, this town had been exceptionally prosperous. But with the relocation of the Yangqing Water Post Station, the town had gradually declined and no longer possessed its former bustle.

There were starving people here too!

As the first major town south of Tianjin, it was naturally a good place for fleeing famine and begging. At the moment there were several hundred famine refugees, turned beggars, clustered in and around the town pleading for alms.

The shops in town had all chosen to close their doors, afraid of being looted by the hunger-crazed refugees.

Beside the canal outside town stood an abandoned Tianfei Temple.

Mazu is not only the goddess of the sea but also the guardian deity of canal transport, and she had the official endorsement of the Great Ming court. Yangliuqing Town had prospered because of canal transport and had raised funds to build this Tianfei Temple, but now it had long been without incense offerings.

The siblings planned to spend the night in the Tianfei Temple, but before they even entered the gate, they saw refugees lying packed densely inside.

"We can't stay here." Zhao Han took his little sister's hand, turned around, and continued walking along the canal.

After another two li, the sky had long gone completely dark.

The siblings gathered dead branches and fallen leaves along the way, took out a broken earthenware pot, and prepared to light a fire to cook porridge.

"Tchk, tchk!"

Zhao Han was now adept at using the fire steel he had filched from the marquis's house.

He cushioned the flint with dry grass, then struck it with the fire steel — it would catch in a few seconds, as convenient as matches and not afraid of getting wet in the rain.

Rice was too expensive; Zhao Han had only bought three jin of broomcorn millet and three jin of maize.

Broomcorn millet is yellow millet, one of the five grains of antiquity.

As for maize, it had been introduced to China during the Wanli reign, first planted in Guangxi province, then in Henan province. The sheer geographic leap shows that officials were promoting it — in any era, there will always be a few good officials who get things done.

The common people at the bottom ask for nothing else; they can only hope to encounter a good official. And it need not be a legendary upright judge — one who does practical work is enough.

"Second Brother, let me wash the grain." Zhao Zhenfang was very eager.

Zhao Han smiled. "Then from now on, cooking is all yours."

Zhao Zhenfang said proudly, "I could tend the fire at four years old. Mother and Eldest Sister both praised me for being capable."

Zhao Han gently stroked his little sister's head, not knowing what to say.

The water was scooped from the canal. He mixed the broomcorn millet and maize together in the pot, sprinkled in a tiny pinch of coarse salt, and soon the fragrance of food wafted out.

The siblings ate with great relish. Once full, they wrapped themselves in the cotton cloth, held each other, and slept in the open.

Early the next morning, Zhao Han sensed something was wrong.

His little sister's whole body was burning hot. He felt her forehead — sure enough, the fever was severe.

Reality is this unreasonable. Zhao Zhenfang had followed the whole family fleeing famine, eating and sleeping in the open, yet she had not fallen ill when hungry and weak. In Tianjin she had been drenched by a downpour, soaked to the skin, yet she had not fallen ill. When the cold wave hit, she had shivered violently through the night, yet still she had not fallen ill.

But now the weather had turned warm, last night's temperature was normal, she was fed and clothed, her nutrition was fairly adequate — and yet, inexplicably, she had fallen sick with a fever!

Afraid his sister's brain might be damaged by the fever, Zhao Han quickly asked, "Little Sister, can you hear me?"

Zhao Zhenfang opened her eyes and forced a smile. Weakly, she said, "Second Brother, I have no strength…"

"Then sleep a while. Drink some porridge first, and Second Brother will take you to find a doctor," Zhao Han comforted her.

Some of the mixed-grain porridge from last night remained. Zhao Han supported his little sister as she drank it.

He did not return to Yangliuqing Town. Because of the large number of refugees, the town's shops had all closed their doors and would never open for strangers.

Ten-year-old Zhao Han carried his six-year-old little sister on his back and, following the canal, set out on the road to Jinghai County.

After advancing just one li, Zhao Han's legs were already trembling.

He set his little sister down, tore the cotton cloth they used for warmth into several long strips, then wrapped them from his feet all the way up to his knees, winding round and round in circles, fashioning a marching essential — puttees.

He had to bind his legs. Carrying an overload on a long forced march, even if he reached his destination, both legs would be utterly ruined.

With one hand leaning on his spear and the other supporting his little sister's leg, Zhao Han gritted his teeth and persevered with every step.

Even after resting and recuperating for over half a month, this body was still too weak, its physical strength below the average for his age.

If not for that nighttime ambush back then, he could never have killed the marquis!

After walking who knows how far, Zhao Zhenfang suddenly woke. Draped over her brother's shoulder, she said, "Second Brother, am I going to die?"

"You won't die." Zhao Han stopped to wipe his sweat.

Zhao Zhenfang kept talking to herself: "If I die, I'll surely see Father and Mother, and Eldest Brother too. I just don't know where Elder Sister is. She always saved the good food for me. These days I miss her so much."

Zhao Han comforted her: "When we're grown up, we'll go find Elder Sister."

Zhao Zhenfang said nothing more; it was unclear whether she had fallen asleep.

After another two li, they came upon a willow tree by the riverbank that had not been stripped of its bark. Zhao Han truly could walk no further, and the heat had soaked him through with sweat, so he had to stop and rest a while in the shade of the tree.

He felt his little sister's forehead again — it was still burning hot.

Zhao Han drew water from the canal and boiled it, then soaked the cotton cloth in cool water and wiped his little sister's body to bring the fever down physically, taking the chance to recover some of his own strength as well.

Once the boiled water had cooled enough not to scald, he woke his little sister and got her to drink it.

Dark clouds drifted across the sky, instantly blotting out the sun, and the air turned stiflingly hot.

Don't rain, don't rain, whatever you do, don't rain!

Zhao Han grew frantic. He hurriedly hoisted his little sister onto his back again and pressed on — with her fever burning, she absolutely could not be caught in the rain.

"Huff, huff, huff…"

Short, heavy breaths mingled with the muffled thunder rolling from the sky. Zhao Han could only shuffle forward step by step. He dared not stop again, afraid that if he stopped he would be unable to move at all, but gradually he truly could not go on. He had to sit and rest, and while he was at it, cool his little sister down by physical means.

At some point, the dark clouds dispersed, as if the Old Man in the Sky had changed his mind about sending rain.

Zhao Han let out a long breath of relief, but the local peasants could only sigh in despair.

After pressing on for several more li, Zhao Han encountered three peasants — by the look of them, a father and his two sons.

These were tenant farmers, who only paid rent to the landlord and did not have to deal with the yamen runners who collected taxes. They had been truly fortunate, meeting a kind-hearted landlord who allowed them to defer their land rent and even lent them seed to replant the autumn grain.

Zhao Han stopped at once, set his little sister down on the ground, and then picked up his spear, staying on guard.

The father and sons were also startled, and from a distance they stared at Zhao Han, eyes locked in mutual wariness.

A glance was enough to confirm: they were complete strangers to one another.

Zhao Han continued on his way, while the three tenant farmers headed for the canal to steal water.

Yes, steal water!

In the dry season, or when drought struck, to ensure unimpeded grain transport, no one was permitted to draw water from the Grand Canal. One of the key duties of the Canal Protection troops stationed along its banks was precisely to prevent peasants from stealing canal water to irrigate their fields.

The two parties passed each other, exchanging glances — all of them were people ground down by hardship.

Abruptly, Zhao Han pulled out a handful of copper coins. "Old sir, are you short of money?"

The old farmer answered peevishly, "Who isn't?"

Zhao Han asked, "How much farther to the county seat?"

The old farmer replied, "A dozen or so li."

"Carry my little sister to the county seat for me, and these coppers are the deposit," Zhao Han said. He then felt out a tiny grain of broken silver. "Once we get there, the silver is yours too."

"Really?" One of the old farmer's sons was overjoyed.

Zhao Han placed the copper coins on the ground, then stepped back several paces. "Come take them yourself."

The old farmer immediately came over to pick up the money.

"Hold it!" Zhao Han barked out to stop him.

"What else is it?" the old farmer asked.

Zhao Han said, "Only one person goes to the county seat. The others may not follow. I'll speak plainly: I'm afraid you might kill me for my goods. Of course, you're welcome to try. This spear of mine has already killed over a dozen men — I wouldn't mind killing three or five more."

The father and his two sons looked at each other, at a loss.

Zhao Han truly had no other choice. His strength was nearly spent; it was utterly impossible for him to carry his little sister all the way to the county seat for medical help.

He could only take a gamble — gamble that these three peasants were honest men.

The father and sons conferred for a while, then decided that the old farmer and his second son would continue fetching water, while the eldest son would accompany Zhao Han to the county seat. They too were taking a gamble — gambling that Zhao Han would keep his word and give them some life-saving money when they arrived.

They pressed on.

The eldest son carried the little sister on his back as they advanced, while Zhao Han followed behind, spear in hand, ready to strike and kill at the first sign of anything amiss!

The two of them walked and rested in turns, stopping for a brief break every two li. They also fetched water along the way and used a damp cloth to wipe the little sister's forehead, to keep her fever from climbing so high it damaged her.

A journey of nearly twenty li took them the greater part of a day, until at last the walls of Jinghai County came into view ahead.

When they reached the outside of the moat, the peasant set Zhao Zhenfang down, turned to Zhao Han, and said, "Little brother, I won't go any farther."

"Fine." Zhao Han stepped back several paces, placed the broken silver on the ground, then circled away and waited for the man to come pick it up.

Nothing untoward happened. The peasant scooped up the silver and left.

Zhao Han gazed across the moat, his heart turning cold — he had a premonition that he might not be able to enter the city.

It was simply because outside Jinghai County, a great mass of famine refugees had also gathered.

What was more, the famine refugees had already surged across the moat and spread through the residential district outside the city walls, begging for food in every street and alley.

The people of Jinghai who lived just outside the city walls were in a state of panic, every household keeping its doors firmly shut. If this went on a few more days, they too would run out of grain, for there was no way to go out and buy rice.

Wшw★ ttkan★ C〇

Zhao Han hoisted his little sister onto his back and crossed the bridge. The streets outside the city were strewn with the bodies of the starved; everywhere, famine refugees lay sprawled in utter disorder.

He walked all the way to the city gate. It was tightly shut.

…

Fei Yinghuan and his servant Wei Jianxiong had left Tianjin a day later than Zhao Han, but they traveled faster and had now also arrived at Jinghai County at just this moment.

"Open the city gate!" Fei Yinghuan bellowed.

A gate guard standing atop the gate tower saw that Fei Yinghuan was dressed in a scholar's robe and answered, "Please go back, sir. The county magistrate has given orders that no one is to enter or leave."

Fei Yinghuan drew his sword and pointed it at the gate tower, beside himself with fury. "Go report to Wang Yongshi at once! Tell him Fei Dazhao of Yanshan has come. If he refuses to let me in, then when I return to Jiangxi, I will spread word of the fine things he has done in Jinghai County. Extortionate taxes, corpses of the starved everywhere, people eating human flesh… I will make his name stink and ensure the Wang clan is cursed by the elders of his home village for all eternity!"

Wang Yongshi was the County Magistrate of Jinghai.

The gate guard dared not delay and immediately ran off to report.

Zhao Han's eyes lit up. He had his little sister lie back against the wall, straightened his clothes, walked over, and bowed with clasped hands. "This humble one pays his respects to you, sir!"

(End of chapter)