Chapter 370: The Rice Bag

In Pujiaji, Hezhou, south of Jiangpu, figures darted through the market town, the sound of doors being smashed echoing everywhere.

Wang Dashan, his clothes in tatters, supported his wife as he followed the crowd into the market town, hurrying along while also looking after the woman. Compared to when he was in Susong, Wang Dashan had grown even thinner; his eye sockets were deeply sunken, his complexion a waxy yellow, the outline of his ribs starkly visible on his chest, his ragged outer garment hanging loose and empty on his frame.

That day, after crossing the Chema River, they had seized a horse. The few of them had fled past Fenghuangpu along small paths before finally taking the main road, making a wide detour at Fengjiadu. Only when they reached Old County did they encounter Chuang Tatian's main camp. Fortunately, Old County still had some provisions left behind by government troops. Although the Garrison Commander's battalion did not pursue them, Chuang Tatian was already a bird startled by the mere twang of a bow. All sorts of rumors were spreading — some said Zuo Liangyu was in Susong, others said he was in Taihu, and some said the Anqing Army was already in pursuit.

Chaos reigned everywhere. After a brief halt, they fled again, trembling with fear until they reached Fengxiang Courier Station. Chuang Tatian dared not continue along the courier road and instead turned north into the mountains.

In the mountains, there was nowhere to plunder, and food was extremely scarce. But the two Long Family, experienced in fleeing for their lives, had anticipated entering the mountains back in Old County and had loaded a good amount of grain onto the horses.

Seven days after entering the mountains, they encountered the Eight Great Kings again. Following them, they traveled from Yingshan to Huoshan, never having enough to eat along the way. Even after emerging from the mountains at Lu'an Prefecture, the route had already been plundered multiple times, so the supplies they obtained were extremely limited. Large numbers of servants starved to death before they could even leave the mountains.

Wang Dashan had not been captive for long. Though life had been hard before, he had, after all, been in a land of fish and rice like Anqing, where he could still get a full meal every few days. His stamina was better than most of the servants. But his woman was pregnant, and several times she nearly died on the road. Fortunately, Xiao Wazi was quite capable at seizing things — perhaps also repaying Wang Dashan for saving him during the river crossing. In the end, they survived on the Long Family's aid and barely managed to hold on until Hezhou.

On the way from Chao County to Hezhou, the group had captured some more people. Xiao Wazi gained two more servants, two more mouths to feed. Both of them were sturdier than Wang Dashan, and he could clearly sense that the grain the Long Family distributed to him was growing less and less. He and his woman were now skin and bones, their clothes in shreds. Without new supplies, they could collapse and die by the roadside at any moment.

After entering the region along the river, the spoils from plundering had increased somewhat. Pujiaji, which they reached today, lay fifteen li north of Hezhou, in the plains area of Hezhou near the river. It had already been plundered once the previous year, but the main target then had been Jiangpu. Pujiaji was merely passed through, without deeper penetration into the surrounding areas. Last year, camp heads like Ziweixing, Hun Shiwan, and Zhang Pangzi had mainly operated around Chuzhou and Quanjiao, never venturing this close to the river. Many common folk had returned to the vicinity of Pujiaji, so there was still hope of seizing things.

This time, Pujiaji was allocated to Liu Long Family, and it was also where they would set camp today. Everyone in the camp had come. This was considered the best area they had been assigned recently. If they failed to seize anything here, there was no telling when the next chance would come.

Around Wang Dashan, countless men and women in rags ran wildly, surging into every doorway along the road. Shrieks from struggles erupted everywhere. His woman, her forehead covered in cold sweat, collapsed sitting on the ground. Wang Dashan hurriedly helped her up. Seeing several other women under Second Locust's Post Commander nearby, he had his wife sit on the street curb stones.

The woman, her breath faint as gossamer, said, "Head of the house, you go. Get food, get rice."

Wang Dashan answered and turned to run with the crowd. In his hand was only a sharpened wooden stick. Around him were equally gaunt male and female servants. The streets and alleys were filled with the frantic screams of these people. Bodies occasionally bumped into him. Wang Dashan ran stumblingly for a stretch, and when he looked up, the street was already teeming with figures.

The area was packed. The Long Family Xiao Wazi had run off somewhere unknown. Some Long Family had each claimed the better-looking houses, blocking the doors to prevent others from entering and looting. Clusters of servants flitted in and out among the dilapidated houses. Some had already seized goods, rice bags hanging from their bodies, and others had dragged out handcarts.

These were all things Wang Dashan desperately needed. His woman was pregnant, her strength waning by the day. Only if she could eat and have a cart to ride in would there be a chance to stay alive. The faces of those who had seized grain were full of excitement, shouting incessantly in their elation. The anxiety in Wang Dashan's heart grew even more intense.

"There's rice! There's rice!"

Shouts came from the alley entrance ahead. On the ground, figures were rolling around — three people fighting over a grain bag. Wang Dashan ran up just in time to hear a ripping sound. Grains of rice instantly scattered everywhere. The white grains spread across the gray flagstones, making Wang Dashan's scalp tingle. He threw aside his wooden stick and threw himself directly onto the ground, starting to claw at the rice grains. Instantly, a huge crowd swarmed around him, countless hands scrabbling on the ground, the grains flying in all directions from the collisions.

Feet trampled randomly over his body — sometimes on his back, sometimes on his hands. Wang Dashan felt none of the pain. In his eyes, there were only those grains of rice. He couldn't pull the pouch from his chest, so both hands kept sweeping the rice grains underneath his own body, using his weight to pin them down.

After a bout of frenzied chaos, the surrounding screams gradually subsided. The crowd sprawled on the ground grew weary, everyone panting heavily. The distribution of spoils here was basically settled, the struggle largely ceased. Each person fumbled out their own bag to collect the rice grains. Wang Dashan pressed the grains to the ground, warily scanned his surroundings, then propped himself up with his left elbow, pulled out a small cloth bag, and immediately pressed down on the grains again. Seeing no one was trying to snatch them, he slightly lifted his body again, groped for the grains beneath him with his hand, and carefully stuffed them into the pouch.

Suddenly, a hand reached in from under his body. Wang Dashan cried out in alarm and quickly pressed down hard. The hand scooped once and withdrew. Wang Dashan looked down, not knowing how many grains had been scooped away.

He immediately sped up, using his palm to gather the rice grains into small piles, then scooped them into the bag. Only then did he sit up. The rice bag, when squeezed, was only the size of a child's fist — probably enough to cook two meals of thin gruel. He tied the bag shut and tucked it into his chest.

After all this frantic effort, Wang Dashan's face was pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat. He wiped it with his hand. Looking down, he saw some grains still in the cracks. He immediately lay back down, using his fingers to dig them out of the crevices. The rice grains, mixed with black dirt, were excavated. Wang Dashan carefully brushed away the dirt, separating out the grains he found.

Suddenly, another commotion arose in the street. Wang Dashan turned his head to see a large group of people passing by, many carrying swords and spears. Wang Dashan knew these were the servants of some major Long Family — people he could not afford to provoke. He hurriedly got up to move aside, but before he could run off, that group had already surged over, startled cries rising everywhere in the street.

Wang Dashan was knocked to the ground. Above him, figures swayed. Someone was tugging at the rice bag he clutched. Wang Dashan hugged it desperately to his chest, letting out sharp cries. Someone else pinned him down, and more hands began pulling at his rice bag. The force grew stronger and stronger. Other hands from around him grabbed wildly, tearing his clothes to shreds. Finally, they wrenched his hands away from his chest. Wang Dashan held on with a death grip, refusing to let go. All around were shouts and curses, a blur of unfamiliar faces swaying before his eyes.

In his terror, Wang Dashan tried to roll away and dodge, but he was blocked by other people on the ground and couldn't move. He could only keep screaming, "It's to save lives! To save lives! Don't take it from me!"

The pulling force from the other side did not relent in the slightest. Someone was hitting his head, someone else prying at his fingers. One by one, his fingers were loosened. Wang Dashan was gradually losing his grip. The dragging force grew stronger. Tears and snot streaming down his face, he watched helplessly as the grain bag slowly, bit by bit, slipped from between his last two fingers. He howled in despair, emitting high-pitched, meaningless syllables.

Finally, his hands were empty. The grain bag vanished in an instant among the crowd. Exhausted, Wang Dashan lay on the ground, wailing loudly. The struggle around him continued, people rolling back and forth beside him. No one paid any attention to his cries.

That large group of servants left. Those who had lost their grain were also utterly drained of strength, collapsing in the street in a wretched scene. It was a long while before they began to pick themselves up one after another. In the street, some who had seized grain occupied houses, chopping up door panels to prepare meals. Some had even snatched chickens and ducks, drawing bursts of cheers from their companions.

Those starting to cook brought out swords and spears to stand guard, wary of others trying to snatch their food. Those who still had no grain had reddened eyes. Wang Dashan shakily climbed to his feet and heard someone nearby shouting, "There's a big house up ahead! Go forward!"

The crowd surged forward again. Wang Dashan breathed heavily, turned his head to look around. The grain bag that had been torn open at the start was still on the ground. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his chest, picked up his sharpened wooden stick, and broke into a run toward the front.

He knew he couldn't out-fight the other servants, but he could run faster than them. He could only run forward with all his might, striving to get ahead of the others, so he could obtain some grain.

On the main road heading north, there were many people, still racing despite the sweltering, humid weather. Mounted team leaders and masters also whistled past. In the past, Wang Dashan would have fearfully stepped aside, but today he didn't look back, only focused on continuing to run forward. His tattered clothes were blown open by the wind, revealing his gaunt, bony body. Shredded strips of cloth fluttered behind him. Although Wang Dashan had not eaten a single grain of rice in two days, he felt no fatigue at this moment. He only knew he had to find rice.

The servants on the road dispersed along the branching paths, the crowd gradually thinning. Wang Dashan still did not stop, until another large residence appeared ahead. This was probably the place those shouting people had mentioned earlier.

Inside and outside the large residence, people were already everywhere. Figures constantly entered and exited the doorway, and several red-clad team leaders stood at the gate, shouting curses.

Wang Dashan now felt some fear again. He hesitated at the gate. Suddenly, he spotted a clump of bamboo grove far off to the northwest. The servants on the road were all rushing toward the large residence ahead; no one paid any attention to that spot. Wang Dashan was from Jiangbei, so he took a closer look. Around the bamboo grove were several plots of farmland that appeared to have been cultivated. There might be people living nearby. He squinted and peered carefully into the bamboo grove. There seemed to be the corner of a roof. He stopped in his tracks, gripped his stick, and headed that way.

Pretending to drink water at the edge of the field, and seeing that no one around was paying attention, Wang Dashan broke into a run straight into the bamboo grove. The roof corner slowly revealed itself — there was indeed a household. Though it was a thatched hut, judging by the area around the house, it seemed there had been recent human activity. Which meant there might be food.

As he rounded the bamboo grove, he glanced back. No one else had followed. He hurried to the door. The door panel had two broken holes and was not locked. Wang Dashan reached out to push the door open. The moment he touched the door panel, his heart pounded wildly. A slight push told him it was locked from the inside. Peering through the two broken holes in the door, it was pitch black inside.

Wang Dashan hesitated before the door for a brief moment, then abruptly swung his sharpened wooden stick, smashing it wildly against the door panel. After enlarging one of the holes, he reached inside, felt for the door bolt, and yanked it open.

The broken door panel creaked open. Wang Dashan poked his head in to look, then stepped into this stranger's home. The furnishings inside were nothing to speak of — a few pieces of broken furniture. None of that could draw Wang Dashan's attention. The first thing he saw was the chimney, then the pot, and the rice vat beside it.

Without time to look closely, he hurried to the rice vat. Suddenly, he spotted two people hiding behind the stove. Both sides cried out in alarm at the same time. Startled, Wang Dashan stepped back, then hurriedly raised his wooden stick before his chest.

Hiding in the corner were an elderly couple. The old man was shielding the old woman. The two parties stared blankly at each other.

For a moment, Wang Dashan didn't know what to do. After a long while, he finally said, "I... I need some rice."

The two elders stared at him in terror, neither agreeing nor showing any sign of resistance.

Beads of sweat slid down Wang Dashan's face. He spoke again, "I need some rice... to eat."

He moved a step, lifted the wooden lid of the rice vat, and looked inside. At the bottom of the vat was still a little less than half a vat of rice grains. The white grains seemed to possess a kind of magic. Wang Dashan's eyes instantly turned bloodshot. He completely forgot about the two elders. His whole body felt numb. He grabbed a handful of rice and stuffed it into his mouth.

Wang Dashan chewed the rice grains forcefully while pulling out his tattered cloth bag. He grabbed handfuls of rice and stuffed them inside, all the while glancing back at the door. Outside was a patch of deep, green-tinged shade. The bamboo grove was silent; it seemed no other servants had discovered this place.

When he finished packing the rice and looked up, the old man over there stood up. Wang Dashan retreated a step. The old man came over, trembling. "We can't run anymore. The Thousand Years have taken everything. We'll just starve to death."

Wang Dashan murmured, "I'm not a Thousand Years. I... I just need some food."

With a thud, the old man knelt down and cried, "I beg the Thousand Years not to take it. Leave us a path to live."

Wang Dashan had never been knelt to before. At a loss, he also knelt down toward the old man, crying out as well, "My woman is about to starve to death, and the child needs to eat too. If they don't eat, they'll have no path to live."

Separated by a tattered rice bag, the old man kowtowed desperately, and Wang Dashan kowtowed back at him. Both of their faces were streaked with tears, their mouths ceaselessly arguing their cases.

Just then, a horn sounded in the distance. Wang Dashan recognized it as the camp's horn signal — it meant they were assembling to leave. Subconsciously, he grabbed the grain bag. The old man across from him leaned in and also grabbed the grain bag. Both stopped kowtowing, the strength of their tug-of-war gradually increasing.

Another horn sounded from outside. If the main force of Liu Long Family left, his wife might be taken away too, and he would never find her again. In his brief time among the Roving Bandits, Wang Dashan had already witnessed countless such things.

Wang Dashan pulled hard, but the old man still refused to let go. Wang Dashan suddenly released the grain bag, grabbed the wooden stick, and stood up. Both hands trembling violently, he swung the stick crookedly and haphazardly at the old man. The old man's head was struck twice, blood flowing from his forehead. The old woman by the stove let out a shriek.

"Will you let go or not!" Wang Dashan cried out, swinging the stick again. The old man's body tilted and collapsed. Wang Dashan threw down the stick, grabbed the grain bag with both hands, and dragged it away with all his might. Some rice grains spilled out. Wang Dashan had no time to pick them up and immediately bolted out the door.

"Heaven-cursed Roving Bandits! Heaven-cursed bandit spawn!" The old man's curses came from behind him.

Clutching the grain bag tightly to his chest, Wang Dashan fled in panic through the bamboo grove. Not daring to return to the main road, he chose small paths and ran toward Pujiaji. He ran a full hundred paces before stopping, the old man's curses no longer audible. Bending over, he panted for a long while, sweat continuously dripping from the tip of his nose.

He turned back to look in the direction of the bamboo grove and murmured under his breath, "I'm not a Roving Bandit. I'm not."

He lowered his head to stare at the grain bag in his arms, tying up the torn side. Wang Dashan squeezed it hard. The feeling of the rice grains pressing against his fingers seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world.

The horn was still sounding. Wang Dashan took off his tattered shirt, wrapped it entirely around the grain bag, and returned to the main road, running toward Pujiaji.

Fortunately, on this trip they didn't run into any more large bands of Servants robbing travelers, and they returned smoothly to Pujiaji. At last he saw the woman's figure again, and a surge of excitement rose in Wang Dashan's heart. He ran over and crouched down in front of the woman, picked up the woman's hand and placed it on the torn clothes, letting the woman feel the grains of rice too.

Two hands rubbed back and forth over the rice sack. The two looked at each other and, at the same time, broke into foolish grins.

Just then, Second Locust of the Zhang family's voice rang out nearby: "The Anqing Army has reached Jiangpu! The Master has ordered — we're not heading to Yangzhou anymore. No one is to cook. We move out at once!"