Chapter 670

Zhu Yue looked at Xu Da's bewildered expression, knowing he couldn't directly say, "I need protein and carbohydrates."

He changed his wording.

"Just drinking water makes my belly feel emptier the more I drink."

"We need to find something that will actually fill our stomachs."

Xu Da gave a wry smile and pointed outside the tent.

"Chongba, I know you're hungry, but who isn't hungry in this camp?"

"We're about to finish chewing all the tree bark."

"The imperial troops control the grain supply; even the mice have been wiped out in the nearby fields."

A sense of despair seeped from every word Xu Da spoke.

Zhu Yue didn't respond to that; his gaze swept over the corner of the tent, then landed on Xu Da and the few men around him.

"We're all from farming backgrounds; even while fleeing, we must still have some tools for eating, right?"

"Don't hide anything—bring it out and let's see."

"Even if it's broken or rusted, it's fine."

Xu Da and his few companions exchanged glances.

After a brief hesitation, Xu Da first felt at his waist and pulled out a chopping knife wrapped in rags.

The blade was dark, covered in rust, the edge chipped in several places, and the wooden handle was repeatedly wound with hemp rope.

"That's it… the last piece of ironware in my family."

Next, a thin, tall man named Li San pulled from his bosom a thick iron nail that had been polished shiny, with one end wrapped in cloth to serve as a handle.

"That's all I have; I usually use it to pry things."

Another dark-faced man silently produced a sickle blade reduced to just a half, heavily rusted but with its edge ground to a faint gleam.

"What my father left behind… this is all that remains."

Two others: one carried a short-handled axe whose handle was about to fall apart, the blade chipped;

the other had an old hoe blade with its wooden handle gone, leaving only the iron head.

Zhu Yue silently looked at the few items laid out before him.

A broken chopping knife, an iron nail, half a sickle blade, a broken axe, and a hoe blade.

This is all the "possessions" of the twenty-odd men.

So shabby it makes one's heart ache.

Yet it is precisely these scraps of copper and iron that prove they once truly lived off the land.

Now, with no land, no home, they cling desperately to this bit of scrap metal, treating it as their last thought and reliance.

"Enough."

Zhu Yue spoke up, his voice not loud, yet it made everyone raise their heads.

"Xu Da, can that chopping knife still cut wood?"

"It can, but it takes effort…"

"Li San, is your iron nail hard enough?"

"Hard! I've tried it—it can even pierce stone!"

"Good."

Zhu Yue nodded, picked up the half sickle blade and the broken axe head, and held them together to compare.

"Xu Da, Li San, Brother Heizi."

"You three, use the chopping knife and axe to go outside the camp and find some sturdy sticks, about arm-thick, and cut them to five feet long."

"They need to be straight and tough."

He then looked at the two men holding the hoe blade and the iron nail.

"You two, find some broken stones, hard ones."

"Later I'll show you how to hammer this sickle blade and hoe blade into something else."

Finally, he looked at the remaining people.

"Everyone else, go gather anything that can be used as rope."

"Tree bark, vines, grass rope—even torn cloth strips will do."

"The more, the better."

The orders were clear, the division of labor distinct.

Although the people still didn't fully grasp what he intended to do, having a concrete task lessened the bewilderment in their eyes.

After an hour.

Behind the leeward slope, everything was ready.

A few poles that were fairly straight.

A pile of bark and vines of varying thickness.

And those few pieces of scrap iron.

Zhu Yue personally got to work.

He had Xu Da and Li San hold the pole while he took the broken axe head and cut two deep grooves into one end of the stick.

"Give me the sickle blade."

The dark-faced man handed it over.

Zhu Yue slipped the still-sharp curved edge of the sickle blade into the groove in the stick, then tightly wound the prepared tough vine around it, loop after loop.

At the end of the wrapping, he tied a complex knot—a skill he'd learned in field surveys—that grew tighter the more it was pulled.

A crude "rake" began to take shape.

Next came the hoe blade.

He used a stone to knock off the most corroded part, leaving a relatively thick section, which he similarly tied to the top of another wooden stick.

"Zhu Yue, what are you doing?" Xu Da couldn't help asking.

"Dig mud, scrape ground."

Zhu Yue gave a simple explanation.

"Three li to the west, there's a small river bend."

"In the mud at the river bottom, there are river clams."

"We'll use this rake to reach into the water and scrape the muck from the riverbed."

"We'll drag the mud up, rinse it with water, and the clams and snails hidden inside will be left behind."

He paused, then looked at the crowd.

"They're fishy-smelling, with little meat."

"But they can fill your stomach and won't kill you."

"Better than lying around waiting to starve to death."

His words were down-to-earth, with no falsehood.

Everyone looked at the two firmly tied-together strange tools, then glanced at each other.

"Will it work?" someone asked softly.

"Just try it and you'll see."

Zhu Yue stood up and brushed the dirt off his hands.

"If it works, tonight we'll all have a sip of hot soup."

"If it doesn't, we'll just have sweated for nothing."

"Either way, it's better than waiting to die."

Those last words struck a chord with everyone.

"Yeah, could things get any worse than now?"

"Let's do it!"

Xu Da was the first to grab a rake.

"Let's go!"

Twenty-something people, holding laughably crude tools, carrying broken baskets and pots, quietly slipped out of the camp and headed toward the small river bend to the west.

Along the way, Zhu Yue carefully observed the surroundings.

Withered fields, abandoned villages, and occasional dust drifting from the distant official road.

In the chaotic final years of the Yuan dynasty, reality was more real—and more cruel—than anything he had read.

They arrived at the river bend.

The river water was icy, with a thin layer of ice forming on the banks.

Zhu Yue was the first to go into the water.

A bone-chilling cold shot up from his feet, making him shiver, but he didn't stop.

He demonstrated, thrusting the rake into waist-deep water, driving it into the riverbed, then pulling it back.

The first scoop brought up nothing but mud and waterweeds.

The second was the same.

The third—

The rake's teeth hit a harder spot on the riverbed, bringing up a clump of black mud.

He shook it in the water a few times, and the slurry dispersed.

Several grayish-brown river clams, about the size of a thumb, lay in the wooden grooves of the rake.

"We've got them!"

Xu Da, sharp-eyed, let out a low cry.

The atmosphere instantly came alive.

Everyone hurried into the water, imitating his method.

At first they were clumsy, but soon more and more people managed to scoop something up.

River clams, field snails, and occasionally a slow-moving small fish or two.

The haul in the broken baskets grew visibly larger.

Although everyone was shivering, their lips turning purple from the cold, no one stopped.

They had work in their hands, hope before their eyes; though their bodies were cold, it felt as if a tiny flame burned in their hearts.

Zhu Yue persevered as well.

His original body was already weak, and the icy river water drained what little strength he had left.

He could not stop.

As the initiator, he had to set an example.

More importantly, he needed these people to see that the method worked and that effort was rewarded.

After more than an hour, Zhu Yue called a halt.

"That's enough; if we keep scooping until dark, heading back could be dangerous."

Everyone came ashore, their feet numb from the cold, but seeing several baskets heavy with their catch, smiles spread across their faces.

On the way back to camp, the atmosphere was noticeably different.

Although they were still mostly silent, their steps became a bit lighter, and occasionally someone would whisper a joke or two.

They did not go straight back to the tents, but instead went around to the leeward slope from that morning.

They lit a fire, set up a broken clay pot to boil water.

When the water boiled, the cleaned river clams and snails were dumped in.

There was no salt, no oil, no seasoning at all.

But when the grayish clam meat opened in the boiling water, releasing its most primal fresh-fishy aroma, everyone gathered around, eyes fixed on the pot, Adam's apples bobbing.

Zhu Yue used a clean wooden chip as a spoon, giving each person a small half-bowl of broth and meat.

The portions were not much.

But it was hot, it was real, it was something they had earned themselves.

Twenty-some people, either squatting or sitting, held their broken bowls, carefully blowing on them, then eagerly drank the soup and chewed the bit of tough clam meat.

No one spoke.

Only the sounds of slurping, chewing, and contented sighs.

Xu Da finished in a few mouthfuls, licked the last bit of soup residue from the bottom of his bowl clean, and moved over to Zhu Yue's side.

"Chong Ba, how do you know all this?"

"Back in the village, I never saw you figure things out like this..."

Zhu Yue watched the flickering flames.

"When you're starving, you have to use your brain more."

He couldn't explain the simple application of fluid mechanics, nor say it was based on ecological niche resource analysis.

He could only attribute it to "cleverness forced out by necessity."

Xu Da hehehed and didn't press further.

"Anyway, I feel you're not the same as before."

"It's like... you've got things figured out inside."

Zhu Yue didn't speak.

He slowly sipped the slightly fishy broth in his own bowl.

The taste was awful.

But a warmth flowed down his throat, dispelling some of the chill and weakness.

More importantly, he saw the change in the eyes of those around him.

The numbness lessened a little, hope grew a little.

Trust in him, this "Chong Ba," also grew a little.

The first fire was, in a sense, lit.

Although weak, it ultimately shone.

He knew that relying solely on gathering river clams couldn't last more than a few days.

The weather would get colder, the river would freeze over, resources would run out.

He needed a more stable, more sustainable approach.

He needed better tools, a safer camp, a more effective organization.

The road is still long, the problems still many.

But at least, tonight, the bellies of these twenty-some people held a bit of warm air.

They realized that following him, this "Chong Ba," there was a way, they wouldn't starve to death.

That was enough.

The fire gradually died down.

The people, carrying a hint of warmth and fullness, quietly dispersed, returning to their own cold corners.

Zhu Yue lay down, fatigue pressing down like a mountain.

But his mind kept turning.

Next, he ought to ponder what to plant...

In the camp, there should be some seeds that can sprout, right?

He needed to figure out how to get some salt...

Also, he needed to get more iron, to forge a few decent knives...

Thinking and thinking, he fell into a deep sleep.

In the distance, the lantern light of the night‑patrolling soldiers swayed past, and faint scolding could be heard.

The night was deep.

But in the pile of ashes behind the slope that had already been extinguished, there seemed to be a spark, faintly flashing a tiny light in the darkness.