Chapter 18: Returning Home

The valley stretched southward, a bleak and desolate scene as it had always been.

The greatest trouble a worsening world brought to those on the road was a pervasive sense of unease.

Unease drives a man to nip trouble in the bud.

So much so that every unfamiliar face Liu Chengzong saw on the road, he had to fiercely suppress the wretched impulse to loose an arrow at them.

The desolate old road was practically empty, though a wolf did try to pick a fight with Little Whirlwind, and he scared it off with a shot from his bow.

Wolves run in packs, so he dared not pursue it far, and hurried on south with Little Whirlwind in a trail of dust.

A wolf sighting was not a bad thing; it meant conditions at the junction of the three counties were better than up north—at least man had retreated and the beasts advanced.

A drought affects all living things in every way; if grass and trees can survive, men can harvest crops, however meager; if wild beasts can survive, there is still something to eat in the mountains.

And for people, that means there is still a sliver of hope to cling to.

As for wolf packs and fierce tigers, their efficiency at killing men is far inferior to a natural disaster.

Carrying his weapons but wearing no armor, he traveled much faster riding alone.

Along the way, he paused briefly to fight off a wolf, and later spent a short while loosening Red Flag's saddle and scraping off sweat; the main delay came from the parched, cracked yellow earth, which forced him to stop and check the horse's shoes many times—all told, it added up to no more than half a quarter of an hour.

Other than that, the journey went extremely smoothly. Setting out in the morning, the further he went, the more familiar the road became. Passing several villages, even the distant sight of people in tattered jackets sunning themselves idly on the loess ridges, amidst the bleak and bitter landscape, let him feel a breath of human presence.

In less than two hours, he saw Coiling Dragon Creek.

Coiling Dragon Creek was a small river originating from a mountain spring to the north, very shallow when there was no flood. To see Coiling Dragon Creek was to see Black Dragon King Temple Mountain—Liu Chengzong had arrived home.

Liu Chengzong rode slowly through the mountain path, looking at the fields on the hills, his eyes brimming with novelty everywhere—for four days, they had traveled over three hundred li, and all they had passed were desolate country and abandoned villages, utterly devoid of life.

Only now, nearing his hometown, did he see, beside the endlessly cracked fields, farmers and children in the irrigation ditches, picking out stones and clearing the channels further.

Though the people were starved thin, their dark, sallow skin clinging tightly to their bones without a trace of spare flesh, their spirits were higher than anyone he had seen in days.

They were repairing the ditches, yet in Liu Chengzong's judgment of the current situation, people no longer needed to repair ditches—everyone was heading south, all heading south to seek a way to live. Why stay here and repair irrigation ditches?

He had returned early in the day, and many people in the fields were in no rush to work. Some squatted by the roadside with bowls, drinking congee; their wives stood beside them holding old wooden food boxes, waiting for the farmers to finish so they could take the bowls back.

In the fields and at the edges of the plots, many people were complete strangers to Liu Chengzong, who had left for Yan'an Prefecture at four and moved to Mizhi at twelve. He did not recognize them, nor they him; there was none of the warmth of a wanderer returning home.

Instead, when the farmers saw him riding slowly up the country lane, they all stopped their work, leaning on their tools and watching him in silence.

Even if Liu Chengzong had wanted to greet them, he would not have known their names.

This awkward situation did not last long—he had reached his own family's fields.

The fields of Xingping Village were divided into two types: private fields and clan fields. Back in the day, Liu the Selected had distinguished himself in the clan's private school, and with the clan's aid and support, was freed from labor to study until he passed the provincial exam. Later, he owned two hundred and eighty mu of land, all of which he donated to the clan to repay their nurturing kindness.

When Liu the Selected was imprisoned for failing to collect taxes and offending his superiors, the clan allocated a hundred mu of land to the brothers Chengzu and Chengzong. Liu Chengzong had come then to inspect the land and set the boundary markers, so he was very familiar with his family's fields.

Several people were composting in the field. Seeing a man on horseback with a saber at his waist, they all stopped their work and watched from a distance.

He reined in his horse and asked, "Elder brothers, where is the family of the third branch?"

A very sturdy man in the ditch looked up, swept his gaze over him, his eyes settling on the saber, and climbed up to the roadside, asking, "Who are you, and what business do you have with the Old Master?"

Hearing the address "Old Master," Liu Chengzong racked his brains, certain he had never seen this man in the clan before. He could only cup his fists from horseback and say, "A junior of the family, Chengzong."

With anyone else, he might have thought he had met them and simply forgotten, but a man so robust that a single glance made him feel as oppressive as a small mountain was not someone you forgot after one look.

"Chengzong?"

The name was somewhat unfamiliar to the man. He pondered for a moment, and then the expressionless look on his face instantly melted away, his features shifting in a most dramatic fashion. "Little Benefactor?"

With a thud, the big man fell to his knees like a collapsing mountain, heavily kowtowing three times on the yellow earth before raising his body and calling out, "The Second Young Master is back! Everyone, come over here!"

Startled, Liu Chengzong tumbled off his horse and hurriedly helped the man up, saying, "Elder Brother, what... what is this for? Get up and let's talk."

"You must know, Young Master, this humble one is Shi Wanzhong, an honest farmer originally from Shijiawan in Suide. Last year's drought left me unable to pay the summer grain tax. I fled south with my fellow villagers, bringing my old mother and my wife. We were fortunate that the Old Master took us in and saved my wife and the child in her belly. This kindness is as vast as heaven; I would serve as an ox or a horse to repay it!"

Shi Wanzhong's eyes reddened, and he tried to kneel again, but Liu Chengzong held him firmly. By now, the other men from the field had also come over, each about to kneel and recount their own stories—all had fled the disaster to Dragon King Temple Mountain the previous year and been taken in by his father, Liu the Selected.

Seeing he could not stop them all, and with four or five men clustered together all talking at once so he could not make out a word, Liu Chengzong had no choice but to spread his hands and say to them all, "Elder brothers, please just call me Chengzong, and do not kneel again. Since you are here, settle down well. In these famine years, there will always be a way to survive."

After saying this, Liu Chengzong turned back to Shi Wanzhong and asked, "Brother Shi, where is my father?"

"The Old Master is on Liu Family Ridge, drilling the militia. Come, the rest of you get back to work clearing the ditch. I will take the Young Master to see the Old Master."

With that, Shi Wanzhong took the reins from his hand, crossed his hands on the horse's belly, and said, "Young Master, please mount."

Liu Chengzong's mind was already in turmoil. Faced with Shi Wanzhong's overwhelming enthusiasm, he felt even more at a loss, and could only wave his hand and say, "It's fine, let's walk together. I've been away soldiering for over a year and haven't been back. I have many things I want to ask you, Brother. Let's talk as we walk? Just call me Shizi, it's my childhood name."

Shi Wanzhong did not insist, and led the horse, falling half a step behind. "Alright, Young Master Shizi, what do you wish to ask?"

Ask what? Ask where Liu the Selected got the grain to feed them?

That was what he most wanted to ask. All along his journey, whether in Mizhi, Suide, or Qingjian, the situation had been worse than the last. Many people indeed remained on their land, but in every one of those places, without exception, a great number of commoners had become refugees.

The land, too, was utterly barren. Even those who stayed in their hometowns had no energy left to undertake water conservancy projects.

But when the words reached his lips, Liu Chengzong instead asked, "How did my father come to be drilling the militia? What about the commander?"

Shi Wanzhong shook his head. "This humble one does not know. When we fled here, the Old Master was already the militia commander. Some of those who fled with us were villains, and the Old Master led the militia to kill them. Only then did he take us in to live long-term in Xingping Village."

The more Liu Chengzong listened, the more confused he became. All his life, the old man had been a refined scholar, never practicing martial arts, let alone studying military affairs. How had he become so formidable after getting out of prison?

He knew he would get no answers from Shi Wanzhong on these matters. He raised his head to look toward Liu Family Ridge, forcefully suppressed the doubts in his heart, and strode forward on foot.

Note:

Master: An old term used by hired laborers, tenant farmers, and aides to address their employer, landlord, or superior.

"Many thanks, brother, for giving me these three letters. I will take my leave of the Master and head east." — Yuan Dynasty, Ma Zhiyuan, "Thunder at Midnight Recommends the Fortune Stele"