Chapter 99: Yonghe County

Shanxi, Xi Prefecture, Yonghe County, Yatou Mountain.

Atop the ridge, Liu Chengzong gazed westward, watching Wei Qian'er swaying up the mountain path on a little mule.

He leaned forward and shouted down the slope: "Well? Didn't report us to the authorities, did you? If not, get up here quick — we're eating liangpi."

Wei Qian'er cheerfully called back from below, urged his mule on twice, and told the person beside him to hurry.

The mule was loaded with two baskets of pottery bowls, and carrying a grown man on top of that — it couldn't move fast at all. In the end, he got so frustrated he dismounted, yanked the mule along, and wound his way up the switchback trail to the ridge.

Cao Yao, hearing the clatter of the mule, dashed out of the crumbling cave dwelling: "Quick, quick, hand out the bowls! Damn, finally we've got bowls."

A bunch of bandits who looked like they came from a bandit den — no, a bunch of bandits, big and small, who really had crawled out of a bandit den — burst out laughing.

They'd been in Shanxi four days already: two days eating dry-fried flour, one day eating steamed cakes, and today, at last, they could eat something served in a bowl.

The place where they were now resting and recovering — this whole broad ridge — had only one household living on it. The villagers had all fled during the last drought, so they'd taken over the empty nest as a temporary camp.

North of here was the patrol office at Yonghe Pass; to the south were the two crossings at Xingde Pass and Tieluo Pass — all guarded by government troops and local militia.

The garrisons weren't large, but from scouting these past few days, even though only a Yellow River separated them, Shanxi's situation was clearly much better — even a bit better than Yanchuan.

Last year's drought hit Shanxi somewhat lighter than Shaanxi.

This year Yanchuan got a rain. Though Yonghe County didn't, Xi Prefecture did get rain.

In northern Shaanxi, where law and order had utterly collapsed, Liu Chengzong could say without modesty — relying on military discipline that never harassed the people or raided villages — that the Lion Battalion was a righteous army.

But here, they were bandits.

Otherwise, why would that last remaining household in the village try to run the moment they saw them coming?

The family of two that Wei Qian'er brought back — this was already the second time they'd run.

They ran once the night before last; Cao Yao chased them four li before he caught them. Today they ran again, and Wei Qian'er, who'd gone to buy bowls, found them and brought them back again.

"Old Qian, tell me, what are you running for? Didn't I already tell you… here."

Liu Chengzong crouched on the stone roller in the yard. Wei Qian'er filled a bowl of liangpi for him, and he passed it on: "Eat while we talk. Go on, eat."

The fleeing villagers were a father and son — the father nearly fifty, the son just past thirty.

The two of them, once brought back, squatted down beside the stone roller with heads lowered, like a pair of criminal suspects.

They were squatting because Liu Chengzong wouldn't let them kneel.

"Alright, stop pretending to be quails. Same thing last time you were brought back — knelt inside the house like you'd suffered some terrible wrong."

Liu Chengzong held out the liangpi again. Old Qian lifted his eyes, glanced at it cautiously, and took it.

"I just don't get it — what are you two running for? I made it clear last time: I'm just borrowing this place to stay a while, I won't harm anyone. Besides, your house has five walls in total, you've even sold the roof tiles, and you had to break into two neighbors' homes just to piece together doors for three rooms. What are you afraid I'll rob from you?"

Father and son looked up, aggrieved, then lowered their heads again and slurped the liangpi from their bowls without a word.

Liu Chengzong found these two genuinely amusing — you couldn't beat a fart out of them with three clubs, and who knew what was actually going on in their heads.

Cowardly they certainly were: any random person could go out, no need to even draw a blade — the moment they were spotted, they'd freeze in place and obediently follow back.

Yet this meek, silent father and son had the nerve to run twice.

Their limp, wilted manner drove Liu Chengzong crazy. He said: "A great drought, everyone else left but you two stayed. I didn't touch a thing of yours and even fed you — and you ran. Today you're going to make it clear to me: why exactly did you run? Are you really that eager to report us to the authorities?"

Life was truly hard for this father and son. The other villagers had all fled; the two of them survived by digging up unsprouted seeds from other people's fields.

Every day, seed by seed, they'd dig them up, eat one meal, and go dig again the next day.

Right up until Liu Chengzong arrived, father and son had been living like that.

He wasn't afraid of people reporting him to the authorities; he just wanted to understand where the common people's resistance toward him actually came from.

Old Qian never wasted food — he ate whatever he was given, ate it lightning fast, and absolutely never spoke to anyone while eating.

This habit had been faithfully passed down to his son. Watching these two eat, you'd absolutely feel that food was a gift from heaven.

When the old man finished, he glanced cautiously at Liu Chengzong again, slowly pushed the pottery bowl across the yellow dirt in front of him, and only then said quietly: "We was just scared, is all."

There's no clear dialect boundary between northern Shaanxi and Shanxi — just tonal differences on a few words, so communication wasn't a problem.

Liu Chengzong said, exasperated: "Scared of what? You've run twice now. If I were a bad bastard, I'd have buried you both on this ridge already."

Cao Yao, off to the side, clicked his tongue and glared at Liu Chengzong.

He'd made that suggestion — twice.

"Year before last, just found my boy a wife. Life was good. Then Shaanxi's disaster refugees crossed the river. Drought. My boy lost his wife."

Old Qian wasn't afraid of being buried on the ridge. He said: "If you hadn't come, the great drought wouldn't have come. When Shaanxi's famine refugees come, the great drought isn't far behind. You aren't famine refugees."

This old man Qian from Shanxi had his own method of using Shaanxi disaster victims as a weather forecast.

So it turned out Liu Chengzong's arrival had shattered the last hope of Yatou Mountain's final holdouts.

He looked at Liu Chengzong, then at the Lion Battalion soldiers sitting or squatting around the yard eating, and in a tone certain, earnest, and cautious, said quietly: "A great calamity has broken out in Shaanxi."

Different people, living in this world, each have their own philosophy for getting by.

People benefit from it, and are also confined by it.

"We're not famine refugees, but we're not bad people either — and we even feed you. Where else under heaven is there such a good deal?"

"The big chief isn't bad, but you won't stay long. Once you leave, others will come. This old man dares to gamble a round with the heavens, but I can't afford to provoke others. Yatou Mountain can't be stayed in any longer."

Liu Chengzong had also finished eating. He set his bowl aside: "Then what if I asked you to come with me?"

"We don't want to go to Shaanxi, and we don't want to bring ruin to Shanxi either."

After saying this, Old Qian grew a little afraid. He hung his head between his knees and didn't dare lift it.

"Alright, I understand. If you'd just said so earlier, that would've been the end of it."

Liu Chengzong waved his hand: "You two go on home. Stay a few more days. Yanchuan got rain — no bandits will be coming around anytime soon. If you want to leave, wait until after I've gone. I'll leave you some grain."

Old Qian and his son, as if a great weight had been lifted, slowly walked out of the yard and headed home.

Once they'd left, Cao Yao stepped forward: "Hey, Lion, what's the matter with you? Killing these two would be safer. Even if you don't kill them, fine, but at least keep a tight watch. And now you're leaving them grain after we go?"

Cao Yao glanced left and right, then leaned in close: "The grain we brought is only enough for twenty more days."

"A few days' rations won't make the difference. I wanted them to buy medicine for us — but I can't trust them."

Liu Chengzong shook his head in frustration. "Thankfully the cold came early this year. If the wounded brothers aren't treated soon, their arms and legs will be ruined. In the next couple of days, I need to find someone with an honest face to go with the two of them to the county seat to buy medicine, and we also need to get a physician."

With that, he waved his hand, rose from the roller, and said to those around him, "Everyone's finished eating. All of you, inside. Let's discuss morale, training, and reorganization."