Chapter 713: Big Cry

"I came to see a friend."

Pan Yun pulled Miao He slowly closer; only then did they notice they were wearing Daoist robes.

Miao He said: "We're here to find Wang Xiaojing."

"Who are you?"

Miao He: "We're Daoist Priests from Mount Sanqing. Wang Xiaojing knows me—tell him I'm Miao He, and my junior uncle wants to see him."

The two felt Miao He was too blunt, but they were Daoist Priests from Mount Sanqing.

They also believed in the mountain gods of Mount Sanqing, so they pulled their knives back slightly, their tone softening a bit, yet still blocking the way: "Wait—we've already sent someone to report."

Pan Yun: "Wouldn't sending another make it faster?"

"No way—what if the two of you attack us alone?"

Pan Yun raised her hand; a ball of fire burst into existence in her palm, making the two stumble back two steps.

In the flickering light, Pan Yun smiled at them: "See? Even if you two were here, you couldn't beat us. Go report quickly."

The two exchanged glances; one sheathed his knife and turned to run.

Pan Yun then clasped her hands together, extinguishing the fireball in her palm.

Deep in the night, most people were asleep; Wang Xiaojing hurried over with the road guard. When they met, both froze, silently staring at each other without speaking.

Wang Xiaojing was still a boy in age, yet he had aged terribly—his face etched with wind and frost, his eyes filled with sorrow, and all the youthful spirit unique to boys had vanished.

Miao He had been angry—angry that her friend had joined this affair and dragged the whole village down—but the moment they met, her anger dissolved, leaving only pity.

The two silently followed Wang Xiaojing into the village.

Though the village now glowed with lanterns and bonfires, very few were awake; everyone was curled up beside the fires, sleeping.

Wang Xiaojing led them to a bonfire, turned, fetched a basin of steamed buns, and silently handed them over.

Pan Yun took one; the buns were still warm, soft and fluffy, indented slightly under her touch but springing back quickly—clearly delicious.

Pan Yun broke it in half, handed half to Miao He, and asked: "Stolen?"

Wang Xiaojing grunted: "Yes. There's nothing left on the mountain—we have to survive."

Pan Yun said: "I saw your people from the mountain when I distributed relief grain."

Wang Xiaojing fell silent for a moment, then looked up: "I went down to see you too, junior uncle. Thank you."

"Because of Fen Shui Village?" Pan Yun said. "Your grandparents, parents, and younger sister are still in prison."

Wang Xiaojing lowered his eyes: "There will be a way to get them out."

Pan Yun turned to look at the rebel soldiers sleeping around the bonfires; most were older than Wang Xiaojing, around thirty, yet many were as thin and weathered as he was… young men.

Wang Xiaojing followed her gaze and said: "They're the same age as me."

Pan Yun pointed to the group who looked thirty or forty: "And them? How old?"

"Around twenty."

Pan Yun: "They don't look it at all."

"Life in the mines drags on like years. I've been inside less than half a year, but it feels like a lifetime," Wang Xiaojing said flatly, yet his voice carried an unrelenting sorrow: "I think back to how happy my childhood was—it was only last year, yet it feels like a distant memory."

Pan Yun: "You sound much more mature. How much authority do you have as Assistant Regional Commander here?"

Wang Xiaojing looked at her with heavy eyes: "Song Dalin is in charge here."

Pan Yun finished eating the last bit of bun, slapped her hands clean, and said: "The imperial envoy is coming soon. He's upright and incorruptible—I'll find a way to ask him to resolve your problems. Surrender to the imperial court."

Wang Xiaojing froze: "Surrender? That's surrendering, isn't it?"

"If you don't surrender, do you plan to grow stronger, overthrow the Emperor, and make yourself Emperor?" Pan Yun gestured around: "With your tiny force, no grain, no weapons—what do you think you can fight with?"

Wang Xiaojing protested: "We never wanted to be Emperor."

"Then what do you want?"

Wang Xiaojing fell silent.

Pan Yun sighed: "If you don't even know what you want, how long can you hold out?"

Wang Xiaojing: "We don't know what we want—but we know what we don't want."

Pan Yun listened intently: "Tell me."

Wang Xiaojing: "We don't want to work seven hours a day. We don't want our wages unfairly docked. We don't want to work ourselves to death each month for only one string of cash."

Wang Xiaojing's voice cracked with grievance: "Our wages were already low, but they always found ways to dock more—so we ended up with only eight or nine hundred cash per month. And these past two months, the officials said we were lazy, the mine was unprofitable, and they cut our wages entirely."

"We don't want our families paying such high silver taxes, or being forced into such brutal corvée labor…" Wang Xiaojing's eyes turned red; he lowered his head so they couldn't see, but tears fell heavily onto the ground, his voice trembling: "Second uncle… he died from corvée labor. He'd learned carpentry, even had a bride arranged—he was waiting for the autumn harvest to marry. One conscription order, and everything was gone."

Miao He cried with him.

Wang Xiaojing had been holding back, but hearing Miao He's sniffles, he could no longer contain himself—he covered his face and burst into loud sobs.

Miao He leaned beside him, hugging him tightly as they wept together.

Pan Yun's eyes had nearly filled with tears, but the deafening sobs of the two made her forcibly swallow them back.

People sleeping beside the bonfires lifted their heads, glanced over, then silently lay back down, telling those who had woken: "Go back to sleep—Xiaojing's crying again."

Pan Yun wiped the tears welling in her eyes and asked, hearing their words: "How did you become Assistant Regional Commander?"

Wang Xiaojing wiped his tears with shaky hands: "Among all of us, I know the most characters—I can read official notices and even recite the Great Proclamation. So they made me second-in-command. 'Assistant Regional Commander'? That's just something I picked up from operas—nobody really calls me that."

"So you don't have much authority," Pan Yun sighed. "Go get your leader. I'll speak with him."

Wang Xiaojing hesitated: "If we surrender, what if the officials break their word?"

Pan Yun: "Do you think I'm dead? If they dare break their word, I'll ask the mountain gods to strike them with lightning."

Wang Xiaojing's eyes lit up: "Really?"

Pan Yun nodded: "Really."

Wang Xiaojing immediately went to find Song Dalin.

Song Dalin was fast asleep in the landlord's house.

The landlords were driven into the side rooms to live; aside from not being allowed out, all the food in the house was taken over, but so far there hadn't been much loss.

Song Dalin rolled over, turning his back to Wang Xiaojing, and muttered, "If you're going to cry, then cry—just don't bother me."

Wang Xiaojing's movements paused for a beat, then she shook him even harder: "Brother Song, Brother Song, wake up quick, wake up quick."

Song Dalin, annoyed, sat bolt upright and glared at Wang Xiaojing: "What exactly do you want?" (End of chapter)