Chapter 1095: Migration

And over all these years, Xuzhou and its surrounding areas had always been plagued by drought and scant rainfall. Under such conditions, what was the point of investing such enormous manpower and resources into maintaining the Yellow River?

But Zhao Jin soon came to understand the importance of doing so. He enjoyed talking with people, using it as a way to understand his surroundings and gather necessary information.

Every person in Xuzhou, rich or poor, noble or humble, old or young, man or woman, was filled with fear and worry about the Yellow River. The older ones had all lived through its floods; the seemingly impregnable city walls could not stop the raging waters from pouring into the city, and the villages outside were directly swept away and submerged. The younger ones had this fear instilled in them by their elders.

The better the Zhao Camp managed Xuzhou and the more prosperous it became, the more everyone feared the Yellow River flooding. They dreaded the thought that after fighting with no regard for life or death and laboring with utter devotion to make Xuzhou unprecedentedly peaceful and wealthy, a sudden natural disaster would destroy it all — that would be a grief worse than death.

As he spoke with one person after another, Zhao Jin's perspective gradually shifted. The Yellow River water conservancy became the single most important matter for the Zhao Camp. Every autumn and winter, manpower from every farming estate was dispatched to begin digging channels and reinforcing the river embankments.

Every year, the Zhao Camp expended a colossal amount of grain and fodder on this. The Zhao Camp could afford it, but this annual maintenance and the importance placed on it, this enormous yearly expenditure, slowly changed the views of many Xuzhou and Pizhou gentry and commoners who had originally been quite estranged from the Zhao Camp. To accomplish such a thing was to be a living Buddha to the region, a protector of all beings, worthy of prostration and worship. At the very least, the government had never done it, and none of the so-called local heroes and stalwarts had ever done it either.

Mobilizing manpower, preparing grain and fodder, and then setting everything in motion — so many people, so much material, how to allocate the labor, how to distribute supplies to every individual — it was all immensely complex. From the initial chaos to the present methodical order, the personnel in the Zhao Camp involved in farming, land reclamation, and trade were steadily growing through this kind of tempering.

At the very beginning, the clerks and officials from Xuzhou's one prefecture and four counties were heavily involved. How to mobilize supplies, how to handle the accounts — many tasks relied on their experience. Quite a few clerks used this to line their pockets. But gradually, these government-trained clerks found themselves unable to keep up. The Zhao Camp no longer needed most of them to accomplish things even the government could not do. Or rather, the Zhao Camp's own managers, scribes, and accountants could now do it better than the government.

From the last three months of the second year of Tianqi to the beginning of the third year of Tianqi, a major redeployment took place within the Zhao Camp's farming estates. This redeployment was not a rotation of village heads, stewards, or militia company commanders, but the migration of ordinary estate households.

In the various villages on the eastern shore of Luoma Lake, most of the refugees captured back then had already settled down and established families. The Zhao Camp not only gave them food and clothing, but also gave them hope, even extravagant hope. Many felt they could own a plot of land. The landowner here was very harsh, killing people at the slightest provocation, but he was also reasonable. He took exactly what he said he would take, never adding extra levies or arbitrary surcharges, nor did he randomly conscript corvée labor, making people bring their own food to work without a single coin in payment. Here, any labor you performed received corresponding compensation. People were even willing to work for the master's household, because they felt they weren't getting the short end of the stick.

Besides these tangible benefits, everyone had also developed many good habits. Littering and relieving oneself anywhere were strictly forbidden. Rotating duty rosters and scheduled cleanings kept the villages spotless at all times. The houses, wells, livestock pens, and even the village's earthen walls and moats all followed regulations — everything was in perfect order.

Word had it that the master was going to contract these fields to each person on a long-term basis, and might even grant the land to each person outright. Then everyone would have their own property. If they busied themselves with some other sideline, they would have a pretty good life.

But just as this anticipation was growing more and more intense, many people received orders to relocate. In some places, entire villages were moved; in others, only a few households or even a single household was relocated.

No one could bear to leave. Many people wailed bitterly, facing their own houses and fields. Yet no one dared defy the order. There was no need for the household troops or patrolmen to lift a finger — the militia in the village, usually all smiles and friendly faces, could kill in an instant.

Everyone remembered when they had first arrived here. Back then, no one knew if they would survive the next day. Everyone was in despair and terror. This vast stretch of saline-alkali wasteland had reeds taller than a person, mosquitoes so thick they were like clouds of mist, venomous snakes appearing now and then, and wild dogs and wolves that had grown huge on who-knows-what. People kept trying to flee. Some were caught and brought back; some died out there and were brought back too.

Many who died out there were not killed in pursuit, but starved to death or were mauled by wild beasts. The sight of those corpses made one shudder with horror and extinguished any thought of escape.

They enclosed the marshland and barren flats, set fire to the reeds, drained the standing water, then broke the soil and sowed seed. Everyone knew the first year could yield no harvest, but when the sparse crops began to grow in the fields, each person cherished them like a treasure.

There was no peace on this wild grassy flat. Militia and government troops came from who-knows-where to forcibly seize the fields everyone had toiled so hard to reclaim. Although Master Jin eventually rushed over and drove them off, quite a few from each family still died. And then there were those damned cult figures who infiltrated, pretending to be spirits and gods, dragging down many muddle-headed fools to their deaths.

They faced natural disasters and man-made calamities just like that, but everyone persevered. Gone was the despair of drought and famine, gone was the fear of being driven like beasts, a living death. Though life on this wild grassy flat was harsh, they endured it, persevering together all the way to the present.

Now the fields stretched out in neat, level squares, crisscrossed by irrigation ditches — a sight that filled the heart with comfort. There was no shortage of water here. Years of accumulated wild grass had turned into fertilizer, so the fields produced quite well. And there was no lack of iron farm tools or the large draft animals to assist. The harvests were far better than anything in Shandong.

Grain was plentiful, and salt was not scarce either. In Shandong, getting a salty taste was hard; without salt, people had no strength for labor. Here, that little thing was truly nice. Some families planted vegetables or cotton at the edges and corners of their fields, even begged for loans to buy chickens to raise. Spinning and weaving brought in extra income for the household; growing vegetables and raising chickens meant better food. Life grew more prosperous day by day. This year, for the New Year, they had even slaughtered a New Year's pig, and had plenty of salted fish and the like. How many years had it been since they'd lived like this?

Yet right in the midst of this booming momentum, the relocation order suddenly came. Nothing of yours would be withheld. You could take whatever the household could carry; what couldn't be taken would be compensated in silver or converted into whatever you wanted. No one felt the Zhao Camp would use this chance to cheat them. This master of theirs kept his word and was fair and just — that much they could trust.

Some in the villages also noticed: what kind of households were being ordered to relocate? It was those who were doing well, the ones who spun and wove to supplement the household income. Could it be that Master Jin couldn't stand seeing people live good lives?

But when the relocation was ordered, the village heads and stewards all made it very clear: this move was a blessing, a chance to go live an even better life.

Some were skeptical, thinking it was just a pretext from the Zhao Camp. Heaven only knew where they were being moved to. They'd heard Master Jin had conquered many more places, all even poorer than here. Were they being sent to reclaim land and endure those harsh years of toil all over again?

But more people chose to believe. The Zhao family kept their word. If they said it was to go live a good life, then a good life it would surely be.

Reluctant as they were, everyone still set out for their various destinations according to the arrangements. During that first migration, it had been more or less the household troops and the local militias of Xuzhou driving them along. On the road, there was no guarantee of food or warmth; they often had to march on empty stomachs for a day or even two before getting any replenishment. People kept starving to death along the way. And the Zhao Camp only gave them a general direction — on that path there were often no roads or bridges, which they had to build on the spot. Not to mention the villages and bandits along the route, fierce as wolves and tigers, who saw the refugees of that time as fat meat, a bite of which was pure profit. Back then, the Zhao Camp's household troops could only provide broad protection and couldn't attend to individual deaths.

But this time was different. The relocating households carried their own valuables and luggage. If there were large items they absolutely had to take, the Huai'an North District provided carts and horses, arranging for them to board boats at the waterways. Every two or three hundred people formed a company. They set out at dawn and lodged at dusk. At both departure and lodging, the Cloud Mountain Inn provided food and accommodation. Each day at departure, they were also fully supplied with food and water for the journey. The roads along the way were smooth and the public order was excellent — to say nothing of those fully armed, grimly disciplined household troops.

Those who had lived through the events of a few years ago remembered very clearly. Back then, the household troops wore cotton clothes and carried long spears, with only a few bearing a saber at the waist. What kept the masses in check was that ferocious, murderous aura, the experience of having just crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood. But now, the household troops wore iron armor, carried long spears, and wore sabers at their waists. Some were even seen carrying fire lances — one look at the wide bore of those fire lances told you their power was considerable. Now the household troops marched in neat ranks, every man brimming with confidence. This confidence was not arrogance, but something forged through victory after victory.

For many, the road they took to relocate was the very same road they had come by. The contrast between the desolation along the route back then and the prosperity now struck them with an unconscious awe.

Those anxious, relocating estate households, seeing these ubiquitous changes, gradually felt their minds settle. Most began to harbor expectations and dreams about their future lives.

When one group of relocating estate households was told they would be living in Xuzhou from now on, many burst into tears again — this time, tears of joy.

The various villages of the Huai'an North District were not completely closed off. Once you became a militiaman or a candidate for village head or steward, there was always the possibility of being transferred elsewhere. Some even shed their status as tenant farmers and serfs to become respectable people of standing. When these people returned to take up posts or visit family, they would always speak of Xuzhou, describing it as a place rarely found in heaven or on earth — peaceful and bustling, just like the paradise on earth the Smelling Incense Sect had used to beguile people.

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