Chapter Twenty-Three: Taking Shelter

The atmosphere in the side chamber grew increasingly oppressive. Everyone knew that the current imperial court was mired in incompetence and corruption, with greedy officials and thieving bureaucrats running rampant. Yet, faced with such a state of the Great Qi, they dared only to grumble in their hearts, never voicing their discontent aloud.

Suppressing the voice of the people is more dangerous than damming a river. The phenomenon of "people communicating with their eyes on the road" that Zhao Mu had heard of in his past life was now manifesting right before his eyes. However, this was not because the Great Qi had a tyrant like King Li of Zhou; it was because the empire had long been riddled with decay, hollowed out by corrupt officials. These vermin showed no conscience, scraping the fat and blood from the common people with every ounce of their strength, while simultaneously finding ways to sing their own praises—erecting monuments to their own virtues and commissioning scrolls of false adulation.

The figure currently sitting on the Dragon Throne had long been treated by them as nothing more than an idol in a temple. Though revered in appearance, he was merely an ornament. This court, and indeed this entire world, did not belong to the Emperor. It belonged to the scholar-officials. While the monarch and the scholar-officials supposedly ruled together, the monarch was but one man, while the scholar-officials filled the entire court.

Despite his indignation, this was, after all, his own home. Wen Zhi suppressed his anger, turned to Zhao Mu, and asked, "Young Master Zhao, where are you from? How is the disaster situation there?"

Zhao Mu sighed and said, "I have traveled over a thousand miles, and along the way, I saw nothing but the starving dead. I suspect that the greater part of the world has been struck by this catastrophe."

The atmosphere grew heavier still. Even Wang Hu and Little Xing'er held their breath, fearing to disturb the adults' conversation. Huang Wan suddenly interjected, "I once saw a county that had not been hit by the disaster, yet the dog of a magistrate, seeking to embezzle the relief funds, intentionally breached the river levee, flooding tens of thousands of acres of fertile land."

At these words, everyone wore expressions of disbelief. The common people were already suffering enough, and just as they had managed to see a bountiful harvest, they were met with such a vile official.

"Damn that dog of an official!" Wen Zhi clenched his fists and downed a large bowl of wine in one gulp. Setting the bowl down, he continued to curse, "If I had known I was protecting such scum, I would have rather surrendered to the Hu people back in the day!"

Wang Wu immediately rebuked him: "Wen Zhi, you must not drink any more!"

Wen Zhi’s words were dangerously close to treason. Hearing the rebuke, though he felt stifled, he shut his mouth obediently. He did not fear for himself, but he did not want to implicate Wang Wu and the others.

Zhao Mu watched the two, forming his own speculations about their origins. "Northern Barbarians" was merely a general term for alien tribes. Among these were the Hu, Jie, Qiang, and other nomadic peoples. The Hu, also known as the Eastern Hu, had long been active on the northern borders of the Great Qi. To defend against them, the Great Qi Dynasty had deployed an elite force known as the "Shatter-Front Battalion."

The Shatter-Front Battalion consisted of only eight hundred men, yet it was famously referred to as a force of a thousand. If Wang Wu and Wen Zhi truly hailed from this battalion, they were formidable indeed. Never mind being a minor gatekeeper in Taiping County; they would have been more than qualified to serve as a high-ranking city gate commandant. It would have been an understatement to say they were overqualified. But these were only Zhao Mu's guesses; he could not be certain, as the northern border was vast, and a single battalion could not hold every line.

"I suspect those curs were not just looking to embezzle relief grain," Zhao Mu said, sipping his wine slowly. "Perhaps they also intended to use the flood to cover up their previous corruption."

Wang Wu and Wen Zhi looked at Zhao Mu in surprise. Had he not mentioned it, they would have viewed the matter far too simply. Huang Wan stared at Zhao Mu, her eyes flickering with complexity. This man they had met on the road was far more capable than she had imagined.

"Enough, let us not speak of such infuriating things," Zhao Mu said, raising his bowl to toast the others. "Brother Wen, now that you are idle at home, what are your plans for the future?"

Wen Zhi’s expression turned embarrassed; clearly, his situation was dire. Most of his earlier words had been fueled by drink.

"Brother Wen, there are six or seven of us now, including Brother Wang Wu’s family. We cannot rely on your savings indefinitely," Zhao Mu said earnestly. "Do you know of any work in Taiping County? If we can earn some silver, we can hold out for a while longer."

Wen Zhi hesitated, and it was a long while before he stammered, "I do not know yet, but I shall be able to find out in a few days."

Zhao Mu frowned. Wen Zhi’s situation was likely worse than he had imagined. Though he had once been a gatekeeper—a position with some "grease"—his temperament meant he would never have colluded with the corrupt. His dismissal was likely due to his decision to let refugees into the city, consistent with his character. Such a man would have little savings, and the need to grease palms after his disgrace would have drained whatever remained. He would not have been handing out red envelopes to Wang Hu and Little Xing'er at the city gate otherwise.

In their short time together, Zhao Mu had realized that Wen Zhi was magnanimous and unconstrained by trifles. If they lived like this every day, even a mountain of gold would be squandered. Furthermore, Wen Zhi’s wife did not seem like an easy woman to deal with. He had to find a way to earn his own keep to ensure he was prepared for any eventuality.

"Very well. It is late now; tomorrow, let us go out together and look around. We shall surely find a way to make a living," Zhao Mu said seriously. "I am already embarrassed to be seeking refuge here; if we continue to live off your savings, I would not be able to bear it."

Wen Zhi was about to speak, but Wang Wu interjected first: "Brother Mu is right. We shall look for work tomorrow." With that, Wen Zhi could say no more.

The banquet continued until the table was a mess. Zhao Mu felt dizzy from the drink; he tried to help clean up, but was pushed aside by Huang Wan and Wang Wu's wife.

Lying in bed, Zhao Mu felt drowsy yet couldn't drift off. He had been transmigrated for so long, and today, he had finally found a temporary shelter. Though he did not know how long he could stay, at least he did not have to worry about being killed in his sleep. Vaguely, he heard the sound of a rooster crowing, and finally, his eyelids gave way to exhaustion, and he fell into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, he heard Wen Zhi’s wife cursing in the courtyard. Still groggy from the lingering effects of the wine, he could not quite make out what she was shouting about.