Chapter 17: Turmoil

The following days actually became much easier. Although the weather grew colder by the day, as long as there was food and firewood for warmth, surviving this harsh winter was not too difficult.

The small thatched hut on the southern side of the refugee camp was kept very clean, thanks to Li Chun’s efforts.

By this time, the refugees in the camp had come to know that two brothers lived there—men not only armed with knives but also acquainted with the city gate guards, which was no small matter.

As a result, the thatched hut on the southern side became a somewhat special place within the camp, and no one dared approach it too closely.

Whenever Li Chun went to fetch porridge, he was always first in line.

Occasionally, the officials handing out the porridge would smile at him, ladling an extra two spoonfuls or slipping him a bread bun.

This showed that class distinctions existed everywhere. Even in the darkest places, social hierarchies emerged—such is human nature.

Li Po finally found some free time and began formally teaching Li Chun how to wield a knife.

Thus, outside the hut, on the open ground, one could often see two figures—one large, one small—repeatedly drawing their blades, chopping, and shouting commands.

However, as the saying goes, the scholar is weak while the warrior is strong; those who practice martial arts naturally require a robust physique.

But the meager rations in the refugee camp were insufficient to allow Li Po and Li Chun to train recklessly.

So not only Li Chun but even Li Po himself felt his strength waning, and after a few days, they no longer dared to appear in the biting cold wind.

When Luo San’s shift ended and a new group took over guarding the city gate, Li Po had to start thinking again about his livelihood.

He first had Luo San lead him to strike up a rapport with the newly assigned guards.

Of course, no matter how friendly he tried to be, it was impossible to become as close as brothers with them; at best, he merely made himself somewhat familiar in their eyes.

He let the new sergeant know that there was a man of note among the refugees—a man from Guanzhong with considerable strength.

Nothing more could be hoped for.

They would never truly associate with a refugee like him; politeness was out of the question.

But that was enough. Li Po had secured a certain freedom of movement.

From the city gate to the market, Li Po could now come and go without hindrance.

He tested the boundaries once, leaving the city gate and returning; the guards merely turned a blind eye, as if they had seen nothing...

This pleased Li Po greatly.

On a clear day with the biting wind somewhat eased, Li Po took Li Chun out of the thatch hut and headed straight to the northern city wall.

Like a tyrant, he went door to door, kicking on each in turn.

He called all the refugees out, his sole purpose to clean up the area around his own dwelling and strictly forbid anyone from relieving themselves nearby.

It took him three days, but Li Po not only learned and remembered most of the refugees’ names but also established strict rules within the camp.

No one was allowed to defecate or urinate wherever they pleased; even urinating had to be done at the temporary latrine dug by the authorities.

Naturally, Li Po was not idly playing king here in this makeshift hellhole.

Even if he had the power to summon a hundred men, it wouldn’t amount to much in a place so temporary and chaotic.

Because of Li Po’s growing notoriety, the refugees were thoroughly put through the wringer.

In their eyes, Li Po was probably even more detestable than the tall, skinny man and the cripple who had been here before.

But Li Po paid no mind to this; he had his reasons.

He wasn’t merely aiming to make the camp cleaner or more comfortable to live in.

He wanted to know exactly who lived in the camp—if there were any others like the tall man or the cripple lurking about, even if he didn’t remove them immediately, he could at least be more vigilant.

After the rigorous round of questioning and inspection, he found two children around seven or eight years old, four middle-aged men in their thirties or forties, and two emaciated women.

This was effectively a census.

Counting heads, the camp had 124 people; seven or eight were near death, while the rest barely clung to life.

Thanks to the tall man and the cripple, the age group from ten to thirty was practically nonexistent in the camp.

In other words, there were only the very old and the very young.

And people died in the camp every day. If this continued, Li Po wondered how many would remain alive by the time spring blossomed again.

According to several city gate guards, things were actually better here.

On the southern side of the city, there was another refugee camp outside the walls, with several hundred people, but they died even faster and in greater numbers.

This was a grim reflection of how worthless human life was considered, as Li Po listened with a chill running through him. He certainly did not want to end up as part of the city’s northern mass grave.

So he resolved to work even harder.

Most refugees north of the city were bankrupt peasants from Mayi County, left without adult men in their families. Not wanting to starve at home, they were forced to drag their families out to beg, only to be trapped in the refugee camp.

In other words, most still held household registrations.

But once they left their village jurisdiction, under Sui law, they became bona fide refugees.

...

In the deep winter, when all things wither and fade, a small, ragged group emerged from the north gate of Mayi.

After traveling several miles, they finally reached the banks of the Mayi River, which skirted the city.

At the front of this small group was Li Po, followed by men of all sizes and ages, as well as two sniffling children.

If they went any farther, some might freeze to death.

Fortunately, the Mayi River was not far from the city.

In fact, the so-called Mayi River was merely a local name derived from the city itself.

It was actually a tributary of the Sang River, and if one traveled further north, they might even glimpse the tail end of the Cang River.

But neither Li Po nor the others had the heart to trace the river’s origins.

They all belonged to a group struggling on the brink of death.

Leading them out of the city was no easy task for Li Po.

Not only did he have to assure the city gate guards that he would bring every single person back later, but he also had to ensure the guards registered each refugee’s family members left behind in the city as hostages before allowing the group out.

That day, many holes of varying sizes were broken in the river’s surface.

This was survival in motion. No matter how bitter or exhausting, the refugees were elated.

Ice-fishing was not Li Po’s invention.

The clever working people had long known that winter fish were easiest to catch.

But they dare not openly break ice and fish beneath Mayi City, even if they left the city walls.

According to Sui law, fishing, hunting, and farming were strictly regulated.

The common folk might hunt in the mountains or fish in the rivers unnoticed, but if anyone reported them, the consequences would be dire.

Yet Li Po led his people to do just that, because he wanted to survive this winter well.

He not only had to think about livelihood but also needed to prepare for the upcoming spring registration.

...