Chapter 29: Provisions

"Is there something you need, Dalang, wandering about here?"

Zhang Er asked with a smile, his demeanor quite amiable. Addressing him as "Dalang" was a sign of respect; clearly, he was far more approachable than the officials at the city gate. Li Po had known Zhang Er for some time, so this did not surprise him. It was evident that the man was educated and known among the monks as a benevolent soul, so unlike his dealings with the tax collectors, where he felt entirely out of his depth, Li Po felt he had a chance here.

When speaking to the tax collector, he had worn a fawning, servile mask. But with Zhang Er, he wore a look of bitter hardship, appearing utterly helpless and pitiable.

"Brother, the weather is growing colder by the day, and life is becoming unbearable. Look, fewer and fewer people are coming for porridge. Who knows when the rest of us will simply freeze to death?"

As Zhang Er directed others in cleaning up, a flicker of sympathy crossed his face. However, he was no fool. He sighed and said, "I know life is hard for you people, but... my influence is limited. I can give you a few extra ladles of porridge, but beyond that, there is nothing I can do."

Li Po waved his hands repeatedly, intentionally shaking his frostbitten, ghastly-looking palms in front of Zhang Er. "Your kindness, Brother, is something I could never repay in a lifetime. I would never dream of making things difficult for you."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Brother, you may not know, but I’ve managed to secure a place in the human market that can shelter us from the wind and snow. Now, we just lack food..."

"The human market?"

Zhang Er’s expression shifted to undisguised shock and disgust. He looked at Li Po with a hint of suspicion. Li Po, knowing exactly what this kind-hearted official was thinking, quickly clarified: "Brother, what are you thinking? If I were involved in such wicked business, would I dare speak of it before you?"

"Some time ago, people died in the market, leaving many rooms vacant. I begged for them... and that is how we found a place to stay. This morning, many of the elderly and children from the camp were moved there..."

"But with so many mouths to feed, even if we don't freeze, we will soon starve. You know well that a little porridge hardly fills the belly. As the saying goes, saving a life is more meritorious than building a seven-story pagoda..."

"Knowing your compassionate heart, I came to ask: I hear that people in the city eat beef and mutton, and often discard the offal. To us, the lowly, these innards—which others find unpalatable—are worthless to them, but exactly what we need to survive. Brother, what do you think..."

Hearing this, Zhang Er felt a sense of relief.

What they called "offal" was, in fact, the entrails. People of this time generally did not eat such things; they were usually discarded, fed to dogs and cats, or thrown outside the city walls to feed the wolves and beasts of the woods. It was truly worthless, and giving it to refugees was no great matter.

Still, Zhang Er, possessing a genuine conscience, asked one more thing: "That is simple enough. But Dalang, are you aware why people do not eat the organs of cattle and sheep?"

Li Po blinked, feigning ignorance, though he inwardly scoffed. It wasn't because they couldn't be made to taste good; it was simply because people found them dirty and unappealing. He didn't mention that back on the steppes, he had eaten them plenty of times, and even the old soldiers had praised them—without any ill effects whatsoever.

Zhang Er, unaware of Li Po's thoughts, explained, "Consuming such entrails often leads to hidden ailments. Are you truly willing to feed on them?"

The "hidden ailments" he referred to were not specific diseases, but the vague notion that eating such things would silently make one sick without them even knowing it.

Li Po replied, "Brother, rest assured. Our lives are of little account. We only wish to survive this winter; how could we care for anything else?"

When Li Po left the porridge stall, he had obtained what he wanted. Zhang Er also wished to return quickly; he was a man who followed through on his promises. This was a common trait among the men of Mayi, regardless of their status or education.

Of course, it wasn't just his charitable nature that moved Zhang Er to agree. Not long ago, there had been unrest in the northern refugee camp, and it was rumored that many had been killed before order was restored. There were few refugees in this northern section, but Zhang Er remained cautious. Li Po held significant influence among them, so he treaded carefully. If the man ever felt that their survival prospects were nil, he might raise a cry, lead a breakout, or incite a riot—and then they would all be buried alongside them.

Even so, he did not rely solely on Li Po's word. That evening, he sought out a familiar butcher, purchased a cart full of offal, and, taking his third brother with him, drove the cart to the human market. Only after confirming the situation for himself did he finally set his mind at ease.

The result of his improved mood was that the next day, he even brought some seasonings for Li Po. He acted out of a "good for you, good for me" sentiment, which saved Li Po a fair bit of trouble. In truth, even if Zhang Er hadn't brought them, Li Po had already decided to have the refugees ask for them; he had realized that while there were many villains in Mayi, the folk customs remained relatively simple and honest, free from excessive deceit.

That night, after thanking the Zhang brothers profusely, the large house finally quieted down. There was no way to afford lamp oil. Despite having much to do, Li Po had to retreat into a large wooden barrel in the room to scrub himself clean. This was the first time he had bathed since heading south, and the sensation was something only he could fully grasp.

They changed the water three times. The two men who brought the water were so exhausted their tongues were lolling out, whispering to each other that they hadn't expected "Lord Li" to be so obsessed with cleanliness.

As for his clothes, he didn't need to wash them himself; there were others waiting to take over the task.

With the moon high in the sky, Li Po, still soaking in the water, drifted toward sleep. A chaotic swirl of thoughts bubbled up uncontrollably. A place to stay, a source of food, the potential to earn money, and people under his command—ah, this life had suddenly taken a turn for the better.

The sudden shift from poverty to a semblance of stability made Li Po chuckle to himself.

However, he was still far from the secure life he imagined. The first obstacle was his lack of household registration. The mere thought of it drained his mood. From what he understood, the registration system of the Great Sui was tiered and truly deplorable. Worst of all, while it was easy to be struck from the rolls, getting registered was an incredibly difficult task for someone in his position.

He had no leads yet. He knew that after the winter, when the officials registered the refugees, he should probably steer clear; there was no telling if he would be pressed into forced labor the moment he was on the books.

As these jumbled thoughts swirled, Li Po began to doze off, and then... the horror began.