Chapter 3: Chaos at Zhu Mansion

The next day, just as dawn was breaking.

The Zhu family was jolted awake by screams of agony.

At first, the screams came from one direction, then from every room.

Even the gatekeeper, seeing the wide-open doorway and the vanished main gate, scrambled back into the mansion in a panic.

“Disaster! The mansion has been robbed! The ingredients prepared in the kitchen are gone, and the pots on the stove are missing too!”

“Disaster! The grain in the granary is gone.”

“Disaster! The chickens, ducks, and geese raised in the side courtyard, the fish in the vats, the milk goat for the young master, even the family’s horses—all gone.”

“Major disaster! The mansion gate is gone.”

“Disaster! Disaster! The Zhu Mansion is nothing but an empty shell now.”

“Disaster! The old madam… her tongue has been cut off!”

Panic spread from the bottom to the top of the Zhu household.

The masters were even more frantic, hiding in their rooms, afraid to come out—because they were all stark naked!

They wanted to wrap themselves in blankets, but forget blankets; if they could find even half a piece of cloth, it would mean Jiang Qingzhu had failed in her duty.

Running.

Of course, except for Scum Dad’s side—she had left him a pair of underpants.

“Who? Who did this!” Scum Dad, clutching his underpants, raged like a madman in the front courtyard.

Just then, Jiang Qingzhu’s small figure emerged from the woodshed, yawning.

Bumping into Scum Dad, who was wearing only underpants in the front courtyard, she feigned innocence and said, “Why is the woodshed door missing?”

“Fatty Zhu, was it you? Why are you dressed so neatly?” Scum Dad questioned her, half-crazed.

“What are you talking about? Oh! You mean the things missing from the mansion, right? I have no idea about that! As for my clothes?” Jiang Qingzhu looked down at her plain, coarse cloth garments. “Maybe they were too shabby for the thieves to bother with, so they were spared!”

With that, before Scum Dad could react, Jiang Qingzhu put her hands behind her back and swaggered out of the Zhu Mansion gate.

The Zhu Mansion was already in utter chaos; who would care about the comings and goings of a nobody like her!

Zhengyang Village, Jiang family.

“Dad, are we really going to flee the famine? Where can we even go? We know nothing about what’s happening outside, and Qiaolian is about to give birth. Changping and Chang Sheng are still so young.” Jiang Mingshan clutched his messy hair, overwhelmed with worry.

Jiang Fengshou, not yet forty, was broad-shouldered and stout. He carefully wrapped his rusted butcher knife in oilcloth.

“Why do you only grow muscles, not brains! Everyone in the village is leaving. Should our family stay here and wait to be fed to wolves? We have a cart; your wife can ride when she gets tired. Do you think I want to flee this famine? My parents and your mother are buried on the mountain. If it weren’t for this damned heaven not raining for three years, who would want to leave this little plot of land?”

“The government’s relief grain stopped long ago. Stay behind and eat dirt?”

Jiang Fengshou was tall and sturdy; even after two and a half years of hunger, his voice remained loud and clear.

Jiang Mingshan sighed.

“Big brother, our family is actually better off! We have four strong men; we won’t be bullied too much on the road.”

At this point, the third son of the Jiang family, Jiang Mingye, chimed in. Then, carrying the last bit of ground rice flour, he headed toward the kitchen.

To have his elder and second sisters-in-law fry it up for the journey.

Song Qiaolian and her sister-in-law Li Hongju were in the kitchen, mixing the family’s last bit of sorghum rice with previously dried tree bark powder, adding water to make dough, and baking it into flatbreads.

End of conversation.

Hearing the voices outside, they exchanged a glance and pressed their lips together, not daring to say more.

Jiang Fengshou put away his knife and went back inside to fetch two strings of coins. “Eldest son, this is all the money the family has left. You’re quick on your feet—go to town and see if you can buy any food to bring back.”

Jiang Mingshan took the money and was about to leave when he heard his father call out again: “Come back!”

“What is it, Father?”

“Make another trip to the county town and go see Fatty Girl.”

After saying this, Jiang Fengshou saw his eldest son still standing there motionless and couldn’t help but roar: “What are you still standing there like a fool for? Hurry up and go!”

“Father, you haven’t told me what to say to Fatty Girl.”

“Tell her… tell her we’re going on a long journey and don’t know when we’ll be back. Tell her not to think of us. Also, your eldest sister is gone, and we don’t know how she’s faring in the Zhu family. Leave fifty… no, leave one string of coins for her. Consider it our last memento for her.”

Jiang Fengshou knew all too well that for the past two years, the fields had yielded no grain. Sorghum, which used to cost only four or five wen per jin, now cost forty or fifty wen per jin. With the two strings of coins he gave his eldest son, they couldn’t even buy five jin of grain.

People were already starving to death. If they didn’t leave now, what would they eat?

Jiang Mingshan left the house with the copper coins his father had given him.

Jiang Qingzhu swaggered out of the Zhu household. She didn’t remember the way to her grandfather’s house, only that they lived in Zhengyang Village.

She spent five hundred wen at the city gate to hire a mule cart.

Five hundred wen was an exorbitant price, but with the chaos outside, most cart drivers didn’t dare enter the villages, fearing they’d encounter refugees who might rob them.

The tall-looking driver who took Jiang Qingzhu’s job—did so because he had no intention of actually going to Zhengyang Village.

Jiang Qingzhu sat in the cart without a hint of panic, using her spiritual power to move all the pastries, cooked food, and perishable ingredients she had scavenged from the Zhu family into her static space.

Once she finished, she finally noticed the withered, yellowing crops, the distant barren mountains, and the families pulling carts along the road.

Though covered with a layer of oilcloth, the carts still revealed cabinets, bedding rolls, pots, bowls, and utensils underneath.

Some pushed wheelbarrows loaded with gunny sacks and bedding, followed by men, women, the elderly, and the weak carrying large bundles on their backs.

Others had no carts; the men carried bamboo baskets on shoulder poles, holding all their family possessions.

They walked with frequent backward glances, their eyes filled with reluctance as they looked back at their homeland.

Along the way, they encountered many scattered refugees. Some saw the mule cart and their eyes lit up. Sensing trouble, the driver cracked his whip fiercely, and the mule cart sped wildly along the bumpy road.

Jiang Qingzhu clung tightly to the cart’s side to avoid being thrown off.

At the same time, she took in everything she saw, her heart growing more uneasy.

The situation outside the city was different from what she had imagined.

“Little girl, how can your family let you go out alone? What are you going to Zhengyang Village for?”

“I’m going to my grandfather’s house,” Jiang Qingzhu replied in a childish tone.

“All the surrounding villages are moving out. The people of Zhengyang Village have probably left long ago! The five hundred wen you gave me is only for taking you near the village entrance. If there’s no one in the village and you need me to take you back to the county town, the fare will be extra.”

“Why are they all moving away?” Jiang Qingzhu didn’t care about the money; she wanted to know what was happening.

“Why else? To survive, of course. Farmers depend on the heavens for their food…”

For three years, the heavens had withheld rain, leaving the fields barren and yielding no harvest. At first, the people could still receive some relief grain, but now even that supply had been cut off. The authorities ordered them to migrate southwest.

It was said that the region was prosperous—so much so that even begging there could fetch meaty bones.

Three years without rain?

Not a single grain harvested from the fields?

Fleeing famine?

Jiang Qingzhu’s eyes widened instantly. Where in the world had she transmigrated to?