Chapter 60
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In a crisis, the big boss remained calm. He reminded Han Jiao not to personally visit Prince Yan’s mansion for assistance.
If it was known that Han Jiao dragged Prince Yan into this rebellion issue, Senior Minister Xu might not cooperate.
Therefore, the task of notifying Prince Yan was carried out by the big boss himself, while Han Jiao proceeded alone to Cangqi Town.
He wanted to arrive quickly and persuade the Master Inspector to prevent the military from clashing with the rebels again.
However, when he reached the vicinity of Cangqi Town, he found that the rebels’ hideout in the mountains had already been surrounded by government troops.
Because he acted independently outside of the Censorate, Han Jiao couldn’t prove he was an official accompanying them, so the guards refused to let him pass.
Han Jiao had no time for arguments. He rushed to the large camp in the northern valley to assist the remaining sixty thousand refugees.
There were far fewer soldiers guarding the remaining refugees, which mainly consisted of the elderly and the infirm, posing no real threat.
The official in charge of comforting the people had seen Han Jiao yesterday, so he instructed the guards to let Han Jiao into the camp.
As soon as he stepped into the valley, Han Jiao furrowed his brow.
The camp’s misery was even worse than it had been yesterday.
The military tents brought from the Ministry of War were all worn out and provided no shelter from the wind and rain.
The remaining refugees were all elderly, children, and women. Their gaunt, numb faces with lifeless eyes peered out through the tears in the tents, leaving Han Jiao with an indescribable sense of desolation.
When he saw these refugees yesterday, although they were also silent, their silence carried a gentleness, a suppressed hope.
But now, the numbness on these people’s faces resembled the despair of those facing death.
The only sound in the camp was the crying of children.
These children, who had no idea what had happened, were still seeking help in their own way.
They were very hungry.
Han Jiao urgently looked at the official and asked, “Master Cheng! It’s already the second morning, why hasn’t the porridge distribution point been set up anywhere?”
Upon hearing this, the official looked at Han Jiao as if he had seen a madman and gave a strange smile. “Is Master Han planning to feed these rebels?”
“Rebels?! The refugees who caused trouble yesterday are not these people. How can you label them as rebels?”
“Do you think these remaining refugees don’t want to rebel? They simply lack the strength!”
“I can’t agree with such a hasty conclusion. These refugees haven’t rebelled because they haven’t. Please, Master, follow the original plan and carry out the relief mission.”
The official dropped his smile and replied coldly, “Relief is meant for innocent refugees. These people are relatives of rebels. Without clear instructions from the court, I am only responsible for guarding.”
“I am the Supervisor sent by the court to convey orders,” Han Jiao stated, “Yesterday, you met with me. The Right Deputy Censor didn’t follow my orders. The indiscriminate killing of refugees led to this disaster. This morning, I reported yesterday’s events to Senior Minister Xu. Once the turmoil is quelled, the court will hold him accountable. You wouldn’t want to repeat his mistakes, would you?”
The official, upon hearing this, shifted nervously and looked at Han Jiao, trying to discern if he was exaggerating the situation.
Han Jiao spoke loudly, “Please, Master, don’t delay any longer. Begin the relief mission as instructed by the court. Urgently designate twenty locations, and start making porridge.”
The official, with a helpless expression, said, “Master Han, please don’t make things difficult for me. The relief supplies have been looted by the rebels. Where am I supposed to find food to give to these rebel relatives?”
“When I arrived, I saw food sacks piled up outside the valley!”
“Those are military provisions for the troops ahead. How can we give them to the rebel relatives?”
“If it’s military provisions, why would they be delivered to the relief camp? Where are the Treasury’s officials who brought the provisions? Go ask them whether this is disaster relief or military supplies!”
“The people who delivered the supplies have long gone. If you want to know, Master Han, you should personally go to the Treasury Department and inquire. Without clear directives from above, I dare not touch a grain of rice.”
“The higher authorities are currently busy quelling the turmoil, with no time to concern themselves with relief affairs. Instead of sharing the court’s burden, you’re refusing to carry out the originally agreed-upon task. How does that make sense?”
The official hesitated a bit at these words and replied with a forced smile, “Master Han, please be patient and wait for instructions from the court.”
“Can the starving refugees afford to wait? If you’re afraid of taking responsibility, I’ll do it myself!” Han Jiao rolled up his sleeves and dashed out to the valley. He hoisted a bag of rice, walked back to the valley, placed the food at one of the porridge distribution points in the northwest corner, then ran out to the valley to get the second bag of rice.
Starting from the third trip, some dirty children followed Han Jiao, running to the valley entrance.
Soldiers stopped the children, and they stared with wide eyes, eagerly waiting for Han Jiao to carry the bags of rice back and forth.
These children had walked from the disaster-stricken county to the imperial capital and had received their fair share of beatings. They didn’t dare to make too much noise. Dirty faces held a silent docility, always keeping a respectful distance as they followed Han Jiao.
The aroma of the food wafting from the bags Han Jiao carried piqued their interest. It was the scent of hope, and that was why they followed him so persistently.
After seven round trips, Han Jiao dropped a bag of rice, too tired to stand straight, and sat down beside the rice, catching his breath with closed eyes.
When he opened his eyes again, it seemed like magic. The group of children surrounding him had suddenly doubled.
The children’s dirty faces didn’t show their true complexion, but their eyes shone with anticipation. They watched Han Jiao silently.
Han Jiao gave a slight smile to the group of children and patted the bag of rice beside him. He asked them, “Do you want to have some porridge?”
Unexpectedly, no child replied. They remained silent, still looking at Han Jiao.
Han Jiao guessed that the unusual silence among these children might be because they had lost hope. So, he patted the food again and gently told the children, “As long as you listen to me, we’ll set up a big pot soon, and in half an hour, you can line up for some porridge.”
The children, aged seven, eight, and even ten years old, continued to watch him in silence. The younger ones, only three to five years old, were moved by Han Jiao’s words. But each time they hoped for food, it was met with pain and despair. The younger children who were moved weren’t happy. Instead, they covered their faces and sobbed.
The older children also began wiping their tears silently.
“Don’t cry. Big Brother keeps his word,” Han Jiao said, struggling to stand up and approach the children.
The older children scattered like startled birds, but a few younger ones who cried uncontrollably remained still.
Han Jiao bent down and picked up one of the little ones who cried the most. He held the child close, used his sleeve to wipe away the tears, and gently reassured, “Don’t cry anymore. Listen to Big Brother, and I’ll let you have porridge first in a little while, alright?”
The older children, now dispersed, were astonished by the young man’s gentle demeanor.
It seemed like they had been in hell for too long, and the sudden warmth of gentleness that broke through made them feel unfamiliar but irresistibly drawn.
The children timidly approached Han Jiao.
A daring young boy, speaking with a rural accent, asked, “Master*! What do you want us to do? We can do anything!” [T/N: Master* (lao ye) is specifically for senior/veteran officials like Han Jiao’s father, Master Han…different from the general address for officials, da ren, which can also be translated as Master]
Han Jiao was amused by the rustic voice and turned to the child who had spoken. “Do I look like a Master to you? I’m just eighteen!”
The child in Han Jiao’s arms stopped crying at these words, curiously looking at Han Jiao. In a soft, tender voice, the child replied, “Masters wear official robes. People in official robes are all Righteous Masters…”
The smile on Han Jiao’s face froze for a moment as he gazed at the young child in his arms with a complex expression.
These refugee children, whose disaster relief funds had been embezzled by the local magistrate, still referred to those in official robes as “Righteous Masters.” One couldn’t help but wonder how many of these officials truly deserved such a title.
Han Jiao collected his thoughts, and with a solemn expression, he told this group of children, “You’re right, Righteous Masters wear official robes. Today, I’m going to be your Righteous Master and make decisions for you. As long as you’re willing to follow my orders, you’ll have porridge to eat today, every day, and in the future, you’ll have land to cultivate and houses to live in, just like back in your hometown. Do you want to believe in me as your Righteous Master?”
A moment of silence.
In the children’s bewildered gazes, hope rekindled.
Suddenly, a chorus of responses erupted in the valley, “We believe in the Righteous Master!”
So, Han Jiao began his plan in earnest. He instructed the children to run messages in the refugee camp:
“The Righteous Master sent by the court has arrived! The porridge stations will be set up shortly. Villagers, line up to receive porridge, and no fighting! Sick refugees and elderly people should have the priority in line! The court has opened the granaries for disaster relief, and there’s enough for everyone! No fighting. Whoever engages in fighting, if caught, will be denied porridge for three days!”
“Anyone caught fighting will be denied porridge for three days!”
The first round of “announcements” spread throughout the camp as the children relayed the message. Han Jiao saw elderly men and women, their faces expressionless, coming out of their tents, looking in his direction.
Han Jiao proceeded with the next step of his plan, instructing the children who returned with the message to continue shouting in the camp.
Soon enough, fifty refugees were chosen from the camp, all of them women in their thirties and forties.
The able-bodied men had all fled to the mountains, leaving the women of the same age group, who were stronger than the elderly.
Han Jiao instructed a dozen refugees to carry the supplies piled in the northern part of the camp to various porridge distribution points and start setting up tents and pots. The rest of the people went to the small creek to fetch water from the east.
Because the refugees couldn’t leave the valley camp, Han Jiao was the only one carrying food.
Without regular exercise, it was truly challenging at this critical moment. By the time he lifted the twelfth bag of rice, Han Jiao felt like he was ascending to heaven.
Setting down the bag of rice, Han Jiao turned his head to the guards at the granary and asked, “Do you want to earn merit?”
The guards ignored him.
Han Jiao continued talking to himself, “Once we pacify the refugees in the valley and they inform the rebels on the mountain that the court hasn’t abandoned them, the rebel mountain folks will naturally come down and surrender. So, as long as you assist me in calming the disaster-stricken people here, you’ll all have a share in quelling the turmoil.”
The guards still paid him no mind.
The guards knew that since Han Jiao was personally moving the rice, he must not have received approval from the officials of the Ministry of Justice. But because Han Jiao was also an official responsible for disaster relief, they didn’t obstruct him. This was an internal disagreement among the officials, and the guards didn’t dare to interfere.
Han Jiao, helpless, could only grit his teeth and try to lift the thirteenth bag of rice, but before he could straighten his body, he collapsed on the ground.
He simply couldn’t move it any further.
Sitting against the bags of rice with his legs crossed, Han Jiao, once again employing his gift of gab, looked up at the unmoved guards and asked, “Are you all here for work from outside the capital? Did your parents, wives, and children come with you?”
The guards exchanged puzzled glances and someone replied quietly, “They’re all back in our hometowns.”
Han Jiao nodded. “Which province and county are you folks from? Your hometowns weren’t affected by the major flooding last year, were they?”
Someone answered, “No, they weren’t.”
Han Jiao sighed. “That’s good to hear. Villages with flooded fields have had a rough time. Just like the elderly, children, and women here in this camp, they don’t have much to hope for. They only wish for the men out there to survive. Your parents, wives, and children must be hoping the same for you.”
The guards fell into silence.
Suddenly, one of the guards silently stepped forward, bent down to pick up the bags of rice beside Han Jiao, and softly said to him, “Master, I’ll carry a few bags of rice to the camp gate for you. You can bring it in from there, and the refugees can take it. Don’t let Master Cheng find out. You don’t have to credit me for it.”
Han Jiao had finally found some assistance. While he might not win arguments against Senior Minister Xu, he had a knack for rallying support.
By the time the rice were all placed in the pots, the Ministry of Justice official in charge of comforting the refugees also had no choice but to deploy soldiers to help manage the situation.
Han Jiao was busy supervising the order of refugees in the queue when a soldier suddenly ran in to report that Prince Yan and Prince Ling, requested Han Jiao’s presence at the military camp below for a discussion.
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