Chapter 18

Zhao Jiuye stared ahead as he pushed the cart, as if he hadn't heard her words at all.

Zhao Jiuye remained silent.

Most importantly, Zhao Jiuye was a complete stranger to her. Not only had he saved her life, but he had also given her so much help even when his own circumstances were straitened. He had already done everything he could. She could not burden him any further.

Without an imperial decree, the local government would not dare to open the granaries and distribute grain at will.

"The Emperor is determined to become a sage ruler of both civil and military achievements," his flat, somewhat wooden voice sounded from behind her. "Since the twenty-eighth year of the Xiping reign when military campaigns began against the Hetao region, no less than ten million dan of grain has been requisitioned. Shaanxi being a grain-producing area, the requisitions have been especially frequent. Shaanxi's governor, Dong Hanwen, is a protégé of Mo Yingbo, the former Grand Secretary of the Wenyuan Pavilion and Minister of Rites. Mo Yingbo has a rift with Shen Shichong, the current Grand Secretary. Dong Hanwen can only cater to the Emperor's wishes to keep his position—new grain is sent north before it even enters the granaries. Now with this drought, even if he wanted to open the granaries and distribute grain, he would have none to distribute!"

No one answered her. Only the rumbling sound of the wheels grinding against the ground could be heard.

Zhao Jiuye seemed somewhat helpless. He coughed lightly and instructed Fu Tingjun, "When we get there, don't look around. Keep your head down as much as possible. If anyone speaks to you, pay them no mind—I'll handle it. Best if no one gets a look at your face."

Seeing Fu Tingjun, A Sen's eyes went a bit wide.

Zhao Jiuye didn't know what she was thinking, nor did he want to know—he just needed to safely deliver this woman to her uncle's home in Weinan, and his task would be complete. Then he would leave Shaanxi. From then on, they would go their separate ways, never to meet again.

He was afraid she might be recognized, wasn't he?

Her skin was like jade, her hair black as ink, her soft red lips as dewy and alluring as pomegranate blossoms in full summer bloom. She was as gorgeous and radiant as the bright scenery of the fifth month, yet her apricot-shaped eyes were as clear and pure as a mountain spring, as if she were completely unaware of her own beauty. Her loveliness carried a touch of elegance, all the more captivating for it.

She nodded hurriedly.

This was not something an ordinary person would know or dare to say!

"That's not what I meant!" Fu Tingjun quickly explained. "I saw A Sen loading things onto the cart, so I thought it was for carrying goods!"

On both sides of the road were fields, and in the distance one could see a few farmhouses with large trees rising above their roofs. It was already dusk, yet no cooking smoke could be seen. There were no crops in the fields—the yellow earth was cracked and parched, and not a trace of water could be seen in the ditches beside the road. All around was silent, without a single sound. Walking along the road made one feel uneasy.

His expression was calm, but his taut jaw betrayed his mood.

They emerged from the woods onto a post road.

He turned and left through the door.

The sun gradually moved toward the west, and Zhao Jiuye came in.

Fu Tingjun turned to look at Zhao Jiuye.

As if she were being picky.

Though she wasn't as plump and round as her sixth cousin, nor as willowy as her seventh cousin, some odds and ends had already been piled on the right side of the cart. Adding her on top—she didn't know if he could even push it. What if it tipped over... She thought of the time Zhao Jiuye had startled her into falling from the old locust tree, leaving her body aching for days, and she felt a lingering fear.

"How could they not?" A Sen walked over. "I've even seen people eating dirt!" He had already tied everything up. "Master, can we go now?" he muttered. "This whole stretch of woods, just the three of us—I've got a bad feeling. If those refugees find us, we're done for."

He wore a faded bright blue short jacket with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a cloth belt tied at his waist—neat and capable-looking. "Are you ready? We need to go!"

She surveyed the surroundings.

"You want me to pose as a fallen household?" she said hesitantly. "The authorities have never been kind to them..."

Fu Tingjun was still hesitant.

But Zhao Jiuye was impatient with her dithering. He shot her a sidelong glance. "Surely you don't intend to walk all the way to Weinan?"

Only then did Fu Tingjun begin to feel like she was actually riding.

Truly useless—even traveling was a burden to him.

This kind of wheelbarrow was commonly used in the countryside. It was just a frame with a single wooden wheel in front, propelled entirely by the strength of the person pushing it. Unlike horses, mules, or donkeys, it relied purely on human power.

"Let's go!" A Sen ran ahead cheerfully, taking the lead onto a dirt path beside the woods.

She never thought Fu Tingjun would have to hide her identity like this. It just showed that one shouldn't be too absolute in words or deeds.

"Let's go!" Zhao Jiuye's voice sounded somewhat strained and wistful. "This is no place to stay! Once they've finished eating the chaff and wild vegetables, they'll start on grass roots and tree bark."

Zhao Jiuye stood still, casting her a strange look. "You should change your appearance!"

The cart jolted, as if she might be tossed off at any moment. The wheels ground against the ground, kicking up clouds of yellow dust that went straight up her nose.

A Sen smiled with narrowed eyes when he heard her mention his name, pointing at the cart. "Everything is piled on the right side; the left is left for you to sit on." He added, "I laid a padded quilt on the cart, so it definitely won't be bumpy." Then he looked at her expectantly, with an expression of "Come sit, it's very comfortable."

Fu Tingjun waited for a long time but got no answer from him, and turned around somewhat disappointed.

"The Governor should petition the Emperor to send someone to Shaanxi to oversee the matter of the refugees," she said. "Otherwise, if anything happens, he won't escape blame either."

When Fu Tingjun had visited relatives and friends, she had seen those fallen people through the green gauze window of her carriage. They all wore dark-colored clothes, wrapped their heads, wore straw sandals or went barefoot, with dust on their hair and faces, looking filthy.

Suddenly, she felt that he was very close to her.

Zhao Jiuye pursed his lips and said after a long while, "These two matters don't conflict—you settle down in Weinan first. When your father and mother learn that you're still alive, they will surely come to find you. Then you can ask them anything directly, and you'll have someone to consult about what to do next. Moreover, your body is still weak and not fit for exposure to the elements. With your uncle and aunt's care, you can recover more quickly."

"I'd also like to find you a carriage," he said indifferently, "but at this time, anything that's alive has already gone into someone's stomach. You'll have to make do!"

This way, their chances of being searched increased greatly.

Fu Tingjun was very surprised and looked down at her clothes.

"How could the drought be this severe?" Fu Tingjun exclaimed. "Doesn't that mean there's no harvest this year?"

Fu Tingjun thought about it, mustered her spirits and nodded, picking up the bundle by her pillow. "Then let's go!"

"Ah!" Fu Tingjun's eyes widened.

A Sen, startled awake by that cough, hurriedly gathered up the cool mat, porcelain pillow, drinking cup, and chopsticks that Fu Tingjun had used, and left the room.

Fu Tingjun changed her clothes as instructed, examined herself carefully again, and feeling there were no flaws, called out "Ninth Master."

"I'm nothing but a reckless wanderer of the rivers and lakes!" Zhao Jiuye said, a trace of mocking smile flashing at the corner of his mouth. "I hear talk of court affairs in teahouses and just echo what others say! Miss, you may listen and forget it—no need to take it to heart."

Zhao Jiuye pushed the cart and followed behind him.

Fu Tingjun couldn't help asking, "What does Ninth Master do for a living?"

She looked at him with confusion.

A Sen was loading the items she had used onto a wheelbarrow parked in front of the ruined temple.

There was a grove outside the ruined temple. Unlike the lush greenery of Biyun Nunnery, the trees here hung their branches as if dried out, covered in gray dust, looking dejected.

Although she had grown up in the inner chambers, she had been raised as a future mistress of the household and knew a thing or two about estate matters. A year without harvest meant reduced income to her, but for those who lived by farming, it was a matter of life and death. Though she had heard that Qingyang and Gongchang were suffering severe drought, and that Shangzhou and Tongzhou were full of refugees, she had continued living her life as usual—those were merely things she'd heard. Seeing it with her own eyes now, she was naturally extremely shocked.

"No..." The words had already been said, and he meant well. Even if she was worried, Fu Tingjun had no choice but to steel herself and sit on it.

Fu Tingjun was horrified. "No, that can't be, right?"

If one day someone asked her who she was, she would probably only be able to answer like him!

She hadn't expected him to push her.

A Sen said in a low voice, "A few days ago, you could still trade a person for three bowls of white flour. These days, no one wants them even for free. You can only watch helplessly as they starve to death..."

Zhao Jiuye stepped out.

Zhao Jiuye didn't speak. He walked over, looped the cart straps of the wheelbarrow around his neck, and said to Fu Tingjun, "Sit on up!"

Fu Tingjun had been agonizing over this all afternoon, and hesitation showed on her face when she heard this.

Fu Tingjun composed herself and followed him out.

Once she had a place to lean on, she settled steadily.

Fu Tingjun fell silent.

She lowered her head and answered "Alright," her voice muffled and her spirits low.

Zhao Jiuye walked in, followed by A Sen, who was dressed just like him.

"Why doesn't the government open the granaries to distribute grain?" Fu Tingjun felt her voice turn somewhat shrill.

For some reason, Fu Tingjun felt her heart lighten, and her mood calmed considerably.

This was something Fu Tingjun could not imagine at all.

The evening glow filled the sky, dyeing their faces red and staining the grove, adding a touch of desolation.

"There are refugees everywhere now. Anhua, Heshui, Longxi, and Anding have all seen riots—those yamen runners wouldn't dare conduct searches!" Zhao Jiuye said patiently. "The more finely dressed you are, the more likely you'll be robbed. Once someone is robbed, those starving people will swarm like flies at the scent. Four hands can't fight off a crowd—I might not be able to protect you then. The way you look now is too conspicuous!"

The dark coarse cloth garments made her face appear even more luminous as jade.

Fu Tingjun felt a bitter taste in her heart.

Zhao Jiuye reminded her in a low voice, "Hold onto the rope binding the luggage."

Feeling uneasy, Fu Tingjun had no choice but to clutch the bundle tightly to her chest.

A faint blush crept across Fu Tingjun's cheeks.

She wore a moon-white fine cotton shirt, a plain dark blue sixteen-panel horse-face skirt, and a dark blue sash tied at her waist. She had no jewelry on her at all—clean, neat, and proper. What could possibly be wrong?

Is that so?

Fu Tingjun quickly responded with an "Oh" and immediately grabbed the rope.

The road was flat and wide, incomparable to the dirt paths.

Zhao Jiuye sighed inwardly and said, "First, find a cloth to wrap your head, then change into something in a darker color." Noticing her hand holding the bundle—fair, delicate, and smooth as white jade—he added, "And wrap your hands with the sash!"