Chapter 78: The Refugees, Ali and Anu

Shangqing County, Xiahe Village. The third day.

The days of idleness were over for Lu Caiwei; at dawn, she was dragged outside to study and practice reading with Siqin in the yard.

Forgive him for being up so early, that wretched dog of a brother!

With every character she read, Lu Caiwei mentally stabbed that dog brother through and through.

Meanwhile, Lu Jin’s carefree days continued—he and Lu Yuanrong had visited the fields and returned home only in the afternoon. Before they even reached the gate, they saw a crowd gathered noisily beneath a large tree.

“Those two children are truly pitiful.”

“Aren’t they just? And who knows if that woman will survive…”

“Survive? Didn’t you see she’s nothing but skin and bones?”

“If it weren’t for Rou-girl’s kindness…”

Lu Jin, puzzled by what he overheard, squeezed to the front of the crowd with Lu Yuanrong.

Beneath the tree, Aunt Rou was crouched with a bowl of porridge, her eyes red from weeping. Beside her, a rural physician was frowning as he took the pulse of a woman lying on a grass mat.

The woman was nothing more than flesh stretched over bones, her eye sockets sunken, her complexion ashen—no longer human in form, she lay utterly motionless.

Kneeling on her other side were two children of about ten, dressed in rags, faces indiscernible through dirt. Around them clustered a dozen more, men, women, and children alike, all in tatters, faces sallow from hunger.

“Aunt, what’s happened?” Lu Jin asked quietly, stepping forward.

“My child!” Baili Rou turned and, upon seeing Lu Jin, her eyes brightened for a moment before her gaze dropped. “These people are refugees—this elder sister can’t go on. What will become of the poor children she’ll leave behind…”

Lu Jin had already suspected as much, seeing the group's worn, gaunt appearance—if not beggars, then definitely displaced folk. Still, the number startled him; where had these refugees come from?

The woman on the ground looked lifeless, her lips—wait, hmm? Lu Jin glanced at the bowl in Aunt Rou’s hand and began to understand. But if she was dead, why was this old man still checking her? Could he really tell?

He looked at the two kneeling children again—both stick-thin, about the same age. Their clothes were in tatters; the boy was barefoot, his body covered in wounds. The girl wore a pair of ruined straw sandals—at least, he thought she was a girl, though he wasn’t certain.

“Aunt, is she…?” Lu Jin wanted to ask if the woman was already dead—why all the fuss?

“Rou-girl, there’s no hope for this woman…” After working for a long while, the old physician addressed Aunt Rou.

Hearing that their mother was beyond saving, the children collapsed onto the woman’s body, sobbing in anguish. The boy bit his lip, tears streaming silently down his face.

Aunt Rou slumped down, her eyes brimming with tears. Lu Jin quickly steadied her and comforted, “Aunt, you’ve done all you could.”

“But they’re so little—what will they do now?” Baili Rou’s voice choked.

“Kind lady, you needn’t worry. You’ve given us food—at least we’ll survive. We’re neighbors in hardship; even if we must starve ourselves, the children come first…”

Even as Aunt Rou finished, a middle-aged man among the refugees stepped forward, his eyes full of humility and unease.

“Where are you from?” Lu Yuanrong asked him.

“Noble sirs, we’re from Qingzhou in Linhai. Our homes were ruined by disaster; we had no choice but to beg. There were over two or three hundred people in our village—now only a dozen or so remain,” the man said mournfully.

“What about the authorities? Do they do nothing for you?”

“Linhai’s been struck by disaster for years. Those corrupt officials couldn’t care less about our lives,” the man sighed.

The villagers around them shook their heads and sighed. Natural disasters were all too common in these times—even Xiahe Village often suffered from Lanjing’s floods, and many in the village had died.

Yet the refugees showed little expression, as if the story being told was someone else’s. Perhaps at first they’d wept and pleaded, but in time they’d learned that only themselves could be relied upon; all emotion had long turned to numbness, survival instinct all that remained.

Just then, as everyone listened to the man, the woman lying half-dead on the ground suddenly opened her eyes wide and sat bolt upright.

Lu Jin and Aunt Rou, startled by the sudden movement, instinctively retreated.

It was terrifying! Lu Jin had never seen a ghost, but a woman so wasted, suddenly jolting upright, her eyes fixed upon you—that expression was more frightening than any ghost. Even the two children shrank away in fear.

Before Lu Jin could recover, the woman collapsed again, this time with no further sign of life.

“Mother…” the two children howled, throwing themselves onto her.

The old physician, half-scared to death, hesitated before stumbling back several steps. Lu Yuanrong rushed to pull Aunt Rou to her feet.

The villagers and refugees only reacted after the woman fell once more. The villagers sighed; the refugees bowed their heads.

“This time she’s truly gone!” The old man stepped forward, checked her pulse and eyes, and announced her death.

The girl promptly fainted from grief, and several village women rushed over to help. Those with children of their own couldn’t bear to ignore the girl’s collapse.

The boy remained kneeling at his mother’s side, clutching her now-cold hand, stubbornly silent, face set in defiance.

“So… what about the body?” Lu Yuanrong, head of the household, asked. They couldn’t leave the corpse at their door.

“Worry not, noble sirs. We’ll move her right away—we won’t trouble you further!” The middle-aged man signaled to the others to gather up the mat.

Before they could approach, however, the kneeling boy sprang up, ferocious and hoarse: “Don’t touch my mother!”

Everyone was at a loss—what now? Leave her here?

The villagers tried to reason with the boy, but he refused to yield, staring down the other refugees, jaw set, unmoving.

“Child, your mother’s dead—don’t block the noble folk’s doorway. Come with us,” the man tried to coax him, pulling at his arm.

“Go away!” The boy bared his teeth like a little panther.

“You… The noble sirs fed and watered you. Your mother is gone—how can you block their door?” The man began to lose patience.

Lu Jin, too, grew impatient—pity was one thing, but the world was full of misery. His own family had done what they could; now it was time to bury the woman elsewhere. Surely they couldn’t expect his household to manage the funeral as well?

“You two, take Li-girl and leave—don’t trouble the noble folk further,” the man ordered. Two more refugees stepped forward to drag the now-awake girl away.

“Let go of my sister!” the boy roared, hurling himself at them. The scene turned chaotic.

Watching, Lu Jin felt something was off. Weren’t they all together? The boy’s refusal to let his mother be moved was understandable, but now—why separate the siblings?

He glanced at Uncle Lu Yuanrong, who also wore a troubled frown.

“Yuanfang, pull them apart!” Lu Jin called.

He himself pushed into the fray, seeing the boy’s bloodied lips and cold, defiant eyes, the girl hiding behind the village women.

“So what do you want?” Lu Jin asked—this couldn’t go on.

Hearing the voice behind him, the boy spun around, eyes still fierce. But upon seeing Lu Jin, he relaxed slightly, then fell silent, biting his lip.

“Noble sirs, don’t worry. We’ll leave at once,” the man said with a forced smile, so emaciated that his grin looked ghastly.

Two more refugees tried to drag the boy away, worsening the confusion. In the end, the little panther was subdued and hauled outside.

As he was being dragged away, the boy suddenly looked back at Lu Jin, eyes pleading, “Please, save my sister!”

Lu Jin’s heart jolted. He saw the despair in the child’s eyes, remembered his own bewilderment upon arriving in this world.

“Yuanfang, let them go,” Lu Jin said without thinking—he’d made up his mind, come what may.

“Jin’er, is this wise?” Lu Yuanrong hesitated—not out of hardness, but having witnessed so much death, he knew one could only do so much.

“Uncle, I know what I’m doing.” Lu Jin brushed aside the concern.

The refugees were no match for Yuanfang. By the time Lu Jin reached the center, the men were sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath.

“You may go. I’ll look after these two children,” Lu Jin waved to the family guards, who instantly formed a protective circle.

“Noble sir, this isn’t right—we’ve troubled you so much already…” the man stammered, anxious.

“Go on your own, or shall I have you driven out?” Lu Jin’s patience was gone—there was something wrong here.

“Yes, yes, noble sir, don’t be angry. We’ll leave…” Defeated, the man led the others away.

As they left, Lu Jin noticed several women holding children, wanting to speak but finally walking on in silence.

“You’d best give me a reason…” Lu Jin glanced at the bewildered boy.

“Uncle, Aunt, let’s go back.”

“You all go inside; I’ll see to things out here,” said Lu Yuanrong.

Once inside, Lu Jin found Shen Yanxi and Lu Caiwei sitting beneath the eaves, a maid relaying the events outside.

“Husband, are these the two children?” Shen Yanxi stood.

Lu Jin nodded and turned to the pair. “Speak. What’s truly going on?”

His expression was stormy, frustration simmering.

The boy lowered his head, hesitating, which only aggravated Lu Jin. “If you don’t speak, I’ll send you both back!”

“Husband, don’t be hasty. Have some tea and rest,” Shen Yanxi soothed him gently.

“Hmph! Some people just can’t speak properly,” Lu Caiwei muttered, remembering her own ordeal that morning.

Lu Jin glanced at her—how could she be so carefree? “Why aren’t you studying? How many characters have you written? Bring them for me to see.”

Lu Caiwei nearly exploded with indignation—so much had happened, who could focus on writing? She turned away, ignoring him.

“Tell me, so we can help you. If you don’t, how will we know?” Shen Yanxi crouched down, smiling at the children.

The girl glanced at Shen Yanxi but only wept, still lost in grief for her mother.

The boy, after a moment, relaxed a little. “They’re not good people. With my mother gone, they want to sell my sister and me…” he choked out, tears flowing freely.

Lu Jin was taken aback. He’d suspected something was wrong, but hadn’t imagined it would be as dire as trafficking children. Yet among refugees, such things were all too common in chaotic times—he’d seen it before in his previous life. Still, that didn’t mean he could accept it.

They all sat and listened as the children, haltingly, recounted the past few years.

Once, theirs had been a family of six. Life was hard but peaceful. Then, three years ago, drought struck Qingzhou year after year—nothing grew. The first year, the authorities offered some relief; after that, they abandoned them.

With no way to live, the villagers set out with their families to beg for survival. They first headed for Haidong, but before they reached it, their frail grandmother died on the road.

They wandered to Chuzhou, but were denied entry and driven away by soldiers; their father was beaten to death by the guards.

With the family’s support gone, the nightmare only deepened. Only their mother remained to care for the three children: the sixteen-year-old eldest brother and the twelve-year-old twins.

The eldest became their sole protector, but he was too gentle to survive among the ruthless refugees. In such a group, weakness was a fatal flaw; they were often bullied, and whatever they begged for seldom reached their mouths. The brothers fought constantly, battered and bruised, but could neither escape nor let go of life.

To the darkness of human nature, they were nothing but fattened prey—no one would let them run, for fear of losing both people and their pitiful possessions. As on this day, it was never out of kindness.

Later, they tried to cross the Lanjiang River to beg in Jiangdong, hoping for a better life. But at the riverbank, they were attacked by bandits; out of more than two hundred, only thirty-odd survived. The twins’ elder brother died fending off the bandits so the others could escape.

Too afraid to go south, the group turned westward to beg.

With two men lost, the family’s plight grew even more desperate. Their mother protected them, enduring not only hunger but the abuse of several men in the group.

By the time they reached Jiangzhou, the mother could endure no longer. Begging, she encountered Baili Rou, and thus they arrived at the scene Lu Jin had witnessed.

The children finished their tale in broken sobs, their bodies trembling with grief. The others were silent; Aunt Rou and Caiwei wept with them, unable to stop—their suffering was too great.

Anger simmered in Lu Jin’s heart. He despised bullies, and hated even more those who preyed upon their own. Such things seemed to happen again and again these days.

If someone dared to rise up and defy corrupt officials, Lu Jin could respect that. But to see such wretchedness, and still prey on women and children—there was nothing more abhorrent.

And this world—the hardships were worse than he’d imagined: bandits, refugees, suffering made flesh before his eyes.

Lu Jin felt a rage with nowhere to go. He wished for a sword—to cut down every evil in the land. But he had none.

“What are your names?” Lu Jin asked, pressing down his turmoil.

“A’nu.”

“A’li.”