Chapter 16: Such a Tragic Shattering of Dreams

When Meng Changqing reached the twenty-third person on the registry, a familiar face appeared.

"Is it the little master who gave us the dry rations before?" The kneeling man recognized Meng Changqing first.

"It's you. Did you finish the rations?"

The man's face was full of regret. "They were stolen."

Meng Changqing had no time for sympathy. He immediately proceeded with the standard questions. "What is your name? How old are you? Is anyone else from your family in Beishan County?"

"My name is Sha Zhu. I should be twenty-seven this year. My family all starved to death; I am the only one left."

Meng Changqing held his pen, hesitating to write. "Your name is Sha Zhu? What kind of 'Sha'? And which 'Zhu'?"

The man likely knew a few characters, as he could at least pronounce his own name correctly. "Sha as in sand, Zhu as in vermilion."

Meng Changqing noted his name and asked, "The woman who was with you yesterday—she wasn't your wife?"

"I don't know her."

At first glance yesterday, Meng Changqing had thought they were a family of three, but it turned out none of the three knew each other.

"Next!"

Laicai came running over, clutching a hand warmer. "Young Master, hurry and warm your hands. I'll write for a while for you."

"Very well, sit down and write." Meng Changqing took the hand warmer, stepped aside to make room, and stood to the side to stretch his legs.

Not far away, a group of Imperial Guards gathered together.

"Lord Bai, I see those soldiers have even set up our tents. Should we go over and help?"

"No need. We were assigned by His Majesty to protect Lord Meng and his family; other matters are not within our responsibility. However..." He paused, shifting his tone, "Lord Meng gave me a pancake before. Out of personal sentiment, I shall go help him."

He turned and ran to Meng Changqing's side, taking turns with Babang to carve identity tokens.

Someone among the Imperial Guards was puzzled. "Hey, what is Lord Bai playing at?"

"I don't get it either. What kind of pancake can earn you 'personal sentiment'?"

Someone who thought he understood said, "The sentiment isn't about the pancake. Think about it—what is Lord Meng's status?"

"What status? Isn't he just the son of the Great General of Dingbei?"

"Just? How many sons of the Great General of Dingbei can one dynasty produce?"

"But it is still his father's glory." The man lowered his voice. "Besides, General Meng has long been dead. He himself is merely a minor county official; Lord Bai and he are both seventh-rank officials. Moreover, Lord Bai is a capital official. Is there any need for him to curry favor?"

The enlightened man replied, "I told you your thinking was too simple. Look at where he is stationed—on the border, right next to the military camp. Even if he is young, His Majesty trusts the Meng bloodline. I fear the Liangzhou Army might one day become the Meng Army again."

"Impossible," someone immediately countered. "If His Majesty truly had such intentions, he would have sent him to the military camps for training, rather than making him a county official. Currently, this young Lord Meng is clearly following the path of a civil official."

"What's impossible? It's not as if our dynasty lacks examples of civil officials holding military posts."

"If that's really the case..." The man stopped mid-sentence and immediately turned toward Meng Changqing. "Lord Meng, let me help you with some work as well."

"Good, good, good." Meng Changqing didn't ask why the Imperial Guard had suddenly become so enthusiastic; he simply handed him the paper and pen. "I'll trouble you, brother. Please assist Lord Bai with the registration. Follow the previous format and ask only these questions. Remember, the number must match the number on the back of the identity token. Do not make a mistake."

Meng Changqing felt he was short-handed. With so many refugees, if they registered them one by one, there was no telling when they would finish.

"Captain Yang, have them come in pairs."

By this time, darkness had fallen. Torches were lit everywhere, and two lamps were placed on the small registration table.

However, there was no shelter outside the city walls, and the wild wind blew freely. Although the lamps had covers, they still flickered in the wind, making it painful for the person writing to focus their eyes.

Meng Changqing had people set up a small tent at the registration site. It couldn't block much of the chill, but at least it provided shelter from the wind.

Every registered refugee was allowed to go to the large pot for a bowl of hot porridge.

After drinking the porridge and washing their bowls, they would find a somewhat sheltered spot to crouch down.

The warmth from the porridge slowly spread through them, as if pulling their internal organs out of the freezing snow and restoring them to a living body.

Sha Zhu sat with his eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep amidst the crowd. Suddenly, he felt a cold breeze pass by. He opened his eyes to see another refugee, who had also eaten porridge, sitting down beside him.

"It's so warm," the man muttered to himself, rubbing his stomach. "I wonder if there will be food tomorrow?"

Someone squeezed in nearby replied, "Eat one meal and make do with the next. Are there any good people among officials? They won't feed you every single meal."

"Aren't there several wagons of grain?" The man looked toward the wagons. When his gaze inadvertently swept over the cavalry, he immediately pulled it back. "It should last for many days, right?"

"Hmph! Is this your first day here? Has no one come to provide relief in previous years? They just put on a show for two days and then stop coming."

Sha Zhu spoke up, "I think this official is different."

The man insisted on his own view, "There isn't a single good official in this world."

Sha Zhu said, "He is certainly kinder than other officials."

"Why?" the person squeezed next to Sha Zhu asked.

Sha Zhu hid his true reason. "No official comes to distribute porridge themselves, but this official did."

"Look at those fierce soldiers. The blades in their hands could kill at any moment. What kind of 'kind person' acts like that?"

Sha Zhu closed his eyes and said no more. He had barely managed to get half-full; he didn't want to waste his strength arguing.

Though he remained silent, the other man continued, "Once he brings those things out, he won't be able to take them back. I'll find my chance eventually."

The frail girl beside the man pulled at him. "Father, stop talking."

The soldiers set up two large pots simultaneously. They boiled seven pots of porridge just to ensure every refugee could have a large bowl.

"You all have worked hard. Go and have your dinner quickly." Meng Changqing gathered the recorded papers from the table. "Time was tight today and we were short-handed, so we couldn't set up private kitchens. Brothers of the Imperial Guard, please make do with the porridge."

Chu Mufeng replied, "Lord Meng is too polite. We all know the journey is difficult; we aren't picky about what we eat."

"Thank you for your understanding, Lord Bai. Babang, take them to dinner."

After the group left, only Meng Changqing and Xi Bei remained in the tent. They organized the registered items into a ledger in order. When they flipped to the last page, the number was two hundred and twenty-five.

No wonder they had eaten seven pots of porridge.

Even with extra water added, they had already used nearly half a *shi* of rice.

Even if they made porridge every meal, twice a day, thirty *shi* of grain would at most last these people one month.

And that was just the issue of food; they also had to find ways to prepare winter supplies and medicine for treating fevers.

Meng Changqing was worried. She had become the county official of Beishan County; from now on, the people of Beishan wouldn't have to go out begging for food—she would have to go out begging for it.

Her dream of being a local emperor had shattered quite tragically.

(End of Chapter)