Chapter 52: Traveling the Same Path

Yan Er said noncommittally, "In that case, it sounds like that high official is actually quite a good man."

Yan Huaiven snorted coldly. "Having a soft heart while simultaneously fearing responsibility, relying on superiors for compassion in every matter without ever striving for anything—upward, he is incompetent in his governance; downward, he has achieved nothing. Is such an official truly 'good'?"

"At least he tacitly allowed those local gentry to defer their taxes," Yan Er remarked, thinking that part was decent enough.

"If the imperial court were to take it seriously, the high official would be safe, but those local gentry would find it impossible to escape their crimes."

Yan Er pondered this and realized it made sense.

"These people who cling to outdated conventions believe that as long as they don't do anything wrong, they are fine; they refuse to take even half a step further. They act with moderation and peace, committing no major errors. As officials of a region, they remain exactly the same from the day they arrive to the day they leave. The common people call such officials 'clay Bodhisattvas.'"

Yan Er asked curiously, "What does that mean?"

"It is fine to revere and offer sacrifices to them in ordinary times, but if a sudden calamity strikes, praying to them is useless. They can barely protect themselves."

Yan Er: "..."

The common people's evaluation was quite vivid and interesting.

Yan Huaiven couldn't help but think of the various types of officials; all walks of life were contained within that metaphor.

Are these people bad? Not necessarily.

They are kind-hearted, compassionate, and empathetic; seeing the people suffer, some might even shed tears. When questioned, they offer one excuse about their own incompetence and another about their own shame. You wouldn't even know how to deal with them.

They aren't incompetent enough to be dismissed, so they remain in office, but such officials are nothing more than "occupying a seat while consuming food without merit" wherever they are placed.

Sometimes, he felt these mediocre individuals were more loathsome than those who were corrupt and illegal. The latter would at least expend effort on "face projects," whereas the former had nothing left but incompetence...

"I have already agreed with the village elders that we will leave this place as soon as possible. If we encounter refugees on the way, we must all remain vigilant."

Yan Huaiven knew that the people who had just escaped the famine still carried some food on them, so they weren't a danger yet.

"We will set out at the hour of the Pig today and at the second quarter of the hour of the Tiger tomorrow. Tianyou, do not wander off these next few days."

Yan Er agreed.

After counting heads, the group set off.

As usual, the Yan family's ox cart led the way, with the elderly, children, and women concentrated in the middle section, and the village able-bodied men walking around the perimeter of the group.

Yan Er had confirmed this stretch of the road multiple times; it overlapped with the official highway. Originally, they had planned to follow Yan Huaiven's method of bypassing the relay stations and then cutting back to the highway. Now, with a large group for cover, there was no need for such trouble. They would walk directly on the official highway.

Having grown accustomed to small paths, the sudden transition to the highway gave them a sensation of flying.

They encountered refugees in succession; most were traveling in small family groups, but they had yet to see a group as large as theirs.

The Yan family's two-story ox cart was extremely conspicuous. At a glance, there were strong youths on the outside and several mule and donkey carts following.

When San Tie returned, he told everyone about the situation in the town, leaving everyone with lingering fears. If they hadn't followed the Scholar out early, they likely wouldn't have had enough food to reach this point after paying their grain taxes.

Having traveled mountain and field paths for so long, encountering so many people all at once made the villagers somewhat uneasy, especially since these people kept staring at them and trying every way to strike up a conversation.

Questions like, "Which village are you from? Why haven't we seen you before?" or "Where are you headed? This road doesn't go to the prefectural city; are you also going to Leshan Prefecture?" or "We are going to Leshan Prefecture to visit relatives, what about you?"

The village elders had specifically instructed them to keep their mouths shut; if they didn't know what should or shouldn't be said, they were to say nothing. Fortunately, they moved quickly, and after a few mumbled words, they left the strangers behind. Even those who ran and stumbled behind them could not catch up.

After passing one group after another, they finally saw a relay station again.

The area in front of and behind the relay station was entirely occupied by refugees, leaving only the official highway clear. Looking at the sky, it seemed the refugees were meant to rest.

Yan Er drove the cart through. The people on both sides had long noticed his unusual ox cart. They had thought the group would stop to stay near the station, but to their surprise, this entire party simply passed right by...

When the people chasing behind finally arrived at the relay station panting for breath, they asked around: "Fellow villagers, did you see a group with a two-story ox cart? Where did they go?"

"They left long ago. They didn't stop at all. Why? Do you know them?" *If you knew them, why didn't you wait?*

"I just ran into them on the road. I saw they had a large group with both old and young, and I wanted to join them for the journey. I didn't expect them to move so fast; my donkey cart couldn't catch up at all."

"You can tell they aren't short on people or food. Look at those strong young men—their builds are so sturdy. It's only natural they wouldn't want to be slowed down by others. There are plenty of people trying to hitch a ride. See? Over there, and over there, they are all packing up to chase them."

"How did everyone think the same thing as me?"

...

After Yan Huaiven chatted with several of the groups that caught up, he agreed to let them follow at the rear of the group, but with a caveat: they were all farming folk; they moved fast, and if they could keep up, they could, but the group would not intentionally wait for them if they fell behind.

"Scholar, why are we taking them with us?" Village Chief Luo and the elders came to ask. "Didn't you say to be careful and not tell anyone about our situation?"

"My brother said that if we keep hiding, people will get suspicious. Anyway, they are only going to Leshan Prefecture; they won't be on the same path as us for long," Yan Er explained to everyone. "The road ahead is almost entirely the official highway. Having these people with us can provide some cover."

"But I fear the number of people will keep increasing." Old Man Luo was experienced; refugees loved to cluster together, and when people gathered in crowds, trouble was easy to stir up.

"If things get bad, we'll just take the small paths to run. They won't be able to catch us," Yan Er said proudly.

Yan Huaiven glanced at him and said to the crowd, "The situation in Leshan Prefecture is unknown. Most of these people are going to visit relatives; we can use this opportunity to gather some information."

In fact, during this year, not only Qishan Prefecture but Leshan Prefecture had also reported disasters, though it was less conspicuous compared to Qishan. He remembered clearly that the memorials from Leshan Prefecture reported not only drought but also banditry.

The two prefectures were adjacent and both had "Mountain" in their names. Qishan Prefecture had many plains and few truly high mountains, whereas Leshan Prefecture was the opposite, with continuous mountain ranges. According to his second brother's idea, they wanted to take a shortcut through the mountains, which was not as secure as staying on the official road.

...

Just as Village Chief Luo feared, once a few "tails" appeared at the rear, the number of people following the group grew daily.

No matter how fast they traveled, it was useless; these people followed with grit. Even though the group had changed their pace to traveling eight *shichen* (16 hours) a day, it only served to stretch out the massive line of refugees.

The deepest part of the night was when everyone was most tense. They would hear various sounds drifting from the distance: the cursing of men, the sharp shrieks of women, the piercing wails of children...

At some point, these sounds would abruptly stop just as they began, as if someone's throat had been seized—an indescribable eeriness.

The atmosphere of the refugee column became increasingly heavy. Along with the scorching sun and the suffocating heat, it pressed down on them, making it hard to breathe.