Chapter 7: Labor in Lieu of Grain

"What advice do you have for us, Scholar?" the Village Chief asked.

"This drought is likely to last a long time. The village should prepare early," Yan Huaiwen said with a solemn expression.

"Hiss!" Village Chief Luo couldn't even hold his bowl steady; he hurriedly set it down and asked urgently, "What do you mean by that? Have you heard something in town, Wen-ge'er?"

In his anxiety, he had slipped and used Yan Huaiwen’s childhood nickname.

Santie glanced stealthily at the Scholar, and seeing that he wasn't angry, he let out a sigh of relief.

His grandfather had warned him at home that the eldest of the Yan family was not like the rest of them—dirt-grubbing farmers—and that they shouldn't call him "Wen-ge" anymore, but address him respectfully as "Scholar."

Yan Lao'er looked at his older brother in surprise.

What was going on?

Did scholars know everything under the sun without even stepping out of their doors?

Did his big brother know about the coming drought this early?

He tried hard to recall the plot of the book his daughter had told him about, but it seemed this part wasn't in it...

Could it be that their arrival had changed the storyline?

Yan Huaiwen had no choice but to use a fabricated source to cover up the strangeness of his foresight.

"That’s right. I heard the Imperial Observatory calculated that there will be a severe drought."

The... the what observatory?!

Grandfather and grandson Luo didn't understand what kind of place that was, but it sounded like a high-and-mighty title. They interpreted it based on their limited knowledge.

It must be a place that could divine the future. Since they had measured it, there would definitely be a drought!

They had to believe it!

Only a scholar could find out such useful information; having a scholarly rank really made a difference!

Having experienced fleeing from a famine before, Village Chief Luo couldn't sit still. The Scholar was right; they had to prepare early.

"We must harvest the wheat in the fields quickly, and we must draw out all the water from the old well. We should leave before the other villages notice anything," Village Chief Luo said. He had fled a famine as a child with his parents, and too many people had died on the road. When fleeing, those who left first had a better chance of survival.

The younger generation in the village hadn't experienced it, but the elders had all lived through those times.

They grasped the key points immediately.

That’s right, the most important things were these two: water and grain.

"There is one more thing I would like your help with," Yan Huaiwen said, looking at his younger brother before turning back to the Chief with a helpless expression. "Huaian and his wife have been busy in the fields all day. They can wait, but the wheat in the fields cannot. It is inconvenient for me to go out, so I must trouble you to help me find some people to harvest the wheat within three days. My family is willing to pay in grain for the labor."

The Village Chief nodded inwardly.

This Scholar was truly perceptive.

At a time like this, it wasn't easy to find day laborers, as everyone was guarding their own fields.

But paying in grain was different. Even if the pay was meager, plenty of people would be willing to put in the effort.

Once he spread the news about the "Observatory" tomorrow, even more people would scramble to help the Yan family harvest their fields.

Santie’s eyes lit up.

His family had many mouths to feed and even more people to work.

They could finish harvesting their own fields in no time. Helping the Yan family wouldn't be a difficult task at all.

"Grandpa!" Santie whispered.

He was met with a fierce glare and immediately fell silent.

"Don't worry, Scholar. It won't take three days. Your few acres of land will be done in two," Village Chief Luo pondered for a moment, then asked, "Scholar, where do you think we should go?"

He had no idea himself. He knew they had to flee, that leaving was the only way to survive.

But where could they go?

At the thought of abandoning the family business he had painstakingly built, he finally understood what his parents and grandparents had felt back then.

It was so hard to let go!

"Go north, to Guanzhou."

...

After leaving the Yan residence, Santie asked his grandfather impatiently, "Grandpa, why didn't you tell the Scholar that our family would help him harvest the wheat?"

"You have no brain!" Old Man Luo said, frustrated by his grandson's lack of insight. "Our family's situation is obvious to everyone. Don't you think he knows we have many able-bodied men? He didn't mention it and instead asked us to help find people to work, precisely because he wants to give away this benefit to build closer ties with more neighbors."

Among his grandchildren, Santie was the sharpest, so he was willing to teach him more. "We are different from the other villages; we each have our own ancestors. If we want everyone to follow us on the road, we have to let them see some tangible benefits."

"Grandpa, I don't understand. If they don't want to come with us, we can just go our separate ways, right? What's the big deal?" Santie was still confused, his mind still on the grain the Scholar had promised.

"You're still young and haven't seen much of the world, so you don't know how things work," Old Man Luo said. "We are fleeing a famine. Which direction to take, which path to walk, when to leave, when to sleep, whether the old and young should ride in carts, who goes to find food and water, who guards the supplies and children—you need someone to make decisions, and you need people to help with the work. Only by sticking together can everyone find a way to survive."

"The Scholar is the most successful person in our village, and everyone respects him. But he rarely interacts with us in daily life. If he wants everyone to pull in the same direction, he has to let them know that he is generous, kind-hearted, and willing to help us poor folks."

"As for why we should travel together? Do you think the road to fleeing a famine is as peaceful as walking from our village to town? If we are suffering from a drought, won't the other villages be too? Everyone will be unable to survive and will have to leave. When people are starving, they are capable of anything! If we run into those who can't survive, they will fight us to the death. If they steal our rations, how will we live? That’s why everyone must stick together to protect our supplies and the old and young of our village. We’ve lived in this village for decades and know each other inside and out—isn't that better than teaming up with strangers?"

"But Grandpa, the Scholar's family doesn't have much land after taxes. How many people can he save? Will the villagers be willing to follow him? I heard the south is very rich, where they can harvest three crops a year. Man, they must eat white flour buns at every meal! The elders in the village say the north is freezing cold, cold enough to freeze a person to death, and water can turn into icicles... You plant in spring and harvest in autumn, only one crop a year. It’s not even as good as here." Santie was genuinely worried. Freezing water was a big deal—what if it froze his little bird?!

"It’s not that you can't survive in the north..." Old Man Luo looked around cautiously and lowered his voice. "We are harvesting the wheat at this time, which is much earlier than in previous years. The government grain tax collectors won't be here for another ten days or so..."

Ten days!

Santie shivered.

The yield from the fields this year could be estimated at a glance; it was significantly less than in previous years. After paying the grain tax, how much would be left?

But what if they didn't pay the tax?

By the time the tax collectors arrived, they would have been gone for a long time.

They would have fled the famine!!!

"Grandpa!" Santie was excited, his voice trembling. "Can we really not pay? Isn't it said that if you don't pay taxes, you'll be dragged away for forced labor?"

"Keep your voice down!" Old Man Luo accurately located his grandson in the dark, glared at him fiercely, and then whispered, "The south won't work; there's little wasteland there. Once the disaster passes, they'll just send us back. The north is different; there's plenty of wasteland. If we're willing, we can likely stay."

"Once people stay, they have to re-register their household status."

That was what he said, but Old Man Luo was still hesitant. Did they really have to go north?

Without the tax payment documents, he feared the government would seize their land long before the three-year abandonment period was up.

Without land, they would become homeless refugees.

Ignoring his grandson, who was so happy he couldn't find north, Old Man Luo hurried home.

He had to find a few of the other old men to discuss this.

(End of chapter)