Chapter Nineteen: A Family of Virtuous Souls

Ouyang Rong discovered that the waters of Longcheng were indeed deep.

After descending the mountain, the official road leading to the Longcheng county seat was frequently obstructed by makeshift "lakes." The fields outside the city looked as if a child had filled a white sheet of paper with circles, carving the land into isolated marshlands.

Fortunately, the Donglin Temple was bustling with incense, and many fishermen used their boats to ferry pilgrims. Ouyang Rong, Xie Lingjiang, and Yan Wuxu traveled in this manner, escorting Xie Xun to Penglang Ferry on Butterfly Creek, where he successfully boarded a large ship bound for Jiangzhou to transfer back to the Bailu Cave Academy.

Speaking of which, Butterfly Creek was not merely a stream but a broad river. It wound and curved like the wing of a butterfly, earning its name from the locals, and its banks were covered in blooming butterfly flowers. Located between the Yunmeng Marsh in the south and the Yangtze River in the north, it served as the most vital waterway connecting these two major river systems. Thus, Penglang Ferry was a hub of north-south trade, bustling with merchants heading toward the prosperous heart of the Jiangnan Circuit to the north or the Lingnan Circuit to the south.

The Longcheng county seat was distributed along the eastern and western banks of Butterfly Creek. Most of the architecture, including the county government office, was crowded onto the east bank, while the west bank was relatively spacious, housing the mansions and industries of the wealthy. At present, even with the flooding, the docks remained lively, and laborers continued their work; only the refugees—families adrift on the streets both inside and outside the city—silently testified to the severity of the disaster.

Ouyang Rong, Yan Wuxu, and Xie Lingjiang stood on the bustling east bank dock, watching Xie Xun’s boat drift into the distance. Madam Zhen had only accompanied Xie Xun down the mountain before returning to pack for their move to the county office; she had not followed them further. The wind at the ferry was strong, but the morning sun felt warm against their skin.

"Junior Sister, please look after me in the future."
"Brother Lianghan, since we are of the same generation, let us address each other by our courtesy names."
"That works."

Ouyang Rong did not mind Xie Lingjiang’s formal stiffness. He turned his head, squinting across Butterfly Creek. "Is there a market nearby? I need to purchase a few things."

Xie Lingjiang asked, and after Yan Wuxu pointed her in the right direction, only the young magistrate and the blue-robed captain remained.

"Mingtang, where shall we go now? Are we returning to the county office? I have already informed Magistrate Diao and the others as you instructed; they should be waiting for us there."

"No rush," Ouyang Rong replied, shaking his head. He suddenly pointed to the opposite bank. "Whose high fortress and estate is that on the mountain? And what are those smoking workshops surrounding the hillside?"

Yan Wuxu knew exactly what the magistrate was referring to without even looking. "That is the Liu family estate. The workshops below are the Guyue Sword Forge, famous throughout our Jiangnan Circuit, which is also a Liu family enterprise."

"The Guyue Sword Forge? The Liu family?"

Yan Wuxu patiently explained, "Our Longcheng was the land of Wu and Yue in ancient times. During the pre-Qin era, it was a world-renowned center for sword casting. Legend has it that a master swordsmith once dug into the mountains and set up furnaces along this very creek to forge blades for emperors and feudal lords. The craft was passed down locally, and there were many skilled smiths. However, by the time of our current dynasty, the industry had gradually declined, leaving only a few shops. Guyue is one of those old-established names."

"The Liu family is the most prominent local tycoon. Their ancestors rose to prominence in Longcheng through the shipping trade. They were once just wealthy landlords, but the current young master of the Liu family is a man of great ambition. Years ago, he spent a fortune to acquire the declining Guyue Sword Forge and merged it with several others, managing the business until it flourished.

"Our people of the Qian Dynasty love swords. Nowadays, the blades forged by Guyue are all the rage in the upper circles of the Great Zhou. I hear they have become prized treasures on the desks of royalty and powerful officials in Guanzhong, recognized as a premier forge. The swords crafted by their most skilled masters are so hard to come by that even the Governor of Jiangzhou has to wait in line."

"So, the Liu family must be unimaginably wealthy?"

"Beyond wealthy. A few years ago, through the connections of a noble in Luoyang, the Liu family presented a sword to the Empress of Wei. She was so delighted that she bestowed upon them the honorary title of 'Imperial Sword Envoy.' They are now commissioned to cast swords for the court, and most of their local taxes have been exempted.

"The Liu family is now the foremost power in Longcheng; all other gentry and clans follow their lead. The entire west bank of the Butterfly Creek is filled with their sword furnaces. They own nearly half of the fertile land and industries in Longcheng, and half the city’s population makes a living working for them. Many visiting ships stop here solely to purchase their swords."

"I see. They control the pillar industry of the entire city..."

"Does Mingtang know what the people of Longcheng call the Liu family?"

Ouyang Rong thought for a moment and smiled. "It wouldn't be 'Liu Half-City,' would it?"

"An apt guess, but not quite. The people privately refer to the Liu family as the 'Dragon King Family,' saying that the Liu estate on the west bank is a Dragon King temple that no flood can ever wash away. For years, no matter how severe the flooding in Longcheng, they have remained unaffected—in fact, they have only grown wealthier. It is just like a Dragon King, isn't it?"

"Then let me guess—is the Liu family also known for being generous philanthropists?"

Yan Wuxu was surprised. "How did you know, Mingtang? Have you heard of them before?" He added, "The young master in charge, Liu Ziwen, is known for his charity. During this flood, at the invitation of Magistrate Diao, he was the one to lead the effort in building porridge stations. He truly has a reputation for kindness in the county."

Ouyang Rong gazed at the row of sword furnaces on the opposite bank, squinting as he muttered to himself, "So, they are that kind of local tyrant."

Yan Wuxu suddenly recalled something. "Ah Shan’s family are government-registered slaves at the Guyue Sword Forge, which is why they follow the master’s surname, Liu."

Ouyang Rong nodded, finally understanding why the character for "Yue" was branded on Ah Qing’s forehead. He wondered how many such government slaves and craftsmen remained in that forge across the water.

The young magistrate stood quietly for a while longer, letting the wind from the river blow past him, and looked over the old, dilapidated dock. The images of the starving refugees he had seen on his way from Donglin Temple to Penglang Ferry lingered in his mind. He was not cold-blooded or negligent, ignoring the refugees sleeping on the streets while he idled away his time. He was trying to figure out a problem. Until this problem was resolved, any amount of disaster relief would yield half the result with double the effort, because he would never be able to grasp the primary contradiction.

Sometimes, human malice is more terrifying than natural disaster.

At a certain moment, Ouyang Rong finally turned around. "Let's go. Find our Junior Sister at the West Market, and then we will return to the county office."

...

In a bustling market about half a mile away, food began to rain from the sky.

It was literally falling from the heavens.

Roasted chicken. Grilled fish. Bird's nest. Shark fin. Steamed pork with rice flour. And so on—all these delicacies, currently precious and rare in the county, fell from the sky onto the old stone slabs of the main market street.

Unfortunately, there were no bowls to catch them, so the food was covered in dust, yet it still smelled and looked incredibly delicious. It was piping hot and glistening with oil.

The first to discover this miracle was a crippled young beggar. A piece of red-braised pork landed on his head. Confused and annoyed, he grabbed it, blinked his eyes, and then began to devour it so ravenously he nearly bit off his own fingers.

Then, the crippled beggar lunged forward, letting the food rain down upon him, holding his hands up to the sky to catch it. If one guessed correctly, he was trying to use his body as a "serving platter." Soon, however, the aroma of the meat attracted other "serving platters."

The starving refugees, who had been listlessly slumped in the street, swarmed forward. Some crawled, some stood, some leapt. Some cried, some laughed, some did both at once.

Dozens of meters above their heads, a window was flung open. A large hand reached out, grabbing delicacies and tossing them out one after another, plate after plate.

It was no miracle from the heavens. It was someone feeding them.

"Sigh, I cannot let my elder brother be the only one doing good deeds. I must do good as well; our whole family is filled with kind souls. They say good people get good rewards, and I quite agree. You lot... you wouldn't be so cruel as to disagree, would you?"

"Now, hurry up with the dishes. If you delay my good deed, I will have you and the cook fly out the window. You all know me—everyone who has flown out has praised me for being a man of my word."