25. Lingjiang Searches for Someone

Where had Brother Lianghan gone?

Xie Lingjiang had not seen Ouyang Rong for several days. After settling into the Su residence, she had visited the county office multiple times to find him, only to come up empty-handed. He had not sought her out, either.

The last time they met was three days prior. Madam Zhen had invited her to the Meilu Garden for lunch. Halfway through the meal, while Xie Lingjiang was still busy responding to the lady’s small talk, she saw the young magistrate abruptly put down his bowl and leave the table. She had assumed he was stepping away for a personal matter, but he never returned for the rest of the meal.

On a bright, sunny afternoon, after finishing a meal with the Su family, Xie Lingjiang practiced her long-range archery in the back garden. Estimating that the county office’s lunch break was drawing to a close, she declined the invitation for afternoon tea and hurried to the office ahead of time.

Yet, even after waiting for a long while, by the time the officials had returned to their posts, there was still no sign of Ouyang Rong. She asked a bailiff, but he, too, was clueless.

Where was he?

She rushed to Meilu Garden and found Madam Zhen.

"Madam, do you happen to know where Brother Lianghan has gone?"

"Tan-lang is not at the office?"

"He is not. I haven't seen him for several days."

"Is Wanwan missing him, then?"

"..." Xie Lingjiang kept a straight face. "No. I am his aide; I do not understand why he hasn't summoned me for official matters."

"Don't be so resentful, Wanwan. When he returns tonight, I shall scold him on your behalf."

Madam Zhen smiled, though she knew the noble lady of the Xie clan was too serious to be teased excessively. The woman in the flowing skirt pondered for a moment and added, "I have noticed Tan-lang has been in a great hurry these past few days. He walks as if chased by the wind and returns very late each night. I don't know what he is busy with, but he always returns covered in filth—once, he even came back caked in yellow mud. Yesterday morning, young Yan came to pick him up, and I overheard them discussing something about a camp on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps you could look for him there."

"Thank you, Madam."

Without another word, Xie Lingjiang turned and left Luming Street. After asking for directions, she headed toward the outskirts. However, the scene along the way left her astonished.

She remembered that not long ago, when she and Ouyang Rong had descended the mountain to see her father off at the ferry, the bustling streets of Longcheng and the imperial roads outside the city had been crowded with refugees dragging their families along.

Today, however, while the refugees had not entirely vanished, there were few left. Most were women, children, and the elderly. Though they still looked sallow, the blank, gray despair of those starving and collapsing on the ground was gone. Furthermore, perhaps because there were fewer able-bodied men, the public order had improved significantly.

The few young, able-bodied refugees she did encounter were busy carrying bricks, laying tiles, hauling water, or working among the ruins of damaged houses.

Xie Lingjiang wore a look of surprise, but once she reached the outskirts, she finally understood where most of the refugees had gone.

Resting her hand on her sword, she stood on a small hillock by a local Earth God shrine and gazed into the distance.

Between the county of Longcheng and the Great Lone Mountain, where the Eastern Forest Temple stood, lay a vast expanse of land that had recently emerged from the receding floodwaters. The golden sun poured down like a ladle of scalding oil onto a crisp, yellow pancake.

The masses of refugees, clustered or scattered as they worked, along with the newly erected sheds and thatched huts, were like hot oil droplets dancing on that freshly fried pancake. A vitality, distinct from the gentle growth of a spring mountain, surged fiercely across the land before her.

Xie Lingjiang felt that this did not resemble the melancholy of the current spring, but rather the industrious golden autumn she had seen as a child when her father took her to the family estate.

This vibrant energy, which seemed to change the very season of the landscape, compelled her to descend the hill and approach the site of her own accord.

Entering the bustling disaster relief camp, she saw women and children fetching water and gathering fruit, men driving stakes to build sheds, and cooks boiling water in large pots. As she looked around, she made sure to ask the blue-robed officials about Ouyang Rong.

"You are looking for the Magistrate, Miss? I saw him and Bailiff Yan eating on the ridges at noon. They seem to have gone to the newly built Frost Descent Camp this afternoon. Construction began only yesterday. The Magistrate is very strict about the placement of latrines in every camp and forbids anyone from relieving themselves indiscriminately. He insists on supervising the construction of each one personally."

"Frost Descent Camp?" Xie Lingjiang asked, curious.

"The Frost Descent Camp is further to the south. The camp we are standing in is called Grain Rain, and the one next to it is the Summer Beginning Camp. These are all names chosen by the Magistrate. He said he intends to build twenty-four relief camps around the city, one for each solar term. The Magistrate is truly a man of culture..."

Xie Lingjiang chuckled, bade farewell to the young official, and continued her search toward the south.

It was evening by the time she finally found Ouyang Rong.

When she first arrived at the southernmost, newly constructed Frost Descent Camp, the "Radish Magistrate" the refugees spoke of was not there. According to a local official left in charge, the Magistrate had rushed to the Clear Brightness Camp to the north shortly before her arrival, after hearing that a laborer had suffered a bone injury, to seek out a physician.

Thus, the two of them had missed each other perfectly.

After circling around for the entire afternoon, the sun was nearly setting when she finally found the man resting on a field ridge still thick with yellow mud.

He did not seem surprised to see her. He wiped his hands on his already filth-stained hem, smiled, and took the clean water skin she silently handed him.

"You..."

Xie Lingjiang had felt a flicker of resentment—why was this man running around everywhere, making her search for him all afternoon? But seeing him tilt his head back and gulp down the water, looking every bit the parched laborer, her words shifted. She asked softly:

"Why do they call you the 'Radish Magistrate'?"

At this, Ouyang Rong sighed with emotion. "I originally thought the pickled radishes at the Eastern Forest Temple were delicious, but it turns out the ones brought by the village matrons are even better. I couldn't help but eat a bit more during the last few meals. Brother Lingjiang, it seems the true masters are hidden among the common folk."

One of the exhausted officials resting on the ridge nearby couldn't help but interject:

"Ming-tang has been drinking porridge with the disaster victims every meal in the outskirts these past few days. When Bailiff Yan couldn't bear it, he went to find some pickled radishes. Ming-tang eats them at every meal. 'Radish Magistrate' is a respectful title given by the people, and it has spread throughout the city and beyond."

Xie Lingjiang was torn between laughter and tears. *How can you treat these pickled radishes as a reward?*

She said to Ouyang Rong, "Then when dinner is served tonight, I must have a taste."

Ouyang Rong nodded helplessly. Seeing the sun sinking in the west, he gave careful instructions to his subordinates regarding the camp. They acknowledged his orders and departed.

On the sun-drenched ridge, only the two fellow students from the White Deer Grotto Academy remained, their shadows stretching long behind them.

Xie Lingjiang sat down beside Ouyang Rong, ignoring the dirt.

With her sword resting across her knees, her starry eyes gazed straight at the red sun hiding behind the Great Lone Mountain. From this angle, the ancient temple belonging to the Southern Lotus Sect looked like a black silhouette, its outline defined only by the golden light.

"You have been busy with this all these days? Did you organize all of this? Is this what you called... 'work-for-relief'?" the noble lady asked.

"Twelve thousand, nine hundred and eighty-one people," the young magistrate suddenly said, ignoring her question.

"What?"

"In the first year of the Sage Calendar of the Great Zhou, a great flood hit the Cloud Dream Marsh, and Longcheng was submerged. As of noon today, there are twelve thousand, nine hundred and eighty-one disaster victims, accounting for nearly two-fifths of the county's total population.

"Among them, four thousand, three hundred and seventy-three are orphans, elderly, sick, or frail—those unable to support themselves.

"Approximately one thousand, one hundred are missing. As for those who fled to other counties, it is unknown; as for those who have perished, it is unknown."

Xie Lingjiang fell silent, turning to look at him as he continued to recite the figures:

"Stored grain in the righteous granary, as of yesterday, is nine thousand, eight hundred and seventeen shi...

"Twenty-four relief camps are planned; eighteen have been roughly constructed. Thirty-three grain distribution points and porridge stalls have been set up. Each person is allocated one sheng of relief grain per day; children, half a sheng.

"To prevent trampling, men and women draw rations separately, receiving two days' worth of food at a time... No one may leave the relief camp without a valid reason, or they will be denied rations...

"As of today, through work-for-relief, we have mobilized two thousand, seven hundred able-bodied men, accounting for three thousand, six hundred man-days of labor, paid in chestnut rice.

"Furthermore, eight hundred laborers have been hired by ninety wealthy households who still have surplus resources to repair collapsed houses, accounting for nine hundred and thirty man-days of labor, paid for by the households themselves..."

Ouyang Rong recited these figures, which he had calculated countless times in his mind, in one breath. He let out a long sigh, turned, and looked earnestly at his junior sister, who was staring at him in a daze:

"The foundation has been set. Following these regulations, we will ensure the women, children, and elderly are fed, while the able-bodied are not left idle. Through work-for-relief, they can labor, earn grain, and rebuild their homes once the disaster passes...

"Now, we only wait for more relief grain from the Imperial Court and Jiangzhou so we can begin the reconstruction of flood defense structures."

In the last rays of the setting sun, Xie Lingjiang saw the young magistrate stand up, brimming with excitement. He pointed at the people working diligently in the fields and asked, as if confused:

"So, I ask you—why should we beg for charity from those wealthy squires and benevolent lords, only to be fed thin porridge and treated like livestock? These people do not need the scraps tossed back to them after being exploited. They are industrious and capable; what they need is a field to plow, a home where they can drive the stakes themselves, and work that allows them to use their own sweat. They do not need anyone's charity."

Then, Xie Lingjiang, who had pulled her sword close as the cold wind grew sharper, watched as her senior brother—now a black silhouette merged with the mountains and the ancient temple—calmly concluded:

"To hell with those 'great philanthropists.'"

She saw the "Qi" once more.