The World is Difficult

With the old man dead, the refugees here became even more numb. For a moment, the open space outside the city was extremely quiet.

Steward Yang was very pleased. He took out a small bronze mirror to look at himself, then looked at Liu Dabao.

"Are you selling?" Steward Yang no longer hid his intentions.

Liu Dabao was timid and weak. He looked at the dead old man on the ground, then at Steward Yang. When he saw the impatience on the other man's face, he quickly knelt down and said bitterly, "Sell, sell, sell! As long as I can live, I'll sell anything!"

Steward Yang smiled, rubbing his fingers together, and looked at the crowd of refugees. He stepped forward to inspect them, clearly not satisfied with just one and wanting to pick the best of the best, looking for a few more.

He skipped over all the older people, only looking for handsome young men. However, most of the refugees were emaciated beyond recognition, so he could only get a rough idea.

Steward Yang circled around, picked out a few more, and then came before Meng Yuan.

"Your bone structure looks decent, but you're so dirty I can't tell if you're handsome or ugly," Steward Yang said, his hands tucked in his sleeves. "Grab a handful of snow and rub your face so this lord can see."

"Not selling," Meng Yuan replied directly.

"Bah! Playing high and mighty! Later, you won't even find a place to sell yourself even if you want to!" Steward Yang spat on the ground, gathered seven or eight young men, said a few words to the constables, and then left in a hurry by carriage.

The constables didn't bother with them anymore and went back to the porridge shed to warm themselves by the fire, acting as if nothing had happened.

The world was silent, occasionally broken by the low sobs of children, making it seem even more lonely and desolate.

Meng Yuan grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed his face, then came before the old man. He knelt on one knee and checked for a breath, then felt his neck. He was clearly dead.

Just as he was thinking about whether he could find the yamen runners to arrange something, he heard someone spit.

Meng Yuan looked up and saw a woman leaning against the wall at the entrance of a narrow alley. She was wearing a tattered floral padded jacket and spitting out melon seed shells.

The woman's appearance was ordinary, her eyes were dark-rimmed. She glanced at the carriage driving into the city gate and said irritably, "It's already hard in a famine year, and it's one whore stealing another whore's business, but now men are also coming to steal whores' business! What kind of world is this! Bah!"

Clearly, this woman was not a refugee, but likely a prostitute from the alley. However, her knowledge was probably not very high. Those who liked "rabbit boys" (male prostitutes) would likely not seek pleasure in dark alleys, so her talk of stealing business was probably inaccurate.

"Sister," Meng Yuan sat on the snow. When he saw the woman look over, he asked, "Excuse me, Sister, do you have any old, unused straw mats at home?"

The woman smiled when she heard this. While cracking melon seeds, she said, "In this freezing weather, what use is a straw mat? Sister has hot water and a warm body in her room." As she spoke, she blinked her eyes. Unfortunately, her appearance was ordinary, and she didn't know how to dress up. Instead of being alluring, she looked a bit comical.

"When a person dies and is buried, even without a coffin, they should at least have a straw mat to wrap their body and cover their face," Meng Yuan said, lowering his head in supplication.

When the woman heard this, she saw that the young man was dressed in ragged, bulky clothes, his hands were covered in frostbite, and his face was gaunt and thin, looking utterly wretched. She asked, "What is he to you?"

"I don't know him. We're all unfortunate people fleeing disaster. He died for a just word, so we can't just leave him here," Meng Yuan replied.

The woman spat, turned around, and walked into the alley, still spitting out melon seed shells. "Asking me for something? Haven't you heard that whores are heartless?"

Meng Yuan wasn't discouraged. He took a breath and found the constables warming themselves by the fire under the porridge shed.

"Officers," he bowed respectfully, then said, "Steward Yang just beat someone to death. May I ask how this will be handled?"

"What?" A big-bearded constable looked Meng Yuan up and down, his hand on the knife at his waist, on guard. "You want justice?"

"I wouldn't dare," Meng Yuan said, cupping his hands, which were covered in frostbite. "It's freezing cold, and it's chaotic here. The refugees are likely to gather more and more. If the dead are not dealt with, there might be an epidemic. It's nothing if some refugees die, but you officers are here on official duty, and it will inevitably disturb your peace. That's why I came to ask, officers, if there are any mass graves or charity homes nearby so I can drag him there and take care of it."

"You're quite the smooth talker, kid! There's a mass grave half a li southwest!" The constable saw that he was trying to curry favor and spoke clearly, so he relaxed his grip on the knife.

"I really don't have the strength. Could I please have another bowl of porridge?" Meng Yuan made a small request.

"The porridge is long gone!" The constable glanced at Meng Yuan, felt his money pouch, and said impatiently, "That's enough for you to find someone else to help! Go on!" He threw out a dozen copper coins and looked at another constable, saying, "What did the higher-ups say? How are we supposed to handle these refugees? I came to provide disaster relief, but not only did I not get any silver, I have to pay out of my own pocket!"

The copper coins scattered on the ground. Meng Yuan bent down, picked them up one by one, then cupped his hands in a bow again and returned to the corpse.

"This world," Old Man Jiang also came over. He seemed to want to say something, but only said, "I'll lend a hand."

"Alright," Meng Yuan grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed the bloodstains off the dead man's face, revealing a weathered old face.

"Here!" Just then, the woman who had returned earlier came back. She had a tattered straw mat tucked under her arm and a bingzi (a type of flatbread) in her hand, and she threw them both in front of Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan quickly took the straw mat and covered the deceased, then put the bingzi in his pocket and said gratefully, "Sister, your kindness is great. I will repay you someday."

"Alright, alright, repaying kindness! The only time you men tell the truth is when you're trembling!" The woman waved her hand, started cracking melon seeds again, and said with a smile, "If you really have a conscience, when things are stable later, you can come to Auspicious Lane and sleep with this old lady a few times every month. That's better than anything! Remember, this old lady is called Sister Hua, don't sleep with the wrong person!"

Meng Yuan thanked her repeatedly, broke the bingzi in half, gave one half to Old Man Jiang, and Old Man Jiang gave half of his share to his granddaughter.

The three of them wolfed it down, then grabbed a handful of snow to wash it down.

Meng Yuan didn't dare to wait long, fearing the body would stiffen and be difficult to move. He quickly wrapped it in the straw mat and, together with Old Man Jiang, carried it towards the mass grave.

Having been hungry and cold for a long time, the two of them lacked strength. It took a full hour to cover the half li distance.

The heavy snow and severe cold had frozen the ground solid. They didn't have any tools to dig with, so Meng Yuan simply cleared a patch of snow, laid the person down, and found some broken stones to cover him, treating it as a grave.

In this difficult world, that was all they could do.

Returning to the city gate, they saw that the number of refugees seemed to have increased.

"Let's go eat something first," Meng Yuan suggested, seeing that Old Man Jiang's granddaughter could no longer walk.

"I don't have any money," Old Man Jiang said.

Meng Yuan reached out, took out a handful of copper coins, and smiled, "The officer gave them to us. It's our payment for moving the body."

Without waiting for Old Man Jiang to speak, Meng Yuan glanced at the few narrow alleys under the city wall, avoided Auspicious Lane, and walked inside.

Food was expensive in the famine year. After asking at several stalls, they finally chose one selling hot tofu. It was six wen a bowl. Meng Yuan ordered two large bowls and one small bowl.

After paying first, the stall owner picked up a large bowl, lifted the lid of the pot, scooped out two large pieces of tofu, scraped some salt from a salt brick, added a large spoonful of chive flower paste, drizzled two drops of sesame oil, and finally added a spoonful of hot soup.

The tofu was steaming hot, the chive flower paste was fragrant and spicy. Mixed together, a bowl of this on a cold winter day was truly the ultimate delicacy.

Gulping down the last drop, leaving the bowl completely empty, the chill was instantly dispelled. Steam rose from Meng Yuan's head, and he felt warm from the inside out. His whole being finally came alive.

This meal was satisfying, but he didn't know where the next one would come from. It was time to find a way to survive.