Undertow

"Was that him?"

Qin Fang paused for a moment.

He saw several people standing beside the line, talking in hushed voices. They were all dressed like refugees, but after taking a closer look, Qin Fang sensed something was off.

They were sturdily built. Though they all looked a little "thin," it was the lean, wiry kind of thin, completely different from the emaciated, famine-stricken look of real refugees.

Their faces were also coated with a thick layer of dirt, making them look as though they had spent many days exposed to the elements. But a closer look revealed that it was nothing more than a disguise. They had deliberately smeared yellow earth on their faces, which was completely different from the natural, weather-beaten look of the refugees.

There was a reason Qin Fang recognized this man so well...

He was the first one to shout, "Rebel!"

Clearly, the news that True Martial County was distributing grain had shocked him, and his first shout had come out a little too loud.

But he had quickly lowered his voice, and Qin Fang could no longer make out what he was saying.

He only saw the man whisper something to the people beside him. He cast a somewhat unwilling glance at the city gate, then led several people nearby into the refugee crowd, where they disappeared from sight.

Qin Fang frowned deeply...

His eyes flickered.

It seemed someone planned to take advantage of the refugees entering the city and stir up trouble?

...Make the refugees rebel?

His expression darkened.

He was a refugee himself now.

And just moments ago, when he learned that True Martial County wasn't distributing grain, he really had felt a rebellious impulse.

But in any dynasty, rebellion was clearly the greatest crime.

Making refugees rebel...

Wouldn't that be the same as forcing him, Qin Fang, to rebel?

But after only a moment's hesitation, Qin Fang let out a breath and decided not to follow them...

He was starving to death.

He'd better fill his stomach first.

Still, he kept this matter in mind.

He would have to keep an eye out from now on...

He thought to himself.

The line was long. There were probably already forty or fifty thousand refugees.

Qin Fang was in the middle of the line... He waited for more than two hours before finally reaching the city gate.

It was already very dark, but torches blazed brightly at the gate.

Each iron pot was large enough for four or five people to link arms around. Inside, millet porridge simmered, not especially thick. But Qin Fang, who hadn't eaten in a long time, watched the sticky porridge as his mouth began to water uncontrollably and his stomach hurt even more.

When his turn came, an official took a bowl from the side... It was a fairly large, wide-mouthed bowl, clearly a crudely fired reject. He ladled porridge into it and handed it to Qin Fang.

"For now, you'll only get one bowl. Have a little something to tide you over. There are others inside the city giving out porridge too. After you've eaten, register at the city gate. Once you're registered, you can rest in the city for a while. We've set aside an area for you, and you may only move around within that area. You are strictly forbidden from disturbing the city's residents! And you must not cause trouble! Otherwise, you'll be driven out of True Martial County! Don't say we didn't warn you!"

Someone shouted loudly, announcing the rules for entering the city.

Holding his bowl of millet porridge, Qin Fang hurried toward the city gate.

He was so hungry that he didn't care how hot it was. He immediately started gulping it down.

It was only an ordinary bowl of millet porridge, and there were even plenty of husks in it. It was so coarse it scraped his throat.

But to Qin Fang right now, it was like a timely rain. His throat, which had nearly stuck together, finally loosened...

In no time, he had swallowed the whole bowl.

He let out a long breath...

The intense hunger was temporarily suppressed, and his stomach finally stopped cramping.

But it was obvious that this little bit of food wasn't nearly enough.

Still, they had made it clear: the food at the gate was only meant to tide everyone over. There were others inside the city giving out porridge, so anyone still hungry could go eat more.

And True Martial County had clearly established a temporary restricted area to shelter the refugees.

Following the refugees ahead of him, he moved forward step by step until he finally reached the city gate.

Several clerks were stationed there, registering the refugees entering the city. Everyone had to register.

It was Qin Fang's turn soon.

"Name?"

"Qin Fang."

"Place of origin?"

"Qin Family Village, Jingping County, Chixia Commandery, Yanfang Prefecture."

"Do you have an Identity Plate?"

"I do."

Hearing Qin Fang say that he had an Identity Plate, the clerk looked up in surprise.

"Let me see it."

Qin Fang rummaged around in his tattered clothes for a while and pulled out a bamboo-and-wood plaque.

This was an "Identity Plate," also called an "identity slip." It was the equivalent of an ID card in the Great Yu Dynasty.

The clerk took it and examined it carefully.

"Great Yu Dynasty Identity Plate"

"Name: Qin Fang"

"Place of origin: Yanfang Prefecture, Chixia Commandery, Jingping County"

"Age: Born in the Xiang Month of Guangwu Year 9"

"Appearance: Seven chi and six fen tall, somewhat stout; a two-finger-wide red birthmark on the right side of the ribs, resembling a burn; index fingers slightly longer than the ring fingers on both hands."

"Status: Commoner (farmer)"

"Issued by: Jingping County Office, Chixia Commandery"

Although the Great Yu Identity Plate had no portrait, it recorded distinctive and unusual details about the holder's body.

For example, the location of a birthmark or some unusual feature.

If someone had a scar on their face, it might be described as "an old scar, four cun long, on the left cheek..." and the like.

In short, they tried to note features that would be immediately recognizable, so others could use the Identity Plate to determine whether its holder was really the person named on it.

Of course, this thing couldn't compare with modern technology.

But it was the best they could do with the means available in ancient times.

According to the description on his Identity Plate, Qin Fang should have been somewhat stout.

But he had starved for months and lost fifty or sixty pounds. He was now so thin that a gust of wind might knock him over.

At least he was tall enough... Seven chi and six fen was around 1.8 meters by the standards of his previous life.

In Great Yu, that made him stand out from the crowd.

The clerk nodded as he looked at Qin Fang, who was as thin as a bamboo pole. Then he checked the Identity Plate against the birthmark and Qin Fang's hands. His expression visibly relaxed.

...Having an Identity Plate meant he was a law-abiding citizen.

Many refugees had said their Identity Plates had been lost during their flight.

The officials had still let them in, but everyone knew that among them might be criminals...

Once someone committed a crime and was caught, their Identity Plate would be confiscated. Even if a new one was issued, it would record the crime in detail.

Ordinarily, commoners weren't allowed to leave their place of origin without cause.

Even if they did leave, they needed the government to issue travel documents and the like. Sometimes, a record would even be added to their Identity Plate, noting where they had gone and why...

The people of this world were managed far more strictly than one might imagine.

Of course, Qin Fang was a refugee who had come to True Martial County to escape disaster, so he naturally had no travel documents or anything of the sort.

But his Identity Plate matched his physical features, which greatly increased the likelihood that he was a law-abiding citizen.

"Fine. Once you're inside, don't disturb the residents. Go to the shelter and stay there for now. Arrangements will be made later."

After recording Qin Fang's information, the clerk stamped his Identity Plate with "Entry Permitted," then returned it to him and gave him another reminder.

Qin Fang bowed in acknowledgement and took back his Identity Plate. Only then did he enter through the gates of True Martial County.

A line of bright torches lit the way. Qin Fang saw people peeking out through the windows on both sides of the street, secretly watching the refugees.

At regular intervals, he spotted sturdy men in mismatched clothes patrolling the area. They were most likely there to prevent the refugees from causing trouble.

He let out a breath and hurried onward.

The millet porridge he had just eaten seemed to have already been digested. There were still places inside the city handing out porridge, and he needed to get something more to eat...

Not long afterward, he saw a porridge station set up along the street.

A banner hung above it, bearing the words "True Martial Fist Hall."

A martial arts school...

Qin Fang's eyes flickered.