The Peasant Uprising Was Imminent

Brother Wang walked at the front, and his two buckets were the first to be filled.

He hooked both buckets onto a carrying pole, hoisted it onto his shoulder, then used the momentum to turn around. He had to turn very slowly, keeping the buckets as steady as possible, or he would spill the precious water inside. In a year of terrible drought like this, spilling even a single drop would leave his heart aching for ages.

But the moment he turned around and saw what was behind him, he was utterly dumbstruck.

At some point, a strange little mound of small white balls had appeared behind him.

Brother Wang's mouth fell wide open and stayed that way for a long while. The buckets slipped from his shoulder and hit the ground with a clang, spilling both buckets of water down to the very last drop.

A villager beside him was heartbroken and said urgently, "Brother Wang, how could you drop your buckets? Those... those were two buckets of good water..."

He was so distraught that he wanted to kneel right there and scoop it up, mud and all.

Brother Wang said stiffly, "Everyone... look... behind us..."

The villagers beside the pond turned around one after another.

One turned, and froze!

Another turned, and froze too!

In the blink of an eye, the whole crowd stood as though their pressure points had been struck, locked in stiff poses as they stared stupidly at the mound of little balls behind them.

One villager opened his mouth to cry out, but Brother Wang darted over and clamped a hand over it.

Only then did the other villagers come to their senses. This was Gao Family Village! They were here to steal water. They couldn't shout, or if they were caught, every last one of them would die of shame on the spot.

Brother Wang walked up to the mound, picked up a little ball, sniffed it, and whispered, "This is flour, isn't it? I'm not mistaken, am I? It smells like flour, but the grains are so big. Could it be flour that got damp and clumped into balls?"

Another villager nodded. "There's no mistaking it. Just now, I was wondering why I suddenly smelled flour. I thought I was so hungry I'd started hallucinating."

Brother Wang asked, "Where did these flour balls come from?"

"I didn't see!"

"Neither did I."

"I was drawing water just now."

Brother Wang gritted his teeth. "The people of Gao Family Village put them behind us while we weren't looking. That's the only possibility."

The villagers exchanged glances.

"The people of Gao Family Village are that kind?"

"Where did they get so much flour?"

"Why would they clump flour into balls?"

"Even if they had this much flour, they wouldn't just give it to us for no reason."

"And secretly put it behind us in the dead of night, too. This..."

Brother Wang looked left, right, ahead, and behind, scanning all around him, but couldn't spot a single soul. Then he tossed a flour ball into his mouth and chewed. With a sputter, he nearly sneezed. The taste of raw flour was hard to put into words. He whispered, "It really is flour! Flour given to us by the people of Gao Family Village. That's the only possibility. They knew we came to steal water in the middle of the night, but they didn't expose us to our faces because they wanted to spare us some dignity. They pitied us for being poor, so they left this pile of flour balls here for us to eat."

The villagers didn't believe that explanation for a second. Yet aside from this wildly implausible explanation, they couldn't think of any other possibility.

Brother Wang whispered, "Everyone, pour your water back into the pond. Use your buckets to carry flour first. Take as much as you can. Remember, you absolutely must not waste any of it. Be even more careful than when you're carrying water. If anyone spills flour, I'll beat him to death with these big fists of mine."

The villagers didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Brother Wang, you don't need to tell us that. If we spill any flour, we'll beat ourselves to death. No need for you to lift a finger."

They hurriedly poured the water in their buckets back into the pond!

They didn't dare put flour straight into the wet buckets, either; it would turn into paste. They held their wet buckets up to the wind and kept waving them through the air. It took quite a while to dry them out. Then they rushed to the mound of flour, filled both buckets, carefully hoisted them onto their shoulders, and set off with cautious little steps.

They were even more careful than they had been cradling their newborn children on the night their wives gave birth. They were terrified that one careless wobble would send the flour balls rolling into the sandy ground. Their hearts would ache so badly they wouldn't be able to breathe.

The group left with their loads of flour. Once they were outside the village, Brother Wang, who was leading them, suddenly set down his buckets, clasped his hands toward Gao Family Village, and bowed deeply. "I, Wang Er, will remember today's generous gift. One day, I will repay it."

He didn't know whom he was thanking, but surely it was some extraordinary person in Gao Family Village. Today, he was a water thief, and that person hadn't wished to meet him, so he had secretly given him flour instead. One day, he would come openly and honorably, and offer his thanks openly and honorably.

Only after hearing those words did Li Daoxuan learn his name: Wang Er!

That name seemed familiar. Where had he seen it before?

Something stirred in his mind. He hurriedly opened the historical materials on the late Ming that he had been reading over the past few days and searched through them. At last, he found Wang Er's name in Deerwood Notes:

In the year Chongzhen's reign began, a great famine struck the lands of Qin, leaving a thousand li of barren earth. A man named Wang Er of Baishui gathered a band, blackened their faces with ink, stormed Chengcheng, and killed the county magistrate.

Brief Notes on the Illustrious Emperor gave an even more vivid account:

In the dingmao year of Tianqi's reign, a great drought struck Shaanxi. Zhang Yaocai, the magistrate of Chengcheng, enforced tax collection with extreme cruelty, and the people could no longer bear his viciousness. A man named Wang Er secretly gathered several hundred men on a mountain, all with their faces smeared with ink. Wang Er shouted, "Who dares kill Magistrate Zhang?" The crowd answered in unison, "I dare!" They repeated this three times, then stormed into the city. The gatekeepers dared not resist them. They went straight into the county offices and killed Yaocai. The men then gathered together in the mountains.

Historians defined Wang Er's uprising as "the starting point of the late-Ming peasant uprisings." In other words, this man was the standard-bearer of the peasant wars that toppled the Great Ming. Li Zicheng, Zhang Xianzhong, and the rest were all his juniors.

Li Daoxuan silently closed his browser and turned his attention back to the Scenery Box.

Wang Er had already led his people out of the Scenery Box.

All they had left behind were footprints scattered across the ground and marks where even a layer of earth had been scraped away from beneath the flour pile.

Li Daoxuan sighed softly. "Since you're the one who marks the beginning of the late-Ming peasant wars, it looks like the flames of rebellion will reach Gao Family Village before long. We'll meet again."

Turning to look at Gao Family Village's dilapidated houses, Li Daoxuan knew that once the peasant uprising broke out, the village would inevitably be swept into the war. If he stayed by the Scenery Box, he could reach inside and sweep aside armies, keeping the little people safe.

But if he fell asleep or went out to do something, the little people would be in grave danger.

The Hakka Walled House would take more than another month to finish, but Wang Er's uprising was probably already imminent.

He couldn't foolishly sit around waiting for the Hakka Walled House. He had to find something else to protect them in the meantime.

At that thought, his gaze swept back and forth around his home, searching for something he could use to help the little people. Soon, he noticed a rusty piece of sheet metal peeling up from his clothes rack.

Li Daoxuan's eyes lit up. Scrap metal! I can use that to make iron armor for the little people.

But these little villagers were poor fighters. Even in iron armor, they might not be able to defeat roaming bandits or government troops. He needed to give them more dependable protection.

His gaze fell on a pile of Lego bricks beside his desk. Heh heh, these can tide them over until the Hakka Walled House is built.