Shen Jue followed Cui He toward the back mountain.
Along the way, he saw even more people.
The area around the Divine Lady Temple was filled with refugees in tattered clothes, each holding a bamboo tube filled with white porridge.
An old man finished his porridge and scraped the inside of the tube with his finger, then sucked on it.
“This porridge is so fragrant,” he said, his eyes suddenly reddening. “If only my poor grandson could have had some too.”
“Old Man Xia, everyone has their fate. Being graced by the Divine Lady is a blessing among blessings,” someone nearby comforted him.
“Yes, yes, the Divine Lady is truly kind...”
Shen Jue’s pace slowed involuntarily.
His gaze swept over the faces. The heartfelt smiles and reverence were contagious.
“Big brother, why did you stop?” Cui He’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
They continued until they reached the back mountain.
Shen Jue looked at the open slope before him.
The soil had been tilled, and rows of ridges were perfectly aligned, as if measured with a ruler.
Dozens of men were swinging hoes, sweat rolling down their backs.
Shen Yu stood at the end of a ridge, giving instructions about a newly tilled plot.
He wore a coarse cloth short tunic, his hair tied back with a wooden pin. Wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead. He looked nothing like the noble young master he once was.
Surrounding him were the soldiers who had come with Guo Pan to destroy the fields. They had removed their armor and were working honestly with hoes.
Cui He skipped over and tugged at Shen Yu’s sleeve. “Teacher, big brother is looking for you.”
Shen Yu looked up and saw Shen Jue. He froze for a second, then smiled.
The smile was open and bright, more vivid than any memory Shen Jue had of him.
“Brother, why are you here?” He patted the dirt off his hands and stepped off the ridge.
“Don’t play dumb,” Shen Jue said with a sidelong glance. “You told this little girl to bring me porridge this morning just to get me to come find you, didn’t you?”
“Nothing escapes you, brother.”
Shen Yu said helplessly, “The number of refugees coming to the Divine Lady Temple is increasing every day. Even with three heads and six arms, I can’t handle it all. I had to find a way to make you stay.”
It was true that desperate places bred desperate people.
Governors of various cities posted notices forbidding refugees from entering, not just because they lacked food, but because refugees were hard to manage.
These people had lost their homes and families, driven to the edge by hunger and despair.
What wouldn’t someone do when pushed to the limit?
If pushed too hard, they would even rob the government.
Yesterday, he had Shen Da do a rough count. There were over eight hundred people in the valley.
If he handled everything alone, he might die young before seeing peace return to the world.
“Take me to see the Divine Lady.”
Shen Jue didn’t know her name, so he followed Shen Yu’s lead.
Shen Yu frowned slightly. “Brother, do you think the Divine Lady is someone we mere mortals can see whenever we want?”
Shen Jue: “...”
He had gone to war with his father at sixteen. After five years of fighting, he was appointed General of the Flying Cavalry at twenty-one, a position equal to the Three Ducal Ministers. Who in court dared not greet him with a smile?
Although he had offended the Emperor and been exiled from the capital, he hadn’t been stripped of his rank. He was still a General.
At the border, he could still lead the frontier army.
Born as the heir to a Marquis and reaching high rank so young, how could he not be proud?
If anyone else had shut him out, he would have taught them a lesson.
But this Divine Lady was different.
Even if she were a fake deity, that bowl of porridge alone made her worth his attention.
Without a method to increase crop yields, where would the confidence to distribute porridge every day come from?
For the sake of that method, he swallowed his pride. “The refugees say the Divine Lady grants porridge at the temple every morning at the Hour of the Dragon. Can I join them and bow to her tomorrow?”
Shen Yu looked at Shen Jue with an unreadable expression.
He pointed toward the valley entrance. “See those people? They all want to bow to the Divine Lady, but the space in front of the temple is limited.”
“Brother, if you want to bow to her, you have to line up for a number. You can only go when your number is called.”
Shen Jue looked where he was pointing.
A long line had formed. Men, women, old, and young—mostly in rags.
The line snaked around, with at least two or three hundred people. The sight made him frown.
Shen Yu patted his brother’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This line won’t move quickly.”
He and Shen Jue were brothers; he knew him well. He was convinced that once Shen Jue saw the Divine Lady granting porridge, he would stay and dedicate himself to her.
Then Shen Yu could relax a bit instead of working from dawn to dusk doing the job of five or six people.
Oh, right.
He remembered he had a few close classmates. He should write some letters later and see how many he could trick into coming.
Shen Jue didn’t know what Shen Yu was thinking. He walked to the end of the long line.
He waited all day. The sun climbed to its zenith and then slid toward the west.
The sun grew intense, scorching his back. His clothes were soaked with sweat and clung to his skin.
The people in front of him moved forward one by one.
It wasn’t until the sun dipped low and twilight gathered that the line finally thinned.
Finally, before it got dark, it was his turn.
A simple wooden table stood before the Divine Lady Temple. A man in green cloth sat behind it, a thick ledger spread before him, writing incessantly.
He didn’t look up. His voice was raspy and mechanical, as if he had repeated the same words hundreds of times.
“Name? Where are you from? Are you literate? Do you know what to say when you bow to the Divine Lady?”
“Shen Jue, courtesy name Changfeng...”
As soon as he spoke, the man writing looked up sharply. “Eldest... Eldest Young Master?”
“Shen Er?” Shen Jue narrowed his eyes. “Why are you the one registering the refugees?”
Shen Er, with dark circles under his eyes, looked like he wanted to cry. “I learned a few characters from the tutor in the manor years ago, so the Second Young Master gave me this job.”
Heavens, who would have thought a guard would one day end up doing clerical work?
He just wanted to die.
He was incredibly envious of Shen Da right now. Because Shen Da was illiterate, he had escaped this fate.
“Fuyan said I need a number to bow to the Divine Lady.”
Shen Jue held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Shen Er jumped in surprise and quickly fumbled for a bamboo slip on the table, handing it over with both hands.
The bamboo slip was crudely made, with the numbers “270” crookedly carved into it.
Shen Jue looked at the slip expressionlessly.
“Eldest Young Master.”
Shen Er suddenly leaned in and lowered his voice. “There are rules for bowing to the Divine Lady.”
“When you kowtow, your forehead must hit the ground. It has to make a sound, or it doesn’t count as being sincere.”
“Then you have to say, ‘The Divine Lady is merciful...’”
Shen Jue: “...”
Fine. Great things require patience.
Rate on N.U.
