Chapter Forty-Nine: The Hardships of the People

Ji Wu clapped his hands, his heart surging with excitement.

The problem that had troubled him for more than half a year now felt as though the clouds had parted and the moon was shining through; clarity filled his mind.

Mr. Xu was right: this was an inevitable matter. Even without his unnecessary intervention, would it not have happened all the same? It was merely a question of whom it befell.

His intentions had been pure, his actions carried out without error. The ultimate consequence—disaster victims plundering grain—could perhaps be traced to his kindness, but how could that be the main cause?

What fault lay in compassion? When did a warm heart and a chivalrous spirit become a pejorative? Was this not the ideal he aspired to, the very deeds that made heroes worthy of applause? He could not bear to witness the elders’ suffering, so he gave them food—how could that be a mistake?

All that followed, even if driven by emotion, was rooted in goodwill!

The true cause of all this did not originate with him. It lay in the government's mishandling of the natural disaster, leaving countless victims destitute, starving, and with no way to survive!

No wonder Mr. Xu said he was tormenting himself for no reason.

“Mr. Xu, I understand now—I understand everything!” Ji Wu’s spirit soared, the gloom of the past half year dispelled, and he regained his vigor.

The fault was not his, but this damned world!

The authorities failed in disaster relief, and the afflicted struggled to survive.

Living in this world, he would inevitably be affected by its turmoil. The root was not within him, yet he sought to find blame in himself—was that not a form of self-entrapment? How could he ever find release?

“Indeed.” Xu Yuan nodded with approval. “You have done nothing wrong. As long as you do not exceed your own abilities and can bear the cost, helping others is no fault.

As long as aiding others does not inflict unbearable loss upon yourself or lead to lifelong regret, it is worthy of praise.”

Even those rotten to the core would wish for more good people in the world—if only because the good are easier to exploit.

Normal folk naturally prefer those with kind hearts. After all, who wants to be surrounded by schemers, their minds full of malice, always plotting against others?

If someone truly prefers that, may all those around him be the same.

Birds of a feather flock together.

If Ji Wu had truly ordered Xiong Ba to attack the disaster victims, Xu Yuan would have been disappointed.

“Mastering power beyond one’s own and refraining from its abuse is, in itself, restraint. The strong wield their blades against stronger foes; the weak lash out at those even weaker. Remember this well,” Xu Yuan encouraged him.

Ji Wu, hearing Xu Yuan’s words of praise, chuckled sheepishly, his worries dissolving. He returned to being the cheerful, sunny young man he once was and invited, “Mr. Xu, come and sit for a while at the Escort Agency. So much has happened this past year—my father and I followed your advice, joined forces with many others, and now we have at least eighty or a hundred people, and there’s more…”

“Perhaps later,” Xu Yuan’s gaze drifted into the distance. “I must visit an old friend first.”

“May I come with you?” Ji Wu asked, eager.

“You may,” Xu Yuan replied.

Qingfeng Temple.

Still that familiar spot halfway up the mountain.

Before the three stone-built rooms, the small fields had begun to show a fresh green—neither sparse nor lush.

By now, the morning was well underway, the hour when ordinary households took breakfast.

When Xu Yuan arrived, he saw Ah Chou busying herself at the stone table, preparing food.

Beside Ah Guai, there was also a child of about five or six years old. The child’s thin hands gripped the stone table, large eyes fixed intently on the food before her, swallowing repeatedly.

“Ah Chou,” Xu Yuan called as he approached.

“Mr. Xu?” Ah Chou, stirring a bowl of green—whether bark or wild vegetables, it was hard to tell—looked up and, upon seeing Xu Yuan, beamed. “You’ve come to see me!”

“I said I would,” Xu Yuan nodded, sitting at the stone table. He glanced at the little one he hadn’t met before. “And who is this?”

“This is Xiao Wu.” Ah Chou scratched her head, a little embarrassed. “Last year’s disaster—I wanted to follow Master’s example and save more people, but there wasn’t much food in the mountains, so I could only help a few children.”

She paused, her face clouded with sorrow. “Sadly, the first four didn’t survive the winter. Only Xiao Wu made it through.”

In a year of calamity, food shortages meant that winter was the harshest test.

Bitter cold, scant clothing and food—the outcome was painfully predictable.

Qingfeng Temple was never a wealthy place; even self-sufficiency was a struggle, let alone feeding five hungry mouths.

“Let’s not dwell on it. Mr. Xu, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? I’ll go put on some more porridge.”

Ah Chou, simple and honest, rarely lingered on unhappy matters. She rose to fetch more food from the kitchen.

Ji Wu was about to protest, but seeing Xu Yuan unmoved, kept silent.

As Ah Chou busied herself in the kitchen, Xiao Wu, four or five years old, watched the two guests curiously, but sat quietly.

On the stone table, only before her was a bowl the size of two palms, mostly filled with porridge, and nothing else but the green mass.

Ji Wu reached for the bowl, sniffed it, and found the odor sharp and bitter.

Xu Yuan picked up unused chopsticks and sampled a bite, his expression calm, betraying no emotion.

Seeing this, Ji Wu imitated him, taking Xiao Wu’s chopsticks and tasting the green mass. Instantly, his face changed; a wave of bitterness and acrid flavor flooded his mouth, surging to his head. He nearly spat it out.

But Mr. Xu hadn’t, so how could he?

Ji Wu gritted his teeth and swallowed the green mass. He felt as if his bitter gall was stirred, leaving him restless.

Even at the worst days in his family’s Escort Agency, he had never eaten anything like this.

Inside were herbs, wild vegetables, roots—even some possibly edible leaves.

Ji Wu truly couldn’t treat this as food.

Soon, Ah Chou returned with two bowls of freshly heated porridge for Xu Yuan and Ji Wu, and a small dish of pickled vegetables.

“I ate wild fruit this morning, so I’ll skip the porridge,” Ah Chou said, urging them to eat while she herself only ate from the bowl of green mass, startling Ji Wu with her composure.

If he had to eat this every day—no, even for just a few days—he’d storm the disaster relief office without a second thought.

Yet Ah Chou managed it calmly, and even Xiao Wu could take a few bites.

Even Mr. Xu ignored the pickled vegetables, eating only from the green bowl. Ji Wu forced himself to keep pace, and by meal’s end, his chest and lungs burned as if ablaze.