All the rooms in the house had collapsed—there wasn’t even half a wall left. The collapse was complete and total.
In the middle of the courtyard, wooden boards were piled with the family’s remaining belongings. Beside them, rather abruptly, was another bloodstained wooden board. On it lay Zhao Erlai, tightly wrapped in bedding.
The child had been carried back by Old Man Zhao and Erlai’s father together. Old Man Zhao couldn’t bear it—seeing Erlai’s mother like that, if the boy died, she might throw herself into the river the next moment. He slapped Erlai’s father awake, then coaxed the mother into bringing the child to his home. They would treat a dead horse as if it were alive—he thought maybe the boy could benefit from Xiaobao’s “luck,” and perhaps hold on long enough to reach a doctor in town.
At daybreak, Zhao Dashan, Erlai’s father, and several young men from the village hurried toward the town. Their goal was twofold: to find a doctor and to learn what was happening outside—whether only Wanxia Village had suffered, or if the entire Tongjiang Town, even Guangping County, had been affected.
Heavy snow fell as they struggled forward through snow three feet deep, heading toward the distant town.
This day should have been one of family joy. If they made it through, the next day would be the start of a new year.
But at this turning point between the old year and the new, the entire Qingzhou Prefecture was struck by the “earth dragon turning.” The scale was vast. Guangping County was only feeling the aftershocks—the true disaster lay in Xinping County, where landslides had torn through the area, even splitting official roads apart. Countless houses collapsed in an instant, and very few survived.
And the neighboring counties, Anding and Quyang, were also filled with cries of despair. Even the roads leading out were blocked by fallen rocks.
In a single night, the entire Qingzhou Prefecture fell into unimaginable hardship.
Countless letters were sent toward the capital. Horses galloped along slippery roads. Officials and forces everywhere sprang into action.
This disaster was far too massive for anyone to conceal. All officials in Qingzhou no longer dared to hope for luck. They could only send people to the hardest-hit counties for rescue while praying that their superiors would not blame them.
Of course, chaos also bred corruption. Schemes and deceit hid beneath the disaster, stirring unrest. Many opportunists took advantage, looting and profiting, turning their lives upside down overnight.
Zhao Dashan and the others knew nothing of this. They traveled without rest and reached the town around mid-morning.
Along the way, they met many others heading to town for doctors or news. Each shared what had happened in their villages. All were similar—earthquakes struck in the night, many were killed instantly, and more were later dug out.
Only Wanxia Village had been somewhat fortunate. Because the Zhao family reacted quickly, Old Man Zhao immediately organized rescue efforts, saving many who were still barely alive. Other villages weren’t so lucky—people focused on their own families first, and by the time they tried to help others, it was too late.
In times of great disaster, people’s true nature was revealed. Some cared only for their sons, ignoring daughters trapped under beams. Some saved children but abandoned elderly parents. Some parents prioritized the eldest or youngest, neglecting the middle ones. These messy accounts couldn’t be summed up in a single sentence.
When disaster struck, selfishness could no longer be hidden.
As Zhao Dashan and the others entered the town, they saw collapsed buildings everywhere. Bodies dug from the ruins lay along the roads. People’s faces were numb, arms hanging weakly, heads bloodied and bruised, bodies covered in dust—gone was the former liveliness of the town.
The houses in town were sturdier than those in the village, yet even they had collapsed in large numbers. The only inn was now nothing but ruins.
If Zhao Dashan hadn’t fully understood the scale of the disaster before, seeing Tongjiang Town like this made his heart sink.
If this wasn’t the center of the earthquake, then what must the center be like?
He didn’t dare imagine it. The thought alone made his scalp tingle.
They headed toward the medical clinic. From a distance, they saw several workers fighting with a group of townspeople. The scene was chaotic.
“Have you no shame? Robbing in broad daylight!” one worker shouted angrily, pointing at several men. “Put it down! Put those herbs down, or I’ll report you to the authorities!”
“Robbing? I picked these up from the ground!” one of the men replied, eyes darting cunningly, completely unafraid. “Even if you report it, it doesn’t matter—whoever picks it up owns it!”
“These are our clinic’s herbs! Put them down!” The worker was nearly in tears, looking around for help. But he knew reporting them was just a bluff—officials had already gone to Xinping County. No one would come to help them now.
One of the men spotted a medicine box in a worker’s arms. He recognized it—it contained ginseng, a very valuable herb. Just a few roots could sell for two taels of silver.
Taking advantage of the chaos, he rushed forward, snatched the box, and ran.
“He’s stealing! Catch him!” the worker cried, chasing after him, only to be blocked by the man’s companions.
Zhao Dashan and the others were stunned. They hadn’t expected such things to happen—robbery in broad daylight, even stealing medicine meant to save lives.
The thief ran straight toward them, his eyes filled with threat, clearly warning them not to interfere.
Zhao Dashan couldn’t tolerate it. “Who are you threatening?” he thought. He rushed forward and kicked the man hard in the back. The man had been on guard, but Zhao Dashan’s strength was overwhelming. He stumbled forward and fell flat on his face, the medicine box rolling out of his arms.
“You dare kick me?! I’ll stab you!” the man shouted.
“Come on, try it!” Zhao Dashan shouted back, picking up the box.
The man gritted his teeth, pulled out a dagger, and lunged at him.
Zhao Dashan dodged quickly, then grabbed his wrist with brute force, crushing it until the man screamed in pain.
“Spare me! Spare me!” the man begged.
“Stealing medicine? Don’t you know it saves lives?” Zhao Dashan snorted, kicked him away, and said, “Get lost!”
The man scrambled away, and his companions disappeared into the crowd.
If they couldn’t profit here, they would find somewhere else.
The clinic workers rushed over, staring anxiously at the medicine box in Zhao Dashan’s hands, afraid he might keep it. Normally, they were respected, but now the town was in chaos. People wandered the streets under the excuse of helping, but many were looting. Wealthy households had already been ransacked.
There was no way to stop it.
Their clinic was just a branch. There were only seven people total—two guards, four workers, and one doctor. One guard was dead, the other severely injured. The workers were unharmed, but the only doctor had been crushed by a beam and died instantly.
Zhao Dashan returned the medicine box and explained why they had come. Upon hearing that the doctor was dead, they stood frozen in shock.
“Our clinic is destroyed, and the doctor is gone. We can’t treat anyone,” one worker said bitterly.
Erlai’s father collapsed to his knees, muttering, “Erlai is beyond saving… my son is beyond saving…”
Tears he had held back all the way finally burst out. The strong man pounded the ground, crying uncontrollably.
The others also wept. They, too, had loved ones barely holding on, waiting for a doctor.
And now—the doctor was dead?
There was only one proper doctor in Tongjiang Town, skilled enough to treat even difficult illnesses. How could he be dead?
Erlai’s father felt as if the sky had collapsed. His fists struck the ground until they bled, mixing with the dirty snow.
Seeing his despair, even the clinic workers, used to life and death, felt a deep sadness. They, too, worried about their own families.
“You said the child was hit on the head and is unconscious but still alive…” the lead worker said after a moment. Looking at the grieving father, he steeled himself. “I’ll speak plainly—if something goes wrong, don’t blame me. I’m just a worker. I’ve followed Doctor Lin and have experience preparing medicine, but I’m not a real disciple…”
Zhao Dashan’s eyes lit up. He quickly pulled Erlai’s father forward. “We swear—if anything goes wrong, we won’t blame you. If we break our word, may we be struck by lightning!”
The worker nodded—this was a serious oath.
“There was once a man with a similar head injury. I prepared the medicine that day…” he said.
Seeing their hopeful expressions, he quickly added, “But every patient is different. The dosage may vary. I can’t judge that. I’m only telling you this because you helped us recover the medicine box. Whether you dare to try—it’s up to you.”
It was clear—everything depended on fate. He remembered the prescription, but it might not suit their case. Whether to gamble was their choice. Whatever happened, they couldn’t blame him.
He was taking a risk by even saying this—but he couldn’t bear to stay silent.
“Please, help us prepare the medicine!” Erlai’s father knelt again, tears streaming down his face.
He understood perfectly—no matter the outcome, he wouldn’t blame the man.
As long as there was a chance, he wouldn’t give up.
He had brought all his family’s savings. Whether the boy could be saved or not, as a father, he had to try.
Only by trying would he have no regrets.