No matter what was happening outside, the Zhao family still kept their doors closed and quietly lived their own life.
After several months, Wang Shi had finally come to a realization. The reason their family had safely escaped the disaster was entirely because Xiaobao had warned them in advance—only then were they able to avoid it.
Only those who experienced that night knew how terrifying it had been. Even now, if there was the slightest movement from the back mountain, everyone’s hearts would tighten, and they would instinctively run outside. The reflex to flee for their lives had already been etched deep into their bones.
And that shout from Xiaobao—she had heard it clearly. Xiaobao had said, “Father is dead!”
Every time she thought of it, a chill ran through Wang Shi’s whole body, her hands and feet turning stiff. She didn’t dare imagine what would have happened.
She had once asked Xiaobao what she saw in her dream, but Xiaobao said she couldn’t remember, that her mind felt messy and thinking about it gave her a headache. Wang Shi didn’t dare ask further. She only felt lingering fear and began paying close attention to Xiaobao at night, never sleeping deeply, always keeping part of her mind alert to watch over her.
She couldn’t explain why, but she felt uneasy. She had a vague sense that Xiaobao might “dream” like that again in the future.
Even though their house had been rebuilt, the fields were plowed, and spring was full of life with wild grass growing everywhere, her heart still couldn’t settle.
However, she didn’t show this unease. Privately, she discussed it with her husband. No matter what, they should store more grain at home. Later, they would find a chance to take some of the gold they had previously dug up to the county town and exchange it for grain, coarse salt, long-lasting medicinal herbs, and warm clothing…
She figured these were things always in demand and absolutely necessary.
After the recent incidents of looting gold and silver, bringing some out to buy goods in the county probably wouldn’t attract attention. If anyone asked, they could just say they had gone to Xinping County and the others—it was a ready-made excuse.
As for whether people would give them dirty looks or accuse them of profiting from the dead, they couldn’t worry about that. Being humble outside was better than starving at home. When you’re out, pride doesn’t matter—that was how Wang Shi had always taught her children and grandchildren.
After discussing it, the old couple decided that after spring plowing, they would have the eldest and the others take Xiaobao to the county.
As for why bring Xiaobao? Of course, it was because she now had great abilities. Once they bought supplies, they could find a secluded place and secretly store everything in the “fairy land.” Not only would it be safer during the journey, avoiding theft, but it would also keep things hidden from the villagers and avoid unnecessary questions.
Time passed unknowingly, and soon it was the season for spring planting.
The county magistrate of Guangping wasn’t corrupt, but he also wasn’t particularly capable. There were occasional wrongful cases in the county, but during important times like spring planting and autumn harvest, he would sometimes personally go to the countryside to encourage farming, settle a few disputes, and earn a good reputation.
Wanxia Village was remote, with rough mountain roads. The village head would come every year around this time to check on planting progress, but the county magistrate had never come—not this year, nor any year before. After all, if he wanted recognition, he wouldn’t go out of his way to such a distant place.
So this year was much the same as before. People carried on with their work—choosing the right days to prepare seeds, leveling seedbeds, sowing seeds, waiting for seedlings to grow, and transplanting rice. The experienced farmers in the village worked in an orderly way and didn’t need anyone to supervise them.
As usual, the village head came once. Seeing that everything was proceeding smoothly, he felt reassured. He chatted with the experienced farmers for half a day, stayed for lunch, drank a bit of wine, and then left at sunset.
The next day, Old Man Zhao was called to attend a village meeting.
Whenever something important happened, the villagers gathered under the big tree at the village entrance. Anyone who wanted to listen could bring a small stool and sit down—men, women, old, and young alike. The only rule was not to make noise when the elders were speaking, or they would be scolded—and possibly even hit with a stick.
Today, many people had gathered under the tree. Even Big Radish had brought his younger brother, representing their family.
“Yesterday, the village head came,” said an old man from the Zhao family whose teeth were nearly gone. By seniority, Old Man Zhao had to call him elder brother. “Our village head died during the New Year disaster, so he spoke a few words to us old fellows.”
“Logically, since we suffered such losses this year, the county should send people to show concern. For families like Old Zhou’s, whose rice seeds were destroyed, there should be some compensation… But the three counties of Xinping were hit much harder. More than half the population there died or were injured. The officials in the prefectural city are focused on that area and can’t spare attention for us. The county’s idea is for nearby villages to help each other. Those with extra rice seedlings should share with those whose crops were destroyed. We’ll get through this together, and after the autumn harvest, the grain can be repaid.”
“What’s the point of saying this now? Our seedlings are already planted!” someone muttered from below.
“Exactly. Good thing we didn’t rely on the county—it would’ve been too late anyway.”
“Do we even have extra seedlings to give? Our own village is already short!”
“What does the village head mean? Asking us to help others? The county never cared about us after the disaster, but every autumn they come right on time to collect taxes. Nothing good ever comes to us, but trouble always does!”
The crowd became noisy, people whispering angrily among themselves.
They had wondered why the village head came so late this year—turns out he had brought bad news.
“Quiet! All of you, quiet! What are you arguing about?!” the old man shouted, banging his cane on the ground. “Concern? You should be glad they didn’t come! The village head let slip after a few drinks that the county magistrate is busy trying to impress higher officials. Forget caring about us—if they don’t take from us to support those three counties, we should already be grateful!”
“What do you mean?” someone asked bluntly.
“You fool!” the old man scolded. “You’ve lived all these years and still don’t understand? Figure it out yourself!”
It was obvious—the higher officials wanted to make disaster relief look good, and the lower officials, like their county magistrate, wanted to take advantage of the situation to gain favor by diverting resources.
As for the people in their county who suffered? The dead were buried, and the living had to fend for themselves.
In short: don’t expect help from the county.
Fortunately, the people of Wanxia Village had never relied on the county anyway. They were used to being ignored. Whenever there were benefits, their village never got any. Even when the county bought farming oxen, they didn’t get a single one—not even a pile of dung.
“There’s one more matter,” the old man said, clearing his throat. “The village can’t go without a head. Let’s discuss who should take the position.”
They hadn’t brought it up before because everyone was still shaken from the disaster. But now it had to be settled. The village needed someone to take charge—someone upright and fair, someone respected by all the major families.
“I think Uncle Dagen is suitable,” a man from the Wang family said loudly. “He led the rescue efforts earlier this year, and his sons helped with buying medicine and building shelters.”
Many voices agreed.
“Elder Dagen has high seniority and is fair. I support him!”
“Second Master Chen would also be good. His family has a lot of land—he’s the second richest in the village!”
“What does wealth have to do with it? By your logic, why not let Wang Dazhu be village head just because his father died?”
“Shut up! He’s not worthy to be compared to his father!”
The crowd erupted into arguments. Even two women began promoting their fathers-in-law, nearly coming to blows.
The Zhao family stayed quietly in a corner. Hearing someone suggest him, Old Man Zhao shook his head so hard it seemed it might fall off.
Village head? Whoever wanted it could take it—he absolutely wouldn’t!
The village women argued and fought constantly over trivial matters. If he became village head, he would have endless disputes to settle every day. He wasn’t that bored.
“Why are you all looking at me? I can’t even read—how could I be village head?” Old Man Zhao said, grabbing his stool and preparing to leave. “Xiaobao, want to go into the mountains to gather firewood?”
“Yes!” Zhao Xiaobao immediately jumped up, happy to go anywhere.
The children had only come for the excitement anyway and didn’t understand much. She had long been restless.
Seeing her leave, Xiao Wu and the others quickly followed.
“Grandpa, Aunt Xiaobao, wait for us!”
“Why are you following? Coming to chop firewood?” Old Man Zhao asked, glaring.
“Hehe, we’re going to catch rabbits and dig wild vegetables. We’ll blanch them with chili and vinegar—it’ll taste great with rice!” Xiao Wu said with a grin.
“I’ll help carry the firewood!” Zhao Xi added sweetly.
“Haha, good boy! I didn’t raise you for nothing!” Old Man Zhao laughed, walking down the path with his hands behind his back, followed by his children and grandchildren.
Seeing this, many villagers with fewer descendants looked on with envy.
The Zhao family must have a well-placed ancestral grave—look how prosperous they were!
Some even wondered if there was space nearby. When they died, maybe they could be buried close and share in that good fortune.