After breakfast the next day, Shen Wenhe and Bai Nianqing set off.
Along the way, they encountered many refugees in tattered clothes, their lips parched and peeling.
Some were leading or carrying children, clearly entire families.
Others traveled in groups, likely villagers from the same community.
When they noticed people approaching, they would look up with utterly lifeless eyes, devoid of any spark.
The more alert ones would rush forward upon seeing travelers, stretching out their hands begging for food.
Shen Wenhe’s group encountered this too, but he didn’t stop, urging the carriage forward past them.
Some even chased after the carriage for a few steps before eventually giving up when they realized they couldn’t catch up.
“Husband, this is terrifying,” Bai Nianqing said. “And this is only the beginning – it will get much worse. Less than one in a thousand of these people will survive.”
She sighed. Such was the way of the world, and there was nothing she could do about it. In these circumstances, being able to take care of herself was already an achievement.
As the carriage continued forward, all the refugees they saw had sallow complexions. Inside the carriage, both Bai Nianqing and Shen Wenhe lost their desire to speak.
When they reached the city gate, they found the main entrance tightly shut, with only the side gate open and guarded.
Everyone wanting to enter the city had to show their household registration and pay two copper coins as an entry fee.
A crowd of refugees had gathered around the side gate, clamoring desperately: “Sir, please, let us in! My grandson is sick – if he doesn’t see a doctor soon, he won’t make it!”
“Yes, please sir, let us enter. We’re not bad people – look, here’s our household registration. We just want to buy some food,” a man pleaded in a low voice.
“No, no! All of you step back!” the guard waved impatiently. “The magistrate has ordered that no one without local household registration may enter.”
“Officer, please have mercy! The child is truly dying. Let us enter to find a doctor,” an old woman cried, holding a three or four-year-old child she had picked up from the roadside.
The child’s face was ashen, breathing shallowly with more exhalation than inhalation – clearly on the verge of death.
“Officer, look – the child really is dying,” the old woman said, as if afraid the guard wouldn’t believe her, desperately thrusting the child toward him.
Unexpectedly, the guard leaped back as if he had seen something filthy: “What are you doing? Take that away! If you come any closer, I’ll arrest you!”
“Sir, my grandson is just sick – it’s not plague, it won’t spread,” the old woman collapsed to the ground, weeping.
“Take him away! Who knows what disease your grandson has? You’d better leave now! The magistrate’s orders are clear – no entry without local household registration. I’m being kind-hearted here – if it were someone else, hmph…” Though the guard’s expression was unpleasant, he didn’t actually harm the old woman.
He wasn’t wrong in what he said. As the old saying goes, “The prime minister’s gatekeeper is equivalent to a seventh-rank official.” Though these yamen guards held no official rank, and were nothing in the eyes of real officials, to ordinary commoners they were figures not to be provoked.
Some guards with better tempers were tolerable, but those with a bad temper, while not necessarily beating or cursing commoners outright, weren’t much better in their attitude.
The surrounding refugees seemed to recall something, all stepping back simultaneously.
Having no other options, the old woman sat on the ground nearby and broke down in desperate sobs.
Bai Nianqing observed the child in the old woman’s arms, its face flushed red—clearly feverish. Without treatment, even if it survived, the fever might leave the child mentally impaired.
Her heart aching with pity, Bai Nianqing subtly tugged at Shen Wenhe’s sleeve and discreetly retrieved a packet of medicinal powder from her Dimension, pressing it into his hand.
Shen Wenhe understood her intention and shared her compassion for the child. He fully approved of her gesture.
Approaching without a word, Shen Wenhe placed the powder on the child and murmured, “This is fever-reducing medicine. Give it to the child.”
Without another glance at the old woman, he turned and led Bai Nianqing toward the guards at the city gate.
The old woman stared blankly for a moment before realization dawned. She immediately knelt and kowtowed, repeatedly chanting, “Thank you, benefactors, thank you…”
Others nearby, seeing Shen Wenhe give something to the old woman and assuming the couple were soft-hearted, swarmed around them.
“Sir, madam, please, could you spare some food?”
“Madam, have mercy, just a sip of water…”
“Pity my daughter, madam, please…”
With their carriage surrounded, Shen Wenhe and Bai Nianqing found themselves unable to move.
“What are you all doing? Step aside! We’re visiting relatives in the city and have nothing to give you,” Shen Wenhe declared, pointing his horsewhip at the crowd.
“Sir, please, just a bite to eat…”
“Madam, save us…”
Despite the pitiful pleas, Shen Wenhe couldn’t bring himself to wield the whip.
“Disperse, all of you. We truly have no food,” Bai Nianqing said, even pulling open the carriage curtain to show them the empty interior.
Whether they hadn’t yet reached utter desperation or feared causing trouble at the city gates, the crowd gradually retreated upon seeing the couple had nothing to offer.
Once the way was clear, Shen Wenhe led the carriage to the guards, presenting both his and Bai Nianqing’s household registers along with a tael of silver.
“Officer, we request entry to the city,” Shen Wenhe stated.
“Oh, Young Master Shen! Of course you may enter. I’ll open the gate right away,” the guard replied, clearly recognizing him.
This was no surprise—the Shen family were prominent figures in the county. While guards might act arrogantly toward commoners, they dared not offend influential households.
“Mm, I have business in the city. Open the gate,” Shen Wenhe said dismissively, tossing another tael of silver to the guard.
“Thank you, Young Master Shen!” The guard grinned broadly, his teeth showing in delight. “Brothers, open the gate! Let Young Master Shen through!”
With a shout from him, the inner gate creaked open. Shen Wenhe gave a casual nod, leaped onto the carriage, and drove into the city.
The drought had drained the city of its former bustle. Where once the streets teemed with pedestrians and vendors, now only scattered figures trudged along. Though most shops remained open, only the grain stores saw any customers; other establishments stood empty, their attendants listless and disheartened.
Passing a grain store, Shen Wenhe stopped to inquire about prices. Coarse grains had risen to twenty wen per jin, while refined grains were scarce even at fifty wen.
Moreover, the owner of the grain shop said that the food supplies in the shop wouldn’t last more than a few days, and he planned to close the shop tomorrow.