Chapter Six: Opening the Granaries, An Exiled Immortal Descends to the Mortal Realm

In times of chaos, whether merchants are virtuous or wicked, it is nearly impossible to find one who does not seek personal gain. Even in later generations, countless unscrupulous men would profit greatly from war and national calamity.

Yet the evil of the great clans and noble families, especially in these waning days of the Han, far surpasses that of mere merchants by tenfold.

Leaving aside the harm they do to humble folk aspiring to rise, most great houses hoard retainers and seize the chance to accumulate grain, caring not a whit for the lives of the common people, exploiting them to the utmost, extorting and oppressing like parasites and leeches upon the state.

Why, then, did the people so often follow the Yellow Turbans, some coerced but many more of their own accord? If there were a way to survive, who would wish to live with death looming each morning, their heads always at risk?

Looking across world history, there is no group more amenable to rule than the simple, honest laborers of ancient China.

They cherish their native soil, toil diligently, and as long as they have a mouthful of food, will contentedly tend the fields each day.

Yet even such modest demands have become hard to fulfill. When even the most basic needs for survival cannot be met, even the gentlest sheep will rise up and bite.

How much more so with people?

The ruler is guilty, the ministers are guilty, the noble houses are guilty, the merchants are guilty.

And yet it is the innocent people whose families are destroyed, whose lives are lost.

With the Zhang family’s wealth in Zhongshan, naturally they owned their own granaries. Though there is no trade without cunning, Zhang Shiping was, by all accounts, an honest and trustworthy merchant.

Perhaps for the sake of accumulating virtue for his son, ever since the Yellow Turban turmoil began and refugees suffered terribly, the Zhang family frequently donated grain, old clothes, and cloth for relief. On the very day Zhang Yu awakened, Zhang Shiping had the steward open the granary once more.

“Father, I beg you to grant my request—let us open the Zhang family granary to aid the disaster-stricken people.”

The moment Zhang Yu entered the house, he went straight to Zhang Shiping, fell to his knees, and spoke.

“Yu’er, it is not that I am unwilling. Compared to other great families and merchants, our Zhang family has already shown the utmost kindness to these refugees. Have you considered that if we continue opening our stores, these refugees, with no homes or work, may become dependent, idling and waiting for handouts without labor? Are we to support them for life?

To give a measure of rice is to earn gratitude, but to give a bushel is to invite resentment. Too much benevolence can become counterproductive.”

“This…”

“What’s more, with chaos now engulfing the land, how many refugees are there across the realm? What you see today is but a drop in the ocean. Even here in Ji Province, if word spreads of our charity, and one hundred thousand refugees come to seek our grain, how will you deal with them?”

“…I do not know.”

“If we distribute grain, before long, you and I will be no different from them. If we do not, these people—already desperate outlaws—may well band together and forcibly break open our stores.”

Hearing his father’s clear reasoning, the agitation and excitement that had roiled Zhang Yu’s heart seemed to be cooled by a trickle of icy spring water. In the end, his experience was still lacking; though he came from two thousand years in the future, even then he was only just past twenty.

He was about to apologize to his father for his rashness, when he felt a strong, warm hand press down on his shoulder.

“Go. Distribute the grain.”

“Father?!”

“Open the stores—do as you wish. I will support your decision.”

“But if things are truly as you say—”

“This is my only request of you: do what you wish, but you must be ready to bear the consequences.”

After a brief hesitation, Zhang Yu thought of the clear-eyed girl, those desperate people kneeling before him, and the old man who begged with his life. At last, he resolved himself.

He lifted his head; father and son’s eyes met, and nothing more needed to be said.

“Thank you, Father!” Zhang Yu stood and called to Zhang Biao outside the door, “Uncle Biao, open the granary!”

Night fell heavily, shrouding the lands of Yan and Zhao in darkness.

Beyond the city walls, flames flickered under the moonlight—the place where Zhongshan disposed of corpses.

Once, they were the fallen in battle; now, most were victims of starvation.

In ancient times, there were two most convenient ways to deal with corpses: burial or burning. To prevent and avoid plague, when conditions allowed, people often preferred to burn the bodies to ashes.

In that pitch-black, icy night, even the blazing fire made one shiver to the bone. Perhaps among those flickering flames were the old man from earlier, and many other pitiful souls.

On that same street, a dozen people remained kneeling, though a stir had begun.

“Uncle Chen, do you think the young master tricked us? He’s been gone an hour now.”

“Yeah, I doubt he’s so kind-hearted. These damn bigwigs don’t care if we live or die!”

“Get up, everyone, stop kneeling. Go find a shack to sleep in—sleep long enough and you won’t feel the hunger.”

Three or four rose scattered among the group, but the majority chose to remain kneeling.

“Han, aren’t you usually the toughest? Why are you still here on your knees?”

The burly youth stayed put, replying, “He saved my sister.”

The girl furrowed her delicate brow, turned her head, and said to the provocateur, “We believe in that big brother!”

“Heh, suit yourselves—wait here for death if you want.”

Just as these few were about to leave, a gong sounded, and a manservant dashed in from the end of the street. Wiping sweat from his brow, he stood before the crowd and announced, “You lot, follow me! By order of the young master, grain will be distributed tonight!”

The people rose at once, barely bothering to rub their sore knees, and hurried after the servant toward the granary.

Those who had planned to leave quietly joined the line, and even more refugees along the way followed when they saw what was happening. Along the route, some wept with joy, some were overwhelmed with relief, and many sang the praises of the Zhang household. The girl’s face bloomed with a radiant smile.

Zhang Yu did not go to the granary at once to oversee the distribution; instead, he returned to his room to wash and groom himself. After all, he represented the Zhang family—being too unkempt or modest at such a moment would not do.

Zhang Yu had just finished complaining about how much effort it took to care for his hair in this era, when he caught sight of his own black hair cascading like a waterfall in the lamplight before the bronze mirror, and could not help but admire himself for a while. As he was changing clothes, a prompt suddenly sounded in his mind!

“Ding. Congratulations, host. Because of your decision to open the granary, you have gained the trust of the local refugees, earning 200 experience points and 150 reputation points. The Reputation System is now activated!

You may earn reputation through your actions, and inappropriate conduct may cause you to lose reputation. For each threshold reached, you will be granted a corresponding title, each with its own unique attributes to enhance your experience in this world. We wish you a pleasant journey.

Current reputation: 150 [No Rank] (No special attributes). To advance to the next rank [Somewhat Famous], you need 350 more points.”

“Hmm…” Zhang Yu savored the feeling with satisfaction. “So this is what it’s like to be a protagonist.”

Zhongshan, southern city, Zhang family granary.

This granary, grand as a mansion, was surrounded by tall fences, with dozens of servants standing guard to maintain order.

Yet the moment the grain was brought forth, the starving masses transformed into sharks scenting blood.

They were not united, nor did they dare challenge the stick-wielding Zhang family retainers, but they pushed and shoved with all their might. Chaos erupted—shouting, weeping, and cursing filled the air. Those who had once comforted and supported each other through hunger now saw one another as rivals before life-saving food.

“Let me through! My mother’s already fainted!”

“Get out of my way! Is your mother human and I’m not?”

“Don’t fight, don’t fight! It’s spilling, it’s spilling!”

In the midst of this turmoil, the youth shielded his sister in one arm while using his other, strong and sturdy, to try to pull aside those blocking the way. Yet he was still young, and though he was well built, in such a crush he was powerless.

Watching as the four piles of grain set out by the Zhang family were snatched away, seeing himself and his sister pushed ever farther from hope, anger and frustration stung his nose and eyes.

Those in front never took enough, those behind could not reach at all—the situation teetered on the edge of disaster.

Suddenly—clang!

A brass gong sounded, startling the hundreds present into stillness, all heads turning.

And what they saw left them spellbound.

Like a lotus blooming in water, like the sun rising in the east—there came a youth with brows like distant mountains and eyes shining like stars, his form elegant, arms long and graceful, black hair bound with a white jade ribbon flowing to his waist, clad in a white silk robe that shimmered in the moonlight. He walked forward as though an immortal banished to the mortal world.

All present, men and women alike, seemed drunk and entranced, the earlier frenzy melting away into a dreamlike haze.