My Lady Says She Wants to Marry Me - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The next day, as dawn broke, soldiers marched through the county seat striking gongs and shouting:

“At the start of the Hour of Si (9:00 AM), the Lord Magistrate will personally distribute porridge at the gates of the County Office!”

“At the start of the Hour of Si…”

The voices echoed through every street and alley. People who had been numb with hunger slowly opened their eyes, trying to process what was being shouted.

“There’s food! There’s food!” Several people in rags gathered, excitedly urging others to head toward the yamen (government office) to see.

Lu Youming stood at the main gates of the county office, wearing her indigo official robes. Beside her were ten large cauldrons of simmering porridge. Roaring fires consumed dry wood, boiling the mixed-grain porridge until it bubbled. Lu Youming stood on the steps; a soldier guarded every cauldron.

The black-armored soldiers who had escorted her yesterday had assigned her a squad of men before heading out to inspect the river levees. Lu Youming was glad for the arrangement. Though she had to organize everything herself with no staff—no Sheriff, no Assistant, no Secretary, and no runners—she had to make do as a “one-man army.”

As the citizens arrived and smelled the aroma of food, they surged forward in excitement. Suddenly, a soldier used an ancient version of a megaphone to shout: “Form a line, one by one!”

“Anyone who loots or snatches will be executed on the spot!” An imposing soldier, over six feet tall and built like a mountain, glared at the crowd. His intimidation worked; those attempting to push were pulled back into line by other soldiers. The rest followed suit, holding crude bowls they had salvaged from the rubble.

The steaming porridge made everyone salivate. Some, unafraid of the heat, shoved it into their mouths, wincing as it burned but refusing to spit out a single drop.

Lu Youming stood at the gate all morning. Her “leading by example” attitude earned her the respect of the soldiers, who began to think more highly of her.

She was busy counting the survivors. At one point, a man in tattered clothes tried to sneak back into the line after already receiving a bowl. Thinking no one noticed him because of his desperate appearance, he tried to double-dip. Lu Youming spotted him immediately and had him thrown out. She refused to turn a blind eye; if she broke her own rules once, others would follow, and the system would collapse.

“Officer! What are you doing?” the man cried as the burly soldier lifted him out of the line by his collar. The surrounding crowd quickly dispersed and reformed the line, terrified that the porridge might run out if they caused trouble.

“You scoundrel! You just finished a bowl in that other line. Trying to take seconds while others haven’t even eaten yet?” the soldier roared, scaring the man into a slinking retreat.

Lu Youming turned her focus back to the tally. By the end of the morning, she had her count: 4,563 people remained in Chongjiang County, roughly 400 households. She frowned; the county records stated a population of over 8,000. She sighed heavily. “This flood claimed half the lives in this county.”

After tallying the people, she considered the next day’s challenges. She let the people eat their fill today, but tomorrow, she would begin the “Work-for-Relief” program. She would use the Emperor’s name to call on them to rebuild their homes together.

The county office was still uninhabitable, so Lu Youming stayed in the military camp with the black-armored soldiers. When Wei Ran, the leader of the black-armored unit, returned from the levees, he saw the light still burning in Lu Youming’s tent but didn’t disturb her.

The two didn’t interfere with each other’s duties. Lu Youming spent the night planning for potential issues: insubordination, laziness, or sabotage. She calculated the grain usage. An adult needed about half a jin of rice a day to survive. As porridge, it went further—enough to stave off starvation, but not enough for a full stomach. Today alone had consumed over 2,000 jin of grain—roughly 20 dan (stones). With only 500 dan in the relief stores, she rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of the task.

The next day, Lu Youming announced the Work-for-Relief measures. The people, who had been starving for ten days before finally getting food, stared at her with dark, hollow eyes. The pressure of being watched by thousands of expressionless faces was immense.

“Every day, the County Office will provide two meals. Everyone must do what is within their power. Follow orders, obey instructions. Anyone caught slacking will have their rations docked for the day.”

She didn’t waste time on fine details. She only needed to set the direction, ensure they followed the plan, and let the soldiers oversee the labor. Ancient commoners weren’t stupid; their edges had been smoothed by hardship. They just wanted to live. They would follow whoever provided food and clothing.

When Lu Youming announced “Food is served,” the town finally sparked to life. People whispered to each other while clutching their bowls, waiting expectantly.

Meanwhile, in Jinling City, Su Wanrou was anxious because she hadn’t heard from Lu Youming. She sent servants to Qinghe County to bring back Liu Qing and the others. She also remembered the horse, Swift-Wind, who was still waiting at Apricot Blossom Village, and sent for him as well.

The relief process proceeded in an orderly fashion, but Lu Youming was perpetually exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and physically. Chongjiang was essentially being rebuilt from scratch. She promised the people that once the town was rebuilt, houses would be distributed to them. Hearing this, the thousands of survivors began to work with renewed fervor.

She gathered the survivors from various surrounding villages, reorganizing them into new settlements where they built their own homes. Building in the villages was simpler—clay mixed with straw. With everyone working together, a house could be erected in a few days.

“Lord Lu, you have a talent for administration,” Wei Ran, the black-armored commander, said as he cupped his hands toward her. “In just ten days, this broken county has come back to life.”

“I have to thank you, Lord Wei. Without your soldiers to back me, I could never have commanded so many people to work as one.” Lu Youming was truly grateful. The soldiers’ presence deterred any trouble, allowing the first critical ten days to pass smoothly.

“I must return to the Prince today,” Wei Ran said. “I will leave a squad behind under your command. Take care of yourself, Lord Lu.” He felt a sense of admiration for this young Magistrate. For ten days, Lu Youming had done everything herself and eaten the same food as the refugees, earning her a sterling reputation among the people.

“Thank you for your concern, Commander Wei,” Lu Youming said, looking at the skeletons of the new houses with a nod.

“I heard you are collecting seeds for autumn planting?” Wei Ran asked as they walked toward the city gates.

Lu Youming’s boots were caked in mud. She vowed that one day she would build proper roads. “Yes, but the seeds haven’t arrived yet.”

“Then I wish you success with the relief efforts. I look forward to hearing good news from you.” Wei Ran vaulted onto his horse, saluted, and galloped away.

“I wish you a safe journey!” Lu Youming called out.

She stood at the repaired city gate watching them leave. “Lord, are we heading back?” a voice asked from behind. A teenager about five feet tall, still carrying an air of childishness, stepped out. This was Wen Shu, her new personal attendant.

“Let’s go, Wen Shu.”

The two walked back through the alleys. Whenever people saw Lu Youming, they called out in unison: “Greetings, Lord Lu!”

She nodded with a smile and walked toward a construction site. “How is the progress today?”

“Lord, we’ll finish the roofs by this afternoon. By the end of the month, every family will have a house and won’t freeze,” the foreman reported.

Lu Youming was satisfied. With so many people working, progress was fast. The only issue was the lack of roof tiles; they had to use salvaged tiles or thatch. It was crude, but it kept the rain out.

Now, she had to focus on the second priority: farming. She thought of a crop that matured quickly: buckwheat. Seeds were hard to find; she had written to Shao Jiechuan but received no reply. However, Su Wanrou had informed her that her dowry shops had several hundred jin of buckwheat seeds, which were already on their way. Buckwheat took only three months to harvest, and it was the perfect season. By winter, the people would have food.

“That’s good,” Lu Youming murmured, looking at the sun.

“What’s good, Lord?” Wen Shu asked.

“It’s good that it’s a sunny day. Let’s go see your little sister.”

Wen Shu was a girl Lu Youming had found among the refugees. Her parents had been swept away, leaving her and a three-year-old sister. Following her mother’s dying wish, Wen Shu disguised herself as a boy to survive. She was the daughter of a caravan guard and knew martial arts. Lu Youming, needing a trustworthy assistant, had hired her after seeing her kick a thug across the street. Wen Shu had sold her own services for ten years in exchange for room, board, and a salary, but refused to sell her sister. Lu Youming required her to remain in male disguise and never reveal her identity.

Back in Jinling, Wei Ran reported to Prince Jian. He had used the escort mission as a cover to secretly inspect the river levees.

“Your Highness, I found that the levees were not reinforced this year. In previous years, it was always done before the flood season,” Wei Ran reported, handing over his findings.

Prince Jian lounged in his chair, half-closing his eyes. “And the Magistrate I sent? How is he doing?”

Wei Ran thought for a moment. “He is methodical and patient. He likes setting rules and punishes those who break them.”

Prince Jian nodded. “I didn’t want my random appointment to harm the commoners. If he’s decent, let him keep at it.”

They then dropped the subject of Lu Youming and focused back on the scandal of the levees.