Tang Daniang watched as he clenched his little fists, lifted his little feet, and stamped them hard on the ground. He said loudly: "Big Sister, Guaizai isn't afraid. Guaizai wants to help. Guaizai is a brave Guaizai."
It was just blood. He wasn't afraid at all!
He wanted to help his father.
He was already a man. He couldn't be afraid.
The bedding and clothes that had been dug out were dirty, wet, and unusable.
The injured needed a clean, warm place to recover, and their wounds, already treated with medicine, couldn't get wet.
On top of that, the elderly and children couldn't keep getting rained on.
That thatched shelter was completely useless.
No one taught him what to do. The rain was still falling. To prepare for all possibilities, Guaizai chose a flat piece of ground far from the foot of the mountain. After getting drenched in the rain while helping everyone level it, he instructed Tang Daniang and the others to go cut some trees to build a shelter. He himself took three men and rode straight to town.
The shelters they built could be covered with cotton cloth.
This cotton cloth didn't leak because it had a layer of boiled tung oil on top. Boiled tung oil dries quickly. Since the first coat of boiled tung oil had already saturated the cotton cloth, the second coat stayed only on the surface. Once dry, it formed a protective film. Because oil and water don't mix, as soon as rainwater touched this protective layer formed by the boiled tung oil, it would immediately slide off.
It looked simple enough to make, but it wasn't cheap to buy.
The shelter frames were set up, and straw was laid on top, but it still didn't work — it still leaked.
At a time like this, Fang Zichen should have been at the center directing operations. But they were short-handed, and every moment counted. So he picked up a hoe and joined the work himself.
He was so busy he was nowhere to be seen. Tang Daniang was just about to go ask Guaizai what to do when Guaizai returned with two horse-drawn carts.
"Big Sister, use oilcloth to cover it." He turned and instructed the others: "There's dry straw and bedding on the carts. Take them in and spread them out. Carry them inside and let them sleep on top."
"Yes."
Oilcloth was spread on top, straw was laid down. With so many people, the work went quickly. No one panicked — everyone knew what they should be doing. In just half an afternoon, two thatched shelters were built. Just a wooden frame with a layer of straw on top, then oilcloth — tight and secure, not leaking a single drop of rain.
The sides were blocked with tree branches. Very crude, but at a time like this, they couldn't be picky. The conditions were truly limited.
The men stayed in one. The women and gers stayed in another.
Grandma Tang had been drenched in rain for two nights and had developed a fever. Li Daya had just brought her medicine to drink, and now she was settled in the thatched shelter. A fire was lit inside, warm and cozy. Tang Fulang's hands had also been bandaged.
Niuwa was stripped naked and lying under the blankets. His little leg had been cleaned and medicine applied. The bleeding had stopped.
Li Daya fed Niuwa his medicine, felt his forehead, and instructed Tang Fulang: "The child's fever has gone down. If it comes back later, come find me."
The child was fine. Tang Fulang was so happy he could barely speak through his sobs. Thousands of words stuck in his throat, and in the end he only managed two: "Thank you. Thank you."
Li Daya patted the back of his hand. Seeing he still looked frightened and panicked, she comforted him: "Don't panic. Pull yourself together. The child and your mother-in-law both need you." She looked at the people around her, her voice seeming to carry a kind of magic: "Everyone, don't panic either. The prefect is here. Everything will be fine."
An ordinary sentence, yet it somehow soothed everyone's panicked, helpless hearts.
Everyone really seemed unafraid now.
In the short time since the prefect arrived, over twenty people had been dug out. Although their own men hadn't been found yet, they believed in the prefect.
Grandma Tang sat there blankly, not speaking. Then she saw a man carried into the thatched shelter across the way by soldiers.
He was covered in mud.
A ger brought water over. After the official untied and washed the man clean, he was laid on the straw.
They were from the same village — they saw each other all the time. No matter how many people there were, they recognized each other.
This man was the second son of the Chen family.
Physician Li examined his wounds and checked his pulse. No one knew what he said, but the ger beside him nodded.
Physician Li left. The ger went out and came back with medicine and a basin of hot water. He lifted the blanket and cleaned the wound on the man's thigh, then applied the medicine.
If this had been before, Grandma Tang would have spat in disgust — absolutely shameless, no sense of modesty.
Look at this. What kind of behavior was this?
Have you no shame? How could anyone do such a thing?
Earlier, when they started conscripting women and gers as soldiers, she was against it. She always felt it wasn't proper, and she'd talked about it all over the village, loudest of all.
But now...
Tang Fulang spoke up: "Mother, why are you crying?"
He didn't understand. But the few people beside him could more or less guess.
The wound on Chen Er's leg was extremely gruesome, shocking to look at.
The medicine being used now was what Physician Li had brought when they set out.
There was medicine for cold sickness, for fever, and for external application.
Liu Ger had been studying under Physician Li for over half a year, quite diligently. But studying medicine was not something accomplished in a day. No matter how hardworking, half a year wasn't enough to graduate. He couldn't be called especially skilled now, but he knew how to prescribe and brew medicine for minor illnesses like wind-cold and heatstroke, and how to clean and apply medicine to wounds.
Looking at that wound, he was scared too. Everything Physician Li had taught them was just theory — this was the first time they were actually doing it. His hands shook as he wrapped the bandage. Then an old man suddenly dropped to his knees in front of him.
Liu Ger was startled.
"Old man, what are you doing?"
Liu Ger tried to help him up, but the old man insisted on staying on his knees.
"Young man, this old one has let you down."
"What?" Liu Ger didn't understand at all.
The old man looked at his own arm, already bandaged, tears falling, his face full of shame. He said, "Back when the conscription first started, when I heard that Lord Fang was also conscripting young women and gers, I cursed. I said a lot of nasty things. I'm sorry. I truly am sorry."
Young women and gers were not as good as men like them. Men were the most important—that was what the old man had always believed.
But in all honesty, if it had been him who had to apply medicine to Chen Er's wounds, he wouldn't have dared to do it, not in a million years.
It wasn't for any other reason, and it wasn't out of worry—it was simply that the wound was so big, the gash split wide open, and there was so much blood. It had been soaked in wet mud for so long, and with the weather so hot, it had turned to pus. It was somewhat disgusting. Just looking at it made him lose his nerve, his heart racing, his breath short, terrified. He didn't dare look at it directly, let alone take a knife to cut away the rotting flesh.
But these young women and gers...
They were better than him. He had to admit it.
If it weren't for these people right now, even if Physician Li came, it would be useless. How could he alone look after so many? They really would have been doomed.
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