Able to eat

“There are still five thousand gold pieces in the army!” Li Yin was in charge of the military’s finances.

“Then buy some!” Li Miao responded instinctively; with money, it should be easy to purchase provisions.

“Your Majesty, even with money, we still need someone willing to sell to us!” Li Yin replied coldly.

Money but nothing to buy? Li Miao was taken aback. Mr. Yang Hong, the first of Li Miao’s loyal aides, leaned in and whispered, “Your Majesty, in times of chaos, provisions are rarely sold.” Everyone's supplies were insufficient—even the thought of possessing food meant the possibility of expanding one’s troops. With constant warfare, the common people had fled famine, leaving no one to tend the fields, making grain all the more precious. One could survive without money, but not without food.

At times like this, food was more valuable than gold, which explained why officials’ salaries were measured in bushels rather than gold pieces.

“If we don’t distribute provisions to the elderly, the weak, and the women, we could last a few more days!” piped up Huang Yi, the second loyal aide, offering a less savory suggestion.

Li Miao now had only three hundred battle-ready soldiers; the rest were either elderly, infirm, or women. If only the soldiers ate, they truly could hold out for several more days.

“So General Huang wants to starve the old, the weak, and the women?” Li Yin sneered. Hearing Huang Yi’s proposal, the palace maids trembled as they looked toward Li Miao on the throne. If their master agreed, it was tantamount to sentencing those vulnerable people to death. In these troubled times, life was cheap.

“No!” Li Miao refused without a second thought. Though chaos reigned, he had not yet been hardened by it—he was not so callous as to value only interests and discard humanity. The thought of armies eating human flesh, as Cao Cao’s troops had, was unthinkable in the modern world.

But in these times, the common folk had nothing to eat; only by consuming one another could some survive. It was rational—if everyone starved, extinction would follow.

Li Miao could not bring himself to watch the old, the weak, and women die of hunger.

“If nothing works, Your Majesty, perhaps we should remain in Jiangting and follow the late emperor into the afterlife,” Li Yin said, polite but mocking. They were simply waiting to die.

“Hmph, so Prince Fu thinks we’ll reach Hebei in two days?” Yang Hong confronted Li Yin, defending Li Miao as his top aide.

“Do we need to bring so many people to Hebei? A few hundred guards would suffice!” Li Yin retorted, clearly advocating abandoning the vulnerable and letting the three hundred soldiers escort the essential figures.

Money? No food? Unable to buy any? Li Miao was caught in a vicious cycle. Suddenly, as if by divine inspiration, he thought of something—a screen appeared before his eyes, displaying his knockoff Nokia phone.

Li Miao glanced at an icon—Boss Ma’s Taobao.

He clicked in and instinctively searched for rice. Immediately, countless rice vendors appeared.

“This, this!” Li Miao’s eyes widened. He entered a shop, selected a purchase, and actually managed to buy some. The system automatically generated an address: “Han Dynasty, Yangzhou, Jiangting.” He clicked to pay, but the balance was insufficient.

“No money? But I have money!” Li Miao remembered something; there was a piece of gold on the table beside him. As he stared in astonishment, the gold vanished and his Alipay balance increased by one yuan.

He could really buy it! Li Miao grinned widely.

“Master! Master!”

“Your Majesty?” Li Yin and Yang Hong were speechless. While they quarreled fiercely, Li Miao was daydreaming—and then smiling, openly and broadly. The two men’s faces darkened; were their heated arguments merely entertainment for him?

“I’ve got it!” Li Miao finally snapped out of it.

“What have you got?” The two asked, their expressions sour. Yang Hong sighed inwardly—could this young master really carry on his predecessor’s legacy?

“I mean, I’ve got provisions!” Li Miao declared.

“Master has found a solution?” Yang Hong exclaimed in delight.

Li Miao nodded.

“What solution, Your Majesty?” Li Yin asked, puzzled.

“Buy them!” Li Miao replied with a smile.

Everyone was stunned. If provisions could be bought, why would their master need to intervene personally?

“Uncle Li Yin, send the gold to my residence tonight!” With that, Li Miao departed, leaving the others exchanging bewildered glances.

“No!” Li Miao ended the council, and Li Yin returned to his small house near the county office. No matter how much he thought, he concluded that staying in Jiangting meant certain death. With only two days’ rations, on the third day everyone would go hungry, and after another two or three days, starve to death. How could they restore the dynasty if they couldn’t stay alive?

For his master’s sake—or perhaps for himself—Li Yin could not let his nephew remain ignorant. He had to stop him; heading north was the only path to survival. Since Li Miao couldn’t bear to abandon the common folk, Li Yin decided to let the people pressure him.

He whispered instructions to his personal guard, who nodded and left.

Han Dynasty, Huainan, Yangzhou, Jiangting County

“Have you heard?” A soldier on duty asked another.

“Heard what?” the other replied, puzzled.

“Our army’s provisions are running low—only enough for two or three days,” the first whispered conspiratorially.

“What?!” The second was stunned. In this era, soldiers enlisted to fill their bellies; if there was no food, who would risk their lives?

“Is it true?” The soldier doubted.

“Why would I lie? Do you know how the late emperor died? He failed to borrow provisions and died of frustration.” The first soldier continued conspiratorially.

“But before, we had thousands of troops, so provisions were naturally scarce. Now we’re down to just a few hundred—how can it not be enough?”

“It’s true. I heard during the council between His Majesty and Prince Fu, they said we have less than a hundred bushels left,” Soldier C joined in. News of Li Miao’s council had leaked.

“Less than a hundred bushels?” These simple soldiers, mostly farmers, were unclear on the quantity.

“You fool, how much rice do you eat a day?”

“Two pounds. If I could eat my fill, three—no, four pounds! Ha!” The soldier laughed heartily. In ancient times, meals consisted mainly of rice.

“One bushel is enough for you for fifty days!”

“So a hundred bushels—that’s fifty, a hundred, a hundred fifty days. Ha, enough to last me a lifetime!” The soldier couldn’t calculate properly, but felt it was a huge amount.

“Idiot, it’s plenty for one person, but we have over three thousand! A hundred bushels only last two days.” Soldier C explained.

“Two days? So on the third day I go hungry?” Soldiers only fought for food; without it, who would care?

“In two or three days, they say His Majesty plans to stop feeding the old, the weak, and women, and only feed us soldiers.” Some knew the inside story.

“What? Then those people will starve!”

“If they die, so be it. In these times, how can a few not starve?” Some were indifferent, as they only cared for themselves.

But others were troubled. “What about my elderly mother? She can’t go hungry.”

“Yes, my child is only three. My family, of seven or eight, has only that child—if he dies, our line ends.”

The soldiers’ discussions grew more heated, their dissatisfaction with Li Miao increasing. Some even considered defecting to other masters.

Not only was the army gossiping; the common folk were too. The soldiers knew their new master wouldn’t let them starve—if he did, who would fight for the Li family?

But the commoners were in a different situation. Whether the dynasty rose or fell, they suffered most. Now, panic gripped them. If Li Miao abandoned them, they were as good as dead. As one led, the rest followed, and soon the entire populace gathered outside Jiangting’s county office—the only shelter from wind and rain.

Inside the county office, Li Miao’s expression was grim—not because the people blocked the entrance, but because news of the council had leaked within a day. If military matters were discussed in future, would there be any secrets left?

Li Miao’s gaze swept over his officials, who all lowered their heads under his scrutiny. Only one remained steady: Prince Fu, Li Miao’s uncle Li Yin. Though his head was bowed, Li Miao could see the hidden smile in his eyes. This incident was surely connected to his uncle.

“Report, Your Majesty! The commoners outside demand an explanation. If you do not go out, they will force their way in.” A soldier ran in and knelt before Li Miao.

“We wish to see His Majesty! Come out!” The voices outside shook the building—an uprising in the making.

“Outrageous! A pack of rogues!” Yang Hong was furious. “Your Majesty, order the guards to draw their swords and show these rabble the might of the Imperial Guards! How dare they storm the hall!” Yang Hong was posturing; since Li Miao was emperor, this shabby office had become the imperial hall.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t!” Li Yin stepped forward and knelt. “Your Majesty, these commoners are innocent—misled by others. You must not harbor murderous intent toward them. They are the future of our kingdom!” Li Yin retreated to advance, repeating Li Miao’s own words—that for the kingdom to thrive, women and children were essential, otherwise who would bear children? Men alone would not suffice.

As for the elderly, their experience was invaluable, and among them were old soldiers—precious trainers for the army.

“Prince Fu, they have already stormed your imperial hall—must we wait until they break in and harm His Majesty before you act?” Yang Hong retorted angrily; to him, Li Miao was everything.

“Chancellor Yang, you are mistaken. His Majesty treats the people as his own children. These are merely ignorant folk—not guilty enough to die.” Li Yin spoke well for the commoners, but in truth, he was stoking Li Miao’s anger, hoping he would turn against the people. If Li Miao killed them, he’d have no choice but to flee to Hebei.

“No!” Li Miao stood up, narrowing his eyes at his only few loyal followers—still scheming amongst themselves. “If I must kill, I will kill to satisfy my own cruelty!” He revealed a savage expression.

“Your Majesty, think carefully!” Li Yin knelt again, outwardly pleading, but inwardly smiling—kill them, and Li Miao would only have one path: north to Hebei.

“My mind is made up!” Li Miao declared. “Zhang Xun, where are you?”

“At your service!” Zhang Xun was a general; whatever Li Miao ordered, he obeyed.

“Bring me my sword!”

“Yes!” Zhang Xun fetched Li Miao’s sword. It was called Qingping, not a particularly grand name, but it had sister swords: Qinghong and Yitian.

“What a fine sword!” Li Miao admired its craftsmanship, drawing it as he stepped down from the throne.

“Your Majesty, the people are innocent! Do not kill them!” Li Yin continued his “desperate” pleas, the smile in his eyes growing deeper. Kill, kill—once the rabble was dead, Li Miao would have no choice but to head for Hebei.

“You think so?” Li Miao, brimming with murderous intent, strode before his uncle.

“Yes, the people must not be killed,” Li Yin replied, still retreating to advance.

“Who said I was going to kill the people?” Li Miao’s tone shifted.

“Huh?” Li Yin was stunned, his eyes wide.

“You? You?” Li Yin was dumbfounded as his face was splattered with blood. He himself was unharmed—Li Miao would never kill his uncle. To do so would ruin his reputation, and besides, Li Yin was family. But the personal guard behind Li Yin was not so lucky. Li Miao, in a sudden burst of fury, plunged his sword into the guard’s chest. The man collapsed before he could react, and even if he had, he would have been stopped by Zhang Xun, who, though a second-rate general, was the top commander under Liu Wang.