Could you please provide the text you would like me to translate?

Li Miao dared not interject, for he feared that if he spoke, he might soften his heart and let them stay. Now that the elder had spoken, Li Miao could not refuse.

“Your Majesty, we old, weak, sick, and disabled folk have lived long enough. It’s time for us to die. But those children—they are still young, they haven’t lived enough. If Your Majesty can let them remain, we will leave!” the old man pleaded with Li Miao.

“Hm?” Li Miao looked toward the commoners brought by Chen Dao.

Hope filled their eyes. The little ones might not understand, but their parents and elders watched them with smiles, entrusting the hope of life to their offspring.

“Yes, Your Majesty, we will go. We only beg you to grant the children a way to live!” All knelt together.

“Your Majesty, we truly have no more food left! And now, this last meal?” Huang Yi tried to dissuade Li Miao. Li Miao intended to let them eat congee, which would cost another hundred stone of grain. Keeping these children would add nothing but mouths to feed, and this last meal would consume yet another hundred stone. Li Miao was not the master of the household; he didn’t know the true cost of provisions.

Huang Yi had never cared before, but since becoming quartermaster, he felt the pain of watching white grain slip through his fingers.

“Your Majesty, let us skip this last meal and leave it all for the children!” the elder smiled serenely.

Li Miao frowned deeply. If they ate this last meal, they could at least leave with full stomachs; if not, they wouldn’t get far.

“Where will you go, then?” Li Miao asked the elder.

“Us? It’s time we went home,” the elder answered, as if he had seen through the matter of life and death. He wished to return, even if he never reached his house, even if he fell along the way; he would face his homeland.

“Your Majesty!” Huang Yi was anxious, fearing Li Miao would waver and relent. There were many children, most orphans, whom Chen Dao had gathered into his group along the way. As the saying goes, a half-grown boy eats as much as an adult. Their appetites matched, even surpassed, those of adults when growing.

“Enough!” Li Miao stopped his beloved brother-in-law.

“Minister Yang?” Huang Yi looked to Yang Hong, hoping he would help persuade Li Miao, but Yang Hong only smiled bitterly and sighed.

“Elder, I promise you—I will keep these children,” Li Miao said.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you!” The elder tried to kneel again, but Li Miao supported him.

“Elder, don’t thank me yet. I can only keep the children; I truly have no power to take in the others!” Li Miao could not accept all the refugees; even if he wished, he lacked the means.

“It’s enough—Your Majesty is merciful!” The elder was grateful.

“Everyone, let us depart while the day is still bright,” the old uncle urged the others.

The people gazed longingly at their children. This parting might be their last. Li Miao saw many take things from their bosoms and place them in their children’s hands—not heirlooms, but yesterday’s ration. They had not eaten it all, saving some for the uncertain future. Even hungry, they kept a little, for that might save a life. Now, they handed their saved grain to their children.

Li Miao turned away, unable to watch further, fearing he would be unable to let them go.

“Children, go back, go back!” The adults waved, leaving the hope of life to the young.

“Mother, I want to stay with you. I won’t stay, I won’t!”

“Listen, Sanwa, stay here with His Majesty. Mother will find your father, and when I do, I’ll come for you.”

The sunlight shone on Li Miao, but he felt no warmth, only cold—not in his heart, but in the world.

“Let’s go back! Chen Dao, I leave these children to you. Tonight I want a roster, sorted by age and gender. Can you write?” Li Miao asked Chen Dao.

“A little, not all,” Chen Dao replied.

Li Miao nodded. He knew it was hard for Chen Dao; in this era, only the wealthy could afford education. Children of the poor struggled for food, much less schooling. “Minister Yang, stay and help Chen Dao. Present the list to me tonight!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Yang Hong nodded, preparing to help Chen Dao count the children.

…

With the children left behind, the refugee band was still vast—several thousand strong. They walked and paused, always glancing toward the city, having left the hope of life with their children, wishing them to survive in a world where people devoured one another.

“Don’t worry, when has Dao ever misjudged a man?” the old uncle reassured the crowd. Though Chen Dao was young, his insight was sound. If His Majesty weren’t a good man, Dao would never follow him.

“May they live well!” The people took one last look at Jiangting. “Let’s go!”

“Uncle, Uncle!” As they were about to leave, a shout came from behind.

“It’s Dao—it’s Dao!” Someone recognized the runner as Chen Dao.

“Dao, Uncle is here!” someone called.

“Uncle, I finally caught up! Walk slowly,” Chen Dao called out.

“Dao, are you coming with us?” someone hopefully asked.

Chen Dao shook his head. His life was no longer his own; he had to stay at Jiangting.

Their gazes dimmed.

“With Dao there, the children won’t be bullied!” The old uncle comforted the group.

On this thought, they felt a bit easier.

“Uncle, I haven’t come to walk with you, but to bring you something,” Chen Dao said.

“Something?” The uncle was puzzled.

“Wait here!” Chen Dao, swift-footed, had left the goods behind. After a moment, a weak horse dragged a cart over.

“Hm?” The crowd was surprised.

“Dao, what’s this?” the uncle asked.

“Uncle, His Majesty sent these. He said it’s not much, but it should help you go farther,” Chen Dao explained, pointing to the cart.

“That—!” The uncle’s eyes widened. The bags were open—white grain, precious grain.

“It’s enough, enough!” The uncle choked with emotion. “His Majesty’s kindness, I cannot repay in this life.” Though the cart held only a few hundred pounds, it was precious now. His Majesty not only took in their children but gave grain to those with no kin—an immense favor.

“Dao, serve His Majesty well and uphold our family’s honor. If you fail, I will not forgive you, even from the grave!” the uncle admonished.

“Yes, uncle, I know,” Chen Dao nodded.

“Uncle, you’ll have to pull the cart yourselves; I need to take the horse back,” Chen Dao said.

“Go, go!” The uncle dismissed him at once.

“Uncle, take care!” Chen Dao turned and left, leading the horse and the soldier who escorted it.

Li Miao looked at the roster Yang Hong brought him, feeling a headache. The list contained nearly two thousand names; among the ten thousand old, weak, sick, and disabled refugees Chen Dao had brought, there were two thousand children.

The ancients bore many children, and many died young.

Two thousand children. Li Miao saw that over twelve hundred were above twelve years old, over four hundred girls, the rest boys.

Arranging these children was a challenge. Those under twelve clearly needed care, so Li Miao planned to place them together, assigning some women to look after them. As for the over-twelve group, Li Miao had an idea: to form them into an army.

It wasn’t child labor. In these troubled times, thirteen or fourteen was nearly grown. Of course, Li Miao wouldn’t send them straight to battle—they would need training. Their youth made them more malleable than the seasoned veterans under Zhang Zhao, for instance. Those veterans, though experienced, had become crafty. In battle, they would wait for others to charge first, joining later for survival—no fools, knowing that the first wave were martyrs.

Li Miao wanted veterans, but he also knew an army made entirely of crafty old soldiers would lose its edge—no one would lead the charge, making warfare impossible.

“Your Majesty, Chen Dao has returned!” Li Miao’s guards reported. Chen Dao, newly recruited, was given the lowest military rank due to his age and other factors.

“Let him in,” Li Miao said.

Soon, Chen Dao was ushered in.

Li Miao saw Chen Dao’s demeanor, knowing he must be feeling low—after all, this parting might be forever.

“Did you send off your uncle and the others?” Li Miao comforted him.

“Yes,” Chen Dao nodded.

Li Miao asked no more; such was the world’s chaos. Chen Dao had grown up with such hardship. After so many years, he was used to it. What Li Miao didn’t know was that Chen Dao loathed this chaotic age. If he had ambition, it was first to protect Li Miao, and second to bring peace.

“Uncle Zhi, here is the roster Minister Yang compiled,” Li Miao said, handing it to Chen Dao.

But then he remembered Chen Dao’s limited literacy and decided to explain himself: “There are two thousand children here. I’ve excluded over eight hundred under twelve, leaving twelve hundred—four hundred girls and eight hundred boys. Do you know what I intend?”

“Master wants to form them into an army?” Chen Dao guessed Li Miao’s plan.

“You’re right. I plan to form these eight hundred boys and four hundred girls into an army,” Li Miao said.

“Girls too?” Chen Dao was surprised. There had never been female troops, except perhaps camp followers or women’s camps, which brought to mind unsavory things.

“What are you thinking!” Li Miao shook his head. The women’s camp was not just for the four hundred girls. Some tasks, girls did better than boys.

“Uncle Zhi, I entrust this army to you. Do you have confidence in leading them?” Li Miao asked.

“Ah—!” Chen Dao was dumbfounded. He had led ten thousand refugees, but never an army; Li Miao was entrusting him with a newly formed camp?

“M-master, I, I…” Chen Dao stammered, nervous and lacking confidence.

Chen Dao doubted himself, but Li Miao did not. Who was Chen Dao? He was the White Robe God of War, creator of the elite White Ear Heavy Infantry, who followed Liu Bei through campaigns north and south, facing Tiger Cavalry, Danyang soldiers of Jiangdong, and Sun Ce’s Chu troops. If not for the White Ear soldiers, Liu Bei would never have held a third of the realm. When Shu fell, it was because the White Ear soldiers were gone.

“What’s this? You said you wanted to end the chaos, and now you balk at a camp of hundreds?” Li Miao used a goading tone.

“I—I…” Chen Dao wanted to say something, but couldn’t, biting his lip. “Dao will not fail Your Majesty’s trust!”

“That’s more like it!” Li Miao smiled. Soldiers need fresh recruits, and generals need new leaders. Li Miao planned to teach tactics foreign to the world’s generals; if he used an experienced commander, he might face rejection or even sabotage. Using Chen Dao, besides his historical talent, meant these troops were experimental—even if he failed, Li Miao could bear the loss.

…

“What? His Majesty is forming a new camp?” Li Miao’s ministers and generals—really just a handful—were surprised.