The Ming Dynasty: Starting with the border troops, it was overthrown and the Qing Dynasty was destro

Chapter 256 The bandits are doing disaster relief, and the government wants to collect taxes.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sharp sound of gongs, mixed with hurried footsteps, shattered the tranquility of Baoning Prefecture.

"A major flood is coming!"

"The commander-in-chief has ordered! Women, children, the elderly, and the weak must immediately pack their belongings and, led by the village head and the head of the village committee, evacuate to Panlong Mountain in the north!"

"All able-bodied men, stay and await orders!"

"Hurry up!"

Teams of militiamen wearing red headscarves were going door to door, banging on doors and shouting to inform the people in the city.

Panic swept through the city like a tidal wave, instantly engulfing countless households.

Cries and shouts filled the air as people, young and old, carrying simple bundles, stumbled out of their homes and joined the surging crowd on the street.

Fortunately, under the guidance of the militia, the flow of refugees, though extremely crowded, did not completely collapse, preventing a stampede tragedy.

The long dragon, stretching as far as the eye could see, meandered out from the North Gate and moved towards Panlong Mountain.

On Panlong Mountain, a completely different scene of bustling activity had already unfolded.

Thousands of soldiers and laborers who were urgently dispatched worked tirelessly, like ants.

The forest was felled in large swaths, and huge logs were sharpened and driven into the ground to serve as the framework for the shacks.

Large tracts of open land were cleared out in the mountains, and soldiers wielded shovels and picks to level the land and dig drainage ditches.

The thinner tree trunks were dismantled on the spot and cut into planks by the craftsmen. These planks, along with a large quantity of straw mats and tarpaulins that were temporarily requisitioned, were then used to build the shacks.

Simple but sheltered huts, capable of providing shelter from the wind and rain, sprang up like mushrooms after rain throughout Panlong Mountain.

Meanwhile, the ironworks in the east of the city were operating at full capacity.

The massive tipper, propelled by the flowing water, emitted a dull rumble, driving the bellows and stone roller.

The furnace fire burns day and night, and the sweat-drenched craftsmen are putting baskets of quicklime and ground porcelain powder into it for calcination.

Thick smoke billowed, and the heat was scorching.

Bag after bag of cement powder, still warm from the heat, was delivered to Liulifang, not far away.

Chai Yu had been waiting there for a long time. He ordered people to put cement into the mold, mix it, and let it dry.

While mixing the cement, he also added a lot of very thick glutinous rice paste.

This was inspired by the "three-in-one soil" formula used to build strong cities.

The sugar and viscous substances in glutinous rice paste can not only slightly improve the early strength of cement, but also form a thin film in the early stage of cement molding, accelerating surface setting.

Although its uses are limited, in today's race against time, it's good if cement can be formed faster.

The real battlefield was on the river embankment not far outside the city.

The turbid waters of the Jialing River roared, the water level rising at a visible rate, crashing against the already fragile earthen embankment, creating a series of roars.

Jiang Han personally oversaw the frontline work, his short-sleeved outfit splattered with mud and water.

Although he stood on high ground, his presence was like a stabilizing force, inspiring the soldiers and laborers fighting on the riverbank.

"quick!"

"Have someone bring over sandbags and cement blocks to reinforce the embankment!"

Thousands of elite troops from the central army have transformed into the strongest river workers, shouting and relaying flood relief supplies.

Outside the perimeter, laborers temporarily conscripted lined up in long queues, carrying heavy stones and sandbags up the embankment.

At the forefront of the dike, dozens of shirtless soldiers shouted in unison:

"One! Two! Release!"

"One! Two! Release!"

The soldiers worked together to build up the stone blocks on the water-facing side of the embankment, while the militiamen on the side wielded shovels and quickly filled the gaps between the stone blocks with mud, acting as a temporary adhesive.

Sandbags were piled up and compacted layer by layer, reinforcing the last lifeline of the prefectural city.

Rainwater mixed with mud covered everyone's trouser legs, arms, and cheeks.

The air in June was stuffy and hot, and sweat mixed with rainwater kept pouring down, but no one complained or cried out in pain.

The sweltering heat caused soldiers to faint from exhaustion or the oppressive heat, collapsing straight into the mud.

Upon seeing this, the laborers nearby immediately dropped what they were doing and rushed over to help pull the unconscious soldier out of the mud and carry him to the makeshift shed at the back.

The army's medical personnel were already on high alert, with firewood burning continuously under several large earthenware pots, inside which thick, brown medicinal soup was bubbling.

After setting down the soldiers suffering from heatstroke, several medical professionals immediately stepped forward and skillfully worked together to pinch the philtrum and administer herbal medicine.

The decoction is made by boiling agastache as the chief ingredient, along with other herbs such as perilla, angelica, poria, and tangerine peel. It is a good remedy specifically for heatstroke and fainting caused by being caught in the rain or dampness in the body during hot weather.

The bitter medicine was forced down his throat, and the unconscious soldier slowly regained consciousness, lying on the ground panting heavily.

And so, with the tireless efforts of thousands of people working day and night, the river embankment outside the city was painstakingly raised inch by inch.

The turbid river water angrily pounded against the newly reinforced embankment, trying to tear a breach, but was stubbornly pushed back by the even stronger cement blocks and sandbags.

The waves crashed and shattered, retreating futilely back into the river, brewing for an even more ferocious next impact.

To combat this great flood, the entire city of Baoning was united in its efforts.

From Jiang Han, who was in command, to the soldiers sweating profusely, from the militiamen running around shouting slogans to the laborers transporting supplies, everyone was burning their last bit of strength.

Unlike Baoning Prefecture, Jianzhou was already devastated at this time.

The torrential rain that had lasted for seven days and seven nights had just stopped, but the sky did not clear up. The gray clouds hung low, and there was an indescribable sour smell in the air.

Although the floodwaters gradually receded, the low-lying areas of the city were still filled with knee-deep muddy water, emitting a nauseating stench.

The once fertile fields are now covered by thick silt, interspersed with broken wood, rubble, and the carcasses of livestock that couldn't escape in time. Occasionally, one can even see human corpses that have turned white and swollen from being soaked in mud.

The dilapidated houses leaned precariously, with clear waterline marks on the walls; only ruins remained.

The surviving people had empty eyes, numbly searching through the mud for any remaining belongings, or staring blankly at their ruined homes.

The scene was one of utter desolation, with cries of grief echoing everywhere.

Wu Xi, the newly appointed prefect who nearly perished in the flood, has now become the backbone of Jianzhou's post-disaster reconstruction efforts.

He looked haggard, his crimson official robe was tattered, and his head was wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He forced himself to wade through the mud and water, giving instructions.

The first task after the disaster is to clear the silt.

He organized the disaster victims who were still able to move, along with government officials and soldiers, into clearing teams.

The makeshift raft glided through the floodwaters, constantly retrieval floating debris and corpses.

Strong laborers used shovels, wooden basins, and even their bare hands to painstakingly clear the thick silt from the streets and around houses.

The exhumed bodies were carefully wrapped in straw mats and carried to high ground far from water sources and residential areas, where they were burned.

In the height of summer, June, the high temperatures and humidity create an ideal breeding ground for epidemics.

The air was filled with a pungent, putrid stench that was suffocating.

Wu Xi adopted the suggestion of his accompanying physician Zhang Jisheng and set up a special "leprosy ward" (isolation zone) in the suburbs.

All patients exhibiting symptoms of fever and diarrhea were forcibly transferred there.

The militiamen carried heavy bags of lime and repeatedly splashed lime on the cleaned streets and around the resettlement sites.

Zhang Jisheng, along with doctors from the city, worked day and night to brew herbal decoctions to clear heat and detoxify, distributing them to disaster victims and rescue workers.

Wu Xi was leading his men on a patrol around the city when a commotion suddenly broke out at a street corner.

He frowned and walked over, only to see several constables holding down a fat man who looked like a merchant.

Upon seeing Wu Xi in his official robes, the fat man struggled and let out a pig-like scream:
"let me go!"

"I'm selling my grain, what's it to you?!"

Seeing this, a nearby constable immediately stepped forward to explain to Wu Xi:
“Wu Tongzhi, this fellow is driving up grain prices and openly defying military orders.”

"This was all ordered by Prefect Li. If it's discovered..." Wu Xi raised her hand to stop him:
"I understand, I'll follow the rules."

"Drag this man out and kill him. I'll send men to ransack his house."

The constables responded in unison and dragged the still-shouting grain merchant away.

As the grain merchant's head fell to the ground, the onlookers were stunned for a moment, then burst into cheers.

"it is good!"

"Master Qingtian!"

Wu Xi ignored him and simply gave an order to the person beside him:
“Seize his family’s grain and take it to the soup kitchen to provide relief to the disaster victims.”

"In addition, investigate several other grain shops in the city. Anyone who dares to follow his example will be dealt with in the same way."

The clerk quickly wrote it down, but Wu Xi gazed at the turbid river in the distance and sighed softly.

The floodwaters have receded, but the post-disaster period has only just begun.

Compared to Jianzhou, Jiangyou County, located in Long'an Prefecture, was not affected by the floods, but the situation was not much better.

Disaster victims fleeing from Chengdu Prefecture poured in wave after wave, forming a dense, endless crowd.

On a huge, temporarily cleared open space outside the city, a series of simple shacks were erected.

But what's most eye-catching are the dozen or so large iron pots steaming in the open space.

"Line up! Don't push! One bowl per person! Everyone gets one!"

County Lieutenant Wang Ning stood on a broken table, holding a tin megaphone, and his voice carried far.

Soldiers and yamen runners stood by, keeping a close eye on the long line of disaster victims, not daring to let their guard down for a moment.

Beside the stove, several cooks were constantly stirring the bubbling rice porridge in the iron pot.

Although the rice porridge had more water than rice, it was considered a divine soup by the disaster victims who had experienced floods, hunger, and long journeys.

When the piping hot, fragrant rice porridge was ladled into broken bowls and earthenware pots, the disaster victims were all moved to tears.

A gaunt man, his hands trembling, held a bowl of scalding hot porridge, tears streaming down his face.

Ignoring the heat, he greedily sipped the rice porridge, letting out satisfied moans.

The young mother carefully brought the rim of the bowl to the baby's mouth, dipped her fingertip in the rice water, and dabbed it into the baby's crying mouth.

Several teenagers squatted in the corner, holding bowls, wolfing down their food. Even though it was so hot that they stuck out their tongues, they didn't want to stop. Finally, a bit of life returned to their faces.

"Drink slowly, don't burn yourself."

Qianzong Hu Yongsheng watched as a skinny boy wolfed down his porridge and couldn't help but offer a word of advice.

The boy looked up, his face still covered in rice grains, and said indistinctly:
"Thank you for the porridge, sir."

Standing on the city wall, Li Laowai looked at the endless tide of refugees and felt his scalp tingle.

More and more disaster victims are arriving, seemingly endless.

Although they were only given a bowl of thin porridge each day to keep them alive, the county and the army's food reserves were almost gone.

The county magistrate in charge of grain management sent people every day to urge Li Laowai to stop distributing porridge.

But Li Laowai shook his head. The messenger he sent to Baoning Prefecture to ask for grain should be back soon. He would leave everything to the commander-in-chief.

Sure enough, the messenger arrived in Jiangyou County that night and knocked on the city gate.

"Chief Li, Prefect Zeng has already sent a convoy, and 30,000 shi of grain will arrive soon."

"The commander-in-chief said that there is plenty of grain in Baoning Prefecture. Let's save the people first."

"Those officials and gentry in Chengdu refuse to provide relief; the grain they hoard will eventually belong to us!"

"The commander-in-chief tells you to recruit as many people as you like, and if you don't have enough food, just report it again, and Baoning Prefecture will send more immediately!"

Old Li was stunned for a moment, then slapped his thigh hard. He knew perfectly well that the commander was not the kind of person who would stand by and watch someone die!
Little did he know that Jiang Han was also having a lot of worries at that moment.

Although Baoning Prefecture successfully weathered the flood peak under his leadership, this sudden flood completely disrupted his subsequent battle plans.

According to Jiang Han's original plan, after the autumn harvest in July and August, he would immediately launch a military campaign against Kuizhou Prefecture in the east and Shunqing Prefecture and Tongchuan Prefecture in the south.

But for now, he can only prioritize disaster relief and production recovery.

"That's all."

Jiang Han rubbed his temples and sighed to Cao Er, the commander beside him.
"Disaster relief is the priority; let's postpone the war for now."

To Jiang Han's utter surprise, he was desperately engaged in disaster relief efforts.

Meanwhile, a huge change occurred in Chengdu.

It was July, and the heat was unbearable.

The floods that had ravaged Chengdu Prefecture had just receded, leaving behind devastation and dying victims.

Fields were destroyed, houses collapsed, and the shadows of hunger and disease loomed over every village in the disaster area.

Those who survived are struggling on the brink of life and death, barely managing to fill their stomachs with tree bark and grass roots.

The people were eagerly hoping that the government would lend a helping hand, even if it was just a bowl of thin porridge that could reflect their image.

I've heard that the thieves in Long'an Prefecture and Baoning Prefecture are working desperately to help with the disaster relief. Even if the imperial court doesn't care about the flood, it should at least send people to provide some relief after the disaster, right?

But instead of relief, they were met with a series of deadly shackles.

July is the time for collecting summer taxes.

The city gates of various prefectures and counties in the disaster area were wide open, and groups of tax collectors, led by their yamen runners, rushed out like wolves and tigers.

"By order of my parents, summer taxes and autumn grain must be paid, not a single grain can be missing!"

The cold notice posted at the dilapidated village entrance was like a death warrant.

"The payment must be made within half a month. Those who fail to comply will be displayed in shackles and exiled to the army!"

The cold notice posted at the dilapidated entrance of the village caused an uproar among the onlookers.

"Officer, our fields have all been washed away, and the crops in the fields have long been destroyed. How are we going to pay our taxes?"

Upon hearing this, the constables widened their eyes and cursed viciously:
"You worthless scoundrel, so what if you lost your land? You think you can evade taxes?"

"If all else fails, we can mortgage the land and borrow some money at exorbitant interest rates in the city to tide us over!"

"The Shu King's Mansion will not treat you unfairly!"

Similar scenes are playing out in various disaster-stricken villages and towns in Mianzhu, Maozhou, and Luojiang.

The prince's palace and local officials colluded to plunder the already scarce land held by the people during the famine years.

If any disaster victims resisted, they would be beaten or kicked, or even shackled and dragged into prison.

Desperate cries, angry curses, and the triumphant shouts of the yamen runners echoed across the fields.

At this time, many famine victims who had fled from Long'an Prefecture returned to their hometowns one after another, bringing news of the porridge relief provided by Long'an Prefecture.

As a result, the people in the disaster area were completely enraged.

The people pointed at the group of ruthless officials and cursed them angrily:
"Even the rebels in Long'an Baoning know to open granaries and distribute grain to relieve disaster victims!"

"But what about you?"

"You dogs who wear official robes and eat the emperor's rice, all you know how to do is plunder land for others and try to drive us to our deaths!"

The tearful accusations were like the last spark that ignited dry tinder.

"Since you all don't want us to live a peaceful life, then none of us should live one!"

"I'll fight these dogs to the death!"

Driven to desperation, the disaster victims lost even their last shred of fear of the government.
"Kill these bastards and join the righteous army!"

The people grabbed their hoes and shovels, roared in defiance, and charged at the arrogant yamen runners and officials!

(End of this chapter)