Han Ji

In October, Luoyang had its first snowfall.

The snow was light, just a thin layer covering the rooftops and streets, which melted by dawn. But the chill was real; no matter how brightly the charcoal brazier burned in the office, it couldn't dispel the damp cold.

Every day when Liu Bei went on his duty, he would pass by the square in front of the Southern Palace and always see several ragged refugees huddled in a corner. The guards would chase them away from time to time, but they would just come back.

His colleagues turned a blind eye. Once, an old refugee froze to death, and his body lay there for half a day before someone came to drag it away.

Liu Bei didn't say anything, but from that day on, he would always carry a few steamed buns in his pocket. When he passed by, he would quietly slip them to those who were still alive.

When Zhang Wu learned of this, he advised him, "Doctor, this isn't a solution. There are tens of thousands of refugees in Luoyang; how can you possibly save them all?"

"We'll save as many as we can," Liu Bei said.

Upon hearing this, Cao Cao came to find him. The two sat down in a tavern, and Cao Cao got straight to the point:

"Someone saw you bringing food to the refugees."

Liu Bei looked up: "And then?"

"That's all." Cao Cao smiled. "I'm just reminding you to be careful. There are many eyes in Luoyang. If you do good deeds, some people will think you're trying to win people's hearts."

"Let them think what they want."

Cao Cao stared at him for a while, then shook his head: "Your temper... is good, at least it's not like some people who are full of benevolence and morality, but when they see refugees, they go around them."

He took a sip of wine and suddenly said, "Xuande, don't you want to do something practical?"

"What?"

"I know a few old officials who work in the Luoyang county government. They say there are several abandoned granaries in the north of the city that can be used with a little repair. If we can persuade the governor of Henan to open the granaries and distribute grain, at least these refugees can survive the winter."

Liu Bei pondered, "Would the Governor of Henan agree?"

"It's hard to say," Cao Cao said, tapping the table. "But we can give it a try. Governor Li of Henan is a fairly upright man. If we speak on the grounds of preventing a peasant uprising, it might work."

He paused, then continued, "Your teacher is now a high-ranking official, so his words carry some weight. If he were willing to intervene..."

Liu Bei understood his meaning, but he couldn't help but mutter to himself, "Aren't you also a Consultant?"

That evening, he went to Lu Zhi's residence.

After listening, Lu Zhi remained silent for a long time.

"Cao Mengde's idea?"

"Yes."

"He's quite enthusiastic." Lu Zhi got up and walked to the window. The night outside was dark, but the lights of the West Garden were bright in the distance.

"Teacher, I believe this is a feasible plan," Liu Bei said in a low voice. "The winter is long, and the refugees will have no food, which will inevitably lead to unrest. It is better to appease them beforehand than to suppress them afterward."

Lu Zhi turned around and looked at him: "Do you know the risks of doing this?"

"Know."

"When the granaries are opened and grain is distributed, someone needs to take charge. This person will offend many people—those who are waiting for the refugees to starve to death so they can buy their wives and daughters at low prices; those who think the refugees are disturbing the capital and wish they would all die."

"The student understands."

Lu Zhi walked back to the desk and sat down: "Have you thought it through?"

Liu Bei straightened his back: "I've thought it through."

"Alright." Lu Zhi nodded. "I'll arrange a meeting with Lord Li tomorrow. Go back and prepare a report, clearly outlining the advantages and disadvantages."

"Yes."

The proposal was drafted three times.

The first draft was written with great passion, but Lu Zhi rejected it, saying, "Taixu, if you use this to talk, Li Gong will think you're a bookworm."

The second draft was too pragmatic. Lu Zhi shook his head: "Just calculating money and supplies won't do. We need to show him the consequences of not doing it."

For the third draft, Liu Bei stayed up half the night. He wrote about the number of refugees, the winter grain consumption, the potential for unrest, and the specific methods for repairing old granaries and providing work relief. Finally, he did the math: how much grain would be needed to open the granaries, and how much money, grain, and manpower would be required to suppress any uprisings.

By the time I finished writing, it was already dawn.

Lu Zhi looked at it and nodded: "It's fine."

Two days later, Lu Zhi took Liu Bei to see Li Gong, the governor of Henan.

Mr. Li was in his fifties, with a lean and refined appearance, and spoke slowly and deliberately. He carefully examined the document, asked a few more questions about the details, and finally sighed:

"Zigan, you're giving me a hard time."

"It's not a difficult problem, but something we have to do," Lu Zhi said calmly. "As the governor of the capital, Lord Li should know that the people's hearts are like water—they can support a boat, but they can also capsize it. Now, refugees are gathering outside the city. If we let this go unchecked, a major upheaval will surely occur this winter. If His Majesty blames us then, how will we, Lord Li, bear the consequences?"

Li Gong smiled wryly: "How could I not know? It's just that the granaries are empty; where would we get so much grain?"

"Repair the old granaries and store the old grain," Liu Bei said. "I have investigated and found that the northern granary has 50,000 shi of grain that is more than three years old. Although it is not very fresh, it is enough to feed the people. Repairing the old granaries can be used as a form of work relief, allowing the displaced people to support themselves. In this way, we can both reassure the people and eliminate old abuses."

Li Gong looked at him: "Are you Liu Bei, Lu Gong's disciple?"

"Exactly."

"I've heard about what happened in Lujiang." After a moment's thought, Li Gong said, "This matter involves many things, and I can't make a decision on my own. How about this, give me a few days so I can discuss it with the Minister of the Imperial Household and the Minister of Agriculture."

After leaving the governor's residence in Henan, Lu Zhi asked Liu Bei, "How confident are you?"

"Fifty percent," Liu Bei said. "Lord Li is tempted, but he also has many concerns."

"Not bad." Lu Zhi nodded. "It's already quite an achievement to have won him over. Now, it's up to the power struggle among those in the court."

During the waiting period, Liu Bei continued to work as usual.

He would only glance at the refugees every day when passing by the palace gate. The snow fell heavily, and two more corpses appeared in the corner.

On the fifth day, Cao Cao came to see him.

"There's news." Cao Cao lowered his voice. "Lord Li has persuaded the Minister of the Imperial Household, but the Minister of Agriculture is holding them back. They say that even grain stored in the past is grain, and it can't be given to the refugees for free."

"What should we do then?"

"Li Gong proposed a compromise: the displaced people repairing the granaries will receive daily rations, while their families will receive half that. Those who don't work will receive nothing." Cao Cao laughed, "That old fox, he wants to do the work but doesn't want to take full responsibility."

"Will it work?"

"Almost." Cao Cao patted Liu Bei on the shoulder, "If this succeeds, you'll get some credit."

Liu Bei shook his head: "It was Brother Mengde who started it."

"I'm not starting anything, I'm giving you ideas."

Three days later, the Henan Prefectural Government posted a notice.

We are recruiting displaced people to repair the old granary in the north of the city. Strong men will receive three liters of grain daily, while the elderly, women, and children will receive one and a half liters. Those who wish to volunteer should register at the north granary immediately.

On the day the notice was posted, the area outside Beicang was packed with people.

Liu Bei took a day off and changed into civilian clothes to go and see the refugees. They were lined up in long queues, all thin and pale, but their eyes held a glimmer of hope. A clerk was registering them, sitting behind a desk, with soldiers maintaining order nearby.

He stood there for a while, and just as he was about to leave, he heard someone shout:

"Dr. Liu!"

Turning around, he saw a middle-aged man in official robes who looked somewhat familiar. After thinking for a moment, he remembered—he was a clerk from the Imperial Secretariat, surnamed Chen.

"Chen Lingshi".

"It really is you!" Chen Lingshi hurried over, cupped his hands in greeting, and smiled. "I thought it looked like you earlier. You've come to watch the fun too?"

"Just passing by," Liu Bei said. "How's it going?"

"Successfully!" Chen Lingshi lowered his voice. "Lord Li did a brilliant job. He not only settled the refugees and repaired the granaries, but also earned a reputation for benevolent governance. I heard even His Majesty praised him."

As they were talking, a commotion suddenly broke out at the other end of the line.