Overthrowing Wei: Starting with Cao Cao's "I'd rather betray the world than surrender

Spring arrives relatively late in Pingyu County.

The wheat seedlings outside the city have already sprouted ears, and their color is still green. People can be seen on the ridges of the fields; some are bending over to weed, and some are holding plows. From a distance, it doesn't look like the fields are about to be abandoned.

But chaos erupted in the city first.

It's not war that's causing chaos, it's chaos in the city.

Before dawn, Dongshikou was already packed with people. There was no noise, but the crowd was unusually dense. People were packed together, and their pace was so slow that they could hardly move, like frozen water.

The grain shop hadn't opened yet, but a queue had already formed outside.

Some people were wrapped in tattered coats, while others were barefoot on the ground, their toes turning purple with cold, yet they dared not move. The queue stretched from the shop entrance all the way to the street corner, then turned into the alley and disappeared from sight.

No one dared to cut in line, and no one dared to leave.

Because the price of rice had gone up again the day before.

It's not just a little, it's a 30-coin increase per dou (a unit of dry measure).

The news spread at night. Light sleepers in the city heard knocking on the door next door in the middle of the night, and heard people whispering, all saying the same thing—

"Grain prices have gone up again."

As soon as it was light, the news became a fact.

As soon as the first grain shop in the East Market opened, the shopkeeper glanced outside and his face darkened.

He didn't set up the scale immediately.

Instead, first tighten the door panel, leaving only a small gap.

Limited quantity available today.

As soon as those four words were uttered, a commotion finally broke out in the crowd.

It wasn't a roar, it was a panting. A panting sound suppressed in the throat, like a group of people being strangled by something at the same time.

"How much is the limit?"

Someone asked.

The shopkeeper did not answer immediately.

He looked up and glanced at the street corner.

Two county soldiers stood there, their armor worn, their swords dull, and their faces even more grim than those of the people in line.

The shopkeeper's throat moved.

"One household... half a bushel."

The crowd fell silent, followed by a low commotion.

Half a bushel.

not enough.

Even if it's mixed with chaff, it won't last more than a few days.

Someone took a step forward, only to be pulled back by those behind them; someone was calculating something with their head down, then buried their head in their arms halfway through; and a woman was holding her child, covering the child's face with one hand, afraid that the child would see all this.

The county soldiers moved, not by drawing their swords, but by taking a step forward. Once that step was taken, the crowd fell silent again.

No one dared to cause real chaos; everyone knew that if chaos ensued, food supplies would only dwindle.

The official granary in the city was located behind the county government office.

The door was tightly shut.

A new notice was posted at the entrance.

The paper was freshly pasted, but the ink had already dried completely.

"A spring famine is approaching; we await the magistrate's allocation of grain."

Below that was the name of the county magistrate.

The characters were written neatly, but very lightly, as if afraid of damaging the paper.

The crowd glanced at it a few times, then silently moved away.

They don't curse, because cursing wouldn't do any good; they just wait.

Waiting for food, waiting for something to eat.

On the afternoon of the third day, the county government finally made a move.

A clerk, accompanied by two county soldiers, posted new notices along the street.

The paper wasn't new; the edges had old marks, as if it had been peeled off and then pasted back on.

An extra line of text appeared above—

"The grain supplies have been allocated and should arrive in three days."

A crowd gathered around.

No one cheered.

They just kept looking at that line of text, for a long time, as if trying to make sure it wouldn't disappear on its own.

"Which three days?"

Someone asked.

The clerk didn't look up, only replying, "Of course, it will be three days from now."

On that day, a soup kitchen was set up behind the county government office.

The pot was quite large, but there was very little rice.

The porridge was so thin it was almost like hot water.

The soup kitchen was closed the next day.

The order was to "stop for one day before the grain arrives."

The notice was still up on the third day.

The soup kitchens, however, were completely removed.

By evening, someone discovered—

The line of text on the notice had been smeared with charcoal.

Nobody knows who it is.

No one bothered to fix it.

That night, there were more people outside the city gates than inside the city.

There's smoke coming from the direction of Lüjiazhuang.

It wasn't cooking smoke, it was smoke from the soup kitchen.

It was faint, yet it kept flowing.

On the first day, only three pots were set up.

The pot wasn't big.

There is plenty of water, but not enough rice.

The porridge was so thin you could see your reflection in it.

But it's hot.

And it's true.

Lü Ding did not show up.

He simply had the pots set up beside the official road, some distance from the city.

We won't go into the city.

No shouting.

Once the porridge is cooked, serve it to each person, one bowl each, no more, no less.

There is only one rule—

No cutting in line.

When the first bowl of porridge was served, some people didn't believe it.

I stood there holding the bowl for a while before carefully taking a sip.

Then came the second bite.

The third bite.

After finishing his drink, he looked up at the pot, then at the people around him, as if trying to confirm something.

"It's true."

He said something.

The sound wasn't loud.

But the news spread very quickly.

The next day, the number of people in front of the soup kitchen tripled.

On the third day, people from the city also came out.

Some people arrived early in the morning and stood by the roadside, without even entering the city gate.

The county government found out.

But it didn't move.

The soup kitchen isn't in the city.

No government grain was touched.

No one caused any trouble.

On the fourth day, people started asking questions.

I'm not asking about the porridge.

The question is—

"Could you give me another bowl?"

The person watching the pot shook his head.

"cannot."

"Then...can I stay?"

The question was asked very softly, as if afraid of being overheard by others.

The person watching the pot did not answer immediately.

He glanced into the distance.

That day, Lü Ding arrived.

I didn't ride a horse.

He was wearing an old robe with the cuffs rolled up, and his shoes were covered in mud.

He stood by the pot, watching the people.

Looked for a long time.

Then he spoke.

"Porridge is a lifesaver."

"Food is a matter of life and death."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was steady.

"Those who want food, stay."

"If you want to eat for free, finish your drink and leave."

The crowd fell silent.

Someone lowered their head.

Someone looked up.

Some people are hiding their children behind their backs.

"Why stay?"

Finally, someone asked.

Lu Ding reached out and picked up a wooden plaque from the side.

There were only two words on the sign.

Register.

"An honest official leads the way through the ditch."

"Pave the dirt road outside the village."

"We take turns guarding the road at night."

"If you can do it, you'll have food."

"If you can't do it, go back."

No threat.

There were no additional promises.

It's like talking about something perfectly ordinary.

The crowd remained silent for a long time.

Finally, someone stepped forward.

He's a young man.

His clothes were worn and tattered, but his hands were very steady.

He walked up to the sign, took the charcoal pencil, and wrote his name on the wooden sign.

The characters are crooked.

But it is heavy.

the second.

The third.

By evening, the wooden signs had been hung all over the row.

That night, someone in the city discovered something.

Those standing in front of the county government office were no longer ordinary people.

It was the village head.

They weren't asking about food.

But -

"Is Lüjiazhuang still accepting people?"

The night wind blew by, and the fire beside the official road was still burning. The fire was not big, but it could illuminate the road.

The real chaos is only just beginning to emerge.

The news spread throughout the county town early the next morning.

It's not an official lawsuit.

It is passed down orally.

"The official granary is still not open."

"The county's grain supply is nowhere to be found."

"The county government said to wait two more days."

This time, no one went to wait in front of the notice board.

They've already waited.

On the third day, two grain shops in the East Market simply did not open.

It's not sold out.

It's fear.

I'm afraid that if I open the door, I won't be able to hold the person down.

The county soldiers were transferred out and stood at the market entrance for a whole day.

No one made a fuss.

But that kind of quiet was even more unsettling than noise.

As evening approached, someone discovered something even stranger.

The number of county soldiers patrolling the city at night has been reduced by half.

They didn't withdraw, they just didn't come.

Meanwhile, along the official road, near Lüjiazhuang, more people appeared.