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

They weren't queuing up for porridge; they were assigned tasks after their names were recorded.

Some people are digging ditches, some are paving roads, and others have been assigned to guard the roads at night.

On the morning of the fifth day, when the gates of Pingyu County opened, it wasn't the common people who came out first.

They were two yamen runners.

His armor was disheveled, his waist knife was not fully attached, and he was only carrying a fire-and-water stick. He stood at the city gate for a while, looking around as if he was waiting for something, or as if he didn't know where to go.

They saw the soup kitchens outside the city and the wooden signs lined up along the roadside.

"This...it really hasn't dissipated."

One of them whispered, while the other didn't reply, but just swallowed hard; it wasn't the first time they'd seen this scene.

But this is the first time—

The city has run out of food.

Outside the city, people are still being "raised".

And it's not about raising them haphazardly.

Some people distributed porridge, some took attendance, and some patrolled the night.

Like a team that has already started running.

The constables did not step forward; they stood there for a while before turning back to the city.

Inside the county government office, the magistrate was writing, not slowly, but seemingly absent-minded.

There were three documents on the desk.

The first document was a grain allocation approval sent down from the prefecture yesterday. It was quite long, but the only truly useful sentence was: "With the spring famine imminent, each county should raise its own funds first."

The second petition was jointly submitted by the village heads. There were no tears or accusations; they only asked one question—

"Were the soup kitchens outside the city government-run?"

When the magistrate saw this document, his brow twitched.

The third one was a private message sent last night.

There was no signature, only one sentence:

"The grain carts have already circled the city three times."

The magistrate put down his pen and rubbed his temples. He wasn't unaware of what had happened; he just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.

"Someone come here."

Someone answered from outside the door.

"Go check out the soup kitchens outside the city—"

He paused halfway through his sentence.

What are you checking?

Who set this up?

What good will it do to investigate?

The official granaries remained closed on his orders, and the county soldiers did not move; this was with his tacit approval.

There are people outside the city now offering "help."

If he sends someone to demolish it—

Whose life is being destroyed?

"never mind."

The magistrate waved his hand.

"Just tell them... not to cause trouble."

He was stunned for a moment when he said those words.

It's not about "banning".

It was not "returned to officialdom".

Just—don't cause trouble.

This is no longer an order.

Rather, it was a form of... concession.

Meanwhile, outside the city.

Lü Ding stood beside a newly dug ditch.

The ditch isn't deep; it's meant for rainwater to flow through.

Several young men were taking turns wielding hoes, their movements clumsy, but no one was slacking off.

They knew—

After finishing this part, we'll get an extra handful of grain that night.

It's not porridge.

It is real grain.

"Nothing happened at the intersection to the east last night."

Someone came to report.

"In the southern section, two figures circled around but didn't get close."

Lü Ding nodded.

"Continue the patrol."

He did not add anyone.

There was no praise either.

We simply followed yesterday's plan, proceeding step by step.

By noon, the number of people who had registered had exceeded three hundred.

More than a dozen of them came from the city.

They dressed a little better than the peasants.

But his eyes darted away.

"Is there no food in the city?"

Lü Ding asked.

The man lowered his head.

"The shop is closed."

"What about the official granary?"

"...say wait."

Lu Ding didn't ask any more questions.

He had someone lead them to the back to assign tasks.

It's not a night watch.

It's road construction.

This is very important.

He wouldn't allow people from the city to bring knives from the start.

He only allowed them—

Put your feet into the mud.

That night, the number of people on patrol doubled.

But half of the torches were gone.

It's not that we're afraid to show it.

It's unnecessary.

The road was very quiet.

There was no robbery.

There was no theft.

Even stray dogs have decreased.

Because there are more people.

Once order is established, it is not easy for chaos to break out.

Seventh day.

The county government finally sent someone.

He is not a county magistrate.

He is the registrar.

The man was not wearing official robes and only had two attendants with him.

They walked up to the soup kitchen but were stopped.

"What are you here for?"

The registrar cleared his throat.

"The county... I'd like to ask about that."

"What do you want to ask?"

"Are these soup kitchens... temporarily set up by the government?"

This was said very softly.

It was as if they were afraid someone would overhear them.

Lu Ding still didn't wear new clothes that day.

He stood by the pot, holding a spoon in his hand.

"no."

The registrar was taken aback.

"That……"

"It's Zhuang She's doing."

In short, clean and efficient.

The registrar opened his mouth, then closed it again.

His prepared explanation suddenly became useless.

"Wouldn't what you're doing be inappropriate?"

Lü Ding looked at him.

"What's wrong with it?"

The registrar was stumped by the question.

What's wrong with it?

They didn't rob government grain, didn't enter the city, and didn't cause trouble.

They're even still building roads.

"The county is just worried..."

"What are you worried about?"

The registrar remained silent.

What he was worried about was—

In the city, no one was waiting for the county government's grain anymore.

"If anyone asks..."

Lü Ding nodded.

"Just tell me."

"People come here of their own accord."

"The grain comes from the farm."

"The road was built by everyone together."

"If the county wants to take over—"

He paused.

"at any time."

The registrar looked up and glanced at him.

This glance is very complex.

"What about night patrols?"

"patrol."

"name?"

Lü Ding smiled.

"In name only, in the city."

This sentence was spoken very softly.

But this sent a chill down the spine of the registrar.

He left without taking anything with him.

No documents were left behind.

But that night, the county government's night patrols were suspended.

It's not a withdrawal.

No one came.

Day 9.

The village heads are here again.

This time, it's not about asking about grain.

Instead, ask—

"If the road is repaired, will we still be able to stay?"

Lü Ding looked at them.

"The road is finished, and there are fields too."

"How are the fields divided?"

Lü Ding did not answer.

He only said one sentence:

We'll see when the time comes.

This sentence contains no promise.

But it gives people more peace of mind than a promise.

Because he didn't lie.

At night, in the county town, someone was packing their luggage.

The movements were very gentle.

The carriage did not enter through the main gate.

Go around through the back alley.

The guards at the city gate saw it.

They didn't stop them.

They even helped lift the box.

that moment.

The name Pingyu County still exists.

The magistrate's seal was still on the desk.

The notice is still up.

But what really works—

Grain, roads, and people—

They have gradually moved outside the city.

The wind blows through the night.

The fires at the soup kitchen were extinguished one by one.

In the back hall of the county government office, a small lamp was still lit.

It wasn't the official lamp used in the main hall, but an old oil lamp temporarily lit in the side room. The flame was yellowish and could only illuminate a corner in front of the desk.

The magistrate sat there, looking at a page of accounts.

It's not an official document.

This is a list of tax and grain levies collected by various shops in the city for the past half month.

It's all clearly written down which company reduced its reporting, which company owed money, and which company simply stopped reporting altogether.

He read very slowly.

It's not that I can't calculate it all, it's that I'm unwilling to finish calculating it.

The curtain rustled softly.

The clerk stood outside and did not come in.

"Speak," the magistrate said without looking up.

"Those three grain shops in the East Market are all closed tonight."

The magistrate paused, his fingertips pausing.

"close the door?"

"It's a clearing of accounts," the registrar said in a low voice. "The accounts are sealed, and the person isn't in the shop."

"Gone?"

"Two of them will not be in town tonight."

The wick snapped.

The magistrate looked up and glanced at the registrar.

That glance held neither anger nor surprise.

I'm just tired.

"Outside the city... are they still issuing them?"