Volume One: The Young Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Sixty-Seven: Deadlock (Part Two)

Tens of thousands of homeless disaster victims huddled in the corners of streets every day, waiting for the wealthy households to pour out their leftovers onto the roads…

On the third day, Chen Bufan once again arrived at the Huang family, of the Qingshan Sect.

The head of the Huang family, puzzled, stepped out and asked, “Hero Chen, may I ask what brings you here today?”

Chen Bufan’s expression was cold, his gaze as sharp as a blade fixed upon the man, yet he said nothing.

“Haha… Hero Chen is truly devoted to the country and the people. You must be here for the refugees again today, aren’t you?” The Huang family head, seeing this, continued with a smile, “There’s no need for violence, Hero Chen! The Huang family is not one to stand by and watch people die. Say no more, we will donate! Another three hundred loads—what do you say to that, Hero Chen?”

Without another word, Chen Bufan kicked the family head in the stomach.

With a loud crash, the Huang family head was sent flying, shattering a chair in the hall.

“You! Hero Chen! What is the meaning of this? When has my family wronged you?” The family head slowly climbed to his feet, his eyes turning fierce as he glared at Chen Bufan, enunciating each word, “Don’t think the Huang family is afraid of you!”

“Hecheng, Guiming Town, Pugu City… When did the disaster victims of these places ever wrong you? That you would feast on their flesh and drink their blood?” Chen Bufan advanced step by step, his words slow and deliberate.

“What do you mean by that? Have I not donated enough grain to the afflicted regions? Has there ever been a day when my family’s gates were not lined with people receiving porridge?” The family head had already drawn his sword.

Disciples of the Huang family’s Qingshan Sect were arriving, taking their place behind him.

“Surnamed Chen! If you dare take another step, we will show no mercy!” the disciples shouted.

“Heh… Is that so? Then come at me, all of you!” Chen Bufan sneered coldly, his gaze radiating murderous intent. “Perhaps it takes a few dead men before we can have a proper discussion!”

“You!” The family head gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. “Chen Bufan! What is it you actually want?”

“I don’t want you to donate grain. It does you no good either. I want you to sell it!” Chen Bufan’s voice remained icy. “You can sell it for more, ten times, twenty times… Sell it for twenty taels if you like… That’s fine. But you must sell it!”

“Chen—Hero Chen! I am willing to donate five hundred loads!” the family head said with a clasped fist.

“Don’t you understand what I’m saying? I want you to sell! Do you take me for a beggar?” Chen Bufan had already drawn his sword, his inner energy radiating outward.

Murderous intent filled the room.

“Chen Bufan! Do you know how many people are behind me?”

“Heh… The Lin family? The Li family? The Zhangs or the Lius? Or perhaps all of them?”

“Since you know, why have you come? You know I dare not act rashly, or I’d incur the wrath of many. If I dare sell, they would dare kill me!”

“If they dare kill you, do you think I wouldn’t?” Chen Bufan’s voice was grave.

“You… Ha! Then kill me! In broad daylight—”

The Huang family head sneered.

Chen Bufan let out a cold laugh. Behind him, more than a dozen government soldiers stepped forward.

“You lot… Very well…”

……………………………………………………………………

The next day, Chen Buqun and Chen Shuwan arrived.

They first stopped at the council hall in the disaster area, but did not immediately donate the several hundred loads of grain they had brought to the relief camp.

Instead, they sought out Xiao Yan at once.

“Master…” Chen Buqun rubbed his bald head and bowed to Xiao Yan, his feelings a tangle of emotion.

“Heh… You little scoundrel…”

Chen Shuwan still looked every bit the heroine, though today she’d tied her hair into a small ponytail, as if she had taken extra care with her appearance before leaving.

“Ha… Good morning…” Xiao Yan yawned, stretching as he greeted them.

“Xiao Yan, Xiao Yan… Who are they?” At that moment, Little Yue’er threw herself into Xiao Yan’s arms, her curious eyes fixed on the two newcomers.

“I told you before, this uncle is my apprentice who used to muck out latrines with me,” Xiao Yan said, pointing at the now-bald Chen Buqun. Then he glanced at Chen Shuwan, “And this one… an outstanding young lady… ahem…”

“Scoundrel!” Chen Shuwan, furious, threw a punch at him—but she was no match and only ended up being teased further by Xiao Yan.

“Rogue!” she shouted, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Little Yue’er simply smiled and said, “Hello, brother. Hello, sister.”

“How sweet…” Chen Shuwan went over and patted the little girl’s head with a smile.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yan had called Chen Buqun aside, seemingly to whisper something in private. Chen Shuwan frowned slightly; she had never seen Xiao Yan speak with such seriousness. Was something important happening?

…………………………………………………………………………………………

At dusk, at the porridge shed, Qin Xuanxuan handed out the last ladle of thin rice gruel.

Only the empty wooden barrel remained.

Behind her, the refugees let out cries of anguish.

Alas, another night would pass with empty bellies.

Qin Xuanxuan’s face was heavy with worry. The government’s grain stores were running low, and the porridge grew thinner each day. She had visited the granary just yesterday—almost nothing was left.

Rice was now worth its weight in gold, yet still, no one was willing to sell…

The number of refugees had multiplied many times over…

The disaster victims left the porridge shed, their eyes void of life.

Yet, on this day, something was different.

The pungent scent of cooked rice bran drifted over, catching the attention of the numb and weary crowd.

A bald monk, garbed in a riot of colors, appeared, pushing a cart loaded with cooked rice bran, a little girl by his side.

A banner fluttered above, bearing the character for “Charity.”

In an instant, desperate hope flashed in the eyes of the refugees.

The entire cart of rice bran was gone in less than a quarter of an hour.

In ordinary times, not even pigs would touch such fare, yet now it became the most sought-after food. Even Qin Xuanxuan was stunned by Xiao Yan’s presence.

“...You know that while rice bran is edible, too much of it will kill them…” Qin Xuanxuan approached.

“I know,” Xiao Yan replied, not looking up as he packed his things. He had another cart of rice bran to fetch—his apprentice Yuanfang should have finished boiling it by now.

“...Then why? Didn’t Chen Buqun bring you dozens of carts of actual grain? Why feed them rice bran?”

“Why should I give them grain?”

“They’re human too… you can’t…”

“No, they’re not,” Xiao Yan finished packing, his eyes cold as he watched the refugees depart. “In times like these, you can’t treat them as human.”

“You…” Qin Xuanxuan was stunned by Xiao Yan’s blasphemous words.

“Rice, even rice gruel, is fit for people. As long as the government is distributing it, everyone with grain at home will still come for a bowl. Those who don’t get it will starve to death…” Xiao Yan cut her off. “Only by treating them as beasts can they survive. A load of rice can be traded for a hundred loads of rice bran… The food that could have saved one person can instead save a hundred.”

PS: The writing is a bit chaotic. Doing 5,000 words a day is tough. No drafts saved. Writer’s block. Spent all day yesterday just on the opening, wrote and deleted seven or eight versions, each seven or eight hundred words… Still haven’t sorted it out. I’ll revise it tomorrow.