OBS Chapter 360 Springtime is Rare in the Humble Alley
Chapter 360 Springtime is Rare in the Humble Alley
Chapter 360 Springtime is Rare in the Humble Alley
As the sun began to set, a woman was starting a fire in a wooden house on Tanwei Street. A bundle of damp firewood was stuffed into the stove and crackled as it burned, soon billowing out thick smoke that made people's eyes and noses run.
The house was already low and cramped, and there were no windows, so the thick smoke had nowhere to dissipate. It swirled around the roof in wisps of gray-black smoke. Geng Jingzhong coughed repeatedly and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. Zeng Amei handed him a coarse cloth and advised, "Young master, go outside to take shelter first. The firewood is wet here because it's near water. It will be like this when it starts to burn. It will be fine once the fire gets stronger."
Geng Jingzhong covered his mouth and nose as he walked outside, and it was here that Jiang Wen bid him farewell at dawn.
Jiang Wen said that in the next few days, he would investigate the whereabouts of the Jingnan Prince's Mansion. He would not show himself unless it was a matter of life and death. He also told him to lie low here and wait until he was confident of a decisive strike before returning to the Jingnan Prince's Mansion. He would come here to deliver the message as soon as he had any clues. During this time, he was not to step out of Tanwei Street.
Jiang Wen's meaning was clear: Bai Long's seemingly dashing appearance was actually a last resort. Geng Jingzhong needed to both retaliate and find the key to the situation; otherwise, he risked being branded as a patricide and mother-killer, or revealing his true form as the Crooked-Mouthed Dragon King at the wrong time, which would only make him a laughingstock.
Geng Jingzhong was well aware of the importance of this. The days of running around and being frightened had made him more patient. So he watched as Jiang Wen's blue clothes flashed by at the end of the alley, like a wisp of smoke blending into the city, disappearing in an instant.
Geng Jingzhong was lost in thought, pondering a solution. After an unknown amount of time, the woman finally carried the food away from the stove and placed it on the square table.
In the old, rough porcelain bowl, there was a full bowl of mixed porridge. Although it was called porridge, it was mostly made from dried sweet potatoes, with only a few grains of white rice sinking to the bottom of the bowl, gleaming with a faint yellowish-brown luster.
The only side dishes were two small porcelain plates placed next to it. One plate contained dark brown pickled vegetables from the jar, which were so salty they tasted bitter. The other plate contained dried river fish the size of a fingernail, which had a bluish-black sheen and tasted so fishy they were greasy.
Before the host even started eating, several greenbottle flies were already buzzing around the bowls and plates, occasionally landing on the edge of the porridge bowl. Zeng Amei quickly waved her hand to shoo them away, but they soon gathered back together again.
"Young master, come and eat!"
Geng Jingzhong strolled back into the house. He had been feeling acid reflux in his stomach, which had kept him from eating for the past few days. However, the simple dishes in front of him suddenly gave him an appetite.
He had been eating and sleeping outdoors for days, eating dry, hard rations and drinking rotten boiled water from a kettle. His stomach was already empty and he was so hungry that he didn't care that the porridge was hot when he picked up his chopsticks and started drinking it in big gulps.
Sweet potatoes originated in Luzon. During the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty, Chen Zhenlong, an overseas Chinese from Changle, brought back seedlings. After successful transplantation, they multiplied rapidly, and Fuzhou was the first region to promote them. Today, they have become the highest-yielding coarse grain crop.
To preserve them, people in Fuzhou cut sweet potatoes into strips about an inch long and dry them in the sun. When cooking, they put the sweet potato strips into a pot and boil them. At this moment, the sweet potato strips in the bowl have a faint sweetness, mixed with the fragrance of white rice. As they slide into the stomach, they soothe and relax the internal organs.
Geng Jingzhong picked up another piece of pickled vegetables with his chopsticks. The salty and fresh taste, combined with the salty and fishy smell of the dried fish, made him eat it with great relish.
However, as the hot porridge slid down his throat, it scalded his forehead, causing fine beads of sweat to appear. He ate too quickly, and the steam from the porridge made the rashes on his legs itch terribly again. He couldn't help but put down his chopsticks, lift up his trouser leg, and reveal his thigh covered with red rashes. Some areas had been scratched repeatedly and were covered with dark red scabs.
"Young master, eat slowly. It looks like a rash on your leg," Zeng Amei whispered as she watched him wolf down his food.
Geng Jingzhong then looked up and found Old Man Zeng, the woman, and Sister Zeng standing quietly to the side, watching him without touching the bowls and chopsticks on the table. He was taken aback and asked in confusion, "We're eating together, why hasn't your food been served yet?"
As soon as he finished speaking, all three of them looked embarrassed. Old Man Zeng poked at the weeds in the corner with his cane and said, "We're not hungry, young master, you can eat first."
Geng Jingzhong's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly understood. These few bowls of porridge were probably the family's meal.
He put down his chopsticks and said, "Once I get through this ordeal, I will surely be richly rewarded in the future."
Old Man Zeng waved his hands repeatedly: "Young master, what are you saying? The nobleman we met earlier already gave us five taels of silver. Besides, you look like you've fallen on hard times, so we'll help you out as much as we can. We wouldn't dare ask for any reward."
Geng Jingzhong chuckled inwardly, thinking that the old man had no idea that the down-on-his-luck young master in front of him was a powerful prince who held considerable military power. He thought that if he took care of him in the future, it would be enough for them to enjoy.
At this moment, Zeng Amei was still staring at the festering skin on his leg, and said with a frown, "Young master, the rash on your leg looks frightening. I'll take you to get some medicine later, we can't delay any longer."
Geng Jingzhong's expression changed slightly. His rash was caused by external evil entering his body and being exposed to miasma. As long as he left the dirty and damp cabin of the rat boat, he would probably get better. However, he was suffering from it every day. He didn't know that his family was struggling to even eat and drink, so where would they get the money to seek medical treatment?
However, he hesitated for only a moment, then thought that if he stayed, the family would feel embarrassed to eat, so he pushed away the empty porcelain bowl and nodded: "Then I'll trouble you, young lady."
As the two stepped out of the wooden house, it was already getting dark. In the alleys of Tanwei Street, a few households had lit oil lamps. The dim yellow light shone through the dilapidated window frames, making the dirty water on the ground ripple and look a bit cleaner than during the day. However, most households could not afford kerosene for lighting and sat in twos and threes at their doorways chatting, passing the time in the twilight.
After walking more than a hundred steps along the alley, Geng Jingzhong found himself back in front of the Temple of the Minister of Longevity.
Originally built in the Southern Song Dynasty, this temple has weathered centuries of wind and rain. Although it has been rebuilt and repaired several times, it still bears the marks of time. The paint on the vermilion temple door has peeled off, revealing the mottled and insect-eaten wood inside. Hanging above the door is a blackened plaque with five large characters that read "Temple of the Minister of Longevity," written in a vigorous and powerful style. The inscription is attributed to Huang Daozhou, a great Confucian scholar of the Ming Dynasty.
A slightly open stone-paved area lies in front of the temple. The entire temple is built along the river, with the surging Minjiang River flowing endlessly in the distance. A few sailboats returning late raise their sails and slowly head towards the dock as dusk falls. On the other side, pilgrims continue to enter the temple in an endless stream, holding incense and candles, their faces filled with extreme piety.
With the enthusiasm of a devout follower, Zeng Amei introduced to Geng Jingzhong: "The Minister of State enshrined in this temple is said to have been a high-ranking official in the past. The villagers say he is particularly efficacious, able to protect ships and cure diseases and ward off disasters."
Geng Jingzhong looked at the inscription on the temple's reconstruction stele and discovered that it enshrined Chen Wenlong, a famous minister of the Southern Song Dynasty. When the Yuan army marched south, he led his troops to defend Xinghua to the death. After being defeated and captured, he refused to surrender and starved himself to death. Later, the people built this temple to commemorate him.
However, there was no Ministry of Water Affairs among the six ministries of the imperial court; there was only the position of Director of Water Resources. During the Hongwu reign of the Ming Dynasty, Chen Wenlong was only granted the title of City God of Fuzhou Prefecture. It is likely that Chen Wenlong once served as the Minister of Water Affairs in Fuzhou, and through misinterpretation, he became the Minister of Water Affairs. The so-called divine protection was nothing more than the people's self-comfort.
Zeng Amei walked outside the hall, respectfully put her hands together, bowed deeply to the statue, and then walked to the temple keeper next to her. She took out two polished copper coins from her pocket and handed them over.
The temple keeper was a gaunt old man, blind in one eye and with a cloudy eye, but he wore a red ceremonial scarf over his head. He took the copper coin without saying a word, but grabbed a handful of incense ash from the incense burner, wrapped it in a rough piece of yellow paper, swung it over a trident bell, and handed it to Zeng A-mei.
Zeng Amei thanked him repeatedly, then pulled Geng Jingzhong out of the temple and whispered instructions.
"This incense ash must be mixed with well water and applied, not river water. The boatman said that if you apply it for three days, avoid meat and fish, and avoid wind, the rash will disappear on its own."
Geng Jingzhong sighed and was about to refuse, but Zeng Amei insisted, "Applying the incense ash from our Wanshou Shangshu Temple is very effective. Many boatmen who get this kind of rash have been cured this way. If it's left untreated, their legs will probably rot and they'll become lame."
Geng Jingzhong hesitated for a moment before saying helplessly:
"Thank you very much."
Back at the Zeng family's wooden house, the woman took Geng Jingzhong's dirty clothes to wash. Geng Jingzhong then put on Zeng Laohan's coarse cloth short jacket, but the jacket was too short and small, clinging tightly to his body. Zeng Amei fetched a small bowl of well water, poured in the whole packet of incense ash, stirred it into a paste, and then carefully applied it to Geng Jingzhong's legs.
Geng Jingzhong knew that this was a desperate measure taken by the poor, but as the cool sensation came from his skin, the excruciating itching was actually relieved quite a bit.
As night deepened, Tanwei Street gradually quieted down, with only the occasional bark of a dog and the cries of seagulls and egrets on the river remaining.
The Zeng family's house was very small, with only two rooms. In the inner room, there were two wooden plank beds. One was for Geng Jingzhong to sleep on, and the other was shared by the Zeng family mother and daughter. After laying out the door planks, Old Man Zeng moved a bamboo chair to the doorway by himself, and, holding his well-worn bamboo cane, lay down fully clothed.
"Young master, please sleep peacefully."
The Zeng family couldn't afford oil lamps, so Old Man Zeng was taciturn and the women didn't dare to talk to him. Only Zeng's sister seemed to be curious about the guests.
In the darkness, her voice was exceptionally clear, “This place is a mixed bag, all sorts of people come here, and there are often petty thieves. My dad sleeps by the door with his cane, and no one dares to come in. Before, at Grandma Bei’s house next door, because no one was guarding it, a thief stole all the pots in the middle of the night.”
The weather wasn't cold in late spring. Geng Jingzhong didn't reply and lay down on the hard wooden bed, with only a layer of straw under him.
The room was filled with a strong smell of mildew and straw, as well as a faint scent of soap, which was left by the woman when she washed clothes for others. At first, he was not used to the environment, but gradually, he got used to the smell. The incense ash that had been applied to his legs seemed to help dry the wounds, and the excruciating itching and pain he had felt before was gone.
However, he was tall and strong, and the bowl of mixed porridge he had eaten that afternoon had long been digested. Now he was inevitably hungry. He thought to himself that he should have asked Jiang Wen to leave more rations for the march. The bowl of sweet potato porridge looked like a lot, but it was not filling at all. It was digested in just a few hours.
He then turned over, gazing at the low roof, lost in thought.
He thought of the Jingnan Prince's Mansion, and then he thought of Jiang Wen.
This man's martial arts skills were unfathomable, and his mind was incredibly meticulous. If it weren't for him, I would probably have already died in the assassination attempt in Jianning Prefecture.
But was he truly trying to help?
Geng Jingzhong shook his head. He didn't believe that there was no such thing as unearned help in this chaotic world. Jiang Wen's help was nothing more than mutual exploitation, and he wanted to use the power of the Jingnan Prince's Mansion to gain a foothold in Fujian.
And then there's his mother, Lady Zhou, who, in order to ensure Geng Zhaozhong inherits the throne, didn't hesitate to kill him. She herself had been sent to the palace as a hostage in her early years, only to end up being abandoned by everyone...
His thoughts drifted away, and he looked towards the doorway again—in the darkness, he could vaguely see Old Man Zeng's hunched figure standing guard at the door.
"Once I regain control of the Prince's manor, perhaps I can incorporate them into the Prince's estate as tenant farmers?"
Geng Jingzhong thought to himself, but then hesitated. He thought that Old Man Zeng was lame and old. Even if he gave them land and houses, two women wouldn't be able to cultivate the land. What would happen if they owed the Wangfu land tax?
As he pondered, weariness gradually crept in. He yawned, closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
………………
The sleep seemed exceptionally long, but just as dawn was breaking, Geng Jingzhong was awakened by a noisy commotion outside.
He sat up abruptly, rubbed his eyes, and heard a commotion outside, mixed with exclamations and screams. Old Man Zeng had already woken up, and the old man was leaning on his cane, peeking out the door with a door panel.
"What's wrong?" Geng Jingzhong asked as he came to his senses.
"It seems something has happened over there again," Old Zeng said, frowning. "Judging from the sound, it's coming from the Shangshu Temple area."
Geng Jingzhong's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly put on his shoes and followed Old Man Zeng out of the wooden house.
At this moment, a crowd had gathered on the waterfront in front of the Temple of the Minister of Longevity. People were pointing and whispering, their faces showing fear. Geng Jingzhong, relying on his height and strength, pushed his way through the crowd and walked to the front. He immediately saw a dilapidated boat moored on the shore.
It was a common sparrow boat on the Minjiang River, about two zhang long, with pointed ends, but it was extremely dilapidated. The hull was covered with moss and weeds, the gunwales were rotten and blackened, and the upper part even had a large crack, revealing the dark cabin below. The sails were already rotten to pieces, hanging on the broken mast, fluttering in the river wind like a banner summoning souls.
"Why is another one coming..."
"This is an ominous sign."
"Quickly, send someone to invite the master!"
As Geng Jingzhong listened to the discussion, he suddenly smelled an indescribable stench coming from the boat, a mixture of the smell of rotting corpses, fish, and the fishy smell of the river—this smell was worse than anything he had encountered in the past few days, making him dizzy and unable to help but vomit.
"Don't come near! Don't come near!" a hoarse voice shouted.
The crowd looked in the direction of the sound and saw the blind temple keeper stumbling out of the temple, leaning on his cane.
"This is a plague ship! Everyone on board is dead!"
The temple keeper's voice trembled, "This boat drifted down from upstream, and everyone on board is dead, their deaths shrouded in mystery! Don't come near, or you'll be haunted!"
The crowd stirred up agitatedly. Many who were initially unaware of what was happening retreated, while those who had anticipated it showed expressions of terror. The elderly, carrying young children, immediately turned and fled, yet couldn't resist looking back repeatedly out of curiosity.
Geng Jingzhong stood in the crowd, staring intently at the wrecked ship. The sky was clear and the air was fresh, and his eyesight was excellent, so he saw directly that something seemed to be moving in the shadows of the cabin, causing the ripples on the side of the ship to sway slightly.
As the wrecked ship drew near, several strange cries were heard, and a few ugly water birds suddenly popped their heads out, moving in and out of the cabin. Their feathers were sparse and messy, their eyes were red, and they carried unknown pieces of meat in their beaks, constantly emitting hoarse cries.
What's even more chilling is that the river water beside the boat is teeming with frogs and fish.
Many of the water frogs looked extremely strange, with small heads and large bellies. Their skin was covered with bumps on dense, dark blue spots, and their eyes bulged and glowed green. At this moment, they were stuck to the outer deck and remained motionless, like black fleshy growths on the hull that were breathing.
The bass, crowded together and frighteningly plump, with bizarre and twisted patterns on their bodies like hideous masks, circled the wrecked ship incessantly. Their deformed fins slapped the water's surface, splashing up black sprays, as if they were the ones embracing the dead ship, carrying the unwilling souls of those lost within, and sailing into the dock under the cover of night...