Chapter Three: Idle Matters

The Baijin River was not particularly wide in this stretch, and the group quickly crossed it by swift boat. Upon landing, Chen Yu noticed that some people were already climbing upwards, stepping over uneven stones.

“This path is too difficult; it needs to be dug deeper,” someone complained, pulling their wife along, each step awkward and uncertain.

This was originally a gentle tidal flat near a cliff face. Later, when the flying boat travelers chose this spot to ferry tourists, they opened up this stone path. In truth, it could hardly be called a road—a shallow trench had been dug, filled with a haphazard pile of stones of various sizes, so visitors wouldn’t have to expend great effort scaling the cliff.

The road was indeed rough, but for Chen Yu it posed no real challenge. He followed the crowd, easily making his way up the gentle slope.

Nearby, several men dressed as boatmen clustered together, collecting silver coins from the crowd. First, you landed, then you paid. It had to be said, even this simple process was far superior to what the boat gangs forty miles away demanded at the ferry.

Chen Yu didn’t trouble himself with what might happen if someone couldn’t pay. He handed over a handful of copper coins and asked one of the men for directions, then shouldered his bundle and left in haste.

After crossing the Baijin River, there were two more counties to the north; once past them, he would reach Pingcheng. Xizhou was full of rivers and treacherous rapids—besides the roaring Baijin behind him, three large rivers lay ahead, all tributaries of the Lancang.

…

“Push them down!”

“Burn them together!”

“Shame!”

“Beasts! How can you be so selfish?”

At the entrance to the village, a crowd had formed, blocking the way.

Chen Yu stood outside, not particularly curious about the affairs of this place called Shengyu Village, but he stepped closer, intending to ask for directions.

He was lost, somewhat helpless, never imagining that Chenzhong County would be so hard to travel. The official roads were narrow and short, the mountains steep and rivers far apart. He’d been walking for nearly two hours since leaving Baijin River, yet felt as if he’d been wandering the ravines all this time, hardly seeing another soul.

He suspected he’d taken the wrong path from the start—perhaps the fellow who’d pointed the way had gotten it wrong.

“If only I’d asked those flying boat travelers directly,” he thought. At the time, he’d wanted to leave quickly, thinking the hikers around him, accustomed to braving the mountains and rivers, must be more familiar with the terrain than he was.

But it turned out to be a mistake. Though his direction was likely correct, the path had twisted and turned so much that he’d lost his way.

Fortunately, he’d finally reached a village. He approached its outskirts, craning his neck to peer inside, but the crowd was densely packed, leaving only a tall wooden post visible, making it difficult to see clearly.

The villagers surged with anger, faces flushed, several elders pounding their canes against the ground with loud thuds, their voices rising in admonishment and accusation directed toward the inner circle.

Chen Yu couldn’t see, but someone noticed him first.

A few lean farmers stepped out, eyeing his manner and dress, unsure of his background. One eventually spoke up.

Chen Yu turned and told them he was a Taoist from Shiya County, dozens of miles away, on his way to Pingcheng, but unfamiliar with the area and accidentally lost.

“Pingcheng? Brother Liu, do you know where that is?”

“No idea.”

The men before him had never heard of Pingcheng. Chen Yu paused, then realized these were farmers, likely never having left Chenzhong County, and their knowledge of Pingcheng was surely less than that of the riverside travelers and scholars.

So he clarified, “Pingcheng is the seat of Guangyong Prefecture, in Dongjiang County.”

“Dongjiang!”

Now they understood, and began to speak:

“If you’re going to Dongjiang, you should take the Shunshi Village route.”

“Better to go over Tuozishan and catch a boat across Sanfan Waters.”

“No, Brother Liu, I heard Sanfan Waters has been taken by a gang of river bandits—they’re causing trouble!”

“Oh, that’s true, Shunshi is the way then.”

With this exchange, Chen Yu finally understood his current location. As he’d suspected, he’d maintained the right general direction, but had strayed slightly and would need to circle around Shunshi Village to leave Chenzhong County and get back onto the official road.

When he asked why the county roads were so rugged, the men’s faces darkened in anger.

“Those officials spend all day indulging themselves, never caring for us common folk.”

“Road building costs money and manpower! In the end, each household has to bear the expense, and the officials will find ways to squeeze even more from us.”

“These roads are still passable—repairing them isn’t worth it.”

Upon hearing this, Chen Yu fell silent. Shiya and Quwu both had many official roads and merchants; compared to them, Chenzhong lagged far behind, filled only with forests and grasslands, with barely a road in sight—what traveler could hope to pass?

Having learned the way, he was about to leave when a wailing cry echoed from within the village, desperate and heart-rending.

What was this…?

He looked questioningly at the men before him. Unexpectedly, the three stiffened, as if recalling something, then turned and shouted angrily toward the inner crowd.

Not only them—villagers all around were doing the same. He saw several hunters brandishing long knives, swinging them fiercely in the air, as if ready to strike at any moment.

Chen Yu found a high spot to stand on and finally saw what was happening at the center. The sight before him brought no joy.

A man and a child were tied to a wooden post, the man bruised and battered, the child dull and silent, clearly terrified.

The villagers roared in fury. Then, the village elder stepped forward.

An old man, accompanied by an elderly woman whose face bore three painted stripes. She held a staff wrapped in cloth, wore wooden shoes, and adorned herself with various strange ornaments.

Listening further, Chen Yu gradually pieced together their situation.

It was simple, really—something straight out of a book: a sacrificial ritual.

Only, the story had become reality before his eyes.

From what he gathered, Shengyu Village and several nearby settlements relied on Sanfan Waters for survival—whether watering crops or fishing to feed their families. This year, drought had struck; while Shiya fared somewhat better, Chenzhong was tormented by the relentless sun.

Not a drop of rain had fallen for over a month; their crops were withering, and to make matters worse, a gang of fierce bandits had seized Sanfan Waters, blocking the river and ruining the fishermen’s livelihood.

Then rumors began to spread.

They said a fisherman had accidentally caught the Baijin Dragon King’s beloved—a pearl mussel—provoking the dragon’s wrath and causing Chenzhong to be scorched for half a year!

The tale was full of holes—what did Sanfan Waters have to do with the Baijin Dragon King? And why would a mighty dragon love a stinky mussel? Would a mussel turned spirit suddenly smell sweet?

Few believed it at first, but as the drought dragged on and the rain never came, the rumors grew more dire among the villages near Sanfan Waters.

Eventually, the village elder of Shengyu, somehow, invited a shaman skilled in ritual dance. After some deep consultation, they decided on a sacrificial ceremony to appease the Baijin Dragon King.

Chen Yu watched coldly as the smiling shaman and the village elder vented their fury upon the two bound to the post.

The ritual required offerings, and for a living sacrifice, those offerings were the two at the stake.

“I hadn’t intended to meddle,” he thought.

But Chief Chen had never been able to stomach such things; if he ignored it, his heart would be unsettled…