The old things I repaired have become fine

Chapter 781 A day spent in Yizhou, a thousand years without returning
The sea breeze is strong, and the sea is surging.

The distance from Jin'an Commandery—which is now the area around Fuzhou, Quanzhou, and Xiamen—to Yizhou was just a matter of crossing a strait.

In bad weather, a larger boat might be needed to cross; in good weather, even a small fishing boat can do it. In extreme cases, someone with sufficient strength and swimming ability can even swim across by hand…

Even so, as Shen Le floated at the bow of the boat, all she saw were faces etched with worry. While it's said that a tree dies when transplanted, but a person thrives, it all depends on how they are moved:
Having just settled down in a new place, they used their savings to buy land, and the family worked hard to build houses. Season after season, the harvest barely covered the deficit, and the whole family started to rise again.

At this time, they were suddenly attacked again, suffering heavy losses and being forced to flee to Yizhou. This situation was like a bird having its feathers plucked or a new tree having its roots shaken.

Every relocation causes significant damage to the family's heritage.

Not to mention, when the family moved from Kuaiji Commandery to Jin'an Commandery, a total of three or four thousand clansmen and tens of thousands of tenants and servants were relocated.
After the raids by Jin'an Commandery, only two thousand clansmen and three thousand tenant farmers were able to move to Yizhou.

The remaining tenants either suffered heavy casualties, fled in large numbers, or the Shen family had lost control over them and could no longer force them to relocate.
Since we're all farming for landlords anyway, it doesn't matter where we farm, so why move it around?

For the Shen family, especially for the patriarch, the loss of each member cast a shadow over their hearts.

With so few people, how can they possibly survive on Yizhou Island?
Indeed, it was extremely difficult. The landing was only the beginning, not a peaceful end. At that time, Yizhou was still a truly wild and untamed land, a place that even Wei Wen and Zhuge Zhi, with tens of thousands of soldiers, had failed to establish themselves in.

The dense forest was filled with miasma. Even with Shen Le's previous teachings, such as not drinking raw water and burning mugwort to repel mosquitoes, the tribespeople still fell ill one after another, suffering from fever and chills.

When they began to cultivate the land, they faced direct conflict with the island's indigenous tribes, suffering frequent and fierce attacks from them...

From beginning to end, Shen Le could only watch helplessly, his heart aching, yet unable to offer any help. He watched as poisoned arrows shot from the jungle, striking the pioneers;

Watching the strong men of the Shen family, and the weak women, children, and the elderly, fall down one by one;

Watching them painstakingly cultivate the paddy fields and plant rice, only to have the island's natives rush out and plunder them just as they were about to harvest;
Looking at the houses they painstakingly built, they knew they would be blown down by several typhoons every summer...

"Sigh... Yizhou in this era is still too unsuitable for survival... No wonder..."

In the end, Shen Le could only let out such a sigh. No wonder that in later generations, it wasn't until the late Ming Dynasty, when Zheng Zhilong organized migrations, that a large number of people moved there to cultivate the land, and that approximately 20 Han Chinese formed a Han Chinese regime there…

No wonder that during the several migrations of the elite southward, those powerful families preferred to fight bloody battles with the natives of the Fujian and Guangdong coastal areas, engaging in one Hakka-native war after another, rather than move to Yizhou...

But it's too late for regrets now. The entire Shen family is no longer able to relocate on a large scale again, and can only struggle to survive on this island like a small boat that has survived a stormy sea.

Three years passed, then five, then more than a decade. A simple fortified village was finally built to protect the family, and the cultivated paddy fields produced enough grain to feed the entire clan. The family was once again on the path to prosperity.

However, the Shen family paid a heavy price for this: of the initial two thousand clansmen who landed, nearly half had been wiped out by disease and conflict...

Shen Jiong, the clan leader who led everyone on their southward migration and was entrusted with the responsibility of maintaining the Yizhou clan after the old clan leader passed away, finally fell ill and could not recover due to a recurrence of old injuries, coupled with long-term overwork and the invasion of miasma.

Inside the dimly lit bamboo house, the oil lamp flickered dimly. Important members of the clan gathered around the bed, their faces filled with sorrow.

Shen Le stood silently by the bed, looking at the clan leader who could only struggle alone because of his laziness, looking at his sallow, deeply sunken cheeks, and felt a mix of emotions.

That once spirited young man, in less than ten years, has become emaciated and on the verge of death...

Shen Jiong could not see him, nor did he know of his existence. At this moment, the rapidly aging clan leader, who was clearly nearing the end of his life, slowly swept his cloudy gaze over everyone, finally settling on the thatched roof.

His gaze was empty and distant, as if he could see through the rooftop the stars that guided the Shen family to the sea and led them across the waves, and also as if he could see his carefree hometown from his childhood.

After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty, his voice barely audible, so soft that those around him had to bend over to hear him:

"I...I fear I will never be able to return to my homeland. After I die, bury me on a high place, facing northwest...so that...I can look back upon my hometown..."

The surroundings were quiet. The young son standing at the head of the bed and the wife wiping her eyes at the foot of the bed were both trying hard to hold back their sobs, wanting to comfort each other, but unable to speak.

All that could be heard was Shen Jiong breathing heavily, each breath more labored than the last. After a long while, his eyes suddenly lit up, shining brightly like fire.
"And... just like the old house... burn me a clay house... and put it in the tomb. It has to be... exactly the same..."

His voice trailed off, and his hand fell limply to his side. The suppressed sobs that had been building up inside the house finally erupted.

The old house, the appearance of the old house...

Who wouldn't want that?

Moving to Yizhou was a last resort, a refuge, and a way to preserve their family's strength. If possible, once they survive this round of war, they still want to return home…

The funerary objects, identical to those in the old house, guide the souls home and direct the gazes of the family descendants towards their ancestral home...

Back when the Shen family was still based in Kuaiji Prefecture, this request was not difficult to fulfill at all. The Shen family owned their own porcelain kilns, and their craftsmanship was exquisite; while not the best in the prefecture, they were certainly renowned throughout the prefecture.

Such a funerary object could be fired in one or two months at most by the family's craftsmen.

However, after being scattered overseas for many years, where can one find porcelain clay, glaze, and a kiln with sufficient conditions to fire exquisite funerary objects?
With the current resources available to the Shen family, they can only produce some rough pottery bowls and jars. How can they possibly restore the intricately structured Jiangnan-style courtyard house that is so deeply ingrained in their memory?

Even the best potter perished in the war. And when that man fell, he wasn't even making his beloved porcelain—he was planting rice seedlings in a paddy field, and then, he died from a poisoned arrow shot from the shadows…

"The clan leader is thinking about the old house..."

"But where in Yizhou can we find craftsmen who know how to make funerary objects?"

"Even if there are craftsmen, who still remembers exactly what the old house looked like? So many years have passed..."

The crowd discussed amongst themselves, at a loss for what to do. After a long while, in a quiet corner of the room, a young man who had been almost entirely silent throughout stepped forward:

“I can make a trip there. I’ve looked through the family’s map album; it has a rough sketch of the old house, not very detailed, but the general layout is there. I can make a copy…”

He glanced around at the crowd, his gaze meeting that of several elders and even the clan chief's youngest son. His voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear and firm:
"Moreover, although the Central Plains are in chaos, there are still artisans in Jiangdong who have passed down their skills. I am willing to set sail north to find these artisans, or to find the techniques that can be used to fire such funerary objects, and return to fulfill the clan chief's last wish!"

"You..." "Hong'er, have you thought this through?"

"The sea is treacherous, and who knows how long it will be before you return... I wonder what the situation is like in the Central Plains now..."

Since moving to Yizhou, the Shen family has devoted almost all their resources to cultivating the land. Apart from the occasional fishing and transatlantic transport of grain, they never go to sea again, and naturally, they no longer undertake long-distance voyages.

The journey north would not only require crossing treacherous oceans, but also venturing back into the Central Plains—a region they knew of that remained turbulent and plagued by constant warfare…

The risk is extremely high, almost a matter of life and death.

However, Shen Hong's expression was very firm, clearly indicating that he had made up his mind and was willing to take the risk.

The elders looked at each other, and soon all their eyes fell on the clan leader, who was lying on the bed and had stopped breathing.

Before the clan chief died, the sudden gleam of longing in his eyes was something no one could bear to refuse.

Who can not feel the desolation of a family wandering thousands of miles away, with their roots almost severed?
This is not just about a pottery house or a funerary object! It's about them remembering their homeland, their ancestral home, and their ancestors...

"Go." Amidst the heart-wrenching cries of the chieftain's wife and children, an elder finally made the decision, his voice hoarse:

"Bring the best ships and the bravest sailors. Success or failure... let the chieftain, let all of us know that we have not forgotten where we came from!"

A few days later, the "Green Eyebrow" seagoing vessel, which had been urgently repaired, raised its sails, which had been weathered, torn, and mended repeatedly.

With several loyal clansmen and sailors in tow, Shen Hong sailed away from the simple dock in Yizhou, passing through the rugged Luermen waterway, and headed towards the homeland he remembered.

Shen Le naturally stepped onto the bow of the ship and followed him northward:
War raged, and people suffered greatly, but life went on. The land changed hands many times, and the porcelain kilns changed hands again and again, yet the flames within continued to burn.
Shen Hong stumbled along the coast, heading north until he finally entered a familiar waterway and found a familiar kiln site that no longer belonged to the Shen family.

The fields were divided up, the old houses collapsed, only the scent of earth and fire remained, and there were still old craftsmen with smoke-blackened eyes, their hands flying, skillfully carving on the clay, their eyes fixed on the flames inside the kiln...

He brought out the few remaining valuables in the family, including a pattern that had been carefully drawn several times and wrapped in oiled paper, and discussed it repeatedly with the master craftsman.

Finally, a clay model of a meticulously crafted and realistically detailed house was carefully placed into the kiln, where it burst open and collapsed under the licking flames. Then came the second, the third…

Finally, the pottery house that Shen Le had personally restored in the modern world stood before him in its complete, undamaged state.

Every wall, tile, well, and railing of Taowu is exactly the same as the old Shen family mansion he built when he led his family to a higher level.

"So, this is how this pottery house was made..."

Shen Le smiled slightly, gazing at the simple yet exquisite, gleaming pottery house. Beneath the smile, however, lingered a heavy, unyielding weight:

How did this pottery house shatter, with one part ending up in the deep sea, in the hands of a sea monster, while the other part was buried deep in the silt?

Shen Le didn't know the answer. He could only watch quietly as Shen Hong, carrying the meticulously crafted pottery house, crossed the waves and finally returned to Yizhou.

As the entire clan gathered around the pottery house, pointing and reminiscing about their homeland, the shared memories of their family lineage seemed to bind them together even more closely.

As the pottery house was carefully placed into the tomb, the people looked back north and softly murmured "returning home"...

As more funerals were held, tiny phosphorescent lights circled the graves three times before being cast into the pottery house that represented their hometown…

Shen Le realized he finally understood where the problem lay. The family was too small, and the deaths were happening far too frequently.

In the vast wilderness, this small population is like a tiny campfire, easily extinguished by a strong gust of wind.

The transmission of knowledge was the first to be interrupted. The older generation of scholars and craftsmen died one after another due to disease and conflict. The younger generation, who only needed to farm, had no need to study and even gradually forgot about writing.

Then, the family history became a legend passed down orally, with the details becoming increasingly blurred.

Some small families, unable to endure the miasma, typhoons, and endless strife, began to secretly set out in small boats, taking advantage of calm seas to risk crossing the ocean back to the relatively stable Jin'an County.

Other tribesmen who remained on the island gradually integrated with the local indigenous people over the long years, and their language and customs were gradually assimilated.

Generations later, apart from vaguely remembering that they came from "the other side of the sea," they were not much different from the natives, and their former "aristocratic lineage" was long gone...

Decades, perhaps even centuries, pass in the blink of an eye.

Finally, the typhoon and torrential rain triggered flash floods and mudslides that washed away the hillside and also destroyed the grave of the clan chief.

The pottery house, which had once served as a spiritual symbol, shattered under the immense force of the flood.

The exquisite roof tiles, beams, and walls disintegrated instantly, the fragments carried away by the raging floodwaters and scattered in all directions. Some accumulated at the river mouth, others sank into the bay, or, in the depths of the bay, were swept away by the waves to the far reaches of the ocean…

Phosphorescent light scattered. Indistinctly, a distant sigh echoed in Shen Le's ears, and also in the ears of those descendants who still carried the blood of the Shen family.

Whether they are currently in Jin'an or about to fully integrate into Yizhou:
"Born many children, accumulate much strength..."

"May the granaries be full and the houses be full of children..."

"Then, go back... back to our ancestral land..."

"Returning home..."

"Returning home..."

(End of this chapter)