The fiercest soldier of the border army

"All the refugees from this county have fled to Wenchi County?!"

The sudden news was like a cruel slap in the face to Choi Won-rang.

Cui Yuanlang sat in the main seat, holding a newly delivered urgent report in his hand, and a vein throbbed twice on his forehead.

The magistrate of Lingwu County lowered his head, his voice trembling: "Your Excellency... Since last night, people have been constantly crossing the border at the South Gate, all of them are disaster victims with their families."

"When asked, everyone said that the price of grain in Wenchi had dropped to thirty-five coins per dou, and there was still work available, with two meals provided each day and an additional five coins paid."

Cui Yuanlang abruptly stood up and slammed the paper in his hand to the ground: "Absurd! Thirty-five coins? Did they risk their lives to pay for this? Or did it fall from the sky?"

He walked a few steps to the window and looked towards the granary in the south of the city.

The place was originally piled high with new rice donated by the Cui family, a full three thousand bushels, which he personally supervised and had delivered to the county town with gongs and drums.

He also wrote a memorial to the Crown Prince, saying that the government in Wenchi was tyrannical and the people were disaffected, while only Lingwu still had benevolent governance. He was willing to take in 100,000 refugees on behalf of the court to appease the people of the northern border.

But now?

Instead of heading to Lingwu, the refugees, like fish drawn by the smell of fish, flocked to Wenchi, which he denounced as a "poisonous land of oppressive government"!

"Sixty-five coins...we sell it for sixty-five coins."

He gritted his teeth and whispered, "We've also sacrificed the Cui family's reputation, the government's credibility, and daily grain distribution... and all they offer is thirty-five coins, plus work to earn money? How is that possible!"

No one in the hall dared to answer.

Cui Yuanlang paced back and forth, then suddenly stopped: "Investigate!"

"Send someone to Wenchi immediately to see for yourself—are they really selling rice for thirty-five coins?"

"Is anyone lining up to collect their wages? Are those homeless people half-starved to death before going to work, or are they actually getting enough to eat? Find out the truth and report back!"

The constable accepted the order and hurried away.

Cui Yuanlang stood still, his chest heaving.

This slap wasn't on his face, but on the military pledge he made before the Crown Prince.

The "benevolent governance" that the Cui family spent real money to stage has now become a joke.

Worse still, what will the Crown Prince think of him once the news gets back to Tingzhou?

How will Governor Li assess this disaster relief competition?

What methods did that guy surnamed Tang from Wenchi use?

Cui Yuanlang clenched his fists, a ruthless glint in his eyes. "A firefly's light dares to rival the sun and moon!"

Just as he was about to make his next move, another messenger rushed in, "My lord, someone from Tingzhou has arrived!"

Cui Yuanlang looked towards the door and saw a lightly armed cavalryman approaching with a cold face, his voice neither loud nor soft, "Lord Cui, the Commander-in-Chief has given orders!"

"The competition in March has concluded; the outcome is decided. Return to Tingzhou immediately to report back!"

Cui Yuanlang narrowed his eyes, a deep resentment flashing across them...

Wenchi County.

Dust rose lightly.

A thriving and prosperous scene.

The streets were no longer filled with groups of refugees struggling to survive, nor with people wailing in despair. The city was bustling with people coming and going.

Tang Shun led Xie Anzhi and County Magistrate Zheng Wenhan out of the county government office and walked along East Street toward the foot of Qingming Mountain.

Prior to this, he had also received a summons from the Jiedushi's office.

So he ordered Wei Zong and a few others to pick up Li Yingchu and meet her at the city gate.

On the road, women carried baskets to buy rice, men carried shoulder poles to the construction site, and several children squatted on the ground at the street corner, patting tiles and laughing crisply.

Street vendors hawked their hot noodle soup, steam rising from the stalls.

"Please take a look, my lord."

Zheng Wenhan pointed ahead with a fawning smile, "Over at Qingming Temple, the monks have organized more than three hundred refugees to repair the roofs."

Ever since Tang Shun gave him a slight warning, he's been hiding like an ostrich in the back room of the county government office, refusing to go out.

If Tang Shun hadn't insisted on following, he probably still wouldn't have maintained the proper distance.

Further along, the large pit at the foot of Qingming Mountain has taken shape, with thousands of refugees divided into groups, taking turns digging soil and transporting stones.

The bottom of the pond is covered with sand and the surrounding area is reinforced with rammed earth. In the future, it will not only store water for irrigation, but also prevent backflow during the spring flood season.

Every time a cartload of mud was dug up, someone would register it, and the receipt could be exchanged for two bowls of rice porridge and five coins.

"Five hundred people were gathered yesterday, and nine hundred have arrived today," Xie Anzhi said softly. "Many refugees, hearing that they could work in exchange for food, rushed here from other places overnight."

Tang Shun didn't speak, but just looked at a newly erected wooden pole in the distance.

A cloth banner hung above, bearing the eight large characters: "One dou of rice costs forty wen, directly supplied from the official granary." Below it was a line of smaller characters:

Anyone found smuggling grain out of the city will have their property confiscated.

This morning, more grain entered the city, and Tang Shun ordered that the price of grain be set at forty wen per dou.

The market price of grain has stabilized at around 35 wen. After all, it is a year of disaster, and it is unrealistic for the price of autumn grain to drop to 15 wen.

Thirty-five coins was a sum that neither made the common people suffer losses nor completely deprived grain merchants of their livelihood.

The rest is up to time.

"Magistrate Zheng," Tang Shun said with a smile, "the grain price in Wenchi County has stabilized, and I will soon be leaving Wenchi to return to Tingzhou to report back."

The military governor's office had set a three-month competition, but now, after only ten days, grain prices had already plummeted. He had no reason to stay any longer.

Lingwu County charges 65 wen, while Wenchi County charges 35 wen. It is obvious which is higher or lower.

A flicker of joy crossed Zheng Wenhan's eyes; the thing he had been worried about for the past few days had not happened after all.

"Your Excellency's move is truly a stroke of genius!"

"The people of Wenchi County have survived!"

Zheng Wenhan smiled and leaned closer, "I had many doubts before, but now that I've seen it with my own eyes, I realize you're not just providing disaster relief, you're bringing peace to the world! Others save lives temporarily, but you save lives forever!"

As he spoke, he showered Wenchi with flattery three times: "With you in charge of Wenchi, the people are truly fortunate, even the grass and trees are radiant, and the northwest wind sounds much more pleasant!"

Tang Shun glanced at him but didn't reply.

At the city gate, Li Yingchu, with her flowing robes and curvaceous figure, stood out like a star surrounded by the moon among the soldiers.

Perhaps because he was finally about to send Tang Shun, this devilish king of hell, away, Zheng Wenhan became more and more excited as he spoke:

"Take those four major grain merchants for example. They used to stick together and seal off their warehouses, but now they're all opening their warehouses and scrambling to sell their grain, afraid of falling behind."

"You subdued these unscrupulous merchants without firing a single shot; it's simply..."

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly heard a shout from the side.

"Lord Tang! Lord Tang! Please do justice for me!"

A man rushed out of the city gate, dressed in rags, and knelt down in the gate opening with a thud, his forehead touching the ground, holding a piece of paper high in his hands.

Everyone was astonished.

Xie Anzhi frowned and stepped forward, but the man bypassed him, staring directly at Tang Shun: "I have been wronged beyond measure! I beg Your Excellency to do me justice!"

"My daughter, only thirteen years old, has been forced into a ghost marriage by the county magistrate!"

"She's so pitiful!"

"She was tied to the coffin lid, her mouth sewn shut, and buried alive!"

The man arrived with tears streaming down his face, wailing incessantly, attracting a large crowd of onlookers.

"Isn't that Ma the Cripple from Xiahe Village?!"

"Didn't they say he was crazy?"

"What's going on?"

The people were talking about it.

The man known as "Lame Horse" stammered and begged for justice, kowtowing repeatedly.

Tang Shun understood.

However, before he could speak, Zheng Wenhan's face turned deathly pale...