Chapter Thirty-One: The City of Ansei

Crossing the Peony River and heading west along the winding mountain valley, the city of Ansei, built against the mountains, drew near.

Being close to the county seat did nothing to enliven Liu Chengzong’s brief journey; the ruined walls and broken remnants along the way constantly reminded the three of them that they were approaching danger.

That morning, he had still wanted to carry forward the hardy, frugal tradition from Yuhe Fort, to scavenge a couple of abandoned cave dwellings, hoping to find something useful inside.

Liu Chengzong suspected that this habit of wanting to search every ruined house he saw might be a sickness, making him seem like a vagrant and hardly respectable.

Unlike the context centuries later, in this era a “vagrant” was literal: a wandering refugee.

Only people like them would rummage through abandoned houses, but Liu Chengzong liked it—he felt like a scavenger.

Whenever he saw an unfamiliar house that seemed ownerless yet still contained things—one never knew what might be found.

But this experience on the outskirts of Ansei might forever rob him of his curiosity for abandoned houses.

Not every place in northern Shaanxi was like the area around Yuhe Fort, where the only enemies the people faced were crop failure from drought and the tax officials sent by the court.

Most houses near Yuhe Fort were empty, their owners having fled to avoid taxes. Though they never returned, most left with a small hope that better years might bring them home, so the houses were kept tidy.

Ansei was different.

In one cave dwelling, he found half a skeleton and swarms of insects; the other half of the bones had been burned to ash beneath the hearth, mixed with a door plank.

Deep grooves from a hanging rope still scarred the door frame, but the rope itself was gone.

It was impossible to imagine what the owner had endured before and after death.

For the sake of his mental health, Liu Chengzong pursed his lips and left the cave dwelling, resolving never to search another house without good reason.

Little did he know, greater shocks awaited.

As they emerged from the valley at midday, Liu Chengzong, riding ahead, looked west from the mountain pass: the winding, powerful Yan River flowed south, and a vast city rose in its midst, like a giant beast with its back to the mountains.

He finally saw living people again.

Two bailiffs were pushing a cart along the official road. As Liu Chengzong spotted them, they were just stopping the cart at the roadside, covering a corpse with a straw mat and struggling to load it onto the cart.

Suddenly seeing a fully armed cavalryman appear on the road terrified the bailiffs; their faces, pale from cold and hunger, stared in shock.

One reacted faster, grabbing his companion who was about to flee and clutching the short whistle stick on the cart. “Who… who are you?”

Liu Chengzong, expressionless atop his horse, took the badge from his waist and held it up. “Prefect’s office. Sent from the city to escort Magistrate Yang’s family.”

The badge he’d taken from Yang Dingrui flashed in his hand before he put it away. He reined in his horse and circled once in place, frowning as he asked, “Are you bailiffs from the county seat?”

Not far away, the gates of Ansei were tightly shut, banners fluttered in the wind, and the drawbridges over the moat had been raised. It looked nothing like a county seat, but rather lived up to its name—a fortress.

Below the city walls was a dense crowd, hundreds of crude shelters stretched along the moat, filled with people barely clothed, sitting silently, the atmosphere heavy as stagnant water.

Even Liu Chengzong hadn't expected the prefect’s office to carry such weight; the bailiffs didn’t bother to verify its authenticity, dropping their whistle stick with a clang: “Sir General, is the prefect sending reinforcements?”

“Reinforcements?”

Liu Chengzong was baffled—what reinforcements? Seeing the raised drawbridge and tense atmosphere, he asked, “Has the city been attacked by bandits?”

The bailiff who’d first raised the whistle stick responded, nodding vigorously. “Six days ago, the notorious bandit Gao led several hundred foot and cavalry to raid outside the city, demanding the granary be opened to distribute food.

They claimed it was for relief, but everyone knew the food would go to the bandits, not to the people of our county.”

He looked up, “Fortunately, our magistrate is skilled in military matters and led the defense, so Gao didn’t dare attack directly and withdrew.

The county sent two batches of mounted messengers to the prefecture for help and aid, but there’s been no news. Now, within thirty miles, all the people have fled to the city for refuge, and the granary for porridge has long been emptied.”

Liu Chengzong thought to himself, this “Gao” must be Gao Yingxiang; several hundred cavalry sounded formidable. Hearing the bailiff say the granary was depleted, he nodded, “Yes, I can see that.”

Bailiffs occupied a low social position—compared to officials.

In reality, a small county of twenty to thirty thousand might have only a few officials. Compared to ordinary folk, bailiffs had some standing, and their income was relatively secure.

Even in the worst case, the distribution of porridge fell to bailiffs, so they ate at least a bit more than the average person.

Now, with even these two bailiffs pale and gaunt from hunger, the state of the granary was obvious.

“Where are you taking these corpses?” Liu Chengzong asked, discreetly signaling with his hand from horseback to Gao Xian, who was still on the other side of the pass, not to bring the wagon out—though he had no idea if Gao Xian could see him.

Their wagon carried rations and water for eight people, meant for Magistrate Yang’s family on the journey home. These people appeared half-mad with hunger; if anyone tried to seize their supplies, they’d all starve before returning.

Liu Chengzong’s mind turned: Yang Dingrui and the wagon must not approach Ansei.

If the hungry refugees saw food, even a little, it would cause chaos; with hundreds or thousands gathered, there was no way he and Gao Xian could control the situation with just their knives.

“We’ve dug several large pits outside the city. Those who starve, freeze, or die from overeating are all buried there. The county office said leaving the bodies would cause plague.”

The bailiff described it as routine, pointing to the pits outside the city—mounds of corpses piled high, no telling how many were buried. Even now, bodies were being carried from the refugee shelters to the pits.

Liu Chengzong decided not to approach the city gate himself, fearing an outbreak amid the gathered refugees.

Besides, entering required calling for the drawbridge, and he didn’t want anyone to check his identity.

He simply took a bag of dry rations from the saddlebag, tore a flatbread in half, and said, “It’s been days since you’ve eaten properly. I can’t help everyone, but you two can have this bread.”

The bailiffs’ eyes nearly flashed green at the sight of the bread. They rubbed their hands, glancing at each other and then at Liu Chengzong, trying to confirm if the “General” on horseback truly meant to give them food.

After repeated confirmation, the lead bailiff quickly took the bread, pulled his companion to kneel before the horse, knocking their heads on the yellow earth, and devoured the bread.

They stuffed it down in a few bites, reluctant to swallow the last two, chewing longer, instinctively glancing at Liu Chengzong, then quickly averting their eyes in fear as they finally forced it down.

Liu Chengzong was patient; he too had known hunger, and understood that half a flatbread would never satisfy—people can endure hunger, but the worst is being unable to fill your stomach when you’re starving.

He spoke, pointing to the bag in his hand. “I have a few more flatbreads here. If one of you goes into the city and brings out three people for me, these breads are yours. What do you say?”