IDWBE -Chapter 23 Out of Money

Lin Yi said, “Then take good care of yourselves. No matter what, this isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

If they were careless, an epidemic could easily break out. The destruction of entire families or villages would be the least of it—even a whole city being wiped out was not impossible.

After all, the level of medical care was simply too low.

When facing disease, people mostly relied on their own resistance.

After the typhoon passed, the rain cleared, but a stench of decay hung everywhere. Even with his mouth and nose covered, Lin Yi still couldn’t help vomiting.

He had clearly overestimated his own endurance.

Mingyue and Zixia had just finished carrying corpses. Now they hesitated—whether to go help Lin Yi or not. In the end, they could only watch helplessly as he leaned against a tree, retching.

Hong Ying hurried over. “Your Highness, why don’t you rest? Leave this sort of thing to us.”

Lin Yi nodded. “Alright. Take it slow.”

He really couldn’t play the hero here.

He had experienced typhoons before, but that had been in modern society, with weather forecasts and early evacuations. He had never seen such hellish scenes as the ones before him.

He didn’t even want to hear the crying.

Toward evening, the guards who had gone to the local county office to report the disaster returned.

The county magistrate came with them—a short man with a graying beard, followed by two constables. When the magistrate knelt, the two also knelt, addressing themselves humbly as subordinates.

Lin Yi had no mood to smile. He simply asked why, two days after the gale had passed, relief efforts had still not arrived.

“The gale drove in the sea, tearing apart homes and roofs. The tide rose four or five zhang high. The dead are beyond counting. Flooding is most severe, and all the crops are ruined! I have already sent out every person I could dispatch. At present there is truly no one left to send. I beg Your Highness to forgive me.”

The magistrate knelt on the spot, weeping bitterly.

“What about the local garrison?” Lin Yi asked after taking a deep breath. “Why haven’t I seen them?”

The magistrate answered in a trembling voice, “Without orders from the provincial governor, who would dare mobilize troops on their own?”

“And what did the governor say?” Lin Yi asked.

“I have reported to the prefectural authorities,” the magistrate replied. “As for the governor… how would I dare bypass the chain of command?”

Lin Yi sighed. “If there are no people to send, there should at least be grain and supplies for relief, right?”

“I have already contacted local gentry to provide porridge kitchens,” the magistrate said.

Lin Yi said nothing more, but his heart was filled with disappointment.

Together with the people of the prince’s household and more than thirty surviving townsfolk, they spent three full days digging through the ruins. In the end, they pulled out 720 people—old and young—but most, due to severe injuries, did not survive the day.

Lin Yi abandoned the idea of digging deep burial pits; there were simply too many bodies.

Amid the survivors’ unwillingness and grief, all the dead were buried in a crevice in the mountains, covered over with earth.

As a physician, Hulu stayed awake through the night. Lin Yi, weighed down with sorrow, scarcely slept either.

When Mingyue brought him a large bowl of porridge, he looked at the numbed, expressionless disaster victims and found he had little appetite.

“Leave half of our grain to them,” Lin Yi said. “And give each person two taels—no, three taels—of silver. Then we’ll continue our journey.”

He had been waiting for relief from the government offices and garrison, but it clearly wasn’t coming.

He was only a prince. The magistrate coming to pay respects was already a great courtesy.

There was no point in delaying further. Staying here longer wouldn’t help; he had already done what he could.

“Yes,” Hong Ying and the others said, cupping their hands in acknowledgment.

Lin Yi glanced again at the three orphans sitting blankly under a tree, who had lost their parents in the typhoon, and at the infant sleeping in Wen Zhaoyi’s arms, oblivious to everything. He sighed.

“Ask around to see if they have any relatives, or if anyone is willing to adopt them. We can give more silver.”

Wen Zhaoyi snorted coldly. “For the sake of money, they might fight to adopt them today—but tomorrow they’d abandon them. You’d only be doing harm.”

Lin Yi paused. That made sense.

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked.

“You’re a prince,” Wen Zhaoyi said. “Can’t you afford to raise a few children?”

Lin Yi nodded. “Then we’ll take them with us. Bring the people back down from the mountain—we’ll set out shortly.”

He himself had grown up an orphan. Running an orphanage would be familiar territory.

At noon, after lingering here for several days, the convoy set out again.

Just after leaving the town, Hong Ying suddenly said, “Your Highness, look.”

Lin Yi turned back and saw disaster victims following behind them—supporting the elderly, leading children, even carrying those who couldn’t walk on door panels.

He stepped down from the carriage and walked forward, bowing to a gray-haired old man. “Elder, where are you headed?”

“To follow Prince He.”

The old man knelt first, and the long line behind him knelt as well.

“When the gale struck, it killed our livestock and destroyed our homes. We have no place left to stand. Your Highness has just taken up your fief. We are willing to become your subjects. We beg Your Highness to permit it.”

Lin Yi shook his head. “The court has its laws. There will be relief, tax remissions, and pensions. Just wait patiently.”

Even he didn’t believe those words.

Wait for the court—wait until when?

But it wasn’t that he was heartless; he simply didn’t want to take on these elderly and infirm people as a burden.

The old man seemed to see through Lin Yi’s thoughts and said loudly, “Your Highness, please rest assured. We have already recovered valuables from the ruins; we will not trouble Your Highness along the way. We only ask permission, once we reach Sanhe, to build huts, cut forests, and reclaim wasteland.”

“Do you know that Sanhe is a hot, humid land?” Lin Yi was stunned. What about people’s attachment to their homeland?

Why follow him like this?

The old man replied, “Your Highness, please understand—we originally drifted here from Liangzhou.”

“Do as you wish,” Lin Yi finally said.

He figured they would give up eventually and turn back once they couldn’t endure any longer.

The convoy continued forward. Everywhere they went there were broken walls and ruins. In many places, fewer than one in ten households remained. Lin Yi didn’t even see smoke rising from chimneys.

This typhoon had uprooted trees, flattened houses, sunk boats, and caused heavy casualties.

Whenever they encountered disaster victims, they did their best to help. The more he saw, the heavier Lin Yi’s heart became—and the silver he carried dwindled by half.

After traveling on and off for another month and a half, they finally left the typhoon-stricken region. Signs of ordinary life at last appeared before them.

But looking at the long line of refugees behind him, Lin Yi couldn’t feel happy at all.

Did they think he was easy to talk to? Easy to bully?

He couldn’t even drive them away.

When he lost his temper and got angry, these people even had the nerve to smile.

Thick-skinned, every one of them.

He, the Ninth Prince of Liang and lord of Sanhe, now had pockets almost as empty as his face was clean.

That was silver he had saved with such effort!

Every time he resolved firmly not to interfere, yet every time he acted on impulse and spent money in great quantities.

After spending it, he would regret it so much he wanted to slap himself.

There wasn’t far left to go before reaching Sanhe—but what would he do if he ran out of money?