Chapter 131: Snow Disaster and Encouragement

Chapter 131: Chapter 131: Snow Disaster and Encouragement

The fifteenth day of the first lunar month arrived in a blink of an eye. It should have been a significant festival, but the village showed no signs of celebration. On the contrary, a gloomy atmosphere hung over everything.

The prolonged, heavy snowfall had become a disaster, causing the roofs of many houses to collapse.

For days, the village chief had been so busy he barely touched the ground. He called upon the able-bodied men and strong youths of the village to help clear the debris from the collapsed houses of the disaster victims.

It was manageable if only a room or two had caved in. But if the entire house was crushed, the family had to be temporarily moved to squeeze in with other households. In this icy weather, it was impossible to rebuild immediately.

Hu Liang was also called away. He had been leaving early and returning late for days. Ji Huan had been at the Hu Family’s home with Dabao for half the day, and they had already finished lunch, when Hu Liang finally returned, his hair covered in snow.

Widow Xie quickly grabbed a small brush to sweep the snow off his clothes. Hu Ximei brought over the warm food from the pot. He scarfed it down with a SLURP, wiped his mouth, and was about to leave again.

Widow Xie quickly called out to him, "What’s the rush? Can’t you rest for a bit before you go?"

"We just barely managed to fix Sixth Ancestor Grandma’s house. Thankfully, she and Fifth Grandpa weren’t hurt. But Uncle Liu and Fourth Uncle Sun next door are still waiting, and their situation is more serious. You didn’t see it, but the village chief is so worried he has blisters all around his mouth. Who has time to rest?"

Hu Liang spoke hurriedly and left. Hu Dacheng went with him.

Widow Xie sat back down and sighed. "Heavens above, what is with this year? First the threat of war, now a snow disaster. There’s truly no way for us to live."

Ji Huan lived in a more remote part of the village and could only get news from the Hu Family. Hearing this, she asked, "Have they tallied the number of people affected? Are many injured?"

"There’s no official count, but as you saw, Liangzi hasn’t rested for days on end, so there must be quite a few. Some of the elderly didn’t make it. By the time they were found, their bodies were frozen stiff... I heard many in other villages have frozen or starved to death, too. Liangzi said every house they visit is a house in tears. Heaven has pushed everyone to a dead end..."

The more Widow Xie spoke, the more mournful she became.

"Everyone used to worry about the conscription, but who can even think about that now? Then again, no one’s afraid of it anymore. It’s all thanks to Song Jing. A few days ago, he brought those students from his academy to tell the villagers stories about, what’s his name, General Kou. It put everyone’s minds at ease. Now a bunch of teenage boys are clamoring to join the army."

The day after he escorted Ji Huan back from town, Song Jing and his friends launched a campaign, heading into the countryside to offer support and lift the people’s spirits.

Mindful of Mrs. Meng’s opposition, Song Jing didn’t come to Dafeng Village at first. Instead, he went to other villages, some nearby and some farther away.

Then, the village chief somehow heard about it, personally rushed to town, found Song Jing, and gave him an earful, complaining that his own nephew wasn’t supporting his uncle’s work.

He was already worrying about how to complete the task assigned by the county magistrate!

His own nephew had come up with such a brilliant method, yet he had run off to help the chiefs of other villages boost their people’s morale, completely ignoring his own kinsfolk.

After scolding him, he dragged Song Jing and his group back to Dafeng Village that very day.

A shelter was hastily erected, the villagers were all notified, and they came over one by one, carrying their own stools.

At first, they didn’t know what was going on and there was a fair bit of grumbling. But once the storytelling began, the atmosphere changed instantly.

The students were eloquent speakers. Taking turns, they used concise yet vivid narration to effortlessly paint a picture of a battlefield where sand flew and stones rolled, where two armies clashed. They described all sorts of perilous situations and thrilling scenes, as well as the roars and shouts of soldiers who, after shedding their blood and making the ultimate sacrifice, had arduously achieved victory.

For the villagers who had never seen much of the world, it was undoubtedly shocking, and also thrilling.

According to rural custom, whenever the village chief called a gathering, it was usually the men who were heads of their households who attended. As a result, more than half of those present that day were male.

The warlike and adventurous spirit inherent in men’s blood made them clench their fists and stomp their feet as they listened, their faces flushing crimson. They wished they had a spear in hand to rush onto the battlefield immediately, to drive away those detestable invaders—and if they couldn’t drive them away, to at least kill to their hearts’ content!

Before, when they thought of the battlefield, they could only think of death.

But now, they learned from the stories that there was a group of people who would fight to the very end with their mortal bodies, all for the sake of the country and compatriots behind them.

It wasn’t that they weren’t afraid of death; rather, they faced death as if they were returning home.

Those are true men! Those are heroes!

And the stories also said that anyone could pick up a weapon to defend their home, that anyone could become a hero!

By the end, the students’ mouths were dry from talking, but the villagers were still shouting that it wasn’t enough.

The village chief had to forcefully disperse the crowd, and he immediately arranged for another session the next day.

This time, almost the entire village turned out—men and women, old and young. Even with two shelters set up, there wasn’t enough room for everyone.

The village chief told those who had listened the day before to voluntarily give up their spots, but they refused to leave, preferring to stand outside the shelters in the cold wind just to hear the stories again.

The effect was even better than the first day. At the most exciting parts, the applause and shouts were deafening, almost loud enough to tear the roof off the shelters.

Compared to the men’s and boys’ heroic fantasies, the old and the women had more practical thoughts.

They just felt that with so many capable people standing at the front, defending the Northern Pass, the pass would surely overcome this crisis peacefully. They also became more convinced that there would be no conscription this year.

Originally, they were supposed to speak in each village for two days at most, but the village chief played the "family card" and added another day, just to ensure the message reached everyone in the village.

The villagers’ response also left him very satisfied. In his words, they had been "encouraged" and had felt a "spirit-lifting power"!

Only then were Song Jing and his group allowed to leave, and they hurried on to their next stop.

When they left, many villagers went to the village entrance to see them off. Mrs. Meng went too.

Ever since returning to Dafeng Village, she had rarely appeared in public, but this time was different.

Over the past few days, after listening to the stories, everyone had made a point to stop by her house to praise Song Jing, telling her what a capable son she had raised.

As Mrs. Meng listened, the anger in her heart dissipated, and she forgot about how she had previously tried to stop Song Jing from running around getting into trouble.

Song Jing was leading a group of people, and he was clearly their backbone. And the work they were doing was so popular and admired.

Mrs. Meng stared, without blinking, at her son in the crowd, who handled everything with composure and chatted casually. Besides pride, what she felt most was a sense of vindication.

After so many years, for the first time, she stood up straight in front of everyone.

Widow Xie had been there and gave Ji Huan a rough summary. At the end, she added, "It’s a shame you didn’t go. Song Jing secretly asked me about you. He asked Ximei, Xiao’an, and Hua, too. That boy is just more thoughtful than others."

Ji Huan chuckled to herself. ’He went in such a roundabout way. He might as well have just asked about everyone who didn’t show up.’

Actually, she had planned to go that day, but when she woke up, she noticed Dabao had some cold symptoms. Ji Huan was afraid he would be exposed to the wind, so she didn’t go out.

’On second thought, there were advantages to not going,’ she mused.

Her tacit understanding with Song Jing went without saying, but if his classmates had seen her there, they would have certainly greeted her, which would have likely started another round of gossip.

Although Ji Huan wasn’t afraid, she felt it was best to avoid trouble whenever possible.

Besides, even without going, she knew what the stories were about, so it was as if she had participated indirectly.

"Sigh. With such a capable General fighting for us, and so many soldiers who aren’t afraid to die, there’s no way we can lose. Now we can only pray that the heavens will clear up soon..."

Widow Xie looked at the gloomy sky, where snow was still falling, and uttered the same prayer and sigh as many others.