After several days without rain, the weather grew even hotter.
There were fewer people in the marketplace, and the eatery’s business declined sharply. After Yuan Zhao discussed things with the town’s merchants, some were willing to join him in distributing food.
After all, they remembered how the magistrate favored the Shi family. If Yuan Zhao took the lead, it was essentially Shi Wuxiang leading—something that could leave a good impression with the magistrate.
They distributed food daily, to the point where even water became scarce. Fortunately, the house in town had been repaired, and with the intense heat drying everything out, they could move in at any time. The well there provided enough water.
Still, they drew water discreetly to avoid attracting attention—lest others come to steal it.
After another day of distribution, they returned home to find the village growing increasingly anxious. The fields were parched—no amount of well or river water could truly solve the problem. Without rain, it was all in vain.
“The village is struggling. We must stay even more low-key,” Madam Shi reminded them. “Eat simply, keep the doors locked, and leave someone at home. There are fewer people in town these days.”
“Then you stay home with Yuan Ge’er and Ranran. Sister Xiaomei and I will go to town to work—if anything happens, we will know in advance,” Yuan Zhao arranged.
“Alright.”
The grain at home was also stored in different places—after all, it was better not to keep all eggs in one basket.
After dinner, they sat beneath the eaves. The broad palm-leaf fans could not drive away the stifling heat, but they did keep the mosquitoes at bay. Yuan Zhao waved his fan quickly, and with the help of the smoldering cord, quite a few insects were driven off—it was no longer so unbearable.
“I just hope it rains soon. Otherwise, the common people won’t be able to endure this,” Madam Shi sighed softly. “I wonder how A Yue is doing. I haven’t even had the time to go see him.”
In the Shi family, there was no such notion that well-behaved children go unrewarded. The more sensible a child was, the more they were cherished. A Yue might seem unreliable on the surface, but he had never once dragged anyone down.
Yuan Zhao knew she was worried and quickly reassured her. “Mother, did you forget? I went to see him a couple of days ago. I even brought him plenty of meat sauce and pickled vegetables. He was in great spirits and said his teacher praised him.”
“I know he’s doing well, but not seeing him with my own eyes…”
“Don’t worry, Mother. Second Brother is very clever,” Shi Qingran added gently, though his voice had already begun to choke with emotion.
It wasn’t just them. These days, more and more households wept at night, mourning the unbearable stretch of days.
Meanwhile, the clinics and pharmacies were packed. Cases of heatstroke were becoming more and more common—so many that they could hardly keep up.
Yuan Zhao was no longer just distributing porridge; he had also begun giving out freshly brewed cooling herbal tea. Though it smelled unpleasant, it was undeniably effective after drinking, and people lined up for it as well.
At the county office—
Magistrate Zheng was so anxious that his mouth was covered in fever blisters. His throat was hoarse, his lips cracked and dry. He had already done everything he could to call upon merchants to provide relief, but it was still only a drop in the bucket.
“My lord, please calm yourself. Your health is important,” a servant urged worriedly.
“If my eating and drinking well could bring peace and stability to the people, I would surely take care of myself,” Magistrate Zheng rasped. “But now the people are already standing in the midst of fire and water—how can I remain calm? I have no more solutions left. I can only hope for rain, and soon!”
“The people have already begun praying on their own, and the casualty reports from each town have come in,” the clerk quickly said, deliberately putting the good news first. “Qingshui Town has had merchants providing relief for half a month now. So far, not a single death from the drought has been reported.”
“Qingshui Town?” Magistrate Zheng looked surprised.
“Yes. I asked the patrolling officers—they all said it was led by Mister Shi’s husband. It started with porridge, then water, and now they’re even distributing cooling herbal tea.”
At last hearing some good news, a faint smile appeared on Magistrate Zheng’s weary face—only to be replaced by anger moments later.
“Qingshui Town isn’t even a major source of tax revenue. If they can dip into their own pockets to sustain the town, then the others can do the same! Men! Deliver my order—merchants in each town who rank high in tax contributions must provide relief. If they refuse, I will not show them any leniency! Those who actively cooperate will be reported and rewarded once we survive this crisis!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Magistrate Zheng did not want to reach into other people’s money bags. But matters had reached such a dire point that, willing or not, he had to steel his heart. Otherwise, who knew how many would die?
And he would personally visit Qingshui Town—to set an example for the others.
Qingshui Town was not a wealthy place, but with Yuan Zhao leading the merchants in relief efforts, they had managed to accomplish something real. Some of the refugees recognized locals and quietly passed word to relatives, so more and more people began flocking to the town.
“Boss Yuan, there are more and more refugees coming. Even if we had the national treasury, it would be emptied one day!” one rotund merchant fanned himself vigorously, lowering his voice. “We still have to look out for ourselves!”
“I understand what you mean, Uncle,” Yuan Zhao said, licking his dry lips. He gestured toward the huddled crowd at the base of the wall. “But compared to them… aren’t we still much better off?”
“Why can’t you understand? This isn’t something we should be handling! This is Heaven’s business! No matter how much we give, no one will see or remember it—it’s all wasted effort!” the merchant exclaimed, his round face wrinkling with frustration.
Yuan Zhao fell silent—not because he was weighing right and wrong, but because he was wondering whether he should not have dragged others into this thankless effort.
He was acting according to his own conscience, but he should not impose his will on others.
“But someone has to do it,” he said softly. He simply could not turn a blind eye to those suffering.
If he had never met the Shi family, he and Yuan Yuan might well have been among those lining up. In their hardest moments, they too would have hoped someone would offer help.
The rotund merchant deflated at those words. He pointed at Yuan Zhao as if wanting to argue further, but in the end, he only leaned closer and said quietly, “Nephew, you can do as you please—that’s your business. But I need real benefits. We’ve been at this for half a month, and the magistrate hasn’t even shown up. I won’t continue tomorrow. I have over twenty mouths to feed at home. You have to understand!”
“I understand, Uncle,” Yuan Zhao replied.
The merchant sighed heavily.
Over the past half month, many merchants had contributed, but it was still far from enough. Besides, they all had families to support—no one could give away all their grain. Gradually, they stopped.
Zhang Liang—the rotund merchant—was the only one who had persisted alongside Yuan Zhao for this long. But even he could not hold on any further. He was a businessman, and businessmen valued profit. At first, he had done it for reputation—but aside from a few words of thanks from the people, he had gained nothing.
He had thought that, given the Shi family’s connection with the magistrate, the magistrate would surely come to Qingshui Town. If he saw Zhang Liang doing charity alongside them, he would surely form a favorable impression—perhaps even help him establish himself in the county seat.
But so much time had passed, and nothing had come of it.
Naturally, he no longer wished to continue a thankless effort.
“Boss, the porridge is all gone,” Li Xiuying and Liu Xiaocao approached with troubled expressions. “But the line is still there.”
“Make another pot,” Yuan Zhao said.
They hurried off. There was still plenty of grain left in the shop—but who knew how long it would last? A peck of rice given in kindness could become a grievance if withheld later. If one day they could no longer provide, resentment might follow.
Yuan Zhao did not think that far. He only wanted to save as many as he could—to help them live one more day.
“You’re hopelessly stubborn!” Zhang Liang stomped his foot. “What we’ve done is enough—don’t cook any more! Why won’t you listen?”
Yuan Zhao ignored him. Within his means, he still wanted to do something.
“Fine, I won’t bother with you anymore—do as you like!” Zhang Liang stormed off. Everyone else had already closed their shops and minded their own lives—only he had been foolish enough to follow Yuan Zhao!
“Uncle—”
“The magistrate has arrived!”
Accompanied by the sound of galloping hooves, a carriage quickly came into view. Those with enough strength rushed forward, surrounding it, crying and begging the magistrate to save them.
The carriage was completely encircled. Magistrate Zheng simply leapt down. Looking at the miserable crowd, his eyes reddened with guilt.
“Everyone, this disaster is harsh. We must stand together and get through it,” he called hoarsely. “I have already ordered merchants in every town to provide relief. You will not be abandoned!”
The people only cried—but knowing they had not been forsaken brought them some comfort, a faint sense of hope.
After offering a few more words of reassurance, he hurried to the food stall. He saw the long line, the steaming porridge—and Yuan Zhao standing by the pot, stirring.
“The magistrate! It really is the magistrate!” Zhang Liang, who had not gone far, rushed back delightedly. “Boss Yuan, he really came—I actually waited him out…”
Yuan Zhao looked up sharply and saw Magistrate Zheng watching him. He quickly handed the ladle to someone nearby and bowed. “This commoner greets the magistrate.”
“Yuan Zhao, you have done well,” Magistrate Zheng said, then turned to Zhang Liang. “You have also worked hard. Once we survive this crisis, I will reward you both properly.”
Zhang Liang’s earlier frustration vanished, replaced by a wide smile. “This is what we should do. Boss Yuan, say something!”
“Yes…” Yuan Zhao replied.
After that, it was the magistrate himself who ladled out the porridge. Whether beggars reeking of filth or ragged paupers, he showed no disdain. He handed each bowl to them with solemn care—
silently praying they could endure one more day.
“Ah, yes, yes! Thank you, Your Honor, thank you!” Zhang Liang was overjoyed. Anything in the county office’s hands was bound to be valuable. If he could get some of it, it would be as good as telling everyone he had the magistrate backing him—no ordinary merchant would dare bully him then.
“It’s not just you. Those merchants who gave relief earlier are all commendable as well. I remember every bit of their goodwill,” Magistrate Zheng said.
No sooner had he finished speaking than the doors of Duowei Eatery were knocked upon. Chen Yishu hurried over to report—it turned out that the town’s merchants had arrived.
Since the magistrate himself had come, no matter what, they had to show up and pay their respects. Though many of them had stopped their relief efforts halfway, they feared the magistrate would be angered if he found out, so they still brought grain along.
Hearing this, the magistrate was delighted. He understood the “self-interest” of merchants, but a gentleman judged deeds, not intentions—anything that benefited the people was a good thing.
Before long, the main hall was packed.
“Your Honor, I’ve brought five hundred jin of coarse rice.”
“This humble one has also brought three hundred jin of coarse flour—just a small token…”
Each merchant brought something, more or less. Whether the grain was new or old made no difference to the refugees—it was all the same to them. At the same time, it fulfilled the merchants’ desire for a good reputation.
The magistrate accepted everything gladly. Rising to his feet, he warmly patted the merchants on the shoulders.
“You keep the people in your hearts, and I will keep you in mine. Your willingness to lend a hand in times of crisis not only helps the people, but helps yourselves as well. As long as you abide by the law and conduct your business honestly, there will be no shortage of benefits for you in the future!”
His words were impassioned and solemn, as though he were making a promise. But the shrewd ones all understood—the final sentence was what truly mattered.
Having lived in the town for some time, Yuan Zhao knew that some merchants had done shady things behind the scenes. Whether he chose to ignore it or felt indignant, this was not the moment to expose them.
The magistrate was far more perceptive than he was, fully aware of these undercurrents—but at this moment, Qingshui Town needed these merchants.
Magistrate Zheng had come to inspect. Seeing that Qingshui Town was doing well, he immediately sent people to spread the word and even announced that he would personally visit each town to distribute relief. With that, those merchants who had been trying to hide could no longer avoid stepping forward.
And as the days dragged on, the academy eventually closed.
Yuan Zhao drove the carriage himself, first picking up Shi Qingyue, then heading to Zhenlan to fetch Shi Wuxiang.
“Axian!” Yuan Zhao ran up to meet him at the entrance, holding an umbrella. “Quick, have some water first. I added plums—it helps with thirst.”
Shi Wuxiang gulped down a large mouthful, then asked, “Have you been feeling unwell?”
“I’m fine. I already brought Qingyue back earlier. Most of the shops in town have closed. I left Sister Xiaomei and Chen Yishu to continue distributing porridge—they’ll get their wages and some extra grain,” Yuan Zhao said.
“You’ve done well.” Shi Wuxiang turned his head and coughed lightly. Even under the umbrella, he looked unwell. “Have the medicine been prepared?”
Yuan Zhao quickly nodded, supporting him. “That was the first thing I got ready. Did you take your medicine at the academy?”
Shi Wuxiang seemed to recall something and said helplessly, “I was among the first to start taking it there. A big bowl every day—otherwise I wouldn’t have lasted this long.”
“That makes sense. We prepared plenty, knowing your health isn’t strong,” Yuan Zhao said softly. “Just stay home and rest for a while. We have enough grain.”
His face was full of concern. No wonder that after just a few days apart, the two brothers looked so worn down. Though they said nothing, it was clear life at the academy had been hard.
Shi Qingyue waited by the carriage and hurried forward to help when they arrived. “Big Brother, are you sick? Did you hurt your leg? I’ll carry you up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shi Wuxiang chuckled. “You drive.”
“Of course!” Shi Qingyue puffed out his chest.
Inside the carriage were two fans and a plate of pastries. Yuan Zhao fanned him gently, looking at him with concern. “Have some pastries first. I told Mother to cook early. Or is there something you want to eat? I can make it when we get back.”
“There’s no need to fuss.” Shi Wuxiang patted his hand, his tone gentle. “I’m not as delicate as you think. Don’t treat me like Yuan Yuan.”
“Didn’t you always treat me like a child before?” Yuan Zhao frowned, slightly displeased—then quickly brightened. “If you’re not feeling well, what’s wrong with me treating you like one?”
“But I no longer see you as a child now,” Shi Wuxiang said seriously.
Yuan Zhao didn’t quite understand, assuming it was praise. He lifted his chin proudly. “Of course. I’m much more sensible now.”
Seeing he didn’t understand, Shi Wuxiang didn’t explain further, only smiled at him.
“Don’t look at me like that…” Yuan Zhao flushed and turned his face away. “I told you, it’s strange.”
“What’s strange about it? Don’t I always look at you this way?” Shi Wuxiang laughed softly. His handsome face was already striking, and with a hint of frailty, it carried an even more unique charm.
To Yuan Zhao, he seemed like a spirit from a storybook, capable of stirring his heartbeat at any moment. He hurriedly covered his face with both hands. “You’re acting strange. Don’t look at me anymore—let’s just talk like this!”
“Can we not? I’m tired,” Shi Wuxiang said, gently pushing his hands aside and leaning against Yuan Zhao’s shoulder. “Let’s talk like this. I want to rest for a bit.”
“Then I won’t talk,” Yuan Zhao said softly, patting his back. “Rest. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
“Alright.”
Shi Wuxiang responded, and the carriage fell silent for a moment before he spoke again.
“When we get back, I’ll scrub you down. Without me at home, you probably haven’t been bathing properly, have you?”
Yuan Zhao stiffened. “You should just shut up and go to sleep.”
“Alright.”
Though Shi Wuxiang appeared slender, his frame was well-proportioned—broad shoulders and a narrow waist once undressed. Leaning against Yuan Zhao now, the sight was oddly amusing.
But Yuan Zhao remained serious, gently patting his back to lull him to sleep—and before long, he really did fall asleep.
Shi Qingyue drove the carriage swiftly. Though the road was bumpy, they made it home quickly.
The moment they arrived, the three of them said nothing and immediately set about preparing bath barrels and water. They had to soak in cool water thoroughly—otherwise their skin would feel scorched and cracked.
Yuan Zhao was drenched in sweat, which made it easier for Shi Wuxiang to scrub him down. The rough cloth rubbed across his skin, and streaks of grime rolled off in clumps.
“You really were just waiting for me to deal with you,” Shi Wuxiang said, half exasperated. “How do you dare say you bathe every day?”
“I lather up with soap beans—how is that not bathing?” Yuan Zhao shivered under the scrubbing. “Before, I’d just rinse off. And I do scrub now—I do!”
Shi Wuxiang had a headache. He knew Yuan Zhao was telling the truth—but fair skin like his would gather grime in just a couple of days, especially in summer.
He said nothing more and simply became a merciless scrubber, working from chin to toes. By the end, Yuan Zhao had no sense of embarrassment left—only enjoyment.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, young master?” Shi Wuxiang snorted.
“It does—but scrubbing yourself is exhausting,” Yuan Zhao said, arms draped over the edge of the tub. His forearms were tanned dark from the sun, while the parts covered by clothing remained pale.
Shi Wuxiang thought for a moment. “Have Yuan Yuan do it for you. I guarantee he’ll sleep soundly from exhaustion.”
“You always find ways to mock me…” Yuan Zhao pouted, still enjoying himself. “Can’t I just wait for you to do it?”
“There will be times I’m not around. Are you going to stay dirty then?” Shi Wuxiang said casually. After all, once he returned to the academy, this wouldn’t be possible.
But Yuan Zhao interpreted it differently. He thought Shi Wuxiang was reminding him of their three-year agreement. Though he had once apologized for it, Yuan Zhao knew it had only been to comfort him.
Still, he no longer felt upset over such ambiguous remarks.
“I know. I’ll scrub really, really hard from now on,” Yuan Zhao muttered.
“Good boy.” Shi Wuxiang casually patted his lower back. “Stand up and rinse off. I’ll head out first.”
Yuan Zhao lifted his fingers slightly in acknowledgment.
Shi Wuxiang took his dirty clothes outside, tossed them into a wooden basin, lathered soap pods, and began washing.
“Oh my! Why are you washing clothes instead of resting?” Madam Shi exclaimed, hurrying over to take over. “I’ll do it—you go rest. You’ll get heatstroke otherwise!”
With such a frail body, how could he overexert himself?
Hearing the commotion, Yuan Zhao rushed out. Seeing his mother-in-law and husband tugging over his dirty clothes, his face instantly burned red.
Without even drying his hair, he ran over to grab them—but his wet feet slipped in his straw sandals, and he fell straight toward Shi Wuxiang.
Shi Wuxiang dropped the clothes and stepped forward, catching him securely. Wet hair plastered across his face as Yuan Zhao ended up sprawled against him.
“Are you asking for a beating?” Shi Wuxiang said, not even minding Madam Shi’s presence as he gave a sharp smack to the soft flesh in his palm.
Not just Yuan Zhao—even Madam Shi froze in embarrassment. Her hands and mouth moved awkwardly, but in the end, her feet reacted first as she quickly retreated into the house.
“Ah!” Yuan Zhao buried his face against his shoulder, pounding his back in mortification. “I should just dig a hole and hide in it…”
“Who’s to blame?”
“Me…”