Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 81: Disaster Relief

   When Naran Chuxue arrived, Zhilan was applying fragrant hand cream to Noble Consort Hui’s fingers.

“Your Ladyship Noble Consort truly has skin as white as snow and as smooth as congealed fat,” Naran Chuxue seized the opportunity to flatter. “This lowly concubine is truly envious.”

“If one bathed in milk every day and applied fragrant cream constantly, one would naturally end up the same as this palace,” Noble Consort Hui replied lazily from her couch. Then her expression suddenly turned cold. “Enough idle talk. I spent so much effort to finally remove that thorn in our eye—the Empress—only for Consort Xian to appear out of nowhere. By saving the Empress Dowager at the Double Ninth palace banquet, she shot straight to becoming the most favored in the palace. The fruit this palace worked so hard to pluck has now been snatched away by her! Tomorrow she will be distributing aid to disaster victims at Di’anmen. Tell me—what should we do?”

Naran Chuxue lowered her head in thought for a moment, then raised it with a smile. “Niangniang, rest assured. I will certainly not let her have such an easy time.”

Although Consort Xian was in charge of the disaster relief, she could not accomplish it alone. It required the cooperation of many people at every level. In the Laundry Cleaning Department, Momo Liu scanned the group. “Tomorrow, you will all go to Di’anmen to help with the congee distribution and disaster relief. By the grace of Consort Xian Niangniang, every servant from the Laundry Cleaning Department who goes to Di’anmen will receive one tael of reward silver and one day of rest in rotation.”

The group immediately burst into delighted murmurs.

“Ahem, ahem…” Wei Yingluo coughed several times. The news meant nothing to her—she could barely stand now and could only lean against Yuan Chunwang for support.

Momo Liu cast her a disgusted glance. “Consort Xian Niangniang also said that any palace servant who falls ill in the six palaces is to be treated by a physician and granted one day of sick leave. Consider yourself fortunate—you’ll stay behind tomorrow.”

After Momo Liu left, Yuan Chunwang smiled. “Consort Xian really is formidable. Without raising a finger, she wins everyone’s hearts. Your former mistress, the Empress, is far behind her in this regard.”

Wei Yingluo’s willow brows shot up. Though she said nothing, displeasure was clear on her face.

“Enough. Instead of worrying about other people, you should worry about yourself first.” Yuan Chunwang suddenly scooped her up in his arms in a princess carry and pressed his forehead to hers. “Your fever hasn’t gone down yet. Go back and rest.”

There were still people around. Wei Yingluo felt both embarrassed and angry. “Put me down this instant!”

Yuan Chunwang remained unmoved. “What are you shouting about? I’m your older brother! Don’t move!”

“When did those two get so close?” A palace maid watching from behind nudged Jinxiu with her elbow, speaking with malicious intent. “They couldn’t have… already formed a ‘paired eating’ arrangement, could they?”

Jinxiu stared at the two of them from afar. Hatred gradually filled her eyes.

Time passed quickly—especially in a place like the Laundry Cleaning Department, where the routine was simple: wake up, work, sleep. A day flew by. The next day, a group of servants set out for Di’anmen to assist Consort Xian.

Yuan Chunwang was among them.

With Wei Yingluo absent, he became silent and taciturn again. After helping set up the large cauldrons, he joined the other servants in distributing plain congee and steamed buns to the refugees. At first, things proceeded in an orderly manner, but as more and more refugees arrived, the scene grew increasingly chaotic. People began cutting in line, and some even snatched food from others’ hands—fights were inevitable.

Consort Xian stood inside the congee shed, watching the scene outside and frowning slightly. “Chief Steward Wu, why is it so chaotic out there!”

Wu Shulai wiped cold sweat from his brow. “Consort Xian, Your Ladyship, we don’t even know where all these refugees came from. The entire situation has turned into complete pandemonium! Do you think… perhaps we should stop for now?”

A refugee slammed his bowl of congee hard onto the ground and roared, “Didn’t they say a palace consort was graciously distributing congee? What kind of congee is this? It’s basically water—you can see your own reflection in it! And look at this steamed bun!”

He charged forward, snatched a bun from a palace maid’s hand, and tore it apart with force. “It’s coarse brown rice—and there’s sand inside! It’s breaking people’s teeth!”

Wu Shulai was furious. “Nonsense! Our buns don’t have sand in them!”

But how could the refugees believe the words of this lofty figure whose very fingernails were spotlessly clean? Compared to him, they trusted far more the equally filthy and haggard people standing beside them—their own kind.

The refugee who had started the trouble held up the torn bun and shouted again, “We traveled thousands of li to reach the foot of the Son of Heaven, thinking we would at least have food and drink. Instead the soldiers drive us away everywhere, the rich won’t spare a single coin, we wander in rags with empty stomachs, forced to sell our children and beg on the streets! All this talk of the palace showing mercy and distributing grain—it’s all lies! They’re deceiving us, deceiving us!”

The refugees were only half-convinced when suddenly a voice rose from the crowd, pinched and shrill: “Why are you still lining up? Hurry up and grab it! If you’re too slow there won’t even be congee or buns left!”

The words had barely fallen when one refugee pushed forward, rushed to the very front of the line in a few strides, snatched the steaming basket from a screaming palace maid’s hands, and flung all the buns into the air.

Steamed buns rained down. Countless hands shot upward. In moments the buns were completely plundered. Many people received neither buns nor congee. Curses and sobs rose together in waves. Some people even came to blows over a single bun—blood flowed freely.

Women clutched their children and stood to one side in terror. Elders were knocked to the ground and wailed loudly.

Palace maids and eunuchs retreated in panic, but Yuan Chunwang remained completely still, standing expressionless in place, his gaze constantly sweeping through the crowd.

In the midst of the turmoil, several refugees suddenly charged toward the congee shed where Consort Xian was. They were blocked by several guards: “What are you doing? Get out!”

“Aiya!” It was that same troublemaking refugee again. He suddenly clutched his chest and staggered back a step, then shouted at the top of his lungs, “The guards are beating people! They’re not good people—grab them!”

The crowd had already lost all reason. With him taking the lead, many others blindly followed, swarming over and clumsily trying to seize the guards’ weapons and clothes.

Wu Shulai was frantic: “Quick! Quick—call for more people! Protect Her Ladyship!”

“It’s her!” The refugee who had caused all this suddenly pointed straight at Consort Xian and yelled, “There isn’t enough food at all! What fake charity is this? She’s just a big liar—grab her!”

In an instant, the refugees surged toward Consort Xian.

Wu Shulai was horrified: “Your Ladyship! Your Ladyship, what do we do? We must return to the palace at once—quickly, back to the palace!”

Consort Xian narrowed her eyes and coldly watched the approaching mob, her expression icy and unyielding.

The guards rushed forward to shield Consort Xian, drawing their blades in unison and forbidding anyone from coming closer. But no matter how sharp the swords, there were only a dozen or so of them—against hundreds or even thousands of refugees outside, it was a drop in the bucket. As more and more people gathered, the sweat on the guards’ foreheads grew heavier and heavier.

Just as a major disaster seemed imminent, a young eunuch suddenly dashed out from inside the congee shed and—with a sharp metallic ring—drew a guard’s sword from its sheath at his waist.

The gleaming blade reflected his handsome profile—it was Yuan Chunwang.

Sword in hand, Yuan Chunwang charged straight into the crowd of refugees without the slightest hesitation, not even furrowing his brow. With one swift motion of his arm, a refugee’s head was severed and fell.

Blood sprayed skyward. The head rolled through the crowd, and wherever it went, it triggered waves of terrified screams.

“Murder! Murder!”

“Help!”

“I don’t want buns anymore—let me go!”

Yuan Chunwang raised his hand to wipe the blood that had splattered onto his cheek, then spoke loudly: “He’s not a refugee at all! The refugees have fled here all the way from Zhili, Tianjin, and other places. Their feet are all wrapped in straw sandals, worn through at the soles. But though this man is dressed in refugee clothes, his feet are in perfectly intact cloth shoes. He’s clearly a bandit who has mingled with the refugees with ulterior motives!”

Inside the congee shed, Consort Xian—who had just been annoyed at him for acting on his own initiative—froze upon hearing this.

“You’re talking nonsense!” one refugee shouted, pointing at him. “You’re all in cahoots! You kill someone and then frame us—kill him! Kill him!”

The refugees instantly grew agitated and surged toward Yuan Chunwang.

Yuan Chunwang began to laugh. With blood still staining his cheek, that laugh looked especially eerie and terrifying—like a man-eating flower demon or snake spirit. Facing hundreds of times his number in refugees, he flicked the sword in his hand, shaking off the fresh blood on its blade, and sneered coldly: “Whoever takes the lead in causing trouble will end up just like him!”

The feet rushing toward him immediately halted.

A mob needs a leader to turn into a riot, but with his bloodstained sharp sword in hand, no one wanted to be that leader.

Even the refugee who had first stirred up trouble now only dared to hide in the crowd, his eyes flickering as he stared at him.

And so, they missed their best chance to strike.

Boom, boom, boom—neat, orderly footsteps approached from the distance. A large contingent of guards rushed in, using swords and blades to separate the refugees and surround Consort Xian in an impenetrable protective circle.

The commanding officer asked with concern, “Consort Xian, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Consort Xian replied. Then her gaze shifted to Yuan Chunwang, carrying a hint of scrutiny. “Did you notice anything?”

Yuan Chunwang sheathed his sword and bowed respectfully to her. “In reply to Your Ladyship, there were eight refugees stirring up trouble in total. Besides the one who has already been killed, there are seven more…”

With that, he turned toward the crowd and, from left to right, precisely pointed out seven individuals.

“These eight have been shoving the refugees around and sowing discord the whole time—especially the one trying to slip away toward the southeast corner,” Yuan Chunwang said. “He not only started the trouble but also incited the refugees to attack Your Ladyship. His intentions are clearly malicious. Someone must be directing him from behind. As for who that might be, it will require Your Ladyship’s order to arrest and interrogate them thoroughly.”

Consort Xian huffed with a sneer. “What are you waiting for? Seize them!”

The guards surged forward, locking irons onto all seven troublemakers. In no time at all, their mouths were gagged and they were dragged away. What awaited them would surely be round after round of harsh torture.

Once the agitators were removed, the remaining refugees reverted to being docile sheep. Under the guards’ watchful eyes, they quietly lined up again and obediently received their food from the palace maids and eunuchs.

Looking at the endless sea of people stretching into the distance, Consort Xian sighed. “I never expected there would be so many refugees. The food I prepared is probably not going to be enough.”

“That’s because not all of them down there are genuine refugees,” Yuan Chunwang suddenly spoke up.

Consort Xian was taken aback and frowned. “You mean… some of them are falsely claiming relief?”

“The real refugees have traveled long distances, covered in dust and exhaustion, all of them sallow-faced and weak-limbed. But look at these people.” Yuan Chunwang casually pointed out a few individuals. “How could they possibly be refugees?”

Consort Xian examined them closely and realized he was right. Though they wore ragged clothing, some had brutish, fleshy faces full of aggression, while others looked energetic and alert—nothing like refugees at all.

“What do you think these people are?” Consort Xian asked.

Yuan Chunwang replied, “Beggars and idlers from the capital, or perhaps people hired with money. As for the purpose of hiring them, Your Ladyship has already seen it with your own eyes…”

If the true refugees couldn’t receive aid, resentment would naturally build. Who knows—it might even erupt into a major disturbance.

Consort Xian’s expression darkened. Suddenly she raised her voice and announced: “The current congee sheds are far from sufficient to handle the number of refugees. Except for children under ten and elders over sixty, everyone must participate in building additional congee sheds!”

Upon hearing this, the refugees began to stir and murmur again.

“Why?”

“Yeah, why should we do the work!”

“They said it was free congee distribution, but they tricked us into coming here to labor!”

“Exactly, this is too much! It’s outright deception—we’re not doing it!”

“Right, no work! We absolutely refuse!”

“We want to eat! Hurry up and hand out the steamed buns!”

“Zhili, Tianjin, and other areas have suffered from floods, and countless refugees have poured into the capital. The Forbidden City and the wealthy households are distributing congee and grain out of benevolence. But such benevolence should be given to those who truly need it!” Consort Xian swept her gaze over the crowd, her eyes cold and stern. “Every bowl of congee and every steamed bun here has been saved by someone from their own portion. Giving it to you is an act of grace; withholding it is only natural! You have no right to question it, and even less right to demand it! Earning food through your own labor is what truly belongs to you—something no one can take away! Now, young children, the elderly, and the sick and frail who are unable to work will receive food for free. As for everyone else—get to work.”

As soon as her words fell, Yuan Chunwang stepped forward: “Today, eight congee sheds will be set up outside Di’anmen Gate, and refugee camps are also being built outside the city. Those willing to work, come register. We’ll distribute rations according to the number of people. Eat your fill, regain your strength, and exchange your labor for tomorrow’s rations. If you want something for nothing—not a single grain of rice!”

The crowd exchanged glances, eventually splitting into two groups: one went to register and be recorded, while the other scattered and left.

In this way, a major crisis was averted. Consort Xian’s satisfied gaze fell on Yuan Chunwang. “Which palace do you belong to?”

Yuan Chunwang knelt and replied, “In response to Consort Xian Niangniang, this servant comes from the Department of Punished Labor.”

A eunuch, displeased that he had stolen the spotlight, interjected, “Consort Xian Niangniang, he’s merely a lowly cleaner of night-soil buckets!”

The crowd burst into laughter, but Yuan Chunwang remained silent, kneeling calmly with a composed gaze.

Consort Xian studied him and smiled coyishly. “A hero’s origins need not be questioned. The Department of Punished Labor is currently short of a manager—let it be you.”

The crowd was stunned, whispers rippling through them.

Yuan Chunwang lowered his head, concealing the ambition in his eyes. “Thank you for your grace, Consort Xian Niangniang!”

Once he gained favor, even the lowliest rose to prominence. On the way out of the palace, everyone kept their distance from Yuan Chunwang. On the way back, everyone crowded around him. The eunuch who had interrupted earlier slapped his own face repeatedly in flattery. “I was rude earlier—please, Eunuch Yuan, do not hold it against me.”

After dealing with this group of snobbish petty people, Yuan Chunwang hurried his steps toward the Department of Punished Labor.

He couldn’t wait to share this good news with Wei Yingluo.

“…Hm?” Looking at the completely empty warehouse, Yuan Chunwang frowned. “Where is Yingluo?”

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