26 Wharf

The closer they walked.

Fang Zhixing soon made out the small Qinghe marketplace, houses scattered everywhere, the roads paved with bluestone.

Those houses were neither made of mud walls nor thatched roofs.

Instead, they were structures combining stone and wood, with carved beams and painted rafters, exuding an ancient and elegant charm.

The town and the villages were a stark contrast, like two different worlds, heaven and earth apart.

"So this is the marketplace, not bad at all!"

Xigou lifted his head, stretched his nose, catching the faint scent of barbecued meat and spices in the air, his tail involuntarily raised and wagged back and forth, his heart yearning.

Fang Zhixing nodded to himself and transmitted his voice, "Xigou, take a good look at those high buildings with glazed tiles, don't they remind you a bit of the 'Dream of Great Tang'?"

"Dream of Great Tang?"

Xigou seemed unimpressed, complaining, "Too bad it's the damn late Tang, with broken mountains and rivers, the people born in troubled times, leaving their homes behind, lives as insignificant as ants, and widespread misery."

He lamented seriously, "Ah, what's that saying again? Rise, the people suffer; fall, the people suffer."

"Pfft, the people count for nothing!"

Fang Zhixing sneered disdainfully, his face expressionless, "I tell you, whether it's a golden age or a chaotic one, those at the bottom are always suffering, destitute and helpless.

But similarly, whether in a golden age or a chaotic one, there are always people who hold overwhelming power and wealth, who can turn clouds with a flip of the hand and rain with a turn, indulging in boundless pleasures."

He looked towards the most bustling part of the town, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Since there are frozen bones found on roads, there must be stench of meat and wine behind the red doors! Our goal is to become one of those red doors, reeking of meat and wine."

Hearing this, Xigou found himself speechless for a moment.

Fang Zhixing was a person grounded in harsh realism, emotionally stable, devoid of excessive sentimentality.

The crowd surged into the town.

Gazing around, two intersecting diagonal cross roads divided the entire marketplace into four irregularly shaped areas.

In the eastern area, separated by a high wall, the buildings were considerably more splendid and impressive, far surpassing the other three areas; it was apparent that this was where the wealthy congregated.

The refugees did not stop, they swarmed in and went straight through the main streets.

At the end of the street was a large river, the very same Little Qing River.

Although it was named Little Qing River, it was by no means small; the river was forty to fifty meters wide.

On the riverbank stood a wharf.

In the rolling waters, numerous black-awning boats and bamboo rafts were gathered, closely arrayed one next to the other.

Additionally, there were three large boats.

Each boat hung lanterns, swaying with the wind, casting glimmering reflections on the water.

Night had already fallen, yet many workers were still busy loading and unloading, bustling about.

"Quick, to the wharf!"

Most of the refugees hurried toward the wharf, a certain hope shimmering in their eyes.

Seeing this scene, Fang Zhixing couldn't help but ask curiously, "Where do they wish to go by boat?"

"To the outside!"

The Water Buffalo Village Chief replied, "The Qinghe marketplace is really just a transit point. From here, a half-day boat ride takes you beyond the Funiu Mountain Range, to the outside world."

"Yes!"

The Black Bull Village Chief nodded repeatedly, "These refugees have no way out within the Funiu Mountains; they have no choice but to leave. Beyond the mountains lie fertile lands, affluent towns, and Qinghe County itself."

The Black Bull Village Chief agreed deeply, sighing, "I've heard that people in the county never go hungry or cold, reveling night after night. These refugees, even if they only pick up some scraps, could survive."

Fang Zhixing understood and nodded, "You don't need to leave the town, do you? Where will you stay tonight?"

The Water Buffalo Village Chief promptly said, "There's an inn in the town, quite spacious and cheap. Whenever we come to the marketplace to sell goods, we stay there."

The three elderly leaders led the way ahead.

It wasn't long before a group of people arrived at a low-set compound.

Fang Zhixing looked around, noting there was no sign hanging over the door nor any archway erected, making it impossible to tell that this place was an inn.

"Welcome, welcome."

A middle-aged couple came out, their faces breaking into smiles.

"Boss, madame."

The Village Chief of Water Buffalo Village greeted them with a smile, "How has business been lately? Haven't the room rates gone up, have they?"

The innkeeper spread his hands with a laugh, "Ah, times are getting tougher, but the room rates are the same as always, they haven't gone up. However, the cost of meals has..."

The Village Chief understood and chuckled, "No problem, we've brought our own dry food."

The innkeeper quickly replied, "Good, good, good, please come inside."

The group entered through the main gate, passed through the courtyard, and into a very large room.

As Fang Zhixing reached the doorway, he was suddenly assailed by the pungent smell of urine and feces, causing his eyebrows to involuntarily furrow tightly.

The room was spacious, larger than a basketball court, yet not a single bed was in sight.

The floor was covered with a layer of straw.

At this moment, the room housed over a hundred people, mostly disheveled refugees, including men, women, the elderly, and children.

Some were lying down asleep, while others sat on the ground.

In a corner, the wailing cries of an infant were heard, forcing a woman to turn her back against the wall and unbutton her clothes to breastfeed.

The innkeeper said with a smile, "Please, please, please, there's definitely enough space here for all of you."

The Village Chief showed no signs of fuss, nodding, "That's okay, we can squeeze in."

One by one, the people filed in.

Fang Zhixing didn't move but turned his head to ask the innkeeper, "Do you have any private rooms here?"

The innkeeper's spirits immediately lifted, replying eagerly, "We do have them, although they're a bit more expensive, costing forty-five Big Coins for one night!"

Fang Zhixing agreed, "Get me one that's cleaner."

"Certainly, certainly, this way please."

The innkeeper was overjoyed, his demeanor becoming extremely warm as he led the way with nods and bows.

In no time, he brought Fang Zhixing into a separate guest room.

Fang Zhixing looked around the small room, which only had a bed, complete with pillows and bedding.

"My dear guest, are you satisfied? If not, I can change the room for you, although they are more or less the same, not much better or worse," the innkeeper said, rubbing his hands together and smiling apologetically.

Fang Zhixing nodded, then inquired further, "May I use your kitchen to cook?"

The innkeeper nodded, "Of course, but there is a charge for firewood, one Big Coin for a bundle, water is free."

Fang Zhixing had no objections.

After that, he went to the kitchen to light a fire and cook a meal, fed his donkey, and then returned to his room to sleep.

The night passed quickly.

Come early morning the next day, Fang Zhixing was awakened by a cacophony of noise.

He got up, opened the door, and saw that it was still dim outside with a mist rising.

In the courtyard, many refugees were stirring, all leaving the inn one after another.

Three elderly leaders were among them, each leading their caravans away.

Fang Zhixing yawned, lay back down in bed to continue sleeping, and did not get up until it was fully light outside.

Xigou hopped onto the bed, crouched in front of Fang Zhixing, and asked, "What are your plans for the next step?"