Chapter 3: Damn It All

Li Yi’s head was still a little dizzy; he went straight into the inner room and sprawled out on the bed. The fear in Li Zijing, the anger in Li Guo, and Yun Niang’s helplessness all left his expression cold and stern, his eyes gleaming with a chilling light.

“I want to see just how untouchable this Ai Wanhua and the Ai family truly are.”

The night gradually darkened. Outside, the cold wind howled, punctuated only by the occasional bark of a dog.

Yun Niang, her face covered in ash, entered carrying two large bowls. Li Yi took a look: one bowl had two black, coarse flour steamed buns, the other contained millet porridge mixed with wild vegetables and egg.

In his previous life, even a dog would have turned its nose up at such fare. But now it was the late Ming dynasty—a land filled with the starving, bones gathered for firewood—so for an ordinary family, this meal was already a blessing.

Li Yi pulled on his tattered shoes, sat on the edge of the bed, and in a few big gulps finished the steaming wild vegetable porridge. Warmth spread through his stomach, and he felt a little more strength in his weak body.

Seeing Li Yi in such good spirits, eating heartily, Yun Niang was clearly delighted. She took the empty bowls and went out again.

Li Yi paid her no mind, picking up a black steamed bun and taking a bite. The coarse flour was rough on the throat. Still, he was not one to be particular; at this moment, nothing was more important than filling his belly. He chewed slowly, finishing more than half the bun.

At that moment, Yun Niang came back with the bowl, setting it carefully in front of him. Compared to the previous full bowl, this time there was only a small portion of wild vegetable porridge left.

Only then did Li Yi notice Yun Niang swallowing, her eyes evasive, not daring to meet his gaze. Clearly, the food was scarce, and she had set aside her own small share for him.

In the past, the original owner, being dull and coarse, would never have noticed; but Li Yi saw it clearly now.

Sensing his gaze, Yun Niang lowered her head and said softly, “Aunt Liu’s embroidery isn’t finished yet. I’ll go tend to it.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Li Yi called her back.

Startled, Yun Niang turned around, meeting his meaningful gaze. It was as if she’d been seen through completely—she looked away, flustered like a frightened kitten.

Li Yi couldn’t help but sigh. He had to admit, the original owner, though simple and foolish, was blessed with extraordinary luck.

Yun Niang was three years his senior, but born to a scholarly family; literate, skilled in painting and embroidery, her needlework was among the best. Over the past two years, if it hadn’t been for her reading and writing letters for the villagers and mending clothes, this gluttonous man would have eaten the family into ruin.

Not to mention, Yun Niang was pure and lovely, gentle and virtuous; countless wealthy families in the region had tried to win her, to no avail. She remained unmoved, coldly rejecting them all, willing only to endure hardship with Li Yi.

It seemed Heaven still had a conscience; this was a comfort.

“Sit down first,” Li Yi said in a deep voice.

Yun Niang, gentle by nature, obediently took a seat.

Outside, the light waned, the wind howled, and the cave dwelling was dark and cold. Though Yun Niang wore only a worn blue jacket, wrapping her delicate figure like a bun, and her hair was a little disheveled, her face was too beautiful—her bright, limpid eyes made it hard for Li Yi to look away.

Yet such a lovely girl had yellowing hair, cracked nails, sallow and thin cheeks—clear signs of malnutrition.

Suppressing his hunger, Li Yi picked up the porridge, scooped a spoonful, and held it to Yun Niang’s lips. “Open your mouth.”

“This, this...” Yun Niang’s soft lips parted in shock, stammering as she looked at Li Yi.

He seized the moment, bringing the spoon to her lips with a smile, then scooped another.

Only then did Yun Niang realize what was happening; her face blushed crimson, she pressed her lips tight, and tried to leave.

Li Yi had anticipated this. He pressed her shoulders down, smiling broadly at her.

“These past days have been hard on you. From now on, with me here, you won’t have to suffer like this anymore.”

Such simple words, yet Yun Niang’s eyes instantly reddened, and she began to sob quietly.

Li Yi understood. With her father gone, Yun Niang had no one to rely on and lived in constant worry. The original owner was too dull to care for himself, let alone her. For a young woman to hold up alone for so long, she must have been exhausted; now, suddenly finding support, her emotions overflowed.

“Eat, don’t worry,” Li Yi said gently.

Tears streaming down her face, Yun Niang nodded lightly. This time, she no longer resisted, opening her mouth to accept the spoon.

In this way, Yun Niang finished the wild vegetable porridge, then, at Li Yi’s urging, ate the remaining black steamed bun. Still, with nothing substantial to eat, it only fooled her stomach—her strength would not return.

At present, finding a way to fill their bellies was the most pressing matter.

Night deepened. Ordinary folk could scarcely afford to burn oil lamps, so they went to bed early.

Since Li Yi and Yun Niang had never formally married, she always slept in the small bed in the outer room, while Li Yi had the comfort of the earthen kang inside. Truth be told, the nights were cold, and it would have been warmer to share the kang, but Li Yi knew Yun Niang would never agree.

He cursed inwardly at the harm of feudal propriety, then went to the outer room, pulled up the thin quilt, and lay down.

Yun Niang nudged him gently. “Brother Yi, the inner room is warmer. You should sleep inside.”

“So troublesome. Go to sleep,” Li Yi replied impatiently, waving her off and closing his eyes to feign sleep.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yun Niang quietly returned to the inner room and soon drifted into a sweet slumber.

The wind outside eased. Li Yi lay half-awake, pondering his situation, his mind unsettled.

He remembered the Chongzhen era—disasters unending, with Shaanbei suffering worst. The land was often stripped bare, families driven to eat their own children. And for decades to come, all of Shaanxi, Shanxi, and Hanzhong would be engulfed in constant war—peasant rebels and imperial troops clashing again and again, turmoil unceasing.

He had only three choices.

First, flee south to escape the chaos, settling in the relative peace of Jiangnan, relying on his knowledge from the future to live well. But once the Manchus crossed the pass, he’d be forced to shave his head and become a ‘good subject’—yet he was too proud to kneel.

Second, try to earn merit and rise to officialdom. But the Ming was rotten to its core; even the Chongzhen Emperor and his ministers were powerless to save it. By the time he gained enough power, the Ming would likely have fallen, leaving him to surrender to the Manchus or flee in disgrace.

Third, rebel. The Ming was at its end, the people suffered unspeakably, and uprisings were everywhere. He was in Shaanbei, the very heart of rebellion, and kin to the “King of Yongchang,” Li Zicheng—he had the right time, place, and people. The only trouble was that even a dying power could be formidable; rebellion would be a hard road.

Li Yi rubbed his eyes, burying that thought deep in his heart.

The world was in chaos; for now, he was unwilling to think too far ahead. The most urgent thing was to survive—to fill his belly amid these disasters, to endure.

He mulled over ways to build up strength, until drowsiness overtook him and he drifted off to sleep.

He had no idea how long he slept, but outside the wind had died completely. Dogs barked intermittently, and then, a strange sound came from the courtyard.

A chill ran through Li Yi; he snapped awake.

He got up, crept to the wooden door, and peered out through a crack.

In the dim moonlight, a shadow vaulted the wall, a weapon clamped between its teeth. It crept to the gate, opened it quietly, and let three more people inside.