Feudal Dregs - Chapter 26

The rains in Beijing showed no sign of stopping, and the Yellow River region was plagued by severe flooding. Displaced refugees wandered everywhere, with many fleeing toward Beijing and Tianjin. Yet even these cities were far from peaceful—the Zhili and Fengtian warlords were stirring, and even Li Yuqing, usually the most frivolous of men, found himself busy. Though he was anything but serious, his hunger for power and ambition drove him to dip his fingers into the turbulent political waters of the capital.

These were the Li family's affairs, and Lan Yu paid them no mind. He was simply relieved not to see Li Yuqing around—the man was a madman, unbearably persistent. Not without malice, Lan Yu thought to himself, If his cleverness backfires and he meets with misfortune, that would truly be... a delight.

By mid-July, war had erupted in the capital. The sound of gunfire and artillery could be heard even from the Li residence in Beijing, the thunderous booms muffled by the relentless rain.

The Li household was gripped by anxiety over the conflict. The continuous downpour had also damaged the family's cloth business, keeping the old master holed up in his study with Li Mingzheng and several stewards, leaving him no time to bother with Lan Yu.

The old madam, terrified, turned to prayers and offerings. To accumulate merit, she set up a congee kitchen outside the city, bringing the Li women and servants to distribute food to the refugees. Lan Yu was among them.

Beijing's city gates remained closed to the displaced masses, leaving countless ragged, emaciated refugees stranded outside the walls. By the time Lan Yu arrived, the congee stations were already set up, with long lines of desperate people waiting.

The Li family wasn't the only one distributing food—many of Beijing's prominent families were doing the same, whether for reputation or genuine charity.

The rain had lightened to a drizzle. The concubines of the Li household were all dressed in their finest, standing out starkly against the hellish scene around them. Some held handkerchiefs delicately to their noses, while others clutched dainty fans, watching from beneath the shelter. As Lan Yu stepped down from the carriage, he spotted the personal maid of the Li matriarch, who informed him that due to a shortage of hands, the mistress wanted him to help with the porridge distribution.

Lan Yu paused in surprise, glancing up at the Li matriarch standing beneath an umbrella before nodding and walking over without another word.

Rolling up hiser sleeves, he took a wooden ladle from a servant and stirred the plain porridge in the wooden barrel. Filling the ladle to the brim, he poured it into a chipped bowl held out before him. The line stretched long, with most bowls bearing cracks or chips. Some even held lotus leaves plucked from who-knows-where, their grimy hands clutching desperately as they stared at Lan Yu with pleading eyes.

Having grown up on a pleasure boat since he could remember, Lan Yu, despite his humble origins, had never witnessed such misery before, and his heart ached at the sight.

Suddenly, someone beside him spoke, "Lan... Ninth Aunt, why don't you take a break? I'll take over."

Turning her head, Lan Yu was surprised to see Li Ming'an.

The young man seemed flustered, raindrops still clinging to his hair as if he'd just arrived in haste. Lan Yu averted his gaze and served another scoop of porridge to a child in line, saying, "No need. Third Young Master should rest."

Li Ming'an hesitated, then took a ladle from a servant nearby and began serving porridge himself. "I'm not tired!" he declared.

Lan Yu offered no response.

Gripping the ladle stiffly, Li Ming'an served a bowl to a refugee. With the recent unrest, schools had suspended classes. Hearing that his family was distributing porridge outside the city, he had come to help. To his surprise, Lan Yu was here too. As the third young master, the servants dared not let him work until the matriarch gave a dismissive glance and said, "Let him be," forcing them to relent.

Standing beside Lan Yu, Li Ming'an felt an inexplicable nervousness. Even during street protests facing police rifles, the third young master had never flinched. Yet now, merely being near Lan Yu made his heart race and palms sweat.

Stealing another glance at Lan Yu, Li Ming'an struggled to find words before finally murmuring, "The servants mentioned your carriage overturned a few days ago. Are you alright?"

Lan Yu replied, "It was nothing."

Li Ming'an continued, "Those lackeys grow bolder by the day, daring to let horses run wild in the streets."

Lan Yu responded absentmindedly, then looked at him and asked, "What did Third Young Master wish to say?"

"N-nothing," Li Ming'an stammered, frowning at his own awkwardness before steadying himself. "Auntie... are you from Yangzhou?"

Lan Yu lifted his hand to scoop the last of the porridge from the bottom of the bucket. Despite his years of holding a pipa and regularly serving porridge to refugees, his arm was beginning to ache. "Yes," he said, "my ancestral home is Yangzhou."

Li Ming'an replied, "I heard from my eldest brother that Yangzhou has seen heavy rainfall these past few days. If you're concerned about your hometown, Auntie, you could send someone to check—"

"Third Young Master," Lan Yu interrupted, dropping the wooden ladle into the empty bucket, "surely you've heard that your father found me in a brothel? Those from the pleasure quarters have no hometown, nor any family."

Li Ming'an froze, at a loss for words.

Regret washed over him, and he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—“

Before he could finish, Lan Yu cut him off. "It's nothing."

Li Ming'an stared blankly at Lan Yu, who had already taken a step back. A servant approached, replacing the empty bucket with a freshly cooked pot of porridge.

"What brings the Third Young Master here?" The Seventh Concubine, a woman in her early thirties, spoke up. She wore a cheongsam, her fair earlobes adorned with jade earrings, exuding the delicate charm of a refined young lady.

Li Ming'an steadied himself and averted his gaze. "Seventh Auntie," he greeted. "I just came to take a look and lend a hand."

The Seventh Concubine hid a smile behind her fan. "This is all menial work—hardly something the Third Young Master should trouble himself with."

Li Ming'an said nothing.

Her eyes flickered between Lan Yu and Li Ming'an. "I noticed the Third Young Master and Little Ninth seemed to be getting along quite well earlier. Who would have thought you'd become so familiar so soon after his arrival—”

Li Ming'an frowned. "We merely exchanged a few words. There's nothing to call 'familiar.' As for you, Seventh Auntie," he paused, eyeing the woman before him, "the First Madam assigned the concubines to distribute porridge. Instead of attending to your duties, why are you so fixated on me?"

Lan Yu raised an eyebrow but remained silent, ladling porridge for a ragged old woman hunched over, clutching a grimy child in her arms. The child had large, bright eyes, hollow with hunger, and stared fixedly at the steaming porridge, swallowing repeatedly. The moment the bowl was filled, she eagerly gulped down half of it before remembering herself. Lifting her face, she offered the bowl to the old woman and whispered, "Grandma, drink."

The old woman patted her head. "Grandma isn't hungry. You drink, little one."

The child licked her lips, clutching the chipped bowl tightly. She glanced timidly at Lan Yu, whose expression remained impassive as he scooped another full ladle into her bowl. "Go on," he said.

The old woman was overwhelmed with gratitude, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you, sir, thank you!"

Hugging the child protectively, she hurried away, the little girl turning back for one last look at Lan Yu, who had already moved on to the next refugee.

The Seventh Concubine toyed with her earring, smiling sweetly. "What harsh words, Third Young Master. These are all just refugees here. Fifth Sister caught a chill and couldn't come. Since she and I have always been close, of course I must help her by keeping an eye on you."

Li Ming'an replied, "That won't be necessary. Seventh Auntie should keep her distance—lest these people offend you."

Unfazed, the Seventh Concubine glanced between the two of them and was about to speak when a sudden shriek cut through the air. "Disgusting! Get them away from me—!"

Several people turned to look and saw the Eighth Concubine being jostled by a few refugees, causing her to scream in fright. The hem of her skirt was smudged with black handprints from who knows whom. The Eighth Concubine was young, even younger than Lan Yu by a few years, having entered the mansion only two years prior. Her youthful face paled with anger as she was supported by her maids. The surrounding servants quickly dragged the refugees away, creating a scene of chaos.

Old Madam Li frowned in displeasure and scolded the Eighth Concubine, "What were you doing standing so close to them?"

The Eighth Concubine, both furious and frightened, muttered, "Eldest Sister, it was clearly those lowly peasants who didn't know their place..."

Old Madam Li said coldly, "Enough. Do you think this isn't humiliating enough?"

When she was angry, her authority was undeniable. Lan Yu watched coldly, thinking to herself that she and her son, Li Mingzheng, were truly alike—both wore the same icy expression when displeased.

The Li family wasn't the only one distributing porridge here. The Lin and Zhang families across the way were all craning their necks to watch the commotion. Old Madam Li, who valued face above all else, would never allow the Li family to become a spectacle.

The Eighth Concubine dared not speak further, clenching her handkerchief in frustration. Her maid knelt to wipe her dress, but the stains had already seeped into the white fabric, making the effort futile. Enraged, the concubine kicked the maid away and snapped, "Get lost, useless thing!"

She lifted her eyes and saw some in the porridge shed gloating, others idly watching the drama. Her face flushed with humiliation, and she gritted her teeth before telling Old Madam Li she needed to return to change. With a dismissive wave, Old Madam Li let her go.

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