The Ming Dynasty: Starting with bandits, it swept across the land.

Chapter 1 White Water River

June 7th, 7th year of the Tianqi reign of the Ming Dynasty, Qingshi Village, Baishui County, Shaanxi Province

Li Chengye stood panting on the dried-up Baishui River, holding a hoe in his hand. There were four or five two-foot-deep pits at his feet, the result of his morning's work.

Ever since Li Chengye survived a near-death experience from a cold in April, he has had a lot of inexplicable memories in his mind.

Old Qin from the village said those were delirious hallucinations he had while delirious, but these "delusions" were frighteningly real.

Towering buildings, metal carts running everywhere, and fairy caves decorated with transparent glass—what he found most unbelievable was that people in his memory had an endless supply of food, and with a few taps on something called a mobile phone, someone would deliver all sorts of delicacies to their doorsteps.

This made him believe what Master Qin said at the time. This memory was just his delusions when he was delirious. After all, even the emperor in the Golden Palace could not eat those kinds of food, but in that memory, they were things that everyone could get.

How is that possible?

Until last month, the officials of the county government sent people to collect grain.

April is not yet the time to collect summer taxes, but Wang Er rebelled.

Wang Er, a very ordinary name, could be called out on the streets of Baishui County and would turn around ten or so times.

But on April 13th, a man named Wang Er gathered hundreds of people, smeared their faces with ink, stormed into the city, stormed into the Chengcheng County government office, and killed the county magistrate Zhang Douyao in front of the entire city.

For the government, there is no greater evil than rebellion.

Chengcheng and Baishui County are adjacent, and this Wang Er is said to be from Baishui County.

So the county imposed martial law, and various precautions were taken, such as requisitioning grain and conscripting men, for fear that he would return.

The problem is that Wang Er's uprising occurred on April 13th, while Li Chengye knew about it on April 7th.

That day was the time when his fever subsided and his mind was filled with that memory.

Only then did Li Chengye realize with horror that those memories were real, but they were memories from the future.

The government took away almost all the grain from the house, but the people still had to live.

He remembered hearing that after a severe drought, loaches would burrow into the riverbed, and he believed it to be true. Today, he dug for half a day, but all he found was dry mud as hard as rocks.

He wanted to persevere, so he walked along the riverbed for about a hundred steps, where the flat riverbed had subsided.

This was a bend in the river, and also the deepest part of the river in previous years. He swung his hoe a few times and finally managed to pry something out.

It was an eel, but it was completely dead, half-rotten, and emitting a strong earthy and foul odor.

He got it.

The memory may be true, but the "drought" in my memory is far less severe than the hellish scene before my eyes. The great drought of the seventh year of the Tianqi reign was the third year of drought in Shaanxi. In the previous two years, at least some rain was seen, but this year, from the beginning of spring until now, not a single drop of rain has fallen.

The Baishui River—a tributary of the Beiluo River, a branch of the Wei River—has also completely dried up.

It was nearly noon, and the sun was blazing down. Li Chengye felt a wave of palpitations and dry heaving; he knew he was probably dehydrated.

This morning I only drank a bowl of plain water and bran porridge. According to what I remember, this bowl of porridge provided very little energy, and it's not easy for me to have lasted this long.

As he stood up, his gaze unconsciously swept over the riverbank. To his surprise, he discovered a small patch of tufts of grass growing right where he had just dug. Although the leaves were withered and yellow, the ears of grass were heavy with stalks.

He scanned his surroundings, but apart from the village in the distance that looked like ruins, there was not a soul in sight.

Then, Li Chengye carefully walked over, plucked a tassel, rubbed off the fuzz, revealing a dozen or so black seeds smaller than sesame seeds.

He crushed a few seeds and put them in his mouth. Although the taste was bitter, he felt a sense of satisfaction. In Baishui County today, the value of this grass seed is second only to grain.

He took off his clothes and spread them on the ground, then hurriedly picked all the tassels from the grass.

He carefully inspected the field again to make sure no ears of grain were missed before heading towards the village.

At the entrance of Qingshi Village stands a century-old elm tree. In previous years, villagers would pick elm seeds and mix them with flour to make elm seed rice. But now the bark has been completely stripped away, leaving only bare white wood stubble.

Leaning against the tree was an old man wearing a tattered sheepskin; he was the village's old widower.

Old Du's original surname was Du. He had sons and daughters, but last year, due to a severe drought and epidemic, his whole family was wiped out, leaving him all alone. Since then, he has become somewhat insane, and the villagers have started calling him Old Du.

He sits under this big elm tree all day, gazing north.

That's the direction of his wife and children's graves, as if they're waiting for them to come and take him away.

Li Chengye bypassed him and entered the village.

The entire Qing Shi Village was as quiet as death, without the crowing of roosters or barking of dogs.

The last dog was slaughtered and eaten two months ago, and the chickens have long since disappeared.

The doors of each house were half-closed, and most of the people inside lay motionless to conserve energy. The entire village was suffering in a silent slumber, almost as if waiting to die.

Li Chengye did not go back to his own home; instead, he walked towards the west end of the village—that was his second uncle's house.

Pushing open the door, I saw my second uncle, Li Chengliang, lying on a tattered mattress, fast asleep. His face was sallow, and his cheekbones were high.

A boy of about fifteen or sixteen years old, who was leaning against the headboard, heard the noise, opened his eyes and saw it was him. He quickly got up and got off the bed.

"Brother Chengye, you're here!"

Li Chengye nodded: "I picked some grass seeds, enough for the next two days. How's Second Uncle?"

"He's still unconscious. He woke up briefly last night, and I fed him half a bowl of porridge, but he vomited half of it back up. Master Qin came to check on him and said that my condition might not improve."

At this point, Li Chengen began to cry softly.

"Don't take Master Qin's words seriously. How can a veterinarian who treats livestock be accurate in treating humans?"

This is true.

Master Qin, whose real name is Qin Gaozheng, is the village veterinarian. He is an expert at treating cattle and horses and shoeing horses, but he is not very good at treating people.

But everyone in the village was poor and couldn't afford a proper doctor, so they could only find someone who treated livestock to take a look.

Li Chengye's cold was initially treated by his uncle, but after half a month, Li Chengye was on the verge of death. His second uncle panicked and used the family's last savings to find a real doctor in town who prescribed some medicine, saving Li Chengye from the brink of death. Unexpectedly, his second uncle collapsed this month.

"Last night, my older son, half asleep, said he wanted a bowl of authentic Tongzhou-style mutton soup noodles. I really can't make it..."

"Cheng'en," Li Chengye suddenly spoke, his voice low but firm, "Don't worry, I will definitely make sure Second Uncle gets to eat that bowl of mutton stew noodles."

Li Chengen stopped sobbing and looked up at him: "In this year's harvest... Brother Chengye, where are you going to get any?"

"I'll figure something out," Li Chengye interrupted him. "Just keep an eye on your second uncle."

Li Chengen paused for a moment, then finally nodded: "...Okay, I understand."

Afterwards, Li Chengye gave most of the grass seeds he had picked to Chengen, and then went home.

He climbed onto the kang (a heated brick bed) to rest for a while.

According to my memory, the current year is the seventh year of the Tianqi reign, and the reign title will be changed to Chongzhen next year.

In the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, the emperor, who had adopted the new reign title, hanged himself on Coal Hill.

In the past seventeen years, Shaanxi has suffered from continuous droughts, infighting between officials and traitors, and ordinary people have fallen like withered grass.

To survive, one had to either join the government army or the bandit army. The government army was divided into two types: ordinary soldiers and the general's servants. Ordinary soldiers were the officers' slaves, not only were they often underfed, but they were also constantly being ordered around. However, to become a servant, one needed connections, and he was just a farmer.

But what would happen to his second uncle if he became a thief?

Thinking about these questions, Li Chengye drifted off to sleep.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a sudden, urgent gong banging startled him awake.