Chapter 35: He Renlong, the Madman

The next morning, Li Yi rose early as usual. Rain or shine, he practiced his boxing and spear techniques. Only after he had finished a full set of spear drills did Li Guo and the other youths come running in, panting heavily.

“Go run two li first, then come back and practice the horse stance,” Li Yi ordered. As he issued his command, he looked up to see Liu Zongmin standing by the window.

“Brother Liu, is your wound feeling better?” Li Yi asked as he walked over.

“Brother Li Yi, I’ve been a burden to you,” Liu Zongmin replied, somewhat ashamed.

“There’s no need to talk about burdens between us. You just focus on recovering,” Li Yi said with a wave of his hand, encouraging Liu Zongmin to lie down as he checked the wound. The stitches from yesterday showed no sign of infection or festering—a good sign. Li Yi disinfected the edges again with alcohol, applied some wound medicine, and wrapped it with clean cloth.

Liu Zongmin looked at him with gratitude. Yesterday, before losing consciousness, he’d thought for sure he would bleed to death. Waking up with his wound sewn and dressed, he knew immediately that Li Yi had saved him. Counting his rescue from the prison, this was the second time Li Yi had saved his life. His heart swelled with gratitude, and remembering the battle yesterday, he began to feel a growing resolve to follow Li Yi.

“Neither of your wounds are deep. Rest well for half a month, and you should be fine,” Li Yi said.

By now, Li Guo and the other boys had finished their run and were honestly settling into the horse stance. Li Yi went to the courtyard, found a stick as thick as his forearm, and glanced at the boys. Li Guo trembled slightly and hung his head in guilt.

“Those who didn’t remember their characters yesterday, step forward.”

Li Guo walked out with a miserable expression, followed by three other sheepish boys.

“Take off your trousers.”

Faces burning with embarrassment, the boys complied.

“My, what a sight!” Gao Xiao Jia chimed in, and the others burst into laughter. Li Guo shot them a fierce glare, but no one paid him any mind.

Crack!

The stick came down hard, and Li Guo cried out in pain. Yet the sting in his flesh was nothing compared to the shame in his heart. Li Yi showed no mercy, delivering five solid lashes before stopping. The other three boys took their punishment quietly as well.

“If anyone slacks off learning their characters again, you’ll be punished the same way—bare bottomed. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the boys shouted.

Li Yi nodded. He was training these youths to be high-ranking officers, putting them through drills, reading, and writing. In time, he would teach them the art of war and strategy. Thus, his standards were strict.

“Hold the horse stance for half an hour, then pair off and practice Xingyi boxing.”

With that, he shot a glare at Li Guo.

“You’re still a squad leader. If you fail your literacy next time, you’ll lose that post.”

Li Guo shrank back, not daring to argue. After putting them through their paces, Li Yi left the house and went to the ancestral hall.

The grain they’d transported yesterday had already been logged and stored in the community granary overnight.

Furthermore, his great-grandfather had spread the news of the Farmers’ Association loaning grain. By early morning, a long line had already formed outside the ancestral hall, all hoping to borrow food.

Seeing Li Yi, his great-grandfather leaned on his cane, worry etched on his face. “Yi, there are so many people. Are we really giving out grain today?”

Li Yi supported him with a smile and replied firmly, “Of course we are. Each portion we give out is another family saved.”

Old Gao, standing nearby, remarked, “Aren’t you afraid the grain will run out?”

Li Yi pointed at the granary and joked, “Isn’t the grain in there meant for our people? If we don’t distribute it, is it going to sprout more grain on its own?”

The village heads and clan elders from all around Ganquan burst into hearty laughter.

Great-grandfather turned to a sturdy young man. “Let them in.”

The young man opened the doors, and the villagers hurried in, faces filled with anxiety.

“Don’t worry, everyone,” Li Yi called out. “One at a time.”

An emaciated old man craned his neck, forcing a smile. “Young Li, is the Farmers’ Association really lending out grain?”

Li Yi gestured to the village and clan heads standing nearby. “Uncle, if we weren’t lending grain, do you think all these people would gather here just to put on a show?”

The crowd laughed good-naturedly, but the old man remained cautious. “The Ai family is selling wheat at eighty wen a dou, and barley is sixty. You’re lending out grain for free, not even charging interest, just asking us to return it after next year’s harvest. In all my forty-five years, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Li Yi looked around and sighed. “Let me ask you: how much money do you have left at home to buy grain? And after the harvest next year, will you have enough surplus to pay interest?”

The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. To borrow from the granary, a family had to truly have no grain left and no means to buy any. They barely had enough money to survive, much less pay interest after taxes next year.

“I’ll be honest with you all,” Li Yi said gravely. “The granary exists so no one in Ganquan will starve. There’s no profit in this. As long as there’s grain, anyone in need can borrow it. I, Li Yi, give you my word.”

His words stirred a wave of emotion among the villagers.

“Young Master Li is truly a kind soul!”

“A living Bodhisattva, saving us all!”

Li Yi looked at the ragged, sallow-faced villagers and waved his hand.

“Distribute the grain!”

At his command, the granary began lending out food. The villagers queued up to sign their names and make their marks. As they received their shares, many wept tears of joy.

A middle-aged man hugged his daughter, his eyes brimming with tears. “Wonderful, wonderful, we finally have food.”

The little girl clung timidly to his arm, pleading, “Papa, now that we have grain, please don’t sell me.”

He hugged her tightly, weeping. “I won’t sell you. How could I ever bear to? I was only afraid you’d starve to death with me.”

He kowtowed gratefully to Li Yi, then left with his daughter and their grain. Others, overwhelmed by grief for those lost to hunger, sobbed and banged their heads on the ground.

Li Yi helped them up one by one, offering gentle words of comfort. Even those clearly unable to repay the grain were given their share. After all, with famine looming, he knew few would ever be able to repay. Yet this was not just about helping; it was about uniting the villagers and building his own reputation and authority.

As for those trying to cheat the system, no one knew their circumstances better than their own village and clan heads. With whips in hand, a few heads chased out those attempting fraud, thinning the line considerably.

When the crowd finally dwindled, Li Yi took his leave. He walked to Firewood Mountain, the snow-covered woods exuding a serene, picturesque beauty. Despite the bitter cold, many villagers were still there making charcoal, all of whom greeted Li Yi warmly as he passed.

He smiled and nodded, making his way to the small mountain temple halfway up the slope.

Calling it a temple was generous—it was little more than a hut, barely waist-high, with only a faint trace of incense lingering.

“Yi, I’m here,” called Fu Juan, emerging from behind a tree.

“What about your injuries?” Li Yi asked in surprise. Her cheeks were swollen, and bruises marked her body.

“It’s nothing, just a few scrapes,” she said with a smile, then revealed Ai Yingjia’s entire scheme to him.

Learning that the Ai family was using their connections to summon troops and have him killed, Li Yi’s eyes grew cold, a trace of murderous intent crossing his face. He’d been wary ever since Li Zicheng had assured him that Ai Yingjia had promised to live in peace with them—now it was clear that was just to lull him into complacency.

“Yi, here’s the reply from Wu Zimian, the commander at Yansui. I can’t read, so I stole it for you,” Fu Juan said, handing him a letter.

Li Yi opened it and, though embarrassed by his own struggles with the archaic script, pieced together the gist: Wu Zimian had agreed to send Captain He Renlong to handle the matter.

He Renlong?

The name rang a bell. He remembered from the film “The Calamity of the Ming,” He Renlong was notorious for slaughtering the innocent to claim credit, earning him the nickname “Mad He.” As a captain, he commanded at least three or four hundred soldiers—nominally government troops, but all ruthless killers.

If this man was coming for him, it was indeed a grave threat.

Li Yi handed the letter back to Fu Juan. “Return it quietly so no one notices it’s missing.”

She nodded, tucking the letter away.

“Here’s a tael of silver. Keep it safe,” Li Yi said, offering the money.

To his surprise, her expression turned cold. “I didn’t do this for a reward.”

“I know,” Li Yi replied awkwardly. “But I can’t let you take such risks for nothing.”

She lowered her head in silence, then after a while murmured, “Yi, are you going to marry Yun Niang soon?”

“More or less,” Li Yi replied, lips pursed.

Fu Juan looked up at him, her gaze burning. “After you marry her, could I become your concubine?”

Li Yi nearly choked on his own spit.

“You don’t have to decide now. I know you have greater things to do—I can wait.”

With that, she turned and fled, leaving Li Yi standing there, a wry smile on his face.

What was happening to him? One romantic encounter after another. If he’d had this kind of luck in his past life, he wouldn’t have spent so much time honing his right arm.

But thoughts of He Renlong soon darkened his mood. In the days that followed, Li Yi focused on organizing militia drills while gathering information from the county seat. If He Renlong was really coming, he would surely stop in the county town first.