Chen Yuanbo soon emerged to greet them.
He was dressed in the official robes of a seventh-rank county magistrate, black gauze cap properly set, the look of a young scholar newly polished by office. Whatever exhaustion he carried was neatly hidden beneath etiquette.
The city gates opened.
Chen Yuanbo stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Your humble servant, Chen Yuanbo, apologizes for failing to greet Your Excellency sooner. Please forgive the discourtesy."
There was no need for endless formalities.
Fan Shangzheng waved his hand, cutting them short, and led his troops directly into Wenshui County.
Only then did the truth reveal itself.
From the outside, the county looked restored. From the inside—it was devastation wearing a thin mask.
More than half the buildings were burned black. Even from afar, the bitter stench of charred timber hung in the air. Survivors crowded into the few remaining houses, broken doors patched with straw and boards.
Beside the ruins stood rows of tents.
Brightly colored. Red, blue, yellow—almost cheerful.
They looked wildly out of place in a city of ash.
Fan Shangzheng had no time to ask about them.
"Magistrate Chen," he asked bluntly, "was repairing the city walls your first priority after assuming office?"
"Yes," Chen Yuanbo replied without hesitation. "Bandits still roam nearby, and Huaqing Prefecture remains under siege. The enemy could return at any moment. With walls, at least we have something to defend."
Fan Shangzheng nodded slowly.
With only a few hundred people, walls alone won't stop the bandits, he thought. This is likely futile.
But there was no reason to crush a young official's resolve with cold realism.
What truly caught his attention was something else.
The people.
Despite the ruins, their faces showed neither despair nor numb resignation. Instead, Fan Shangzheng saw diligence, stubborn perseverance—an unmistakable hunger to live.
They worked.
They moved with purpose.
They believed tomorrow might still exist.
Strange, Fan Shangzheng thought. This county was nearly wiped out. Yet its people look… alive.
He turned to Chen Yuanbo.
"You've only just arrived, yet the people obey you willingly. In other counties I passed through, the populace was impossible to control. How did you manage this?"
Chen Yuanbo smiled faintly.
"The common folk want only two things—food, and a path to survival. I gave them both. Once people believe they can live, they'll work to protect that chance."
Fan Shangzheng caught a key word.
"Food?"
He frowned. "The Eight Great Kings burned this county to the ground. How could there still be provisions?"
"There are none in the county treasury," Chen Yuanbo replied calmly. "All the grain came from Hero Xiao."
Fan Shangzheng froze.
He turned his head.
Li Daoxuan stood nearby, smiling faintly.
Fan Shangzheng immediately clasped his hands.
"Hero Xiao truly possesses a heart of boundless compassion. You aided Mengjin County, and now Wenshui as well. Wherever bandits appear, you arrive. If Great Ming had more men like you, why would we fear chaos?"
Li Daoxuan merely chuckled.
Inwardly, he thought:
If the Great Ming had more transmigrators like me, it would've collapsed long ago.
One would build a theocracy. One would push capitalism. Another would shout socialism. Then communism. Then republicanism.
Add a few people playing Civilization, Stellaris, or Mount & Blade—each occupying a province for fun.
What a magnificent disaster that would be.
Fan Shangzheng continued observing the county.
Food was crucial—but Chen Yuanbo's real strength lay in organization.
Elderly, women, and children handled cooking and logistics. Young men hauled stones and earth. Work teams were divided cleanly, never interfering with one another.
Order, amidst ruin.
Fan Shangzheng asked, "Have you managed large-scale organization before?"
"I served in Puzhou as the Prefect's chief strategist," Chen Yuanbo replied. "My appointment here came through his recommendation."
Fan Shangzheng understood immediately.
So that's it.
No one in the court dared take this post, so they threw you in.
Tsk. A promising young man… let's hope he doesn't die here.
The thought dragged him back to reality.
He sighed deeply.
Li Daoxuan asked from the side, "How goes Huaqing Prefecture?"
Fan Shangzheng's face darkened.
"Over two hundred thousand bandits have surrounded it. I have only three thousand men—these you see behind me. We cannot break the siege."
Chen Yuanbo asked, puzzled, "Didn't Shanxi Governor Xu Dingchen pursue the bandits with a large force? Why did none follow them into Henan?"
Li Daoxuan replied flatly, "Because government troops can't cross provincial borders."
Chen Yuanbo froze.
Then it clicked.
The moment the bandits crossed into Henan, Shanxi's authority ended. Even if the rebels stood one step across the border, mocking them, Shanxi troops could only watch.
An absurd system.
Fan Shangzheng sighed again.
"I've already submitted a memorial requesting reinforcements. Otherwise… what can I do?"
As they spoke, the Henan soldiers finished entering the city.
Three thousand exhausted men.
Charred ruins offered no shelter. The soldiers hesitated near the strange multicolored tents, unsure whether they were allowed inside.
Morale was low. Pay was poor.
Some men gnawed on half a rice cake. Others had nothing and could only swallow saliva.
Fan Shangzheng's voice grew bitter.
"I can't even pay them properly. How can we suppress bandits when we can't even feed our own soldiers?"
Chen Yuanbo glanced at Li Daoxuan.
Li Daoxuan nodded.
Only then did Chen Yuanbo turn back.
"Hero Xiao has supplied ample grain. I'll arrange for the soldiers to eat their fill."