Li Daoxuan finally stopped laughing long enough to breathe. He wiped his eyes, looked down from the wall, and saw the refugees staring up, trembling like ducklings who'd wandered into a tiger's den.
Shansier coughed twice, straightened his face, and tried to look like a responsible adult. He failed spectacularly.
"Calm down, calm down," he said, voice wobbling with barely contained laughter. "Who told you we were recruiting Convict Laborers?"
The young man in front piped up, all sincerity:
"The candy seller!"
Of course — the candy seller again. That man's greatest contribution to society was sowing chaos.
The refugees, thinking they were saying something utterly normal, continued:
"He said High Family Village treats its Convict Laborers extremely well!"
"They can eat meat!"
"They get porridge thicker than the county yamen's!"
"They even get new shoes!"
"And no one beats them!"
"And— and they even get paid!"
Behind Shansier, three sentries clapped hands over their mouths. One failed and made a choking snort that echoed across the wall.
Li Daoxuan lowered his bamboo skewer like a defeated general surrendering. "I… I really need to find that candy seller someday."
Shansier rubbed his temples. "Alright, listen carefully. We do not have Convict Laborers."
The refugees froze. "But… but we saw people in uniform making doors… they said they were…"
A helper shouted from behind the wall:
"Those are craftsmen! Craftsmen! Not convicts!"
"Right!" Shansier added. "They're paid workers. They're not prisoners. They came willingly."
The refugees looked utterly baffled.
One whispered, "But they work so hard. And they look so… obedient."
Another said, "And they don't argue with the steward. That's definitely convict behavior."
A third nodded gravely. "Feels like prison."
Shansier nearly fell off the wall.
Even Li Daoxuan felt the need to intervene, lest the universe collapse from misunderstandings.
He floated down lightly, landing beside Shansier. The refugees gasped. Someone whispered, "He descended from the heavens!" which, to be fair, was not entirely wrong.
Li Daoxuan dusted his sleeves, looked at the refugees, and spoke gently:
"We don't imprison the craftsmen. They're happy to work because they're paid well, fed well, and treated well. Simple as that."
The refugees exchanged uneasy glances.
"So… you're saying…"
"…if we want to eat our fill…"
"…we have to pretend to be craftsmen instead of convicts?"
Li Daoxuan pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dao Xuan Tianzun, defeated by the human mind.
"Just work," he said helplessly. "Work properly. Be normal people. That's enough."
The young refugee leader looked deeply uncomfortable. "But we aren't skilled craftsmen…"
Li Daoxuan smiled. "We also need brick-carriers, wood-haulers, earth-movers, ditch-diggers, and kitchen helpers."
"Ohhh!" the refugees brightened.
"So… unskilled convicts?"
"Entry-level convicts?"
"Probationary convicts!"
Li Daoxuan's eyelid twitched violently.
"Workers!" he corrected. "Workers."
Shansier took over, raising his voice: "If you're willing to work, High Family Village will not mistreat you. You'll be paid in food for now. Later, if you stay long-term, we'll see about wages."
The refugees burst into relieved sobs.
"Thank heavens!"
"We can eat!"
"We don't have to starve anymore!"
"Long live the steward!"
"Long live High Family Village!"
One even dropped to his knees in gratitude.
Li Daoxuan hurriedly pulled him up. "No kneeling. This is a fortress, not a temple."
Then he turned to Shansier: "Get them cleaned, fed, and assigned to teams."
Shansier nodded and started shouting orders. Helpers streamed out through the gate to receive the newcomers.
As they led the refugees inside, one man whispered to another:
"Steward said we're not convicts…"
"…but the way he commands, he definitely has warden energy."
Another nodded solemnly.
"Don't say that out loud. He might increase our sentence."
Li Daoxuan looked to the heavens.
Somewhere, a celestial bureaucrat took notes:
Mortals misunderstand everything. Dao Xuan Tianzun has my condolences.
Footnotes
Refugee labor misunderstandings – Historically, famine refugees often misunderstood local labor systems, especially if a village looked unusually organized. Any place with uniforms and schedules could be mistaken for a prison… or, conversely, a paradise. Often both at once.
County porridge vs. village food – In many dynasties, state relief porridge was notoriously thin — watery enough to prevent starvation, thick enough to avoid riots, but never generous. Villages that fed refugees too well could attract even more refugees, creating a logistical nightmare.
Craftsmen vs. convicts – In real records, skilled artisans were sometimes treated better than ordinary villagers because they were economically valuable. This could easily confuse onlookers: "If those guys work so hard and still look healthy… they must be prisoners."