Dian Dengzi and Bai Yuan withdrew to a secluded spot where no one else could hear.
Only then did the scholar-turned-rebel begin his tale, tears and mucus mingling as he recounted his nights reading by lamplight at Qingjian County's Shiyou Temple, the false accusation of compiling military texts to rebel—the whole wretched story poured out to Bai Yuan.
(Shiyou Temple—"Petroleum Temple"—was a real site in northern Shaanxi. The name came from nearby oil seeps known since ancient times. For a scholar to study there was plausible: temples often housed libraries and offered quiet refuge for examination candidates.)
Bai Yuan listened, then fell silent for a long moment.
The Great Ming Dynasty… really was… sigh…
The quality of local governance depended entirely on the magistrate's character. Encounter a Liang Shixian-type county magistrate, and life was tolerable. Meet the former Chengcheng Magistrate Zhang Yaocai or Qingjian's current "officials-pushing-people-to-rebellion" type? That was truly the common people's calamity.
"Brother…" Bai Yuan finally said. "You are no villain by nature. No need to risk everything on this treasonous, head-lopping path. Hear my counsel: turning back now is still possible."
Dian Dengzi glanced toward his three thousand followers. "For myself, perhaps. But these countryfolk… they saved me from the cruel bailiffs, killed officials, rebelled. They cannot return to Qingjian now. How can I abandon them?"
Bai Yuan smiled. "Settling them is hardly difficult. If your hearts incline toward goodness, I have means to secure your safety."
"Truly?" Dian Dengzi's eyes lit.
Bai Yuan: "A gentleman neither shows improper expression nor speaks improper words! I do not deceive."
Seeing his earnest face, Dian Dengzi believed seventy, eighty percent. "If so, excellent. Let me consult the villagers, see what they say."
He returned to the Qingjian refugees, gathering several village elders who still held authority. "Hear me, everyone…"
The elders listened, exchanging uneasy glances. One peered toward Bai Yuan. "We don't know this man. How to tell if he's good or evil? What if he's a government agent luring us down? Once we reach the plains, ambushers spring out—we'd die without burial grounds."
Another elder nodded. "These gentry types, nine out of ten are bullies preying on villagers. Trust him lightly, and we're finished."
"Yeah, rich men are never good."
"But we've no food left," whispered the old village head from Xiejiagou. "The ten dan he gave might last three thousand people a few meals. After that, what? Rob the rich? We might not win. Rob the poor? Could any of you swing that blade?"
Silence fell.
Dian Dengzi: "To survive, we must try trusting him. Everyone, stay on the mountain. I'll go down with him, hear what settlement plan he offers. If he cannot produce a concrete, viable plan, he's undoubtedly a fraud. Then we attack Bai Family Fort—still time enough."
The decision was made.
Dian Dengzi returned to Bai Yuan. "Master Bai, you speak of settling us. May I see with my own eyes?"
"Of course." Bai Yuan thought privately: If you're willing to descend and see, everything becomes manageable. Witness the Tianzun's power, and belief will follow.
Thus the situation reversed: Bai Yuan safely descended, while Dian Dengzi brought two tough bandits, cautiously following him down the mountain.
This was reciprocity—you risk once, I risk once.
Dian Dengzi remained nervous, but this risk was necessary. Anxiously trailing Bai Yuan, they'd just reached Bai Family Fort's gate when Bai Yuan loudly instructed the retainers: "Send another ten dan of grain. Place it at Yellow Dragon Mountain's base, for Dian Dengzi's people to collect."
A team of retainers carried grain out, deposited the baskets at the mountain's foot, clapped their hands, and returned.
Seeing Bai Yuan's sincerity, Dian Dengzi's heart eased somewhat.
Bai Yuan entered the fort, smiling at Cheng Xu. "Instructor He, I have not failed the Tianzun's command—successfully invited Dian Dengzi down. Now I'll take him to Gao Village. Yellow Dragon Mountain affairs, I leave in your hands."
Cheng Xu felt genuine respect. This scholar actually entered a bandit camp and returned safely, even bringing the rebel leader back—such courage was remarkable. "Before Dian Dengzi returns, the mountain bandits likely won't stir. Go in peace."
Bai Yuan invited Dian Dengzi and his two men onto the carriage, then took the driver's seat himself. With a flick of the reins: "Hyah!"
Dian Dengzi marveled. "Master Bai, you drive yourself? I thought… men of your station always had drivers."
Bai Yuan laughed heartily. "Of the Six Arts, 'charioteering' is one I take seriously! How could I delegate it? Hahaha! Hold tight."
...
As sunset gilded the west, Li Daoxuan sat before his computer uploading videos. The northern Shaanxi Daoqing opera footage was finally edited—perspective swooping from high altitude to the stage, locking on the Zhang troupe performing Daoist tales with ancient techniques. He'd even added a shopping link for plastic opera stages.
Finishing the upload, his takeout salt-and-pepper bullfrog arrived.
Donning a disposable plastic glove with his left hand, he picked up a frog leg and chewed happily.
Just then, a carriage approached from the village outskirts—driver unmistakably Bai Yuan.
Li Daoxuan's mind sparked: Seems Bai Yuan's making progress! Quite reliable. Would love to offer him some bullfrog… though dropping this frog into the diorama would probably give him a heart attack.
"Yiye, summon San Shi'er and Tan Liwen."
The carriage stopped at the village entrance. Bai Yuan smiled. "We've arrived. Please alight, brother."
The carriage curtain opened. Dian Dengzi and two subordinates stepped down.
The massive fortress before them startled them—walls three zhang high (≈10 meters), taller than county town ramparts, indicating an extraordinary lord resided here.
Looking around: vast wheat fields nearing harvest, ears plump and full, a sight that gladdened any heart.
"Wheat fields!"
"Such splendid wheat!"
The two subordinates' eyes lit at the crops—they were farmers by trade, instantly recognizing this exceptional growth. Even in good years with timely rain, they'd never seen wheat this robust.
Their eyes reddened with envy.
Scanning the surroundings, they saw villagers returning from work—many carrying no farm tools, indicating they weren't farmers. This puzzled them.
Just then, Gao Yiye, San Shi'er, and Tan Liwen approached smiling. Bai Yuan quickly introduced: "This is Dian Dengzi, captain of Bu Zhan Ni's second unit. Here are Gao Village's Saintess, Third Steward, and Secretary Tan."
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[Historical Grain Math & Reciprocity]
Bai Yuan's additional ten dan gift was calculated psychology. Ten dan (≈600kg) fed 300 soldiers for two days or 3,000 refugees one thin meal. But the gesture's value wasn't nutritional—it was symbolic trust-building.
This "gift exchange" followed Confucian 礼尚往来 (reciprocity in rituals). By matching Dian Dengzi's risk (visiting the fort) with grain (nourishment for his people), Bai created obligation debt. In Ming social dynamics, un-repayed gifts created hierarchical bonds—the receiver became psychologically subordinate.
The wheat fields' appearance was deliberately staged timing. Late spring wheat in northern Shaanxi typically yielded 1-2 dan per mu (≈60-120kg/0.067 hectare) in good years. Gao Village's visibly plump crops suggested 4-5 dan yields—impossible without "divine intervention," making the village's prosperity itself evidence of celestial favor.