Henan Province.
No one could stop the breach at Mengjin County.
The Yellow River continued to rage, wild and unrestrained.
In just a few short days, the river changed its course again and again, like a colossal yellow dragon twisting across the plains at will. Wherever it passed, the land was reshaped.
The plains around Luoyang were completely swallowed by floodwaters.
The imperial court offered no relief.
Or rather—given its current condition—it was no longer capable of organizing large-scale disaster relief at all.
Mengjin County.
The Yellow River had finally shifted away, flowing elsewhere, and the floodwaters surrounding the county town slowly receded.
What remained was a vast, sickening yellow-brown wasteland, every inch covered in thick, sticky mud.
The common folk who had survived by sheltering inside Mengjin County town—protected by its walls—now carried hoes, shovels, and every crude tool they could find. They began digging outward from the city gate tunnels.
They dug with everything they had.
At last, they cleared a narrow stretch of road.
Then… they collapsed.
The city had run out of food.
Mengjin County town had been cut off like an isolated island for several days. No merchant caravans could pass through. The already meager grain reserves were quickly exhausted.
The people rationed every mouthful, scraping by on dwindling stores.
They had endured until the waters receded.
Now the county magistrate urgently organized the populace for self-rescue. Using primitive tools, they tried to dig through the mud, hoping to clear the official road and reconnect with Luoyang City—hoping to secure desperately needed supplies.
But how could starving people muster strength?
They dug only briefly before collapsing again, sitting on the ground and gasping for breath. They stared at the pitifully short section of road they had cleared, then at the boundless sea of yellow mud stretching ahead.
A crushing sense of despair settled over everyone.
Suddenly, an old soldier on lookout atop the city walls shouted,
"Everyone—look! Look to the west!"
The people instinctively turned their heads.
Out there, in the endless yellow mire to the west, a large cluster of boats appeared—heading straight toward Mengjin County town.
"Boats?"
That made no sense.
There was no water outside—only mud. How could boats travel here?
The sentry squinted hard, then suddenly understood.
"They're not boats! They're small craft—mud sleds!"
Some well-traveled elders recognized them at once.
"Someone's made mud sleds and is paddling them here!"
"But… they're coming from the west," someone said nervously. "Not from Luoyang. West means Xiaolangdi… could they be pirates?"
That thought sent a chill through the crowd.
The Mengjin magistrate immediately shouted, "They could be pirates! Everyone, retreat into the city! Close the gates!"
The common folk scrambled back inside. The gates slammed shut. People crowded onto the city walls, watching the approaching mud sleds with tense eyes.
The sleds moved fast—nearly forty li an hour across the mud.
Before long, they reached the outskirts of the city.
On the foremost mud sled stood two men.
One was powerfully built, muscles corded as he paddled with steady strokes.
The other stood proudly at the front, hands clasped behind his back. He wore flowing white robes and struck a dramatic pose, as though performing on a stage rather than crossing a sea of mud.
In this vast yellow wasteland, his presence felt utterly absurd.
The mud sled jolted slightly. The man in white swayed, nearly losing his footing—but with a smooth twist, he regained balance and burst out laughing.
"Among a gentleman's six arts," he declared loudly, "I am particularly skilled in charioteering! There's no way I'd fall off while charioteering a mud sled!"
Behind him, the muscular man—his household retainer—forced a wry smile.
"My lord… I am the one charioteering," he said helplessly. "You're just riding."
The man in white cleared his throat and pretended not to hear a word.
The people on the walls exchanged baffled looks.
These didn't look like pirates.
Pirates weren't usually this theatrical.
The man in white looked up and cupped his fist toward the city wall.
"Greetings, everyone," he called. "My name is Bai Yuan, from Shaanxi. I've traded along the Yellow River for years and manage a fleet. Passing through Luoyang, I saw the suffering here and came specifically to help."
The Mengjin magistrate blurted out, "You're… not pirates?"
Bai Yuan looked offended. "Do I look like a pirate? Even in dire circumstances, I don't forget proper conduct. Among the six arts, I'm especially particular about rites. I'm a gentleman! A gentleman! How could a gentleman be a thief?"
The magistrate fell completely silent.
For a good thirty seconds, he had no idea how to respond.
The common folk were equally torn between exasperation and disbelief.
What is this man doing here—performing?
They would soon understand.
Bai Yuan half-turned and swept his arm backward.
"Mengjin has suffered a great calamity," he said. "You've been trapped inside the city for days. Supplies must be tight."
"Do not worry."
"I've hired laborers to build five hundred mud sleds and brought five hundred sacks of grain. Let this serve as emergency relief."
Behind him, across the yellow sea, countless mud sleds glided closer. As far as the eye could see, long trails carved through the mire.
Each sled carried a strong paddler—and one large, bulging canvas sack.
"Throw down a rope!" Bai Yuan called.
The magistrate hurriedly ordered ropes lowered.
One sack was tied and hauled up.
The moment it was opened—grain spilled into view.
Each sack held roughly one shi.
Five hundred sleds.
Five hundred shi.
Sixty to seventy thousand jin of grain.
Enough to give the entire county town several full meals.
Doubt vanished.
Seeing that Bai Yuan's men carried no weapons, the last trace of suspicion dissolved.
The magistrate shouted joyfully, "They're friends! Open the gates—open them wide!"
The city gates opened once more.
Mud sleds glided inside.
Bai Yuan entered with his five hundred men.
The people of Mengjin erupted into cheers.
"Good Samaritan Bai!"
"Good Samaritan Bai!"
Bai Yuan basked in it. This was his favorite moment.
He raised both hands, waving grandly.
"Fear not! I'm here—you're saved! All of you will be saved!"
The magistrate pushed through the crowd and bowed deeply.
"Sir Bai, donating five hundred shi of grain—this is nothing short of salvation. To call you a Savior to the Masses would be no exaggeration."
Bai Yuan waved dismissively.
"No need for such courtesy. Please arrange porridge at once—let the starving eat first. Once everyone's fed, we can discuss everything else."