New Policies in Sichuan

Chapter 4 The First Bowl of Porridge in the Eastern Palace

"Sealing off the shed."

As soon as those two words were uttered, there was a moment of silence at the city gate, followed by an uproar as if half a ladle of cold water had been poured into a hot pot.

"What? Closing the shed?"

"Sir! You can't seal it off! We haven't even gotten to raise the child yet!"

"I've been queuing for half the night—"

"Oh no, oh no, we've missed out on today's porridge!"

The crowd, which had been cautiously pushing forward, was now truly panicked. Several elderly people, who were already struggling to stay upright, almost collapsed on the spot, and the woman holding a child turned pale, as if she had heard not "closing the tents," but "whoever starves tonight will have to accept their fate."

Gao Chengli felt a chill run down his spine and almost performed a dramatic ascension to heaven on the spot for Meng Xuanzhe.

"Your Highness...Young Master! You're adding fuel to the fire!" He was so anxious his voice almost split. "These people are already terrified. If we close the tent again, what if they charge—"

Meng Xuanzhe ignored him and turned to the two guards, saying, "Clear the area around the pot. Arrest the person first, then establish the rules."

The two guards had long disliked the clerk who collected the "fire loss fee," and upon receiving the order, they pounced on him without hesitation, one on the left and one on the right.

The constable, clutching his swollen face, tried to shrink back, but was grabbed by the collar and dragged to the open space beside the pot like a mouse that had just stolen rice. The other two minor officials who were helping to clear the dishes and maintain "order" saw that things were not going well and turned to run away, but they were caught before they could take three steps.

"Let me go! Let me go!" The constable finally reacted, shouting with a fierce but weak voice, "I'm an official! How dare you arrest me? This soup kitchen is an official one, designated by the Chengdu Prefecture—"

"I'm just doing this job as an official," Meng Xuanzhe said calmly. "Otherwise, would I have forced you to become a vagrant?"

The crowd, which had been in an uproar, couldn't help but chuckle softly upon hearing this.

Immediately afterwards, like a pebble thrown into water, several suppressed laughs rose from the surrounding area.

The constable's face turned pale and then red.

Meng Xuanzhe didn't look at him again, but took a step forward. His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the people in the front row to hear:

"Sealing off the shed doesn't mean sealing off your porridge."

"It's about sealing off those who use the guise of distributing porridge to extort money."

He raised his hand and pointed at the constables and clerks who were being held down on the ground.

"From now on, this shed is no longer under their jurisdiction."

"I'll take care of the porridge tonight."

The last three words, once uttered, were like a stone thrown into water, causing an eerie moment of silence.

solitary.

These days, not everyone can call themselves "lonely".

Gao Chengli's vision went black.

He had initially hoped that the prince was merely throwing a tantrum, slapping him, hurling a few insults, and at most making the constables spit out a few copper coins before returning to the palace. He never expected the prince to actually put him in such a public position, revealing his true identity in front of so many people.

well.

very good.

If this matter doesn't reach the palace tonight, the entire city of Chengdu will suffer from amnesia by tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile, the onlookers had slowly recovered from their astonishment.

Someone's eyes widened: "He...he said he's alone?"

"T-Prince?"

"The one from the Crown Prince's Palace?"

"Wasn't the investiture ceremony supposed to be tonight? Why are you at the city gate...?"

Shh! Keep your voice down, or you'll get your head stuck!

In an instant, the chaos caused by the "closure of the shed" was overshadowed by an even greater shock.

Humans are strange creatures.

Upon hearing that there would be no food, they panicked; but upon hearing that it was the Crown Prince who spoke, they instinctively dared not act rashly.

This was exactly the gap that Meng Xuanzhe wanted.

Before the crowd could start arguing again, he turned around and issued several orders in quick succession:

"You—" he pointed to a city gate guard who looked fairly clever, "Go and summon twenty guards from this area around the city gate, immediately."

"You—" He pointed to another person, "Find the village head and neighborhood head, anyone who can recognize a local person, and bring them to me."

"And you," he said, looking at Gao Chengli, "go back to the palace, get the East Palace token, and bring me the East Palace's chief clerk and the person who can write and keep count. Also, get a few clean large pots; carry as much rice as you can first."

Gao Chengli was dumbfounded: "Go back to the palace to fetch rice now?"

"Or what?" Meng Xuanzhe glanced at him. "Should we wait for the Ministry of Rites to draft a 'Procedure for Distributing Congee at the City Gates,' and then affix three official seals?"

Gao Chengli: "..."

Your Highness, to still target the Ministry of Rites at a time like this, your mindset is truly too resilient.

His lips moved, and he wanted to struggle with the question, "Should we ask for permission before moving the grain and rice of the Eastern Palace tonight?" But when he met Meng Xuanzhe's eyes, he suddenly swallowed his words.

I don't know why.

He was still the same young prince, with the same face, but the moment he uttered the words "I'll take care of this" in front of the porridge stall, the aura around him changed.

It was as if a soft shell, originally wrapped in ritual music, palace lanterns, and the magnificent robes of the Eastern Palace, had suddenly cracked.

What emerged from the shell was no longer a crown prince waiting to be promoted, but someone who truly intended to take over.

Such people are rare in the palace.

Having spent half his life in the palace, Gao Chengli was adept at reading the political winds and judging people. At this moment, he could only let out a long, mournful cry in his heart: It's over, the Crown Prince isn't just putting on an act, he really wants to get things done.

Those who actually do the work are more likely to offend people in the palace.

Despite his wailing, he didn't slow down at all. Lifting his robe, he ran back, shouting in a shrill voice, "What are you all standing there for! Didn't you hear His Highness's orders? Go now!"

That looks pretty convincing.

Meng Xuanzhe didn't have time to pay attention to him; the most important thing right now was to maintain order.

Order is a mysterious thing, yet it's also quite simple.

When there are many people and the pot is hot, everyone is afraid that if they are a step too slow, they will be left out. At this time, don't expect everyone to line up and be civilized. People who are starving are already giving the government a lot of face if they can refrain from fighting.

So the first thing to do is to clarify "who gets it first, how to get it, and how much to get".

He stepped directly onto an overturned wooden barrel lid, gaining some height, and called out to the crowd:

"Listen carefully, everyone!"

"The porridge will continue tonight."

"But from now on, no pushing or shoving, no rushing towards the pot. If anyone pushes and overturns the pot or injures someone, tonight's cooking will have been a waste."

This is more effective than any "Don't move" instruction.

Because it's very practical—if you squeeze it too much, the pot will overturn, and nobody will get to eat.

Sure enough, the crowd gradually stopped its blind forward-pushing momentum, but everyone's face still bore the same thought: You talk a good game, but why should we believe you?

Meng Xuanzhe also knew that empty words were useless.

So he continued:

"From now on, we will split into three groups."

"The first group consists of the elderly, the infirm, the disabled, women with children, and the families of military dependents. They will be taken first."

"The second batch consists of local disaster-stricken households, arranged by neighborhood."

"The third batch of refugees will be temporarily registered. They will be given porridge first, and their origins will be investigated later."

"Everyone can receive one, but no one is allowed to rush forward in a swarm."

"If you understand, take three steps back!"

When this method of distribution was introduced, the first to react were not the common people, but the few guards at the city gate.

They had tried to manage the porridge distribution before, but all the higher-ups would tell them was to "keep an eye on things and make sure nothing happens." No one ever seriously taught them how to prevent accidents. Most of the time, they could only rely on yelling, pushing, or using sticks to scare people away, but if there were a lot of people, it would still turn into complete chaos.

The new crown prince's few words have somehow managed to find the thread that had been pulled through the tangled mess.

Some people couldn't help but exchange glances, their eyes saying: "You can do this?"

Meng Xuanzhe could certainly do that.

One of the most technically demanding jobs he ever did in his past life was standing at the temporary supply distribution point at the village entrance, holding a megaphone, and getting a group of villagers who were making so much noise they were about to tear the shelter down to line up again by household, category, and urgency.

Last time they gave out quilts and rice noodles; today they gave out thin porridge.

The principle is the same.

When resources are scarce, fairness is more important than kindness; when processes are chaotic, rules must be short, strict, and easy to understand.

Otherwise, no matter how many times you say "the imperial court has been kind," it won't be as convincing as a pot of porridge spilled on the ground.

He had barely finished speaking when someone in the crowd timidly asked, "Really...really let the children and military households go first?"

Meng Xuanzhe looked over.

He was an old man with gray hair, supporting a lame grandson in his arms, and his eyes were full of disbelief when he asked the question.

"What I say, I will naturally keep." Meng Xuanzhe paused, then added, "Tonight, by the pot, whoever dares to go back on their word, I will settle accounts with them first."

His words weren't very elegant; they were even a bit rustic.

But it is more effective than any "Eastern Palace Decree".

Because there's a kind of blunt and ruthless edge to the local dialect.

Slowly, some movement began to occur in the crowd.

The women at the front, carrying children, tentatively moved aside, followed by several elderly women with gray hair who also hesitantly stepped back. Among the widows of military households, some were still clutching their military register plaques, unsure what to do. Cao Lie, having somehow squeezed to the front, shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Those with military identification, stand on the right with me! Don't rush towards the cooking pot! You go first!"

That shout worked.

First, his voice was loud; second, his limp and the air of a former soldier were convincing enough. Several military dependents who had been huddled in the crowd, afraid to utter a sound, slowly moved to the right.

Liu Qinghe also squeezed out of the crowd at this moment.

She was carrying a small medicine box, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead, indicating that she had been busy attending to patients. She first glanced at the constables who were being held down on the ground, a hint of pleasure flashing in her eyes, then looked at Meng Xuanzhe with a look that was hard to tell whether it was surprise or scrutiny.

"There are two children with fevers here, and an elderly person who can't stand up," she said briefly. "If we sort them as you said, we have to pick out the ones who are about to collapse first."

Meng Xuanzhe nodded: "Okay, you help me identify the person."

Liu Qinghe was stunned for a moment.

She probably didn't expect that this prince, who was so noble that he didn't look like he could walk on his own, would speak so fluently, not even bothering to maintain the airs of "this palace" or "this prince," and just saying "okay" as soon as he opened his mouth.

This style is very un-palace-like.

But she didn't ask any more questions. She simply hugged the medicine box to her chest and decisively pointed out a few patients who were seriously ill.

"These few, please sit down first. We'll serve the hot ones first, then the thicker ones."

"And that child, he's not hungry, he has a high fever, so we have to feed him porridge slowly."

Upon hearing this, Meng Xuanzhe glanced at her and silently made a mental note of it.

This girl is remarkable for being able to tell at a glance who is hungry, who is sick, and who needs to be saved first in such a chaotic situation.

In his past life, he preferred to work with people who were "capable of seeing things clearly."

Because this kind of person speaks directly and effectively.

The city gate guards arrived quickly.

The leader was a captain, in his thirties, with a dark complexion. He looked quite capable, but he appeared visibly bewildered when he came in. In the middle of the night, he had initially thought there had been another civil unrest at the soup kitchen, but when he arrived, he saw the newly appointed Crown Prince standing on the lid of a wooden bucket directing the distribution of soup, with several servants pinned down on the ground.

The impact of that scene was no less than when you went to the kitchen to get water in the middle of the night and found a county official cooking millet porridge on your kang (heated brick bed).

The captain immediately clasped his hands in greeting: "This humble general, Sun Kuo, captain of the left battalion of the city gate, pays his respects to Your Highness!"

Once that "Your Highness" was uttered, the last remaining doubts in the crowd dissipated.

He really is the Crown Prince.

He was neither the idle son of some high-ranking official nor some drunken young master who had intervened in a fight; he was the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace, who had just been formally appointed tonight and should be receiving congratulations in the palace right now.

In an instant, everyone's expression changed.

Originally, I was just afraid of offending someone important, but now I have an even more complicated feeling: panic, fear, respect, doubt, and a little bit of hope that I dare not show.

After all, someone like the Crown Prince is someone who, to them, only exists in the heavens.

Today I somehow ended up next to the soup kitchen.

"Commander Sun, you've come at the right time." Meng Xuanzhe didn't bother with pleasantries and directly ordered, "Take your men and surround this area. Not to keep out civilians, but to prevent people from taking advantage of the chaos to escape and cause trouble. Also, pick a few literate men from your camp to help with the registration."

When Sun Kuo heard that "it's not about protecting ordinary people, but about preventing people from taking advantage of the chaos to run away," he was first taken aback, then his eyes lit up.

That's a brilliant remark.

What these gatekeepers fear most is that when something happens from above, the blame is first shifted onto the lower classes, as if all the chaos is caused by the common people. But the first thing this prince said wasn't "preventing refugees from flooding the shelters," but rather "preventing people from taking advantage of the chaos to escape."

This shows that he knew perfectly well that the problem probably didn't lie with the group of people who were starving and about to collapse by the pot.

Sun Kuo immediately replied, "This subordinate obeys!"

With a wave of his hand, the twenty guards quickly dispersed, forming a small circle around the pots and soup shed. This immediately stabilized the situation.

Meng Xuanzhe then had several long tables, a few broken baskets, and two pieces of charcoal brought over, and simply set up a temporary registration point next to the soup kitchen.

On the left, Liu Qinghe led several women who were still able to stand, specifically looking after the elderly, the weak, the sick, and the young.

On the right, Cao Lie was pulling several people with military identification tags and identifying military families, specifically classifying the widows of military households and wounded soldiers.

In the meantime, Gu Chengyan hadn't arrived yet, so Meng Xuanzhe had to grab that old fox Shen Bushu to fill in for him.

Shen Bushu had been hiding in the back of the crowd, thinking he wouldn't be the one to take the blame tonight. But the new crown prince's few words somehow managed to quell the unrest, even pinning several constables to the ground in front of everyone. Shen Bushu's eyelids twitched; he knew this prince wasn't just going through the motions, so he had no choice but to bite the bullet and move over.

"Can you write?" Meng Xuanzhe asked him.

Shen, the clerk, nodded hurriedly: "Yes, yes, this old clerk has been writing for twenty years..."

"Then write it down." Meng Xuanzhe pointed to the ground. "First, write down the names of the constables, then the military households, then the sick and weak. Write down clearly who received how much tonight and who needs to make up for it tomorrow. Make sure you can read the characters and the accounts match up."

As Shen Bushu agreed, he felt bitter inside.

He had seen officials audit accounts before.

But for most officials, "investigating" simply means "looking through things, asking questions, making a few remarks, and then everyone considers the matter to have been investigated." Someone like the one in front of me, who immediately connected the pots, constables, crowd, soldiers' badges, patients, and rosters into a coherent whole upon arrival, is someone I've truly never seen before.

This doesn't look like a newly appointed crown prince at all.

This is clearly the work of a seasoned veteran who has spent years navigating the complexities of local government and is adept at fixing messes.

The thought sent a chill down Shen Bushu's spine.

Such people either achieve great things or overturn the old ways of a large group of people.

Meng Xuanzhe, on the other hand, has clearly already begun to stir things up.

Half an hour later, the first round of porridge distribution finally began.

The edge of the pot is no longer a mess.

The elderly, the infirm, and the young were led to one side separately. Military dependents stood in a line holding their military registration tags. Local disaster victims were separated by neighborhood, while refugees were temporarily marked and given a small amount to eat first, with a follow-up check later.

The porridge is still the same porridge, and the rice is still the same amount of rice.

Once the order is established, the taste will be different depending on who gets each spoonful from the pot.

At least it's no longer a matter of "whoever grabs the most drinks gets the most."

When Gao Chengli rushed back from the palace, covered in sweat, this was exactly the scene he saw.

Behind him followed several palace eunuchs carrying new pots and rice, along with two literate clerks who were running so fast their shoes almost fell off. When he finally arrived, panting heavily, he expected to see a scene of utter chaos, the Crown Prince surrounded, the guards drawing their swords, and the city gates in disarray.

There was no result.

Not at all.

The situation, while not exactly respectable, has stabilized.

People were dividing food around the pot, people were lining up, names were being recorded, patients were being treated, and constables were tied up to the side. Although the crying was still there, it was no longer the desperate crying of a huddled group.

Gao Chengli stood there, motionless for a long time.

He suddenly had an extremely absurd feeling:

It seems I didn't go to the palace to ask for help, but rather I arrived a little late and came back to find that the new crown prince had already saved half of the situation himself.

This is very different from his preconceived notions about princes and grandsons.

When Meng Xuanzhe saw him return, he only glanced at him and asked, "Where's the rice?"

"They've brought it here," Gao Chengli answered instinctively.

"Alright, add more pots," Meng Xuanzhe instructed. "First, boil two pots of something thicker for the children and the sick. Then, take another pot specifically for the families of soldiers."

"Also—" He looked at Gao Chengli, "Hang up the plaque for the Crown Prince's Palace."

Gao Chengli was taken aback: "Huh?"

Meng Xuanzhe said in a flat tone: "Isn't your biggest fear that people can't explain things clearly? Then let's make it clearer."

"This porridge tonight is prepared by the Crown Prince."

"Anyone who disagrees can go to the East Palace gate tomorrow and say so."

Gao Chengli: "..."

He suddenly understood.

This prince is not unaware that doing this tonight will cause a huge commotion.

He just wanted to make a big scene.

The commotion escalated to the point where no one could pretend they hadn't seen it, and the urgent reports hidden under the congratulatory letter could no longer be suppressed.

Thinking of this, Gao Chengli couldn't help but shudder.

The Crown Prince is about to get some work done.

No, it's about lifting the pot.

Meanwhile, in the crowd, the woman who had almost sold her daughter finally received a bowl of warmer porridge. She squatted on the ground, feeding the little girl in her arms spoonful by spoonful, and suddenly burst into tears. It wasn't the desperate cry from before, but the kind of trembling that comes when someone is stretched to their limit and then suddenly relaxes an inch.

The old woman with the soldier's token also received a bowl. Holding it with both hands, she didn't drink it first, but instead kowtowed in the direction of Meng Xuanzhe.

"Your Highness...Your Highness remembers us..."

She only knows these few sentences over and over again.

They probably really don't know anything else.

Meng Xuanzhe stood on the lid of the wooden tub, watching the steam rising from the pot, watching the bowls finally stop stuffing copper coins into the servants' sleeves, watching the almost collapsed order being propped up little by little, but he didn't feel much relief.

Because he knew very well that this was just a matter of righting the pot that was in front of him for now.

But why the pot was crooked, where the rice in the pot came from, and how it gradually decreased to this extent—that's the real question.

Just then, the minor official who had been pinned to the ground suddenly couldn't hold on any longer and cried out with a mournful face:

"Your Highness! Your Highness, spare my life! I was only following orders! I was just watching the pot, how could I dare to actually swallow this rice! It's all predetermined from above, predetermined!"

Meng Xuanzhe turned his gaze and it landed on him.

"What is the fixed number?"

The clerk shuddered under his gaze. He had been stubborn before, but now he deflated like a punctured pig bladder.

"The amount of rice to cook in each pot, the number of people to be fed, and the 'fire loss' fee have all been decided by the higher-ups..." His voice trembled. "There's not much rice in the pot, not because I dare to skimp, but because that's all the rice they deliver. If we really distributed rice according to the number on the register, three pots wouldn't even be enough for a day's meals..."

Meng Xuanzhe narrowed his eyes: "Who's up there?"

The clerk's lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to weigh whether or not he should sell the person.

But when he looked up, he saw his companions next to him with swollen faces and tied up like dumplings. Then he saw the sign for the Eastern Palace hanging by the pot, and in the end, he chickened out.

He swallowed hard, his voice low and weak:

"The granary...the granary isn't empty."

"It's...it's not their turn."

The wind blew in from outside the city gate, carrying those words very lightly.

But to Meng Xuanzhe's ears, it sounded even louder than the slap he had just received.

really.

There is food available.

It was intercepted, blocked, moved away, and eaten up at every level, leaving only a pitiful little soup at the bottom of the pot, which was then used to make the people grateful.

Meng Xuanzhe looked at the minor official and suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint and cold.

"it is good."

"Then I'll go take a look tomorrow—"

"Who on earth ate the rice in this pot first?"

The night wind blew even stronger by the city gate.

Meanwhile, the porridge in the pot was still bubbling away.