Chapter 8: Making Wedding Clothes for Qin Xuan

A gleam of shrewdness flashed in Zhao Luoying’s eyes as she suddenly realized the truth.

True refugees would never mind gritty porridge, for their foremost concern was survival.

Only fake refugees would find it inedible.

With the plan settled, Zhao Luoying immediately ordered her soldiers to hasten the preparation of the gritty porridge.

By evening, pots of seemingly ordinary plain porridge were carried to the open ground as usual.

The refugees began to line up one after another, waiting to be served.

Meanwhile, Qin Xuan had already dispatched soldiers from the army to observe covertly, recording anyone who refused to eat or insulted the food.

“Ugh, what kind of porridge is this? There’s sand in it!”
“Damn it, I got some too! Plain porridge with sand—this is clearly treating us like animals!”
“I always said the Lord of Chu is all for show. If he doesn’t want to aid us, then don’t trick us with sandy porridge.”
“...”

As expected, complaints arose in every refugee gathering point, escalating into insults.

Yet, most were too weak to protest and simply drank slowly, trying not to stir up the sand at the bottom of their bowls.

Occasionally, someone would spit out the sand they bit into and continue eating quietly.

“Your Highness, your foresight is remarkable. These people have finally revealed themselves,” Zhao Luoying said, watching the noisy refugees with killing intent rising in her heart.

Qin Xuan remained calm: “Don’t rush to arrest them. Let them make a fuss a little longer; that way, we can catch more spies.”

After about half an hour, the Shen Ce Army suddenly sounded the war horn.

All the refugees were gathered together. Qin Xuan, mounted on his warhorse and holding his spear, loudly addressed them: “Everyone, how is tonight’s plain porridge? Still tasty?”

“...”

Silence fell; no one answered.

Qin Xuan smiled coldly and immediately ordered, “Arrest them!”

In an instant, the Shen Ce soldiers swept through the crowd like grim reapers.

Over a thousand refugees were forcibly dragged out.

“Everyone, look closely. What differences do these people have from you?” Qin Xuan instructed the Shen Ce Army to encircle the spies, leaving a gap for the genuine refugees to observe.

After a few minutes, an elderly man at the front spoke: “Sir, they... they look sturdier than us.”

“Good eye, old man! Reward him a bowl of plain porridge,” Qin Xuan laughed heartily. A soldier promptly brought a thick bowl of white porridge, causing a stir among the refugees.

At times like this, a bowl of plain porridge was far more enticing than a bowl of gold.

“Whoever can point out another difference will also receive a bowl of porridge,” Qin Xuan declared. He could have told them himself, but if the refugees identified the spies themselves, they would remember the distinctions well. If future spies tried to impersonate refugees, they would be easily exposed.

“I see it! His clothes look dirty but are better than all ours!”
“I noticed! His complexion isn’t pale at all; he doesn’t look starved!”
“And him—I smelled baked bread on him before. He still has sesame seeds on his face!”
“...”

One by one, detail by detail, the spies were stripped bare under the refugees’ scrutiny.

With every revelation, the spies’ despair deepened; some trembled in fear, nearly wetting themselves.

“Good, very good,” Qin Xuan said, satisfied with the effect. “But do you know why they are different from you?”

“Because they are spies sent by the enemy, disguised as refugees to steal our military rations.”

At these words, the refugees’ eyes reddened with fury, as if they wanted to devour the spies alive.

They knew the Shen Ce Army’s rations were scarce and sharing them was already a hardship.

Now, these spies wanted to cheat their food—it was as good as asking for their lives.

“Everyone, calm down, I still have more to say,” Qin Xuan shouted, gradually quieting the restless crowd.

“Our rations have dropped below half. So, if you choose to continue following us, you must survive on gritty porridge each day.”

“Your Highness, you...” Zhao Luoying was stunned. She did not expect Qin Xuan to be so candid, especially at such a sensitive moment.

Yet, to her surprise, the expected riot did not break out. Instead, cheers and gratitude rose louder and louder.

“Your Highness, we know your deeds. You guard the border for us, yet you are exiled to the northern frontier, still sharing your rations so we won’t starve. We are willing to eat gritty porridge!”
“We are willing!”
“We want to follow the Shen Ce Army!”

No one would have imagined that these refugees, feared by the court as a powder keg ready to explode, would show such devotion to Qin Xuan.

“His Highness once said, sincerity alone can win hearts. I did not understand before, but now I finally do,” Zhuge Xuan, once a refugee who nearly starved to death, felt a surge of emotion witnessing this scene.

“Good. Since you don’t mind, I, Qin Xuan, swear that as long as you follow the Shen Ce Army, we will never abandon you,” Qin Xuan declared, raising his spear to point at the bright moon.

“Long live the Lord of War!”
“Long live!”
“...”

The open grassland echoed with their shouts.

“I have another announcement. Those among you who have skills—carpenters, masons, blacksmiths—or even those who know how to farm, you may register with the Shen Ce Army.”

“When we reach the northern frontier, these people will be given priority for housing.”

This was Qin Xuan’s second major purpose for the elaborate scheme, the first being to encourage refugees to monitor each other for spies.

“I! I am a blacksmith...”
“I can farm...”
“I used to work in accounting, skilled with the abacus...”
“...”

In moments, skilled craftsmen of all kinds emerged.

Zhuge Xuan watched this unfold, his blood stirred. “Your Highness’s move will surely make that one in the imperial palace spit blood.”

The northern frontier was sparsely populated, especially lacking skilled artisans.

Who would have guessed that Qin Xuan would recruit such people from among refugees?

Poor Emperor Daqi had tried so hard to drive away the refugees and even sent spies to sabotage them—yet in the end, he only outfitted Qin Xuan with a winning cloak.

“Everyone, registration will be handled by designated personnel later. For now, we have one more crucial matter!” Qin Xuan pointed his spear at the over a thousand spies.

Panic instantly seized them!

Many fell to their knees, kowtowing and wailing. Some tried to escape in the chaos but were all driven back by the Shen Ce soldiers.

“Their fate—life or death—is in your hands,” Qin Xuan made a decision no one expected.

But there was no doubt that these people would not survive the night.

The starving refugees, though perhaps not cannibals, would only find peace by exacting vengeance through their deaths.