Mengde may have understood the root cause of the ongoing unrest in the northwest, but unfortunately, she was powerless to solve the issue.
After all, Liangzhou was one of the thirteen provinces of the Han Empire.
Solving the survival problem of such a vast region with over a million people was no simple matter.
If Mengde and the Cao family alone could resolve it, then the Han Dynasty might as well change its surname from Liu to Cao.
Mengde wouldn’t need to wait for the chaos at the end of the dynasty to usurp the throne—she could do it right now.
To truly fix the situation in Liangzhou, the entire imperial court would have to revise its policies toward the western regions.
That meant increasing financial support for Liangzhou, promoting ox-drawn plowing, encouraging land reclamation, and investing in irrigation works.
Only by expanding each household’s farmland could they offset the drop in crop yields caused by falling temperatures.
As for the environment? Liangzhou’s current population was only a little over a million—not twenty million like modern-day Gansu.
As long as water sources were protected and cultivation was kept away from desert areas, even large-scale land reclamation wouldn’t lead to soil erosion or desertification.
Not with such a small population.
Ecological deterioration in any region always came down to one fundamental problem—overpopulation.
But unfortunately, under that miser Liu Hong’s rule, there was no hope of launching such a large-scale transformation project in Liangzhou.
After all, Liu Hong was far too stingy to spend money.
So for now, Liangzhou could only continue its slow and steady descent into ruin.
Looking at Hua Xiong, who stood before her with his head lowered and an awkward expression on his face, Miss Mengde couldn’t help but sigh.
“No food, huh… I’m heading to Linjin County, the administrative seat of Anding Commandery. Once I meet the governor there, I’ll make sure he gives your men proper military pay.”
“Really?”
Hearing this, Hua Xiong immediately brightened and thumped his chest with excitement.
“We’re stationed in Linjin County too! If you’re planning to go there, why don’t we escort you? Liangzhou’s poor, and bandits are everywhere. Without protection, it’s easy to get robbed on the road.”
“Hmm. I noticed.”
Mengde nodded seriously at him.
“…Ha… Haha…”
***
After a moment of stunned silence, a guilty smile spread across Hua Xiong’s face—after all, hadn’t they just tried to rob her themselves?
To avoid further awkwardness, he quickly turned and barked an order to his men, who were still surrounding the convoy.
“Alright, you lot! Escort this young lady to Linjin County!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, over a hundred soldiers snapped into motion.
In mere seconds, their posture shifted from threatening to protective, forming a tight defensive ring around the convoy.
Their sharp discipline made it clear they were elite troops—ordinary soldiers couldn’t possibly move so quickly or precisely.
Seeing how fast Hua Xiong could change faces, Mengde couldn’t help but look at him in exasperation.
She asked him again.
“If I remember correctly, Linjin County is quite far from here, isn’t it? What are you and your men doing robbing people all the way out here?”
With a sheepish grin, Hua Xiong replied, “The farther we are, the less likely anyone is to find out who we are. And it’s harder to trace anything back to us. Besides, there’s no war going on right now. Even if we’re gone for ten days or half a month, nobody’s going to notice.”
“Alright then…”
Seeing the cunning of a small-time character practically radiating from Hua Xiong, Mengde once again found herself at a loss for words.
After deciding to return to Linjin County together with Mengde to demand their pay from the governor, Hua Xiong led his soldiers back to the mountain camp and brought along all the food and supplies they had stored.
To show Mengde that he and his men had truly washed their hands of banditry, Hua Xiong even planned to burn down the mountain camp.
However, Mengde stopped him just in time.
“Those are still houses. Why burn them? Just leave them here. If refugees happen to pass by in the future and find them, they might be able to stay for a few days. That counts as doing a good deed.”
Scratching his head in confusion, Hua Xiong asked, “But if bandits come instead, won’t they benefit from these houses too?”
“But even if we burn the camp, wouldn’t they just build their own? And who knows how many of the mountain’s ancient trees they’d chop down to do it…” Mengde replied helplessly.
As someone who had transmigrated from a future plagued by severe ecological damage and sky-high housing prices, Mengde couldn’t stand the idea of either burning down perfectly good houses or cutting down centuries-old mountain trees just to build new ones.
Both were absolute red flags in her book.
‘Spare a few houses. Spare a few trees. Leave something behind for the children of the future.’
In the world Mengde came from, there were hardly any trees left in the northern regions that were over a hundred years old.
Timber-worthy trees like that had already been wiped out during the Tang and Song dynasties.
During the Ming and Qing dynasties, emperors couldn’t even find suitable beams in the north and had to transport timber all the way from the remote southwest.
Back then, transporting a single piece of timber dozens of meters long from the south to the north could cost over ten thousand taels of silver.
Keep in mind, the court’s annual income during the Ming and Qing dynasties was only about ten million taels.
Emperors throughout history might have pinched pennies in every other area, but when it came to their own comfort and indulgence, they were always willing to splurge.
Take that guy Liu Hong, for example.
Just look at a few photos from the late Qing dynasty—back then, the northern plains were practically barren.
You wouldn’t see a single tree.
Otherwise, why did woodcutters always have to go deep into the mountains to chop firewood?
***
In the days that followed, Mengde and Hua Xiong’s group continued their journey toward Linjin County.
As temperatures kept dropping in Eastern Han’s Liangzhou, much of the region’s vegetation had withered and died.
The earth in most places was exposed, dark yellow in color, with only a few spots of green on distant mountains or in the scattered farmland of the countryside.
When the wind blew, clouds of dust filled the air.
The once-shiny carriage Mengde rode in had also been cloaked in a layer of yellow dust during the journey.
Along the way, Liu Bei and Hua Xiong often sparred to hone their martial skills.
Liu Bei’s combat strength in Romance of the Three Kingdoms would easily rank in the 80s, and after nearly a year of rigorous training by the martial masters of the Cao family, his strength had risen above 85.
Once fully grown, he’d likely reach at least 89—top-tier among second-rate generals.
As for Hua Xiong, though he was famously slain in one strike by Lord Guan in the Romance, he wasn’t weak at all.
He had simply been unlucky to encounter Guan Yu.
Now, Liu Bei and Hua Xiong were nearly equal in strength, and their sparring sessions were well-matched.
The reason Hua Xiong had been beaten so easily in their first duel was entirely due to Mengde’s strategic buff—Warming the Wine, which had given Liu Bei a damage bonus against him.
After a year of training, Liu Bei now had a solid foundation, while Hua Xiong had plenty of real battle experience.
Their practice bouts always ended with both men gaining valuable insight.
After about five days of travel, the group finally arrived at Linjin County.