Chapter 855 - How to Conduct Charitable Activities
The child was so limp she could not even sit up. Cai Shi tried several times but could not get her to remain upright. Zhao Yingong nodded, and one of the escorts came over without hesitation, lifted the child, and carried her on his back.
"Wait." Zhao Yingong tapped with his fan. "Jiying, bring out my cloak."
Jiying was the native intelligence agent trained by the Bureau, serving as Zhao Yingong's personal attendant. He carried a clothes bag for changing or adding garments when going out. Though it was already late March and spring had arrived, Zhejiang during the Little Ice Age—where some mountain peaks retained year-round snow—was still quite cold. In the bag was a blue "duolo" woolen cloak. Jiying immediately opened the bag and took it out. Zhao Yingong received it and wrapped it around the child, tucking it in snugly.
Cai Shi's eyes widened. Having served in great households for years, his standards were quite high. The Master's cloak was made of "duolo" wool—an imported foreign good worth several taels of silver per bolt! And such a valuable cloak was now wrapped around a filthy, half-dead child! He could not help exclaiming: "The Master is truly righteous!"
Nearby shopkeepers and passersby, seeing a gentleman pick up the dying sick child from the bridge, all poked their heads out to watch the spectacle. A middle-aged man who happened to be shopping in a store by the bridge remarked: "Saving a life is worth more than building a seven-story pagoda. That child has been given a life..."
The shopkeeper leaning against the wooden counter remained unmoved: "He's only saving this one. Tomorrow, the day after... people will still die here just the same." He sighed. "Heaven is claiming souls—it wasn't this common in earlier years. Now it's become a regular occurrence..."
Zhao Yingong had intended to leave with the child, but hearing this chatter, he casually walked down from the bridge and entered the shop. The shopkeeper hurriedly stood up—seeing this person's elegant attire and the air of a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations, probably the son of an official family, he immediately put on a welcoming smile.
"This gentleman, what would you like to buy? Our humble shop specializes in all kinds of fabrics..."
"Shopkeeper, I'm not here to buy anything. I just wanted to ask: are children constantly abandoned on this bridge?" Zhao Yingong asked directly.
The shopkeeper nodded: "This gentleman, from your accent, you're not from around here, are you?"
"Correct. I'm from Sanshui, Guangdong."
"Sir, your taking in that child today is an act of boundless merit!" The shopkeeper first offered a compliment. "These years have been hard; beggars and refugees increase year by year. Every few days, children are abandoned on the bridge surface or at the bridge foot, hoping someone will pick them up and give them a chance at life. But the children left here are either dying of illness or starved beyond recognition—who would take them in? They just wait here to die. The crematorium has to cart away several every few days. Alas, they were all born of fathers and mothers—such sin, such sin." He sighed again.
Zhao Yingong nodded: "I see."
The shopkeeper continued: "This isn't even the worst of it. Sir, if you don't mind hearing something grim, look down at the riverbank by the bridge."
Zhao Yingong looked in the direction he indicated. On the muddy riverbank, he saw several tattered reed mats, with filthy, bare feet poking out from under them. Judging by size, they were all children, some even infants. Even Zhao Yingong, who had witnessed much on his journey, could not help feeling a surge of pity.
"...Every spring famine, every disaster year, I don't dare sit in this shop too late at night—I board up the shop fronts early and head home." The shopkeeper seemed still haunted by the memory. "Those refugees, carrying their children, knock on doors one after another, desperately begging to give their children away. When no one takes them, some just throw them directly off the bridge into the river! Such evil, such evil." At this point, the shopkeeper sighed yet again.
Zhao Yingong had heard enough. Barely managing to thank the shopkeeper, he ordered a return to the residence. He instructed one of the escorts: "Go to Qingyun Temple and ask the Daoist to come!"
On the way back, he kept trying to calm his agitation. Had this been ten years ago, he might have immediately set about establishing institutions to shelter orphans and refugees, spending all his money without a second thought. But now he remembered that his foothold in Hangzhou was not yet secure. Acting rashly on such matters would be disadvantageous for him—and besides, he lacked the money and manpower to do it properly.
Better to first ask the Daoist to treat the child's illness, then consult with him about how to go about collecting people. After all, the Elder Council had sent him to Jiangnan primarily to gather population.
"Fenghua, give the child a bath first," Zhao Yingong instructed. "She has festering sores on her body—be careful not to get them wet. Just clean out the wounds first."
As a qualified life secretary, Fenghua had received basic nursing training.
"Understood, Master." Fenghua hurried off.
"Master, I think this child probably hasn't eaten for many days. If we bathe her like this, she might not hold up." Sun Wangcai had accumulated considerable experience helping the Elder Council collect refugees in Guangdong. Seeing that a child had been brought back, he quickly spoke up.
"Oh, right, right—first we need to give her something to eat so she can recover." Zhao Yingong spoke rapidly. "Quick, have the kitchen make congee!"
"No need. I have a way." Cai Shi, though unaware of the Elders' habit of collecting orphans, saw how much the Master valued this child and naturally wanted to curry favor. "Just use lotus root powder—it's a local product. Mix it with water and she can eat it right away. It won't hurt her stomach..."
Someone brought lotus root powder, mixed it with water, and fed it to the child with a small spoon. In no time, she had finished an entire bowl.
"She can't eat any more now. Wait half an hour before feeding her again," Sun Wangcai cautioned. "She's been starved badly. If she eats too much at once, she'll burst."
Fenghua first brought water and soapberry pods to wash the child's face. The first pass and the water turned black. It took several more washes, changing the water once, before her face was roughly clean.
"Such a pretty little girl," sighed Sun Wangcai's wife, who had come to help. "Just born with bad luck!"
"Nonsense—if her luck were bad, would Master Zhao have taken her in?" Sun Wangcai scolded. "Master Zhao taking her in means her ancestors had virtue."
The little girl before them, though sallow-faced and breathing faintly with eyes tightly closed, had delicate features.
"Wipe down her body too. The doctor will be here soon to treat her," Sun Wangcai instructed the women. Though the child was young, there was still the distinction between male and female, so he did not enter but called out instructions from the doorway. He had two braziers sent in as well.
After a while, Zhang Yingchen arrived with a medicine bag. He first observed the patient's color and spirit, then took her pulse.
"She should be fine," Zhang Yingchen pronounced. "It's from starvation." He took out a box of glucose saline powder and handed it to Fenghua.
"Dissolve this in five hundred milliliters of water and give it to her. She's somewhat dehydrated."
"Yes. Should we give her congee?"
"You can. Small meals, many times a day. Be careful not to stuff her to death." Zhang Yingchen then examined the festering sores on her body, performed minor treatment with a scalpel, cleaned the wounds, and sprinkled on sulfa anti-inflammatory powder. Then he took her temperature.
Zhang Yingchen busied himself for quite a while before finishing. Only then did he wash his hands and proceed to Zhao Yingong's study.
"This child has no serious illness—it's all from starvation. Two weeks of recovery and she'll be fine. But the wounds on her legs will take some time to heal. I'll write a prescription; have someone fill it. Once her body is stronger, I'll write another prescription for deworming."
Zhao Yingong said: "Having saved her, we must keep her alive. Otherwise, what's the point?"
"Heh, looks like quite the beauty in the making," Zhang Yingchen said with a laugh as he picked up his teacup.
Zhao Yingong shook his head: "Whether she'll be a beauty is a matter for the future. A child right before my eyes about to starve and rot to death—can you be unmoved?"
Zhang Yingchen smiled without speaking.
Zhao Yingong said: "I wish I could open a Cihuihang here in Hangzhou immediately, to take in all the children out there. Though this is called 'heaven,' for many it is hell." He stood up and paced a few steps around the study. "After all, our purpose in coming here is to collect population. I think there's no need to wait until next year—we can start now. Let's work out a plan together, get the Hangzhou version of Cihuihang up and running. For now, it will be small-scale operations. By next year, we can expand."
Zhang Yingchen said: "The problem is we're newcomers here. Where will the money for sheltering refugees and orphans come from? To run a Cihuihang, we need buildings and manpower. You only brought three thousand taels of operating funds. Buying a house and setting things up has already cost a great deal, hasn't it? To buy more property, install equipment, hire people—that's an enormous expense! Our sheltering of refugees is essentially a bottomless pit—take in everyone we can—it's not charity for show. Daily expenses add up. Even mountains of gold and silver wouldn't be enough. Furthermore, where do we find a suitable patron? After all, we're strangers here. This isn't like having the Liang family and the Gao family helping, or naval gunboats that can arrive in a day. If two outsiders start taking in large numbers of refugees, won't the authorities grow suspicious?"
These words made perfect sense. Zhao Yingong pondered for a moment and said: "I understand now. For now, we first need to 'generate blood'! Only with enough blood can we continuously 'transfuse blood' to others! The first step is still to make money quickly. Build up our own industries!" He turned in a circle. "But I also have an idea for sheltering refugees: first collect orphans and establish a charity school!"
Zhao Yingong's idea was to first section off a piece of the abandoned garden, build a few separate rooms, and use them to shelter and educate orphans. Even if a hundred or two hundred children gathered, it would not arouse official suspicion. Orphans had more potential than adults; if educated well, they would become future technical personnel, administrative cadres, and business management talent.
"This approach is workable!" Zhang Yingchen nodded, then laughed. "I recall you've had this idea for a long time, haven't you? When you used to chat with me, you said that if you were to time-travel alone, you'd need to spend at least ten years educating your own generation of people."
Some of the details about refugees in this chapter come from the notes of literati of the late Ming period, recording conditions in Zhejiang at the time. The specific prefecture and county recorded in the notes is not Hangzhou, but such scenes were probably not uncommon.