Li Da finally had a place to stay—though calling it a "house" was generous.
The Pepsi-can hut was completely bare inside.
The village chief carried in a large bundle of dry straw to serve as a temporary bed, tossed him an old quilt, and patted his shoulder with rustic sympathy.
Yiye followed soon after with a steaming bowl of chicken-and-cabbage rice.
Li Da inhaled it gratefully, like a man revived from three days of famine.
While they busied themselves settling him in, San Sier quietly finished reporting the day's county-city chaos to Li Daoxuan.
The news that Baishui Wang Er had rebelled surprised Li Daoxuan… only in its timing.
He had expected it—but not this fast. After listening, he had nothing more to say, only a sigh for the innocent townsfolk who died before ever knowing what hit them.
Night fully fell.
Li Daoxuan grabbed another sheet of tin and patched the still doorless half of the village gate. Only then did the villagers return to their homes to rest.
The diorama box switched to "non-static mode."
Nothing worth watching for the moment.
He turned away from the box and glanced out his own window.
Shuangqing City was wrapped in night, but the skyline glittered—neon lights blooming awake just as the world inside his box went dark.
He sat back at his computer, opened Cai Xinzi's QQ avatar, and typed:
Li Daoxuan:
"Old Cai, how's my Hakka walled-village model coming along?"
Cai Xinzi:
"Coming along? I'm still building the frame! Ask again in a month."
Li Daoxuan: "…"
Fair enough. The miniature walled estate was a huge project. No shortcutting that.
So he returned to his usual haunt—the military-history forum—and posted another anonymous question:
"If you were sent to the late Ming, and you've already secured basic safety—fortress walls, firearms, armor—what would you do next?"
Replies flooded in.
Reply 1:
"More girls. Good girls shouldn't be wasted; bad girls shouldn't be spared. Line them up in eighteen delightful poses."
Reply 2:
"Moderator, please ban this idiot. I've tolerated him long enough."
Reply 3:
"Kill! Kill the eunuch faction! Kill the Donglin faction! Kill Li Zicheng's rebels! Kill the Jurchens! Kill anyone who disobeys me! Then start a new empire and conquer Europe!"
Reply 4:
"If you have no ambition, follow Reply 1.
If you have ambition but your brain is mud, follow Reply 3.
But if you genuinely seek to resist the Qing and save the realm, then recruit talent everywhere—useful eunuchs, useful Donglin scholars, useful bandit leaders, even useful Jurchens.
The more capable people you gather, the more you can achieve."
Reply 5:
"Reply 4 is full of hot air. Why use trash? I'll build my own power base from scratch."
Reply 6:
"From scratch starting with children? It'll take years before they're grown enough to help you. The Ming collapses in the 17th year of Chongzhen. Are you planning to hide in a mountain valley as a schoolteacher until then?"
Reply 7:
"Stop building a power base. Build lolis instead. Far less time to raise before they're… usable."
Li Daoxuan slammed the keyboard.
"Dammit, you again?!"
The moderator mercifully locked the thread.
Any further and tea would indeed be served—by men in uniform.
Still, after reading the sensible replies, he found himself agreeing most with Reply 4.
Even in his tiny village—barely a few dozen souls—they already lacked manpower.
Not even talent—just people.
Men to chop wood and build gates.
Women to cook, wash, and do all the everyday tasks.
The village needed bodies everywhere.
As he pondered manpower, the diorama box suddenly burst with a chorus of tiny voices—a rumbling crowd in the dark.
Hundreds of people.
Pushing carts and wagons.
Carrying torches.
Following the dusty road all the way to the outskirts of Gaojia Village.
Their intent was clearly to enter.
But they stood in confusion before the newly erected, towering LEGO wall—impossible to see properly with only moonlight and flickering torches. They couldn't even locate the gate.
The entire group murmured in frustration.
That was the noise he'd just heard.
Amused, Li Daoxuan leaned closer.
At the front of the crowd stood a tall, broad-shouldered man.
Baishui Wang Er.
So—after his bold daylight uprising, after killing Magistrate Zhang Yaocai, after breaking open the granary and loading the seized grain onto carts—he had fled the county city, traveling more than thirty li… straight to Gaojia Village.
And he was anxious.
He knew imperial troops could appear at any moment.
He needed to repay his debt to Gaojia Village fast.
But this bizarre village had sprouted an enormous wall out of thin air—blocking him from entering and, more importantly, from fulfilling his promise.
Wang Er raised his hands, calming his people, then shouted toward the unseen village inside the darkness:
"People of Gaojia Village! Can you hear me? I'm Wang Er from Baishui Village! I once stole your water—but you didn't blame me. Instead, you gave me flour!
Today I've come to repay that kindness!
I've brought two full carts of grain—please open your gate!
People of Gaojia Village?"
Li Daoxuan chuckled.
For a rebel leader, Wang Er truly had a conscience.
Steal government grain—and the first thing he thinks of is repaying a water debt.
No wonder men would follow him to death. Charisma like that couldn't be faked.
"People of Gaojia Villa—"
He shouted twice more before a shadow appeared atop the wall.
Gao Chuwu.
Still wearing his signature simple-minded expression.
"Oh? So you're the thief who stole our water."
Wang Er stiffened.
Thankfully, it was too dark for anyone to see his blush.
"Yes, yes, that was me… but now's not the time to discuss that. Could you open the gate? I'm delivering two carts of grain. I must leave immediately after."
Chuwu froze.
Without an order, he never made decisions on his own.
Li Daoxuan needed only half a second.
Those carts of grain?
Absolutely not.
And Wang Er's entire band?
Even less so.
It was still early in the era of peasant uprisings.
The imperial court's power remained strong.
If Gaojia Village associated with rebels now, it would bring disaster straight to their door.