Chapter 34: We’re All Night-Blind

Yan Lao’er finally understood why Old Yan said traveling at night was difficult.

He realized he was night-blind.

In fact, their whole family, even the entire village, was.

It was manageable at home, but out here, they were like a group of blind people with their eyes open, barely able to see the path directly under their feet.

Everything around them was pitch black, with only the moonlight to guide them. It was impossible to see what lay ahead.

A gust of wind would stir, making the surroundings rustle ominously, and then suddenly a shadow would swoop overhead, startling everyone into a cold sweat.

The entire village had lit only four torches, spaced along the length of the group.

This way, even if they couldn’t see the road, they could follow the torchlight and avoid getting lost.

They had been walking for two hours now, following the direction set by his brother—not the usual path to town.

At first, it was all narrow country trails, but just recently, they had merged onto a flatter dirt road.

This was the Official Road connecting the various prefectures and counties.

Yan Huaiwen called for the group to stop and rest, feed the livestock, and grab something to eat. They would set off again in a quarter of an hour.

Upon hearing they had only a short break, the entire group scrambled.

Helping the elderly down to stretch their legs, families hastily ate and drank, taking turns dealing with nature’s call.

Blankets and mats were quickly laid on the carts.

If parents weren’t careful, the kids they were holding would dart off and vanish into the darkness, prompting frantic shouts and, once caught, a few swats on the bottom, leading to tears and wails.

The chickens, scared, flapped their wings; the donkeys joined the chaos, braying loudly.

A perfect scene of a village on the move at night, full of noise and confusion.

“Our ox…” The more Yan Huaiwen walked, the more he felt something was off. Not just the ox cart—even horse carts he had ridden before had never felt like this. But this ox, with its sheer strength, was something else.

Yan Lao’er immediately chimed in, full of regret: “You think we overpaid too, right?! Bro, next time you buy something, take me with you. You don’t know how to haggle! You wasted good silver. If I’d gone, I’d have saved at least two taels!”

“No, it’s not that. This ox… it’s just abnormally strong,” Yan Huaiwen said.

“What’s the big deal? People can be strong, so can oxen. Maybe our Sanbao is just the Hercules of oxen. Yeah, I need to give it some more fodder,” Yan Lao’er said, acting all knowledgeable.

Yan Huaiwen thought about it and felt that was reasonable.

Humans varied, so why not oxen?

Yan Lao’er, putting on airs, started feeding the ox. Sanbao ate when given food but didn’t make a fuss when not.

Later, when Yan Lao’er wasn’t paying attention and overfed it, guess what—Sanbao just stopped eating!

Hey! Talk about intelligence.

This ox was truly realistic in its simulation of life.

“Big Brother, how much further do we have to go?” Yan Lao’er asked.

“There’s a post station every thirty li. We should be close. Once we’re near the station, we’ll stop and rest,” Yan Huaiwen answered.

“Will the post station let us stay?” Yan Lao’er asked foolishly.

Looking at his good-for-nothing brother, Yan Huaiwen sighed. “Post stations only host officials. We commoners can’t stay there. We’ll have to keep our distance.”

If this were a large-scale refugee movement, it wouldn’t be a problem. But they had left too early, and if any officials stopped them for questioning, it would be trouble.

They had no travel permits, and worse yet, the entire village was escaping to avoid paying grain taxes.

“Best if someone goes ahead to scout. Once we see the post station, they should hurry back and inform us. We’ll detour along side roads, then rejoin the Official Road after passing it,” Yan Huaiwen said.

“We’re avoiding officials?” Only then did Yan Lao’er realize—right! They weren’t law-abiding citizens anymore. They weren’t paying taxes or grain dues. In his daughter’s words—they were refugees.

“Then why stick to the Official Road? Let’s just take the small paths,” Yan Lao’er’s sense of crisis finally kicked in. They weren’t just struggling to survive—they had an identity problem now.

“If we don’t stick to the Official Road, how will we find our way?” Yan Huaiwen’s face darkened.

Yan Lao’er shut up, not daring to ask more.

While her uncle and father stepped away to relieve themselves, Yan Yu sneaked over to her dad.

“Dad, we don’t have any detailed maps. I looked at the mileage chart Big Uncle’s holding—it only marks the distance from one post station to the next. If we don’t follow that, we’ll lose our way.”

“And now we have to avoid post stations and detour along side paths. Think how much extra distance that adds. Look at the people behind us—all those walking on foot are exhausted,” Yan Lao’er couldn’t bear seeing them like that.

“Hehe, if you could get the mileage chart and show it to Sanbao, I bet it would help a lot. It could track how far we’ve gone and correct our direction—that’s basic functionality. Dad, we’ve got to keep developing Sanbao’s potential. It’s our biggest asset right now,” Yan Yu whispered.

Yan Lao’er glanced around. “Girl, remember our agreement—the village’s mules and donkeys stay as they are. No smart replacements! What if one day someone wants to slaughter one for meat? The knife would probably bounce off!”

“Of course! Those animals aren’t ours anyway,” Yan Yu added, “Dad, you and Big Uncle need to take turns driving the cart. We’re not always going to travel at night. Try to push for daytime travel and nighttime rest. Also, make sure you take the night watch shift—that way we can do… stuff at night.”

Yan Lao’er instantly caught on—she meant logging onto the Platform at midnight.

“Right! Can’t let those two slack off while I do all the hard work.”

“And Dad, find a chance to sound out Big Uncle. See what his plan really is. The whole village relies on him to make decisions, but honestly, I think he talks too highbrow for folks to understand. You need to chime in, make things plain and simple so people get it,” Yan Yu nodded seriously.

Yan Lao’er agreed eagerly. “Exactly! I noticed that too. Your Big Uncle’s got that scholar’s pride, won’t come down to earth. Talks in half sentences, never gives advance notice. If you don’t ask, he doesn’t explain.

We’ve got a whole bunch of people on the road here. We can’t just keep walking endlessly. How long to walk, how long to rest—he’s gotta spell it out. And our village folks are way too trusting, just following along without question.”

“There’s a lot to fix: daily distance, rest times, meal schedules, night watch duties, each family’s food and water supplies, how long they’ll last, if they’re shelf-stable… We need at least rough estimates. Once it’s light tomorrow, I’ll count how many elderly, how many kids, how many riding, how many walking, and note who looks physically weak so we can give them extra care. If someone falls sick on the road…”

Yan Yu groaned. “Who knew leading a group was this complicated!”

Yan Lao’er’s head hurt too.

The last time the Platform opened and they connected with three teammates, they had hit a serious issue—after solving food and shelter, the biggest survival threat was disease.

Especially given their environment—lacking doctors and medicine.

They had only one doctor: Physician Cui, a dropout from a pharmacy apprenticeship.

Their entire medical supply depended on what he brought.

———

As for the night blindness—that was real. It was very common among ancient people.

The author, being one of the rare modern-day night-blind folks, though not severe enough to affect daily life, simply avoids driving or going out at night.

Even going to the bathroom in the middle of the night is a bit of a wall-hugging struggle. o(╥﹏╥)o

(End of chapter)