e filled.
After threading the two buckets onto the carrying pole, he lifted it onto his shoulder and began to turn with extreme care. His movements were slow and deliberate, his entire body tense as he tried to keep the water from sloshing. In a year of devastating drought like this, even a single spilled drop was enough to cause unbearable heartache.
However, just as he finished turning, the sight behind him stopped him cold.
At some unknown moment, a small hill had appeared behind him, piled high with countless white spheres.
Wang Er's mouth slowly fell open, his mind going blank as he stared at the impossible scene. The carrying pole slipped from his shoulder without him realizing it, and the buckets crashed to the ground with a dull thud. Their precious contents spilled instantly into the dry earth, vanishing without a trace.
A nearby villager gasped in horror, his face filled with anguish.
"Wang Er! How could you drop them? That was... two full buckets of water!"
His voice trembled with pain as he stared at the wet ground, looking as though he might fall to his knees and try to scoop the muddy water back into the buckets with his bare hands.
Wang Er remained frozen for a moment before finally forcing out a few stiff words.
"Everyone... look behind us..."
The villagers by the pond turned one after another.
The first man froze where he stood, his eyes widening in disbelief.
The second turned and froze as well, his body going rigid.
Within moments, the entire group stood motionless, their expressions blank and their bodies stiff, as though an invisible force had paralyzed them in place. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the strange white hill that had appeared behind them.
One villager opened his mouth to shout, but Wang Er reacted instantly, lunging forward and clamping a hand over his mouth.
"Quiet!"
The villager snapped back to his senses, his breathing turning ragged as he struggled to calm himself.
This was Gao Family Village. They had come here under cover of darkness to steal water. If they made too much noise and were discovered, they would lose all dignity. They would rather die than face such humiliation.
Wang Er slowly approached the white hill and bent down, picking up one of the spheres. He raised it to his nose and inhaled cautiously, his expression gradually changing.
"This... this is flour," he whispered. "I cannot be mistaken. It smells exactly like flour, except the grains are much larger. Perhaps it became damp and clumped together."
Another villager nodded quickly.
"It has to be flour. Earlier, I suddenly caught the smell of it and thought hunger was making me hallucinate."
Wang Er frowned deeply.
"But how did it appear?"
"I didn't see anything," one villager said.
"Neither did I," another added.
"I was drawing water the whole time," said a third.
Wang Er clenched his jaw as he considered the situation, his mind racing.
"There is only one explanation," he said at last. "Someone from Gao Family Village placed it here while we were not looking."
The villagers exchanged bewildered glances.
"Would the people of Gao Family Village really do something like that?"
"Where would they even get so much flour?"
"And why clump it into balls like this?"
"Even if they had extra flour, why would they give it to us?"
"And in the middle of the night, no less..."
Wang Er scanned the surroundings carefully, searching left and right, then front and back. The night was still and silent. No one was there.
After a moment of hesitation, he raised the flour ball to his mouth and bit into it.
He immediately grimaced as the dry, raw flour filled his mouth, its texture unpleasant and difficult to swallow. He nearly sneezed, but he forced himself to endure it.
"It really is flour," he said quietly. "Someone from Gao Family Village left this here for us."
He paused, his voice growing heavier.
"They knew we came to steal water, yet they chose not to expose us. They spared our dignity. Out of pity for our suffering, they left this food behind."
The villagers fell silent.
The explanation sounded unbelievable, yet no one could think of a better one.
After a long moment, Wang Er spoke again.
"Pour the water back into the pond."
The villagers stared at him in shock.
"Use the buckets for the flour instead," he continued. "Take as much as you can carry. Not a single grain must be wasted. Be even more careful than before. If anyone spills flour, I will personally beat him to death."
Despite the harsh words, no one took offense.
Instead, several villagers let out weak, bitter laughs.
"Wang Er, you don't need to threaten us."
"If we spill even a little, we will beat ourselves to death."
Without hesitation, they poured the remaining water back into the pond.
However, they did not immediately begin collecting the flour. Their buckets were still wet, and wet buckets would ruin it.
So they lifted the buckets into the air and waved them repeatedly, letting the night wind dry them. Only after they were certain the buckets were completely dry did they approach the flour hill.
Working carefully, they filled their buckets to the brim and lifted them onto their shoulders.
Every step they took afterward was cautious beyond measure.
They moved more carefully than a father carrying his newborn child, terrified that even the slightest stumble might cause a flour ball to fall and be lost forever.
At last, they left Gao Family Village.
Once they had reached a safe distance, Wang Er slowly set down his buckets. He turned toward the village, clasped his hands together, and bowed deeply.
"I, Wang Er, will never forget this kindness," he said solemnly. "One day, I will repay it."
He did not know who had helped him.
But he believed that somewhere within Gao Family Village lived a kind and merciful person, someone who had chosen to protect their dignity instead of exposing their shame.
Li Daoxuan heard every word.
Only now did he finally learn the man's name.
Wang Er.
The name stirred something in his memory.
Frowning slightly, Li Daoxuan quickly turned to his computer and opened the historical records he had been studying over the past few days. He searched through the documents until he found what he was looking for.
In the book Luchao Jishuo, he saw the following entry:
"In the first year of Chongzhen's reign, a great famine struck Qin Province, leaving thousands of li barren. Wang Er of Baishui gathered followers, smeared their faces with ink, stormed Chengcheng County, and killed the magistrate."
Another book, Liehuang Xiaoshi, described the events in even greater detail:
"In the Dingmao year of Tianqi's reign, Shaanxi suffered a devastating drought. Zhang Yaocai, magistrate of Chengcheng County, oppressed the people with brutal taxation. A man named Wang Er secretly gathered several hundred followers in the mountains, their faces smeared with ink. Wang Er shouted, 'Who dares to kill Magistrate Zhang?' The crowd roared in unison, 'I dare!' This was repeated three times before they stormed the city. The guards did not resist. They entered the county office and killed Zhang Yaocai before retreating into the mountains."
Historians would later define Wang Er's uprising as the beginning of the late Ming peasant rebellions.
In other words, this man was the spark that ignited the flames which would eventually consume the Great Ming Dynasty.
Even figures such as Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong would come after him.
Li Daoxuan slowly leaned back in his chair, his expression growing serious as he closed the browser.
When he looked back at the diorama box, Wang Er and his companions had already disappeared from view.
Only footprints remained, along with the scraped ground where the flour had once been piled.
Li Daoxuan let out a quiet sigh.
"So it begins," he murmured. "If you are truly the one who ignites the peasant uprisings of the late Ming, then it will not be long before the flames of rebellion reach Gao Family Village."
His gaze shifted toward the fragile houses within the diorama.
Once the rebellion began, this peaceful village would inevitably be dragged into the chaos.
As long as he remained here, watching over them, he could protect them easily. With a simple movement of his hand, he could wipe out armies and shield his tiny villagers from harm.
But he could not remain here forever.
He needed to sleep.
He needed to leave the house.
And when he did, they would be vulnerable.
The Hakka walled house would not be completed for at least another month.
But Wang Er's uprising would not wait.
He could not afford to do nothing.
With that realization, Li Daoxuan began scanning his room, searching for anything that could serve as protection for his tiny villagers.
His eyes soon landed on a rusted piece of metal peeling from a clothes rack.
His expression brightened instantly.
Scrap metal.
This could be used to create armor.
However, after a moment of thought, he shook his head slightly.
Even with armor, these villagers would not stand a chance against trained soldiers or hardened bandits.
They needed something stronger.
His gaze shifted again.
This time, it landed on a pile of Lego bricks beside his desk.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"This will do," he said quietly.
"It should be enough... until the Hakka walled house is finished."