Ah Niu, Are You Hungry

What is the name of the current Great Qian Emperor?

What does the emperor look like?

Who are the civil and military officials?

The common folk of Qingniu Town know nothing about these matters, or rather, the vast majority of the Great Qian populace remains completely ignorant of such things.

Though they live in the Great Qian, though they are part of the human race.

Yet.

For the townsfolk of Qingniu Town, the highest-ranking individuals they usually interact with are the tax collectors and the constables who arrest people.

Life is gray, never vibrant.

The future is murky, never clear.

In their dazed and confused state.

Many don’t even know what crime they’ve committed before being branded as “criminals” and forced to migrate from the thirteen provinces of Great Qian to the borderlands.

But even after arriving at the border, in Qingniu Town, they still have to pay taxes.

The people of Qingniu Town don’t find this strange.

They have lived on the land of Great Qian for generations.

They’ve always believed that paying taxes is a given, and they are willing to do so, even taking pride in it, feeling that the prosperity of Great Qian owes something to their efforts.

But now.

They’ve reached their limit.

Year after year of demonic tides, year after year of increasing taxes.

Have crushed their spirits, making it hard for them to stand tall.

“Sir, please, we beg you…”

“We truly don’t have a single grain of food left…”

At the entrance of Qingniu Town.

The sparse crowd of townsfolk, faces filled with fear, cautiously plead with the tax collector on horseback, hoping he might spare them this year’s levy.

Their turbid eyes glimmer with hope.

Their withered hands tremble as they clasp together.

Yet, the tax collector, seated high on his green-scaled horse, his back to the sun, towering and imperious.

Only snorts coldly, whipping his horsewhip down hard against the ground.

“Crack!”

A sharp, loud sound.

Dust and gravel scatter, and fear strikes deep into the hearts of the people.

“You lowly scum, the court allowing you to live is already a great mercy!”

The tax collector yanks on the reins, hurling insults.

“Swine,” “thieves of the court,” “wretched slaves wasting food,” “even if you starve, you must pay taxes.”

He curses viciously, but the emaciated people dare not retort, only continuing to beg.

“But, but we truly have no food…”

“Next year, we’ll make up for it!”

Hunger.

They are so hungry.

Under the tax collector’s harshness, the people of Qingniu Town shrink back in fear, but overriding that fear is the deep-seated weakness and hunger within their bodies.

Everything edible in Qingniu Town.

Be it grain, livestock, or even the weeds by the roadside.

Has long since been consumed.

How can they produce, how can they conjure something from nothing, to pay the tax collector enough grain?

Under the sun, the pleading crowd gathers, their tattered clothes making them look pitiful.

Gradually.

An old woman tries to kneel and beg.

But before she can, a pair of hands gently supports her.

“Grandma, stand up.”

Xu Xi’s voice is as gentle as ever, like a warm spring breeze, soothing to the ear.

But beneath that gentleness, a long-buried flame finally reveals itself, blazing fiercely, burning without restraint.

“No, no, no.”

The old woman shakes her head desperately.

She wants to kneel, to beg the tax collector, to plead for Qingniu Town to be spared this year’s levy—the only way she knows to survive.

However.

When the old woman looks back at the tax collector.

She sees something astonishing: the man on the fierce horse, taller and more imposing than anyone else, the tax collector.

Has been knocked to the ground by a single casual punch from Xu Xi, tumbling over a dozen times.

The tax collector curses.

The tax collector roars.

But now.

The atmosphere grows eerily quiet.

“Xi, Xi’er, how could you…”

The old woman clutches Xu Xi’s hand, wanting to say something but not knowing where to start.

She looks blankly at the tax collector.

For the first time, she realizes that the fallen tax collector isn’t so tall after all—he’s the same height as the people of Qingniu Town, or even shorter due to his bloated frame.

For the first time, she realizes that the tax collector, now covered in dust, doesn’t seem frightening at all.

So.

So we.

Are we the same…

The scene leaves the people of Qingniu Town deeply confused. They don’t know what to do—should they help the tax collector up, or blame Xu Xi?

Is Xu Xi wrong?

Impossible. Xu Xi, who has always protected Qingniu Town, couldn’t possibly be wrong.

Then, is the tax collector wrong?

This bold thought shocks them into denial. The tax collector represents Great Qian—how could Great Qian… be wrong…

They hesitate.

Finally, someone steps forward from the crowd, intending to help the fallen tax collector.

But as soon as they approach, the tax collector lashes out.

“You lowly scum, lawless, utterly lawless!”

“Do you even respect the law?”

“Scum will always be scum, and their offspring will be nothing but scum. You wretched lot, just wait to be killed by demons!”

The tax collector’s insults are vile.

His shrill, piercing voice makes the green-scaled horse neigh in agitation.

At first, the people of Qingniu Town feel guilty, believing that their inability to pay taxes is their fault, an unforgivable sin.

But as the tax collector’s insults escalate.

Especially when he targets their families, some begin to look uneasy.

“No, you can’t!”

“Insult my mother!!!”

Someone snaps. It’s Niu, the one who had gone to help the tax collector, a man with sun-darkened skin who usually seems simple-minded.

His eyes are bloodshot, his body trembling.

He clenches his fist, ready to strike the tax collector.

But he hesitates.

“Scum, I dare you! Assaulting an official is a serious crime—do you think you can bear the consequences?” The tax collector, still on the ground, sneers.

Like a noisy duck, he squawks, mocking Niu relentlessly.

Niu freezes.

Silently, he lowers his fist.

But then, Xu Xi steps beside Niu, taking his wrist and guiding his hand forward again.

“Brother Xu?”

“It’s alright, Niu. Do what you want.”

“But, but I can’t…”

Niu stammers.

He tries to explain to Xu Xi the severe consequences of attacking a Great Qian official—how can a commoner fight against an official?

Yes.

A commoner can never win against an official, not even a minor one.

Xu Xi shakes his head, asking Niu and everyone present: “Niu, are you hungry?”

“Yes!”

Niu answers immediately.

“Do you want to eat? Sweet, steaming rice.”

“I want to eat!”

Niu answers just as quickly.

“Then, throw your punch,” Xu Xi says, his voice ethereal, as if descending from the heavens, bringing the echo of awakening. “Niu, he is no better than you. If he starves you, you have the right to strike him.”