bookcurios Chapter 223 The villagers' discussion
Chapter 223 The villagers' discussion
Back then, the third son of the Han family was still attending a private school in the town. He carried his schoolbag every day, reciting poems and books with his head shaking, and his life was stable and comfortable.
Unexpectedly, his parents later became so cruel that they set fire to Han Heming's house. After committing such a heinous crime, they were executed by the village chief and clan elders according to ancestral rules. Han Laosan, who had no financial support, had to drop out of school and go home, trapping himself in the village.
He rented out his family's land to others for cultivation, and kept the doors and windows closed all day long, isolating himself from the outside world and rarely showing up.
But ever since he knew Han Heming had returned to the village, he seemed like a different person. He often went out for a walk, and whenever there were people in the village chatting in a group, he would quietly go over and listen with his ears perked up.
At this moment, seeing that the village chief and everyone were staring at him, Han Laosan took a small step forward calmly, his eyes cold, and spoke word by word.
"Village Chief, how can I say such nonsense?
Think about it carefully. He brought so many people back, but didn't arrange for them to work in the fields. Instead, they drilled in the yard every day from morning to night without stopping. If this isn't training a private army, what else could it be? When has our village ever seen such a scene?"
As soon as Han Laosan finished speaking, the other people in the village nodded in agreement and the atmosphere became chaotic.
"What the third brother said is quite reasonable! Look at this huge group of people undergoing such high-intensity training here every day. It seems too strange and suspicious no matter how you look at it."
One villager scratched his head and chimed in, "That's right. We're all honest farmers. Who has ever seen a serious farmer keep such a large number of people at home and let them mess around like this in their yard all day long?"
"Han Heming is from our village, but he has been hanging around outside for so many years. God knows what he has become." A young man said worriedly.
"If they really are training private soldiers, then our entire village will be dragged into the fire pit. If the government finds out, we will all die. That will be a disaster." An old man added tremblingly.
"Yes, we can't just blindly believe him. We need to investigate it carefully and get to the bottom of it." Someone suggested with a clenched fist.
"We have to find a solution quickly. We must not let the village fall into danger." Everyone talked at once, becoming more and more excited.
The old village chief has always favored Han Heming. At this moment, he couldn't help but frown, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. He raised his hand to rub his temples and fell into deep thought. His heart was tormented, and he didn't know what to do.
The old village chief's fingers were tightly gripping the pipe, his knuckles turning white from the force. He took a few deep puffs, and the acrid smoke rushed into his throat, choking him and causing him to cough violently, with a muffled sound in his chest.
It took him a while to recover. He waved the pipe in his hand, as if to dispel the invisible anxiety in the air, and shouted in a raised voice.
"Alright, alright, stop arguing! The Third Brother's words are not something you can just say casually. Words alone are not enough to prove whether it's true or not. You have to see it with your own eyes and verify it.
Everyone, please go back to your own homes first. I'll find a chance and go to Heming to take a look.
If he really trains his own soldiers, our village will not tolerate it. The rules passed down by our ancestors are ironclad and cannot be broken by anyone!"
After hearing what the village chief said, everyone looked at each other and talked among themselves, but no one said anything.
A few impatient villagers looked at each other, shook their sleeves and left first; some were still unwilling to leave, looking back every few steps and muttering to themselves.
Han Laosan lowered his head slightly and covered the corners of his mouth with his hands, but a hint of pride slipped out from between his fingers and flashed in his eyes.
He has spent a lot of time and effort these days to find out Han Heming's "little problem".
Taking advantage of the night, he hid in the grass near the Han family compound, his eyes wide open, staring at every move in the yard; during the day, he pretended to chat and extract information from the mouths of those fast-talking villagers.
After collecting enough evidence, he urged everyone to go to the old village chief's house to "file a complaint."
Looking at the current situation, everything is just what he wants. The village chief has been persuaded. As long as he goes to investigate in person, Han Heming's affair will definitely not be hidden.
With so many people practicing in the yard, even if they dig three feet into the ground, they can still find some "dry goods".
The villagers gradually dispersed. The old village chief looked at the empty yard, full of worry. He dragged his legs, which felt like they were filled with lead, and slowly returned to the house.
He slumped down on the kang, holding his head with his hands, his brows furrowed so tightly that they could kill a fly.
Han Laosan's words echoed in his mind again and again. The more he thought about it, the more difficult it seemed. Even with dinner in front of him, he had no appetite. He took a few bites and put down his bowl and chopsticks.
That night, he tossed and turned in bed like a pancake, staring at the dark ceiling, but he couldn't think of a comprehensive plan to deal with the situation.
The next day, as soon as the sky turned light, the village chief lost his sleepiness and got up.
After eating a few mouthfuls of breakfast, he walked towards Han Heming's house with a heavy heart.
When they were still some distance away from the Han family compound, the passionate training slogans whizzed into their ears. The old village chief's heart sank suddenly, and his steps unconsciously slowed down, muttering to himself.
"Could it be that Han Lao San really predicted this?"
He raised his hand and knocked hard on the door with his knuckles. After a while, the door creaked open and a man who looked like a servant came trotting over.
Han Heming heard the noise and strode out of the courtyard. Seeing that it was the village chief, his face instantly filled with a warm smile. He strode forward and greeted him, "Village chief, why are you here so early?"
The village chief ignored Han Heming's greetings and his eyes, like a searchlight, passed him straight and swept across the yard.
Inside the courtyard, rows of young men stood upright, like tall poplar trees, their postures strong and powerful, shouting slogans at the top of their lungs, each sound making the air vibrate. This scene was unusual for anyone who saw it.
The village chief's face instantly darkened, and his tone was filled with questioning: "Heming, I came here to see what you're busy with all day. Your yard is noisy from morning till night, and there's no peace and quiet. What's going on with all this noise?"
Han Heming returned to the village to train his troops, but he had never concealed the plan from the villagers, young and old.
After all, with a thousand or so people gathered here for training, even if they covered their mouths tightly, the deafening noise couldn't be concealed. So from the very beginning, he acted openly and generously.
Seeing the village chief asking the question, Han Heming remained calm and composed, his smile still lingering. He leaned over and made a "please" gesture, then said warmly, "Grandpa Jiu, it's cold outside. Let's not stand here anymore. Let's go inside and talk. If you have anything to say, we can talk slowly."