Sir, take me to rebel (8): 

Si Qi’s raised hand froze midair.

Then, without much hesitation, it fell.

“Phew, that was really dangerous just now.” The prefect standing beside Siyi let out a long sigh.

“Heaven bless us.” The county magistrate next to him said with a smile.

“Heaven?” Another magistrate’s tone was sharp. “If it weren’t for this so-called heaven, would we even be standing here now?”

The survivors all reacted differently after escaping death.

Only Siyi stared blankly at the towering heap of mud and rocks behind him, with a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

Si Qi also felt something was off.

He clearly could have used magic to manipulate the collapsing rocks from afar—so why did he rush out to save people in person, letting so many witnesses see it?

Even though controlling memory was hardly difficult for him, he was still too reckless.

Thinking it over, Si Qi concluded that the aura surrounding Siyi, this so-called child of the world, was too overwhelming—even stronger than that of Si Yu. It had even affected his own judgment.

So afterward, whenever he faced Siyi, Si Qi kept his expression in check, speaking in as normal a tone as possible, warning himself against any action that might cross the line.

Yet ironically, his disciple had narrowly escaped death, and as his teacher, he hadn’t even stepped forward to comfort him. That in itself was unreasonable.

Siyi recalled the despair he had just felt before almost dying, then glanced at his teacher, who acted as though nothing had happened. His eyes darkened.

The prefect and the others had no idea how miserable Siyi felt at that moment. They only thought it was double good fortune and were overjoyed.

One joy was that they had narrowly escaped disaster, miraculously unharmed beneath a landslide.

The second was that Si Qi’s presence brought tremendous aid: manpower, resources, and even spiritual encouragement.

What was more interesting was that the food Si Qi brought came from Liang Province; the medicine and physicians from Shan Province; the able young volunteers from all corners of the land, each a talented figure in their own trade.

All these people and supplies came from Qiu Dynasty’s impoverished regions—discarded by the nobility after being exploited.

For the past two years, their homelands had been plagued by disasters; Jiang Province had even vanished from the map due to flooding.

Thanks to these two teacher and disciple, people had survived to this day, and even had strength left to follow Si Qi in aiding other areas.

Meeting now, the prefect felt especially close to these companions from far and wide. It wasn’t just gratitude—it was also shared experiences and common ground.

If Si Qi asked them to help in other places later, they surely would. They knew better than anyone what it meant to receive a helping hand in despair.

With the arrival of doctors, volunteers, and food, the group’s spirits grew lively.

As a teacher, Si Qi handled matters with far more ease than his student.

The same procedures, but his way was more perfect, more thorough.

For example, when they reached the nearest county town, the prefect worried the magistrate might mistake them for refugees and tried to plead for at least a place to rest.

But the guards at the gate showed no resistance at all—rather, they were surprised: how could supposed refugees look so healthy, so numerous, even with families in tow? This didn’t look like refugees at all.

The prefect, astonished, asked around and learned that the local magistrate had already received Si Qi’s letters, along with relief supplies. Preparations to welcome them had long been made.

The prefect couldn’t help but admire the abilities of Si Qi and his disciple.

When the refugees entered, townsfolk were initially fearful. In their minds, refugees were desperate enough to eat people.

But sneaking a look, they were shocked—did these people look displaced? They sat on dry mats, smiling with children and family, showing no resentment.

Tall, strong youths bustled about, delivering food and supplies. Nearly a hundred physicians with medicine boxes moved among the crowd, giving diagnoses and follow-ups. Were these really refugees?

Then those who usually couldn’t even afford treatment realized—weren’t they even worse off than these so-called refugees?

It was around then that a reply from the court finally arrived.

The result was hardly unexpected. The prefect read it, tried to endure, but his face flushed blue with rage. At last he exploded, cursing so furiously that even his organs seemed to tremble.

The magistrates, some bitter, some sneering, poured out their frustrations to their aides. Word spread quickly.

When commoners heard, they weren’t shocked.

Unlike officials who had studied the classics all their lives only to sink into disillusionment when ideals clashed with reality, these people, born and raised here, knew well what the imperial court was like. They knew too well what awaited them in times of disaster.

They never held out much hope for the lofty emperor. If he didn’t make their suffering worse during calamity—if he didn’t force them to become living sacrifices—they already counted themselves lucky.

So when messengers from the capital said the court would let them fend for themselves, offering no aid and forbidding them from approaching the capital, they calmly accepted it as “just as expected.”

Reality proved that even without the court’s help, they could live well.

Why beg help from those whose only fortune was their birthright?

Farmers bent to the soil cared nothing for who wore the crown. They only cared who could protect them, keep them fed and clothed, and give them a good life.

They were deeply grateful to the prefect and others who had led them to survival.

After this, Jiang Province was wiped from the map. Its people, with nowhere to go, were taken in by Siyi, scattered among nearby counties, or followed him into Liang Province.

Though displaced, before they could worry about the future, they found life here utterly different from Jiang Province. Work was plentiful, food abundant, prices low.

It was like a paradise compared to Jiang.

Old folks, once heartbroken over lost ancestral land, no longer sighed daily. Women worked in textile mills, men in new “factories.” Even the elderly could take light tasks home for wages.

They never imagined life could be so easy: work hard, earn money, eat well.

“Life is truly better in Liang Province.” An old man sat at home, sipping thick porridge with satisfaction.

“I heard a year ago, Liang Province was even worse than Jiang. Years of drought, nothing would grow.” A man beside him said.

The elder frowned. “But didn’t they say Liang Province had fertile land, that anything would yield a harvest?”

“That was long ago.” The man scoffed. “Once, Jiang was called the land of fish and rice. Cast a net in the river and you’d haul in boatloads of seafood. But that was generations ago.”

The elder reminisced. “Back then, people said sorcerers were immortals sent from heaven, bringing us fortune…”

“Hah, nothing in this world is free.” The man’s chest ached recalling his home drowned by floods. “Our foreman says cause and effect never fail—borrowed fortune must be repaid. The capital took everything from us, and we’re the ones paying. Not only did they abandon us, they even blocked us from fleeing north. Just thinking of it burns me up.”

“We won’t go to the capital.” The elder shook his head. “That’s no place for people like us—we’d just be livestock.”

At that, everyone fell silent.

In every disaster, the court chose sacrifices—it was standard practice.

Each year, one heard of some place where people vanished overnight. In truth, they’d been offered as tributes when the court faced trouble.

“But wasn’t Liang Province the same?” the elder’s wife said. “Look here—people aren’t skinny. Could it be they practiced sacrifices too…”

“Mother, don’t say that.” The worker quickly cut her off. “The prefect has forbidden it. Even if sorcerers came demanding it, we mustn’t comply.”

“You child.” She glared. “Do you think I’d truly believe that? I just worry…”

She feared the local lords might trick them outsiders into becoming offerings.

“No, mother,” the worker smiled. “Our foreman despises the capital’s people. He himself nearly became a sacrifice once. He hates them even more than we do.”

“Then what’s going on with Liang Province?” the elder asked. “Wasn’t it barren? But food is plentiful and cheap here.”

“It’s mainly thanks to Master Si!” The worker’s voice rose in excitement. “When our home was flooded and we fled with the prefect, it was all by his guidance. Master Si gave us food, medicine, and even places to settle. He’s a living Bodhisattva!”

“I’ve heard of him.” The worker’s wife, silent till now, spoke. “The women in the textile mills say Master Si gave them miraculous seeds… the wheat they grew was so heavy, the yield was seven or eight times the usual.”

“So much?” The family gasped.

“And not only that—the factory itself was built at Master Si’s request.” She continued, “Mother, you said cloth was cheap here. That’s because weaving is so easy now. I can weave two bolts in a day.”

The old woman, once a weaver herself, was baffled. “How is that possible?”

“The new looms are nothing like the old. They’re wonderful to use.” She still sounded amazed.

She remembered her first day entering the factory, trembling, stunned by the other women’s work. Only after trying it herself did she realize such tools existed.

Later, hearing cloth was so cheap, she learned it was because hemp was abundant, weaving easy, and cloth more durable than before—yet still cheaper.

Like fish by rivers always being cheaper, it was simply supply.

It was good, of course. But she also noticed not just cloth—food, tools, everything here was cheaper than in Jiang.

Didn’t that mean Liang Province had ways, like weaving, to make everything more abundant and easy?

She wasn’t a scholar, but she felt sure: life here would only get better.

Then she heard the elder sigh, “We truly owe this master. Our whole family was saved by the prefect and Master Si.”

“Yes,” her husband agreed. “So many elsewhere lost family or lives… yet we sit together here. Heaven has blessed us.”

“Where is this Master Si? I want to thank him…”

“He lives in the residence arranged by the prefect. Best not to disturb him. But he sometimes visits factories—you might see him someday.”

“Then be sure to thank him properly. This is a debt of life.”

“Of course.”

…

As autumn neared, Si Qi went to inspect newly made mirrors at a factory, when a worker shyly stopped him.

Noticing his expression, Si Qi understood. Hearing the thanks, he smiled and accepted.

“I’ve heard him talk about you for over half a year.” The foreman teased, grinning. “Always asking about Master Si. Now that he’s seen you, satisfied?”

The worker flushed. “As long as I didn’t disturb Master Si…”

“No disturbance,” Si Qi smiled. “Are you living well here?”

The man’s face reddened further. “Very well, thank you, Master Si.”

“That’s your own effort, nothing to do with me.”

“How could you say that, Master Si?” The foreman laughed, but his tone was earnest. “You saved our lives and brought us so much…”

The words could have gone on forever, so Si Qi just waved with a smile.

Accompanied by the foreman, he inspected the mirrors. The foreman said proudly, “So clear—even in the royal palace, none would be better!”

Si Qi picked up a palm-sized hand mirror. The youth reflected within was extraordinarily beautiful, his aura ethereal. His black hair shone, every strand visible.

In truth, it was an ordinary mirror of glass. Yet in this age where people only used bronze or water’s surface to see themselves, it was no less than a divine treasure.

Many people saw a mirror for the first time and, without exception, were startled.

Everyone gathered together, chattering noisily, the scene looking extremely lively.

“Heavens, why is my nose so ugly!”

“I never knew I was this fat!”

“You really do look exactly like the person in the mirror, so I must look exactly like the one in mine! So this is what I actually look like!”

“I’m much prettier than I imagined.”

The mirror, surrounded by the crowd, reflected dazzling rays under the sunlight. Its flawless surface, crafted from precious glass, looked like a treasure that only nobles and royalty could possess.

The steward originally intended to order everyone to step back and not recklessly touch this valuable item.

But before he could speak, everyone had already finished marveling, now shrinking back and not daring to get close. It was as if they were afraid this thing would steal their very souls. They cautiously poked their heads forward, saw their own faces appear in the mirror, and quickly pulled back again.

The steward: “…………”

Remembering how everyone had shrunk back in fear at the time, the steward couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

At the same time, he was filled with pride that he had actually managed to create such a divine object according to Mister Si’s secret formula.

With such craftsmanship, no matter where he went in the future, he would surely be admired.

He asked Si Qi, “Sir, where would you like me to store this treasure for you?”

Si Qi shook his head, speaking casually, “No need to put it away, just take it and sell it.”

The steward was dumbfounded, his heart pounding wildly: “Sell it? Our goods here… can actually be sold all the way to the capital?” This was an unprecedented feat! Enough for them to be proud for a lifetime!

“There’s no rush for that,” Si Qi casually set down the mirror in his hand, “let’s use it ourselves first. No need to set the price too high, just enough profit to keep the workshop running.”

The steward froze on the spot.

“But…”

His tone was hesitant, clearly finding this unbelievable.

If they sold it to nobles, even selling just one might bring as much profit as selling ten thousand to commoners.

And if every common household had one, the nobles likely wouldn’t be willing to spend piles of silver buying it.

They were wealthy, but not foolish.

Si Qi chuckled, “I made these to improve your lives, what’s there to hesitate about?”

Hearing this, the steward looked at him as if at a saint: “Mister Si, your kindness to us is something we could never repay, not in this lifetime or the next…”

“No need to repay. Everything you gain comes from your own effort. Don’t you still need to spend money to buy these things?”

“That’s not the same…” Warmth spread through the steward’s heart. Without needing a reminder, he quickly declared, “Rest assured, the secret formula for making mirrors—I will absolutely tell no one. I won’t cause you any trouble.”

Si Qi laughed, “Then I’ll leave it to you.”

The steward felt deeply satisfied: “It’s my honor to be of service to you.”

And he meant every word of it.

Just then, the Prefect happened to pass by. Hearing that Si Qi was in the nearby workshop, he deliberately brought his subordinates over.

Across the way, he saw someone in official robes of the same rank as himself. The Prefect quickly bowed in greeting, wondering who had come without notifying him.

Then he saw the person opposite also bowing back, and hurriedly said, “Pardon me for not greeting you sooner. May I ask where you are from, my lord…”

Si Qi and the workers nearby: “…………”

When the Prefect received no reply for a long time, he stood up in confusion. Seeing the man opposite also stand, he walked closer: “My lord…”

As he approached, he noticed the man’s tall, lean figure and strangely familiar face. Suspicion rose in his heart, and he couldn’t help but ask again, “You… why do you look…”

Si Qi finally couldn’t hold back a laugh: “My lord, there’s no one opposite you.”

Hearing Si Qi’s voice, the Prefect immediately greeted him respectfully: “Mister Si.”

Si Qi walked over, “My lord, this is a mirror.”

“Mirror?” The Prefect certainly knew what a mirror was—he had one in his bedchamber. But shouldn’t it be bronze-colored?

He looked back, and all of a sudden caught sight of the man turning his face too, wearing the same confusion as him. The Prefect’s heart skipped a beat, and he was left speechless.

After a long while, he suddenly blurted out, “So I look this ugly?”

The onlookers: “Pfft.”

The Prefect didn’t notice the laughter around him. He clicked his tongue in amazement for a while, then explained the reason for his visit to Si Qi: “The imperial grain collection team is coming again.”

“What does my lord intend to do?” Si Qi asked lazily.

“Mister Si should understand what we mean.” The Prefect’s expression was gentle, but his tone extremely firm.

Last year, although the people of Liang Province had grain, they had no silver. The court assumed they couldn’t survive, so they tried to squeeze out the last bit of sweat and blood by raising salt prices sky-high.

Salt was essential for survival, but salt, iron, and tea were all strictly controlled by the court, with private production and sale forbidden. Commoners couldn’t afford salt and didn’t know where to get it, so resentment toward the court grew, leaving the Prefect and others extremely anxious.

In desperation, they turned to Si Qi, hoping he might know of a way other than selling grain to buy salt. What he calmly said then shocked them.

Si Qi said he had a method to produce salt, and that the salt he made would surpass the court’s in both purity and taste.

This was essentially asking the officials whether they would remain loyal to the court and continue to endure humiliation, or stand with Si Qi for the sake of the people, even if it meant rebellion.

At that time, the Prefect and others merely paused in silence, then asked for details of salt production—thus tying themselves completely to Si Qi’s cause.

Now, asking Si Qi’s opinion again was not because they didn’t know how to handle the court’s inevitable heavier taxes this year, but rather to ask: “Should we revolt now, or wait until later?”

Their eagerness for rebellion was even greater than Si Yi’s.

Si Qi said, “Everyone has only just recovered from famine, let’s wait a little longer.”

The Prefect understood and nodded: “Mister cares for the people as if they were his own children. Naturally, this must be done gradually.”

Is that really what “caring for the people as children” means? Si Qi found it amusing: “You flatter me. I have no interest in building a career.”

The Prefect, seeing that Si Qi wasn’t taking the bait, sighed with regret, “Your knowledge is vast, sir, but you care too little for fame and fortune.”

Si Qi shook his head, “I only wish for everyone to live well. If my lord has ideas, you may discuss them with my disciple.”

Si Yi was actually very skilled in these matters. The Prefect and others had long noticed this and never underestimated him.

But Si Yi’s own attitude was clear—he placed more faith in his master. And everyone agreed that Si Qi was the one most worthy of trust.

Unfortunately, Si Qi himself had no interest in politics.

So they could only settle for choosing Si Yi as leader.

Over the past two years, the Prefect had slowly gleaned hints from Si Qi’s words, learning Si Yi’s true identity.

Choosing Si Yi as head was indeed proper and legitimate.

Resigned, the Prefect turned his gaze to the mirror standing nearby. The longer he looked, the more marvelous it seemed. “Mister’s wisdom truly commands admiration.”

The steward added with a smile, “Mister said that in the future, mirrors will be like ceramic jars, affordable for every household.”

The Prefect was startled, “This item can be so cheap?”

“Cheap indeed. For an ordinary household of three working members, with a month of frugal living, they could afford a full-length mirror. And a small hand mirror would cost only two days’ wages.” The steward quickly did the math in his head.

The Prefect circled around the full-length mirror with interest. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and he said excitedly, “Why don’t we present this full-length mirror to the emperor, so he will exempt us from this year’s increased grain tax?”

Everyone present: “…………”

Did you hear what the steward just said—that mirrors could be affordable for every household?

The Prefect, however, was self-assured: “Has His Majesty ever seen such a treasure? Just a bit of grain—compared to grain, he will surely prefer this!”

The steward, quick-witted, offered an idea: “Then after we offer the treasure, we can still sell it at the market.”

Everyone was speechless: What kind of ‘treasure’ can you still buy at the marketplace?

But then again…

Everyone nodded in agreement, smiling broadly: “That’s a great idea!”

“Of course it’s a treasure!”

“His Majesty surely hasn’t seen it before!”

They were more than happy to play such a mischievous trick.