A mere bank manager daring to recommend two types of bonds, "principal-guaranteed" and "non-principal-guaranteed"—Li Yuanhong couldn't help but be amused. Now that he knew exactly what the Northeast was offering, he stood up to leave.

The manager of the Northeast Bank's Tianjin branch didn't say much either, escorting former President Li Yuanhong to the door. "President Li, if you are interested in purchasing bonds, please send someone over."

Li Yuanhong nodded silently, stepped out, and boarded the rickshaw waiting outside. He intended to go home, but feeling that wouldn't do, he gave the puller a different address. Shortly after, Li Yuanhong appeared at the entrance of Zhao Erxun's residence.

The steward respectfully led Li Yuanhong to the central hall, where Zhao Erxun was already waiting, though he hadn't come out to welcome him. Li Yuanhong had been the Great President, but a president driven from office by Zhang Xun's few thousand "Pig-tail Soldiers"—his personal power was evident enough. Although Zhao Erxun was just a retired official living in the concessions, he felt that if he were President, he wouldn't have fallen to such a state.

Only when Li Yuanhong reached the front of the central hall did Zhao Erxun come out to greet him. It was late summer. Li Yuanhong smiled and said, "It is too stuffy indoors. I hear Brother Zhao's garden is quite beautiful; may I take a look?"

Zhao Erxun didn't mind and led Li Yuanhong to the rear garden. In truth, Zhao Erxun's garden was quite ordinary, just some flowers and trees with a gardener hired for regular upkeep. Moreover, with the severe drought this year, the plants were faring much worse than last year.

After commenting on the plants, Li Yuanhong, whose mind was not on the scenery, sighed, "Brother Zhao, I just came from the Northeast Bank. He Rui's fundraising methods are truly bizarre."

Zhao Erxun hadn't expected Li Yuanhong to actually go. Given their friendship, he merely nodded without speaking. He certainly didn't tell Li Yuanhong that when he said he would buy 400,000 silver dollars' worth of bonds, he had actually bought them.

Li Yuanhong continued, "Brother Zhao, with exorbitant taxes and levies everywhere these days, I wouldn't be surprised if He Rui fundraised in the name of drought relief. But isn't it strange that he entrusted Old Brother Zhang to do it?"

Zhao Erxun had a good relationship with Zhang Xiluan, especially after spending years together as retired officials in Tianjin; they felt quite congenial. He was long accustomed to He Rui's eccentricities. Hearing Li Yuanhong speak like this, he couldn't help but laugh, "He Rui's actions start from emotion but stop within the bounds of propriety. What is so strange about that?"

Li Yuanhong hadn't expected Zhao Erxun to actually trust He Rui. Knowing he had sought the wrong person this time, he made small talk for a bit before taking his leave.

Watching Li Yuanhong's retreating figure, Zhao Erxun shook his head slightly. There were many investing in industry these days, but in terms of background, who could compare to He Rui, who occupied the Northeast and Inner and Outer Mongolia? Although the retired officials had all once been influential figures, which of them truly understood the art of management? Li Yuanhong came from the Beiyang Navy, yet couldn't see He Rui's industrial efforts. Zhao Erxun felt Li Yuanhong's vision was truly mediocre.

After seeing Li Yuanhong off, the steward brought the monthly household expense accounts. Zhao Erxun glanced at them and noticed the expenditure for grain was much higher than in previous years. Before he could ask, the steward explained, "Master, there is a severe drought in the north this year. Grain prices have doubled, so the cost of buying grain for the household has gone up significantly."

Even Li Yuanhong knew about the northern drought this year; how could Zhao Erxun not know? Since spring, there had been very little rain in Tianjin. Throughout the entire summer, it hadn't rained at all. Not only was grain expensive, but water prices had also risen sharply. Zhao Erxun paid for water to irrigate his back garden; otherwise, the plants would have withered and died.

Since the expenses had a cause, Zhao Erxun ordered, "Send someone to check if the transit point He Rui set up in Tianjin is still transporting refugees to the Northeast."

Once the steward left, Zhao Erxun thought of Li Yuanhong again. He wondered if Li Yuanhong was playing dumb by saying He Rui should use disaster relief as a pretext for fundraising. The Northeast was different from other provinces; it had been encouraging immigration for years. Since the drought began to take shape in early summer, He Rui had increased efforts to transport people to the Northeast. This was also why Zhao Erxun hadn't let his imagination run wild.

Four *li* outside the Tianjin docks, there was a place surrounded by layers of wooden fences. Unlike other places, this location had huge banners hanging on all four sides reading "Northeast Recruitment Office." People departing Tianjin for the Northeast would gather here.

Zhao Erxun's steward had visited a few times to watch. Arriving now, he saw a sea of people outside. Previously, ten percent of the people here dressed decently, thirty percent wore ragged clothes, and the remaining sixty percent dressed ordinarily.

Now, the vast majority of those surrounding the outside were in tatters—they were genuine refugees. The layers of wooden fences outside the "Northeast Recruitment Office" formed long, narrow channels. Refugees in rags carrying tattered bedding huddled together with their families, preventing overcrowding.

Understanding this layout, the steward felt both surprised and intrigued.

But there were extremely large numbers of people at the "Northeast Recruitment Office"; a casual glance suggested tens of thousands. The steward didn't dare stay long in this place teeming with refugees and hurried back to report.

Zhao Erxun hadn't intended to concern himself, but hearing the steward's interesting description—and having bought so many Northeast bonds—he couldn't put his mind at ease. He went to visit Zhang Xiluan. Upon seeing him, Zhao Erxun got straight to the point: "Old Brother Zhang, does He Rui want to be the Great President?"

Zhang Xiluan smiled slightly. "Is Brother Zhao referring to He Rui recruiting refugees?"

Zhao Erxun nodded, waiting for an explanation. He heard Zhang Xiluan sigh, "In my humble opinion, within ten years at most, the position of Great President will be He Rui's. Saving more common people now is also a matter of accumulating virtue."

Zhao Erxun shook his head. "Old Brother Zhang, the relief of refugees is truly admirable. But is He Rui sincere? Or is it because he confiscated all the land in the Northeast these past years and wants to use this to salvage his reputation?"

Hearing Zhao Erxun mention He Rui's land reform, Zhang Xiluan didn't answer immediately. It must be said, He Rui's land reform had shocked even Zhang Xiluan. Among the retired officials in Tianjin, it had sparked intense debate, with the majority cursing He Rui for acting without regard for consequences. A minority, like Zhao Erxun who held a *Jinshi* degree, merely shook their heads and sighed.

Now that Zhao Erxun mentioned land reform again, yet believed the disaster relief was to salvage reputation, Zhang Xiluan was somewhat surprised. In terms of perspective, this genuine *Jinshi* and famous Qing official was indeed different from the others. It actually piqued Zhang Xiluan's curiosity.

"Brother Zhao, what do you mean by that?" Zhang Xiluan asked straightforwardly.

Zhao Erxun's earlier words hadn't been deeply considered, just a feeling expressed. When Zhang Xiluan asked, Zhao Erxun was forced to think it through. However, after considering it, his expression gradually changed, and his brows knit together.

Seeing Zhao Erxun's expression, Zhang Xiluan knew he sensed something amiss and became even more surprised. But in officialdom, the more one thought of a bad outcome, the less one would say it aloud. Zhang Xiluan could only press, "If Brother Zhao has thought of something, please speak directly. I am all ears."

Zhao Erxun's expression shifted, becoming increasingly grave. Finally, he answered loudly, "Fine, I'll tell you, Old Brother. In a year of disaster, gathering a million refugees... with a raise of one's arm, the world could be overturned. Now He Rui controls the lands outside the Pass; he is a legitimate regional warlord. He doesn't need a million; just ten thousand troops selected from the refugees would be enough. Heh."

Hearing this, Zhang Xiluan wasn't surprised. The lands outside the Pass were a destination for immigrants; even in years of plenty, many "Braving the Journey to the Northeast" went there. With so many people fleeing famine in a disaster year, where else could they go but the Northeast?

As for He Rui raising an army, Zhang Xiluan felt Zhao Erxun was overthinking. Using troops at this time sounded easy, but displaced people ran toward places with food—why would they loot the disaster areas?

Thinking of this, Zhang Xiluan laughed, "Brother Zhao, you joke too much. It is a republic now; we speak of responsible government. Even with the dignity of the Great President, if there are administrative errors, one resigns. The Premier, the Speaker of the Parliament—they all step down together. MPs have terms and are re-elected every few years. Since it is already a republic, what can happen?"

Zhao Erxun was amused by these words. Remembering Li Yuanhong being driven from power by Zhang Xun, he couldn't help laughing, "Hehe, Old Brother Zhang, when Zhang Xun attempted the restoration back then, his banner was opposition to the republic. He said the republican system was 'crowing cocks and stealing dogs' [petty and morally bankrupt], filthy and shameless. If Zhang Xun heard your words now, I wonder if he would slap the table in praise or be so angry his hair stood on end?"

Zhang Xiluan first smiled politely, then was provoked into loud laughter by Zhao Erxun's words. Indeed, what Zhang Xiluan described were the characteristics of a republican system, but he certainly didn't mean to praise it.

While the upper class had the mood to laugh and curse over thoughts triggered by the great disaster, for the common people under the scourge of nature, let alone laughing aloud, they couldn't even cry anymore.

Why go to the lands outside the Pass where they had never been? For the people of northern Shandong, Shanxi, Henan, Hebei, and Shaanxi, it was simply because someone from their village had fled there. Later, they wrote back or sent word through someone who had been to the Northeast. They had survived in the Northeast and were reporting their safety to their families.

As for the claims that these people had been allocated land in the Northeast and started farming, their relatives and neighbors back home didn't really believe it. In everyone's view, having to leave one's native land to run to such a distant place as the Northeast because one was doing terribly at home was already a shameful matter.

If one said they were doing even worse outside than at home, they truly couldn't go on living. As long as they survived, they had to say they were living better than before.

But when they themselves could no longer survive, everyone remembered these relatives and fellow villagers who had been forced to flee to foreign parts. The rumors of "allocated land," once sniffed at, became the reason to convince themselves to go to the Northeast. The change was that swift—from mockery to admiration, from disbelief to belief. To survive, everyone could only struggle for existence.

For the common people, enduring hunger was commonplace. Passing through the long, never-before-seen fenced channels was an experience none of them had ever had. The narrow channels and the slowly moving people in front actually made everyone feel somewhat at ease. The speed of leaving one's native land—the slower, the better.

Emerging from the channels, they saw men in military uniforms. And the large pots for dispensing porridge, common in disaster years.

Seeing these steaming large pots, emotions finally stirred among the crowd of commoners. In past disaster years, the wealthy households in the villages would open porridge sheds, and there were requirements for boiling the porridge—it absolutely could not be watery. For hundreds of years, this was the rule. Usually, if the gentry did some bad things, everyone endured it. But in a disaster year, if these people didn't save everyone, it absolutely could not be tolerated.

However, ever since the Emperor was gone, the gentry had changed. Not only was the porridge getting waterier, but the sheds dispensing it were becoming fewer. The gentry were getting poorer; where would they have money to dispense porridge?

Those new wealthy households built high buildings and large compounds, stationing many guards and family soldiers hired from outside at their gates. The money that should have been used for porridge was used to buy guns and cannons to deal with the poor.

Thinking of their hometowns, now changed beyond recognition, the poor cursed those heartless rich people. Drinking the hot, thick porridge, tears couldn't help but roll down their faces.

If one could avoid leaving one's native land, who would want to go to those strange places? Although they heard that Commander He Rui of the Northeast was a great and good man, how could common people have any connection with Commander He? And in the villages, they had seen "great philanthropists" before—which one wasn't like a wolf or tiger when collecting rent?

But thoughts aside, some refugees knelt to the soldiers dispensing porridge after eating a few bowls, thanking them for the grace of saving their lives. After all, along this journey, the refugees had eaten porridge in sheds arranged by Commander He many times.

Those soldiers were very young, looking only seventeen or eighteen. Seeing these older men and women actually kneeling to them, they were all flustered. It was the older ones who hurriedly ordered the soldiers to help everyone up.

Moreover, these people all had accents of northern locals. Hearing the familiar dialect, the refugees finally felt somewhat reassured.

Someone asked, "Sir Soldier, what does Commander He want us to do in the Northeast?"

Another asked, "We'll farm for Commander He and use the grain we harvest to pay back the debt. Can we not sign a deed of sale?"

The officers and soldiers of the Northeast Army responsible for maintaining order on the refugee transport line had heard such words too many times. They were no longer surprised, but they had nothing else to say. Following the results discussed by the Party Committee in democratic life meetings, the officers used various local dialects to tell the people that after arriving in the Northeast, they would rent a piece of land and pay thirty percent tax annually. The other seventy percent would belong to the people farming the land.

The fleeing commoners heard this and felt as if they were listening to a fantasy. Someone was willing to let others farm their land and only take thirty percent tax? If there really was such a place, what kind of paradise must it be?

But the fellow villagers who had already fled to the Northeast had said the same thing; it didn't seem like empty talk.

The news had reached the Military Commission. The Northeast had received too many immigrants in recent years, and less than ten percent had left. And the reason for leaving wasn't that they couldn't survive in the Northeast, but that changes in their families back home forced them to return.

At this moment, the Military Commission had finished its discussion. Xu Chengfeng, Commander of the Northeast Army, stated the resolution: "The scale of refugees this time will likely exceed ten million. Our Northeast population may reach forty million in 1920. The conscription issue has become more prominent. With a large population, the conscription base is broad. But how to conscript from the newcomers requires careful investigation and research. Grasping the reliability of these people is too difficult."

Previously, the Military Commission believed that when the Northeast went to war with Japan, the Northeast population would likely be only thirty million. Japan's entire national population was already over forty million, plus manpower from Korea, making it about thirty million against forty-three million.

Now the Northeast population might suddenly reach forty million, but thinking of the difficulty of management, no one felt excited about the increase in the conscription base.

After a silence, Xu Chengfeng could only ask, "Does anyone have any other opinions?"

Cheng Ruofan frowned and asked a question, "Will the disaster be truly severe this time?"

Xu Chengfeng sighed, "Our Northeast has also suffered from the disaster. If we hadn't built so many reservoirs, I'm afraid people would have started dying in the Northeast by now!"

This drought in North China in 1920 spanned Hebei, Henan, Shandong, Shanxi, and Shaanxi, affecting Hubei, Jiangsu, Liaoning, and Jilin.

The center of the drought was in the Beijing, Tianjin, and Hebei area. This drought was a once-in-a-century event. For Chinese agriculture and farmers who relied entirely on the weather, such a large-scale, persistent drought was undoubtedly a huge catastrophe.

What Cheng Ruofan actually wanted to express wasn't this, but a lament in his heart. A lament not only for the large-scale water conservancy construction in the Northeast but also for the excessive completeness of the basic intelligence agencies set up in various places.

As major agricultural provinces, Hebei, Henan, Shandong, Shanxi, and Shaanxi relied crucially on annual precipitation for crop growth. The main crops were wheat, corn, cotton, millet, and sorghum. Among them, winter wheat and spring corn required about 400-500 millimeters of water during their growth period, and cotton required 550-650 millimeters. Even in normal years, precipitation in these areas could not meet the water requirements of most crops for their entire growth cycle. The precipitation in 1920 not only fell far short of meeting the full-cycle requirements, but the precipitation during the critical periods of crop growth was even worse.

From Hebei, Shanxi, and Shaanxi to Henan, the precipitation in Shandong gradually decreased, generally below 300 millimeters. In the eastern Hebei region of Cang County and the northern region of Zhangjiakou, annual precipitation was even less, generally under 200 millimeters. In normal years, the annual precipitation in most parts of Hebei, Henan, and Shandong, as well as southern Shaanxi and southern Shanxi, was generally between 600-800 millimeters, with some areas exceeding 1000 millimeters. The precipitation in 1920 was 20%-70% less than the same period in normal years. Precipitation during the crop growing season (May-September) was 40%-70% less than normal. Many rivers in the drought areas dried up, soil moisture content was very poor, with relative soil humidity generally below 10%, and in some areas only 5%.

Take the Beijing area as an example. During the critical growth period of spring corn and cotton (July-August), precipitation was only 170.7 millimeters. Due to the severe water shortage, the sight of vast barren fields, not a blade of grass to be seen, withered trees, and dry leaves was prevalent throughout several northern provinces.

Shaanxi: Located on the Loess Plateau in northwest China, it is one of the provinces prone to drought and disasters. In the late spring of 1920, signs of drought appeared. Almost all counties and districts in the province received not a drop of rain. The summer harvest failed completely, and autumn crops could not be sown. For two consecutive seasons, not a grain was harvested. Tens of thousands of starving people searched the fields for grass roots and tree bark to satisfy their hunger. Many people searched everywhere for bird droppings, washing them with water and picking out the undigested grain particles to eat. "From winter to now, the bark of elm and paulownia trees and hemp roots have been stripped bare. Ten houses are nine empty, and both rich and poor await death..."