The Smiling Marquis could no longer smile. His head was swollen like a pig’s head, his temper volatile, ready to hit people at the slightest provocation. Even Dan Ying received a kick, though this was because Dan Ying felt guilty—if not for his own willfulness, his brother-in-law wouldn’t have become a pig-head. Little Lingdang would curse “damned eagles” every time she looked at her husband, hands on her hips, pointing and gesturing in the direction the eagles had flown away. Then she would turn back and tell her husband she had avenged him, and he should stay far away from flat-feathered beasts in the future.
When people are vulnerable, they need comfort. Pillowing his head on Lingdang’s plump thighs, feet resting on Wang Cai’s belly to scratch it for him—this was what Yun Ye considered the best method to soothe his wounded spirit. Only the black cloth covering his face gave him a somewhat ghostly and sinister appearance.
“You won’t be able to see people for a month. The bruising won’t dissipate for quite some time. This old man’s trauma medicine is quite effective. Even Old Sun gets his from me. I know it doesn’t smell good, has a bit of a chicken manure odor, doesn’t it? This is a minor flaw. As long as the effect is good, that’s what matters. Where do martial artists get such refinements? As long as it works well, that’s enough.” Whenever Wu She changed Yun Ye’s medicine, he always had to advertise his medicinal products. Since Master Sun wasn’t around, he could only follow Wu She’s instructions and apply these ointments of unknown ingredients to his face.
The refugees weren’t as distressed as Yun Ye. They were very happy. Which household ate their fill of solid rice every day? In the morning there was millet porridge, at noon there was broomcorn millet rice, and pouring a ladle of meat broth over it was like celebrating New Year. In the evening there was potato soup cooked until completely soft, paired with rice—real white rice! How pitiful—people who planted rice hadn’t eaten a proper meal of rice more than a few times in their lives. After eating, wiping their mouths, smacking their lips and saying, “It would be even better with some vegetables to go with the rice.”
The work was hard labor, they knew that when they came—digging earth, carrying bricks, breaking stones. None of these tasks were easy. However, how did the eldest son of the Zhou family have such good luck? He effortlessly became head stonemason. Damn him, wasn’t it just because he’d been at the construction site the longest? My skills are far better than his. Eating white rice at every meal for a month, he’s not afraid of bursting. Yesterday he even brought his mother a huge piece of meat. No wonder our pots only have meat broth—all the meat has been scooped up and eaten by these damn people.
Although the military men looked fierce and ferocious, cracking their whips loudly, they were never actually seen landing them on anyone. When they saw someone’s cart couldn’t make it up the slope, they knew to help push.
Common people were like this—since life at the construction site wasn’t hard to endure, with a place to live, food to eat, and even the children could get full bellies by the cooking pot, they hoped the work at the construction site would never be completed.
Once people had full bellies, their demands increased. They always fantasized about having their own room, planting some vegetables in the front yard, raising a pig in the back yard. Slaughter it during festivals—ah, those glistening fatty meat slices! They drooled even in their dreams.
The officials had so many matters to attend to. Today they needed to press a fingerprint, tomorrow they needed to count heads. That official who had deceived them down from the mountains these past days had a gloomy face, looking at everyone as if looking at enemies. No one liked dealing with liars. We’re poor, but we don’t deceive people. Only black-hearted officials would do such things. The Marquis was indeed from the military—his word was his bond. When he spat, it made a pit. He said he’d give solid rice and he gave solid rice, no ambiguity. Otherwise, why would he have become a marquis at such a young age? Those officials with long beards spending their days in debauchery not doing good deeds—otherwise, why would they have worked to this age and still have to listen to the young marquis’s scolding?
The Marquis didn’t scold the common people, but just because chopsticks stuck in the solid rice would fall over, this made the old gentleman fly into a rage. He said this would ruin his reputation. He said that solid rice should keep chopsticks standing, even if you stuck a club in it, it shouldn’t fall. They loved watching those unscrupulous officials being scolded. One official in a green robe was even kicked out of the main tent by the Marquis. Served him right! He must have been beaten for embezzling everyone’s rations. But why wasn’t he beheaded? They’d heard the military loved beheading people most.
“Marquis Yun, it’s porridge that keeps chopsticks standing, not solid rice. Even if you get angry, you can’t have your personal guards wearing this subordinate’s robes and kick him out with one foot, making the common people now look at this subordinate like an enemy.”
“There’s no help for it. The grain hasn’t arrived, so we can only eat this kind of porridge. With great difficulty we’ve gathered the people’s hearts together. At this time we absolutely cannot let the people’s hearts scatter. You all just suffer a bit of loss. There will definitely be compensation later.”
The face covering couldn’t be removed. There were still large patches of bruising around his eyes. He still couldn’t see people. According to express horse reports, part of the Lingnan Navy had already loaded grain in Luoyang and would arrive in Yueyang before long. Just hold on for a few more days and there would be grain to eat.
Yun Ye just couldn’t understand why in this remote wilderness, grain was so much more expensive than in cities like Chang’an and Luoyang. This place was clearly a good place for producing grain. Why did so few people farm?
The Lingnan Navy never idled in one place. They had already run through all the nearby river branches. Countless alligators had been hunted. These creatures that liked to pretend to be logs on the water surface couldn’t withstand the bombardment of eight-ox crossbows. When an alligator nearly two zhang long was brought before Yun Ye, he began to understand why these people didn’t farm anymore. These things were everywhere, and they liked to lay eggs in grass clumps. One could stumble upon them accidentally. Their size was not much smaller than the one Dou Yanshan had killed.
Armies were meant for killing, and the Lingnan Navy was no exception. If they wanted to build Yuezhou into a city suitable for human habitation, they must first eliminate these things completely. As for whether they would go extinct, Yun Ye was too lazy to consider. At this time, when people couldn’t even survive, who had time to care about such things?
To eliminate alligators, they needed to turn these creatures into an industry—for instance, leather bags, leather boots. Crocodile meat was an excellent medicinal ingredient for treating coughs. Zhangsun always coughed in winter, which needed attention. As long as the people in the imperial palace developed the habit of eating crocodile meat, Yun Ye believed the crocodiles in Dongting Lake would soon be eaten to extinction.
Recently, Yun Ye had already felt that his culinary skills were insufficient to handle the many varieties of meat before him. Why were there so many tigers? One on each small hilltop, sometimes even forming groups. Good heavens, weren’t they always supposed to be solitary creatures?
Wild boars could grow as large as small elephants. Monkeys would constantly run out from the mountains. Was it easy for farming families to plant a bit of rice? In one night, a large field would be completely ruined.
“Chief Administrator Han, how did you deal with these wild beasts before?” Yun Ye finally remembered these native officials and asked them for strategies. After all, they were the true masters of this land.
“Beat drums, strike gongs, set fire to the mountains!” Han Cheng’s words were succinct and to the point.
Yun Ye tapped his head. When it came to mountain gods beating drums, he was the ancestor. How had he forgotten this? The fierce tigers on the mountains should go to the deep mountains and old forests. Always living jumbled together with people wasn’t good. If the mountain god always beat drums, he believed the animals in the nearby mountain forests and swamps would relocate. Having made up his mind, he summoned Liu Jinbao and instructed him to send people to scout paths in the mountains. Once they selected good routes, they would repeat the old business of the mountain god beating drums—perhaps many times.
Which marquis had homework? Yun Ye did! Li Er had always mocked Yun Ye for being a complete ignoramus among scholars. Sometimes he was too lazy to speak plainly with Yun Ye, believing that no matter how elegant a matter, using rural colloquialisms always lowered it to an inferior grade.
Thus Zhangsun felt that Yun Ye had embarrassed her. She summoned several elders from Mount Tai who jointly compiled a reading list for him. Every time Yun Ye looked at the reading list, he would sigh. Guan Zhong’s “Governing the People,” “High Mountains,” “Riding Horses,” “Light and Heavy,” and “Nine Treasuries,” plus the “Spring and Autumn Annals of Master Yan”—he had almost never heard of these. Now he had to pick them up and read them, and write reading summaries. Every month he had to include his reading reflections in the gazette and send them to her. These were all subjects that ministers must understand. Starting to learn at this time—wasn’t it a bit late? Probably all the civil and military officials of the court would die laughing. Li Er never had any intention of keeping such matters secret.
“Return, oh return! The fields and gardens will be overgrown—why not go back? Since I have made my heart a slave to my body, why be melancholy and grieve alone? I realize that what is past cannot be remedied, but I know what is to come can still be pursued. In truth, I have not strayed far from the path. I realize that what is now is right and what was yesterday wrong. The boat rocks gently as it glides lightly. The wind flutters and blows my garments. I ask the travelers about the road ahead, resenting that the morning light is still dim.” This was Tao Yuanming’s “Returning Home”—Zhangsun had specifically designated it for Yun Ye to memorize. When he returned to Chang’an there would be an examination. Such beautiful words were of great help to cultivating the heart and temperament. Especially the latter part: “Clouds drift idly from mountain peaks, birds weary of flight know to return. Shadows grow dim as the sun sets, I stroke a solitary pine and linger.” This Zhangsun appreciated most. Several times while viewing mountain scenery at Yushan she would chant it aloud.
“Marquis Yun, there are problems with how you’re reciting these words. ‘Return, oh return!’—that punctuation is correct. ‘The fields and gardens will be overgrown’—here you must also pause. You can’t recite it in one breath as ‘the fields and gardens will be overgrown why not go back.’ That way the artistic conception is greatly weakened. It’s not beautiful!”
When reading, there were always such bastards jumping out to nitpick. Yun Ye really couldn’t stand it. Holding the book and pointing at the text, he said to Qian Sheng, “Why don’t you find me the punctuation marks in there! It’s all one big black mass. How I recite it is my business. Don’t correct me. I think this way is beautiful. That’s right, you’re the one who got it wrong.”
Looking at the agitated Yun Ye, Qian Sheng was dumbfounded and couldn’t help but say, “Confucius said, ‘When three people walk together, one of them can be my teacher.’ This subordinate correcting Marquis Yun’s scholarly errors is a virtue. Why be so agitated?”
At this, Yun Ye completely broke down. With a few tears, he ripped the book to shreds, threw it on the ground, stomped on it twice viciously, then strode away. Bastard! If you have the ability, compete with me in reciting multiplication tables. I’ll even let you start from four—starting from three would be bullying you.
Little Lingdang was still the best. Whenever Yun Ye started reciting from books, she would prop up her chin and look at her husband with a face full of worship, never once criticizing Yun Ye. Of course, this also had to do with Little Lingdang’s education. She could only write simple letters, and even then she needed to add many circles and crosses. Her letters—so far only Li Anlan and Yun Ye could decipher them. Such a good listener was a good person. People like Qian Sheng who were always ready to play teacher needed to get lost.