Spring plowing was forever a paramount matter for the Great Tang. Even though the granaries of the Ever-Normal Granary system were already filled beyond capacity, from the Emperor down to the common people, everyone still respectfully worshipped the gods and prayed for favorable weather and timely rain this year.
No matter how important one’s duties, as long as one wasn’t actively engaged in warfare, all officials had to halt their work and prepare for spring plowing. This custom swept across the land with the spring breeze, spreading from distant Lingnan all the way north to the frontier regions.
The Emperor led the hundred officials to the Altar of Agriculture for sacrificial rites, then performed the ceremonial plowing. The Crown Prince led the ox, the Emperor held the plow, the Empress sowed the seeds, and the imperial princes covered the furrows—this entire sequence of rituals could not deviate in the slightest.
Yun Ye was building field ridges. The vast expanse of land, over a hundred meters long, needed ridges constructed to facilitate spring irrigation. Fortunately, Yun Ye wasn’t using the Great Tang’s flat-blade iron spade but rather his own entrenching tool, which didn’t require the alternating digging and scooping motions, making him much faster than others. Young people had strength to spare—in just a few moves he completed his portion. Seeing Old Qin struggling to break the ground, he rushed over to help dig the furrows. This plot was to be planted with potatoes, so ridges had to be raised.
Old Qin’s health was deteriorating further. This old man, who by rights should have passed away in the ninth year of Zhenguan, had struggled on until the eleventh year of Zhenguan because of Yun Ye’s existence. Blood transfusion had become accepted by everyone in Chang’an. That scoundrel who initially gave Old Qin his blood, because he needed to donate to Old Qin once a year, had earned considerable rewards. Not only was he perfectly fine now, but he’d even fathered two children. To maintain this most lucrative source of income, after Yun Ye told him that eating too much meat was bad for blood quality, the fellow now ate nothing but vegetables all day long.
Because of his high noble rank, there was more work to do—unlike those viscounts and barons who could casually scratch at the ground a couple of times before sitting on mats to bask in the sun, watching the Emperor and high-ranking nobles toil away. The strangest thing was that they seemed quite envious.
In the past, the Emperor would just perform a few token plowing motions and leave the rest to experienced farmers. Ever since that year’s locust plague, Emperor Li Er changed this rule. These two hundred mu of imperial fields were now to be completed entirely by the hands of the Emperor and the meritorious nobles. The finest three mu of grade-one prime farmland was to be personally completed by him, the Crown Prince, the Empress, and Prince Li Tai—no one else could interfere.
Yun Ye preferred the old way. Just go through the motions a bit, then everyone would attend the spring banquet where wine flowed like rivers and meat piled like mountains—that was the aristocratic lifestyle. Now not only did they not provide meals, but the meritorious nobles had to bring their own food. Even day laborers weren’t treated this way.
Cheng Yaojin, Niu Jinda, and Yuchi Gong sat watching from the other side. It wouldn’t be appropriate for them to come help. Yun Ye could do it because he was a junior—helping his elders was natural and proper, something no one could criticize. The officials from the Ministry of Rites even praised Yun Ye’s behavior. If they came over, it would be naked factionalism. Although everyone knew these five families were practically joined at the hip, it was better to be known than to be seen.
When Old Qin patted down the last shovelful of earth, Yun Ye supported the wheezing old man as they walked toward the edge of the field. The Qin family had no decent younger generation—that was what troubled Old Qin. He repeatedly delayed retirement because he worried that once he stepped down, there would be no one at home capable of shouldering the burden.
Last time when he sent his steward to Yuezhou to deliver money to Yun Ye, he faced unprecedented resistance at home. Even his wife advised Old Qin not to jump into a fire pit. Old Qin invoked family law and severely punished his two sons born to concubines before finally overcoming all opposition to support Yun Ye. Because of this matter, his wife spent entire days washing her face with tears, believing Old Qin valued Yun Ye more than his own sons.
If the Qin family had one outstanding son, Qin Qiong wouldn’t value Yun Ye so highly. Because they didn’t, once Old Qin wanted to properly pass down the family business, he had to borrow external strength. Yun Ye was the best choice.
When the steward returned from Yuezhou and told the entire family about how their household had gained every advantage there, Old Qin wept openly, pointing at his wife and sons saying: “In this world, even taking advantage requires wisdom and loyalty. You have neither wisdom nor loyalty—you can’t even keep pace with others. By what right do you establish yourselves in this world?”
“To Yun Ye, the Qin family is actually a burden. If not for the bonds of loyalty from early years, would he pull the Qin family along to prosper together? Remember this: the Qin family can lack wisdom, but absolutely cannot lack loyalty. As human beings, you must at least possess one of these.”
Supporting Old Qin, Yun Ye clearly felt that this towering old man’s body had finally given out. The hero who once wielded a tiger-headed spear and a pair of gold-adorned maces, invincible throughout Shandong, had finally disappeared into the long river of history.
What remained now was just a shell, a twilight hero struggling to extend his old life for the sake of his descendants, no longer able to fight tigers or capture dragons.
“Uncle Qin, send the eldest son of Qin Ying to the Yun household. I have idle time—I can provide some instruction.”
Old Qin paused and said: “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t take disciples anymore? When our generation speaks a word, it should be like white cloth dyed black—how can you go back on your word?”
“You know my nature, Uncle. Born a monkey—restless and capricious. I’m not a great hero like you. I’ve long grown accustomed to going back on my word. To be trapped to death by a single sentence, unable to do what my heart desires—for this junior, that’s a form of torture. My teacher once said that I can’t be a gentleman, nor can I be a villain—I can only muddle through this mortal world in shades of gray. Even if the child learns no real skills from me, he can at least learn some worldly tact and smooth social graces.”
Old Qin’s eyes reddened. He looked up at the sky for a moment, patted the back of Yun Ye’s hand, and together they walked to the mat at the field’s edge.
“Look at this—perfectly fine spring weather, nice and warm, yet those miscellaneous hairballs at the Bureau of Astronomy say there’ll be a solar eclipse. The Celestial Dog devouring the sun! Why must such an inauspicious celestial event occur during spring?” Cheng Yaojin handed the water skin to Old Qin, grumbling as he spoke.
“Uncle Cheng, the Celestial Dog devouring the sun is completely normal—it happens basically every year.”
“Nonsense! Your Uncle Cheng has lived forty-eight years and only seen it three times. Where does this ‘once a year’ come from?”
“Uncle, truly—the earth isn’t flat, it’s curved. Years ago when you saw a solar eclipse in Shandong, at that same moment it couldn’t be seen in Chang’an. Sometimes eclipses occur in the Great Tang, sometimes in Dashi. In any case, there are always several in a year.”
“Yuan Tiangang and Li Chunfeng say that solar eclipses inevitably bring calamities of fallen kingdoms and dead rulers.”
“Those two bastards really dare say anything—aren’t they afraid His Majesty will drag them out for beheading?”
“What of it? The almanacs say exactly that. The ‘Book of Later Han: Biography of Ding Hong’ states: ‘The sun is yang essence, maintaining fullness without loss, the symbol of the ruler.’ So when they say this, they have basis. Recently while you were away, His Majesty has been quite troubled. Even the red hats we’ll wear are already prepared. On that day, we’ll all need to attend court in full regalia—you’re no exception.”
“The Grand Astrologer and his people are all prepared. When the time comes, Chang’an’s bells and drums will sound together, the military drums and horns will blow, the sixteen guards of Chang’an will be on alert. His Majesty won’t hold court in the Hall of Ten Thousand People but will change to the Dew-Receiving Hall. The common people will also bang gongs and drums to drive away the Celestial Dog. At that time, stay close to us and don’t wander about. If you’re unlucky at such a time, it’ll affect you for life.”
Hearing Old Niu say this, Yun Ye nodded repeatedly. Who knew what strange things these idle ancient people with nothing better to do might come up with? It was just a solar eclipse—wouldn’t it be nice if everyone could hold their tea cups, put on dark glasses, and appreciate this astronomical wonder together? Instead they had to wear red hats, making it like the arrival of one’s zodiac year.
When the sun reached noon, everyone took out their own food and began lunch. Yun Ye’s bundle was extraordinarily large—it had to be, since several old fellows all said they wouldn’t bring food today and would eat from the Yun household instead. So Yun Ye brought his pack, though he didn’t know what was inside—Xinyue and the others had prepared everything.
First he pulled out a roasted goose, greasy and wrapped in lotus leaves. Yuchi reached out and took it—he liked big portions. Such a large roasted goose probably wouldn’t even be enough for one of his meals.
Old Cheng took the roast duck. He had a sharp little knife to slice it with. He placed the roast duck on the mat, waiting for Yun Ye to find the sauce so he could dip and eat. Old Niu liked fried meatballs—he particularly favored beef balls with excellent elasticity and chewiness. Knowing the old man’s preference, Xinyue had specially packed a large bag, which made Old Niu’s eyes nearly close with delight.
Old Qin had a weak spleen and stomach. Yun Ye tossed a bamboo tube into the nearby pot of boiling water. Once the heat had penetrated thoroughly, he fished it out, opened the seal, and the tube of lotus seed soup was enough to keep Old Qin occupied for quite a while.
“Save the pork knuckle for Us.” Li Er, with his trouser legs rolled up and the hem of his robe tucked into his belt, truly looked like an old farmer. Clapping his hands, he sat in the seat of honor, waiting for Yun Ye to bring him food. After all, he too had labored all morning.
Yun Ye rummaged for quite a while before finding the pork knuckle, which he promptly delivered to Li Er. This dish needed to be heated before eating—it wasn’t very good cold. Li Er took the pork knuckle and completely ignored Yun Ye’s warning about heating it first, tearing off a large piece of skin and stuffing it in his mouth, chewing with gusto.
“Bring out the wine too. We know you brought some. Although the Ministry of Rites forbids drinking, you’ve probably already treated their words as wind past your ears. Bring it out—let Us have a sip to relieve the fatigue.”
The wine flask was presented. The guards clearly wanted to test it first, but Li Er shooed them away. He tilted his neck back and took a large gulp, then casually passed it to Qin Qiong. Qin Qiong hadn’t drunk wine in many years, but since it was given by the Emperor, he would drink even poison, let alone wine—something he’d longed for. How could he refuse? He tilted his neck back and half the flask went down. Holding his breath, he exhaled long and deeply, his expression the very picture of bliss.
When Old Cheng passed the wine flask to Yun Ye, without needing to look, Yun Ye knew not a drop would remain. He took out all the food from his pack and piled it on the mat. He found tree branches, skewered two buns, and roasted them in the charcoal ashes until they were golden brown before presenting them to the Emperor.
He took chicken legs, eggs, chicken feet, tofu skins, and other braised dishes for himself, along with one bamboo tube of fermented rice wine. He gathered some buns and meatballs to take to the Empress—today she was the only woman here and needed special care. As for Li Chengqian and Li Tai, who held their “remembering bitter times” millet buns and blinked their eyes at Yun Ye so hard they nearly wore them out—he pretended not to see. Every year during the ceremonial plowing, the imperial family had to remember hardship and appreciate sweetness—this was tradition and could not be neglected.