Yun Ye didn’t receive a new official position—only his noble status was confirmed. He didn’t know how His Majesty Li Er had considered this. The news of the imminent locust plague wasn’t publicly announced at court. The court was blocking the news—this was a ruler’s habitual trick.
After bidding farewell to Old Cheng, Yun Ye’s expression immediately turned ugly. Needless to say, Li Er was suspicious—suspicious about the accuracy of the information, and probably also suspicious about Yun Ye’s purpose in doing this. Looking up at the overcast sky, Yun Ye smiled bitterly. Suspicion is a ruler’s greatest virtue—who said that again? Yun Ye only hoped the historical records were wrong, hoped that the continuous heavy snow could reduce the disaster. Let the cold come even more fiercely! Freeze all the locusts to death in this bitter winter.
I’ve done what I should do, even what I shouldn’t have done. I have a clear conscience. This was Yun Ye’s answer to himself. I’ve even prayed to Heaven to send down heavy snow to kill the locusts. Thinking of this, he felt himself become grander. The locust attack would come no later than May, precisely the time of wheat ripening and summer harvest. People wanted to harvest, locusts also wanted to harvest—it just depended on who was faster.
Whatever—I’m not an immortal, and I don’t live on gratitude. This was a feudal dynasty, the Li family’s world. If I made everyone under heaven grateful to me, the day my head would fall probably wouldn’t be far off. Subjects could only be grateful to one person—that was Li Er. Even Li Chengqian didn’t dare touch the evaluation of gathering all under heaven’s gratitude upon himself. I’d better forget it. Daya and Xiao Ya were still waiting for me to make them delicious food. Thinking of this, his mood suddenly became clear. He drove away the extra servants, only bringing Zhuang Santing and Liu Jinbao, riding swiftly to the West Market. Pharmacies had more cooking spices than vegetable markets.
Cinnamon bark, dried tangerine peel, star anise, tsaoko cardamom, Sichuan pepper—these five spices had always been widely used in traditional Chinese medicine as herbal remedies. Who knew when soy sauce would appear? He shouldn’t even think about delicious red-braised spare ribs. Marinated spare ribs were no problem, sweet and sour spare ribs also no problem. Yun Ye drooled while cursing the Tang Dynasty’s material shortages. Damn it, there wasn’t even rock candy—fortunately there was sugar frost, though it was dark and murky. The purification problem hadn’t been solved! When there was time, he’d get a few hundred jin to try and see if he could manufacture rock candy. A source of wealth!
Under the pharmacy shopkeeper’s strange gaze, Zhuang Santing swept clean all five spices in the pharmacy—five huge bulging bags. He told the shop assistant to deliver them to the marquis residence, completely ignoring the physician’s advice in the store about how medicinal materials must be matched, how sovereign-minister-assistant-envoy each had their proper place, how cold-hot-summer-cool were clearly distinguished. What did these damned quacks know? If you have the ability, first try extending someone’s life. Talking about medicinal materials in front of our marquis—wasn’t this wielding an axe at Lu Ban’s door? Who said medicinal materials must be used to brew medicine? The marquis using medicinal materials to cook—would I tell you about such a profound matter?
The morning sunlight shone warmly on their bodies, making one’s whole body and mind relax, feeling lazy all over. The master and two servants wandered through the West Market. When they saw interesting things, they stopped to look. Fun items were casually bought and tossed to Liu Jinbao to stuff in the saddlebags. Before long, the two fellows were loaded with things on their bodies and in their hands. Liu Jinbao had a sesame cake in his mouth, eating as he walked—having a big mouth had this advantage. Zhuang Santing tried to stop Liu Jinbao’s unseemly behavior but was prevented by Yun Ye. Zhuang Santing constantly admonished the marquis to establish household customs. As a marquis household that rose through military merit, it should be militarized, standardized, ceremonialized, all aligned with the Left Martial Guard—this would conform to the rules of a military household.
Yun Ye still hadn’t figured out why Li Er counted achievements like potatoes as military merit. Could it be that he wanted me to stay in the military camp my whole life? Civil officials were extremely envious of these achievements.
The Spring Palace officials incessantly memorialized the emperor, saying this tremendous auspicious sign was unprecedented since ancient times, bestowed by Heaven, and should be met with sacrifices to Heaven to thank Heaven’s grace. Incidentally, they wanted to get the Marquis of Lantian to the Bureau of Agriculture to cultivate the auspicious excellent seeds.
This was originally the result Yun Ye most hoped for, but Li Er refused with one sentence—not yet of age and not yet capable of such great responsibility. The Left Martial Guard duties were also relieved—Yun Ye should return home and await assignment. Hopefully His Majesty the Emperor could forget about him and let him comfortably live out his life.
The West Market was bustling with crowds. Though it didn’t reach the point of sleeves forming clouds, it could be considered shoulder to shoulder. Very strangely, wherever Yun Ye went on the narrow streets, the crowd automatically parted. Forget about touching—even gazes didn’t meet.
Just as Yun Ye was secretly proud of his turtle-like aura, he suddenly caught sight of the golden fish pouch hanging at his waist, beside it the milk-white jade pendant Grandmother had just hung this morning. Reflecting each other’s light, they were quite opulent. Looking again at the sky-blue brocade robe on his body, the golden crown on his head, and the two swaggering, broad-shouldered guards behind him, he suddenly understood why others didn’t dare approach—he was no longer a commoner wandering the streets with ten coins in his pocket, but a dignified marquis.
Looking again at the tourists in the marketplace, they wore various colors of hemp cloth clothing, rarely with brocade on their bodies.
Having reached year’s end, whether they had money or not, everyone bought several zhang of hemp cloth to sew new clothes for wives and children. Those with better family circumstances carried half a bolt of brocade on their shoulders, saying it was prepared for their daughter about to marry. They showed off to everyone they met—something like Sichuan brocade was just expensive, but his daughter was marrying a Ministry of Works clerk, an official household where face mattered, so he had to grit his teeth and purchase it, and so on…
Yun Ye knew he’d made a fool of himself—a nouveau riche covered in brocade robes running rampant through the West Market where commoners gathered. In later eras, he especially hated such people. Though there was suspicion of sour grapes, he truly detested nouveaux riches because they built their happiness on others’ pain. Petty citizens could only curse a few sentences in their hearts. Yun Ye didn’t believe the citizens of Tang Chang’an would be nobler than later-era petty citizens. Judging from the vicious tongues of Guanzhong people, his ancestors had probably long been cursed full of holes.
His face burned badly, his ears scalding hot. He turned back and looked viciously at the two blockheads. I don’t remember that nobles generally don’t frequent the West Market—could it be you two blockheads also didn’t know? Waiting to see me make a fool of myself? He lifted his foot and viciously kicked both several times. The two fellows didn’t care at all—with the marquis’s flower fists and embroidered legs, he couldn’t kick them painfully anyway. Moreover, the marquis had a pampered temperament and had a habit of venting on servants. However, it was just a matter of a few kicks. Afterward there were always rewards. Hadn’t they seen Zhuang Santing kicked back and forth until he was kicked into head of the guards? Liu Jinbao always sidled up to the marquis with or without cause. Often after being kicked once, he’d leave refreshed and clearheaded.
The master and two servants fled the West Market in embarrassment. Just as they exited the ward market, Zhuang Santing suddenly grabbed Yun Ye, dodged in a flash, and rushed in front of him. Before the things in his hands hit the ground, his fist had already struck out.
A person—accurately speaking, a scholar—with grayish-white hair, thin and tall build, wearing wide-sleeved robe and jacket. Though washed until faded and covered with patches, it was clean. The patches had fine, dense stitching—clearly well-cherished. A cloth band tied his hair, foot wrappings on his feet, a pair of shoes scattered to one side. His body hunched over trembling—Old Zhuang’s punch earlier wasn’t light.
“Marquis, this fellow followed us from the market all along. Now he jumped out. This subordinate worried he had improper intentions, so I struck first.” Zhuang Santing reported to Yun Ye. Yun Ye patted Old Zhuang’s arm, signaling him to relax.
“Why were you following us? You’re a scholar—you shouldn’t have improper thoughts. Why?” Yun Ye squatted down to ask.
“Give me ten guan, and my life is yours!”
These words made Yun Ye stunned. Ten guan, one life? What kind of person was this? He was about to leave when he saw a pair of blood-red eyes, full of pleading and sorrow. Slender hands gripped tightly—his fingernails had broken yet he felt nothing.
Yun Ye suddenly felt this person was very interesting. He was undoubtedly proud—though prostrate on the ground, he held his head high. Blood seeped from his nose but he didn’t wipe it. He stared fixedly at him, awaiting his decision.
“You’re a proud person. Why demean yourself?”
“I, Qian Tong, have been down and out half my life. I dare say I’ve also read the Five Classics thoroughly. To get ahead, I hung my head from a beam, stabbed my thigh with an awl, studied bitterly for twenty years, and traveled studying for ten more years, yet achieved nothing. I still rely on my wife’s weaving to make a living and feed us. How can I bear this? Now she’s gravely ill and needs precious medicinal materials to survive. I owe her—I’ll repay it with this life.”
Indeed, ancient and modern are the same! Decades of hard work, one illness returns you to before liberation. Yun Ye didn’t intend to doubt him. Though deceived countless times in later eras, this time Yun Ye stubbornly chose to believe. He liked beautiful things, liked seeing true feelings in the mortal world. Mere money—in later eras, even as a poor wretch he didn’t care about it, much less now when he was wealthy. Ten guan—a trifle. Consider it charity.
“A manly man shouldn’t lightly insult himself. What’s ten guan worth mentioning? Just now my guard injured you. As an apology, these two silver ingots are for medicine expenses. Take care of yourself.” Finishing speaking, Yun Ye had Liu Jinbao take out two ten-liang silver ingots and place them in Qian Tong’s hands. He cupped his hands, turned, and departed.
Qian Tong’s tears fell like rain. Clutching the two silver ingots, watching Yun Ye leave, he knelt on the ground and kowtowed three times, put on his shoes, and stumbled toward the pharmacy.
Having done a good deed, his mood was comfortable. The embarrassment from earlier was long forgotten. He retrieved their horses left in storage. The three chatted and laughed as they returned to the Yun residence.