The old woman and Qiqian’er didn’t really observe New Year’s at all, in the first year of the Qingfeng era.
First, there had been an unbroken string of deaths in the family these past years, leaving each of them in mourning in one way or another. Second, when the poor are fleeing famine, all they can think about is their next meal—they lose track entirely of dates and seasons.
They only realized it had been New Year when they heard about it from Madam Tao the next day—oh, so yesterday was actually New Year’s!
In truth, for the old woman and Qiqian’er, it felt as though every day was New Year’s already—with family by their side, holed up together in their little alley, wanting for nothing. Even Magpie had grown noticeably plumper. The old woman herself said that festivals were really just for other people to see—if no one was watching, why bother?
So they didn’t bother.
The whole first month, it was just the three of them—two women and a girl—relying on each other. Chen Siniu and his wife didn’t come home, and Chen Choutou didn’t come back either. But “Stinky Melon,” “Stinky Egg,” and “Stinky Bolt,” as the old woman called them, each sent back two strings of cash and fifteen catties of grain from wherever they were—an amount that had already been agreed on in their letters, and dispatched through Meng Wanquan.
With Qiao Shi out of the house, not skimming off even a single copper, the old woman lived in comfort and ease, eating an extra two bowls of rice a day and putting on a good ten catties of flesh. Qiqian’er’s hair grew thick and lush, and her mood stayed good, so she kept finding new ways to prepare fine polished rice and flour for the old woman to enjoy.
The old woman fussed and worried over the expense, muttering on and on without end, clear through to the warming of spring. This first year of the Yong’an era passed in a flash, and before they knew it, the second year had begun, and all things came back to life.
At dawn one day, Qiqian’er delivered the last load of elm bark flour to Qingfeng City. The old and young beggars living at Master Qiu’s place all came out together to kowtow to Qiqian’er in thanks.
These beggars, whom she’d never really seen all together indoors before—now that she looked, there were easily more than a hundred of them. Had it really been going on that long?
From the very first delivery of fifty catties of elm bark flour every three days, it had grown to two hundred catties every three days, enough to have wiped out an entire stand of elm trees—something she’d originally felt guilty about. But seeing this crowd before her, easily one or two hundred people, young and old, Qiqian’er found herself thinking instead: so I really have saved this many people after all. So I really am capable of helping others, of saving lives.
With that thought, her heart eased.
Qiqian’er didn’t want to accept the old beggars’ kowtows, but Madam Qiu stood smiling in the doorway and said: “Kind benefactor up on that roof! Do accept at least one bow from them, or the rest of us will never be able to live with our consciences.”
The beggars all chimed in, smiling and nodding in agreement—yes, indeed, indeed!
And so Qiqian’er was forced to stand on the rooftop, watching the great crowd below kowtow to her—children not even waist-high, white-haired elders, disabled and disfigured people among them. She quietly stepped back, unable, in the end, to accept such an honor.
Once the beggars had all gotten back up and were gathering their bedrolls to leave, Qiqian’er asked: “Are you all leaving, then?”
The white-haired beggar at the head of the group said with a smile: “Yes! We’ve got hands and feet of our own—we mustn’t burden our benefactors any longer!”
With that, he pulled a set of ox-bone clappers from inside his robe, took the left half in both hands, and offered it to Qiqian’er: “Kind benefactor, don’t think little of this humble thing—keep it as a token. If ever, in the future, our benefactor has need of us, show this token to any beggar and they’ll be at your command…”
Qiqian’er looked down at the token—bronze bells strung through an ox bone, the bone’s surface old and cracked, worn smooth and gleaming, heavy in the hand—clearly something with real age to it. This was the old beggar’s very livelihood; how could she possibly accept it?
But the old beggar remained kneeling and would not rise. With no other choice, Qiqian’er jumped down from the rooftop and accepted the half-token.
Seeing that Qiqian’er had accepted it, the old beggar was overjoyed, and turned to offer the right half to Madam Qiu as well.
Madam Qiu, generous and open-hearted, accepted her half without hesitation.
With that, the beggars, supporting the old and leading the young, departed together. Qiqian’er’s heart swelled, and she was just about to tear up when, unexpectedly, a burst of clapper-and-song sounded from up ahead.
Those with tokens raised their bronze-belled bones together; those without clapped their hands and stamped their feet. One or two hundred voices rose together in a loud, resonant “lotus-fall” ballad as they receded into the distance:
“Year of Hongshun! Great famine year! Floodwaters ravaged all our fields, the common folk cast out with nowhere to dwell, poor commoners lost their trades, no home to return to, old and young supported and led, heading north, a thousand li of scorched earth, corpses piled on corpses! Dare we ask, old man, where do you go? North to Yanjing, to seek the Emperor, ask him why he dredges fish-canals, ask him why he abandons his own children?
North we go! To Qingfeng! Ten thousand people, drifting, with nowhere to depend, a hundred-year winter, colder still, Heaven’s punishment lays the city to ruin in bitter cold, throw yourself in the river, the water’s frozen over, throw yourself down a well, the well’s run dry, all say they’re poor with nowhere to live, and now comes yet more freezing rain and snow, two feet of flying snow, freezing the lonely and destitute, no worn-out mat left to wrap the body! I lift my head and cry out to Heaven, the widowed, orphaned, and alone have no door to knock on, standing at the gate pouring out endless suffering—and from the east came the kind benefactor Qiu!
Benefactor Qiu! Man of Qingfeng! A house of ritual and learning passed down for generations, accumulating virtue, a hundred years of incense offered up on high, the Purple Tenuis Star Lord descended to the mortal world, the Star Lord took pity on the poor and suffering, opened his door to save the suffering people! The Jade Emperor, moved by the Star Lord’s hardship, sent down a Lady from the heavens as well! The Elm Tree Lady dwells at Baiquan, ten thousand years of cultivation, a fine immortal root, hearing of the suffering people at the foot of the mountain, she peeled her own skin and cut her own flesh to aid the Star Lord…”
Qiqian’er grew more and more embarrassed the more she listened, and turned to Madam Qiu with an awkward laugh: “Oh dear, hello there, ‘Star Lord’s wife’!”
Madam Qiu burst out laughing, and teased her right back: “Oh! Greetings, Elm Tree Lady! Does your flesh hurt much?”
Qiqian’er put on a show of rubbing her arms and legs, and sighed: “I suppose I’ll need to eat something nourishing to make up for it…”
She finished speaking, shook the bone token so it jangled noisily, and burst out laughing together with Madam Qiu once more.
Indeed! Spring flowers bloom, all things return to life—so long as a person has life in them, they can endure any measure of suffering in this world.
As the token jangled, Qiqian’er noticed there seemed to be characters carved into it. Looking closer, she saw four large characters: “Fan Ancestor Collects the Debt”?
Curious, she went to look at Madam Qiu’s half as well, and saw it read: “The Confucian School Repays the Grain”?
The two women exchanged puzzled looks, not understanding the meaning, when Master Qiu came out of the house, his eyes swollen.
Master Qiu looked off toward the place where the sound had already faded from hearing, sniffed, and said: “That’s a story from eight hundred years ago—who knows if it’s even true. They say that long ago, the Former Sage traveled with his disciples visiting the various states, and when their provisions ran out and they were trapped between Chen and Cai, they later borrowed rice from Fan Dan, the ancestor of the beggars, to survive the famine. Because the two ancestors made a pact back then, our Confucian school has had to repay that debt on behalf of our ancestor, generation after generation…”
As he spoke, he reached out and took Madam Qiu’s ox bone, examined the characters, and laughed: “Looking at the wear and cracking on this thing, it really does look like an object from that era. That old Old Xin, giving me only half a token! Heh—our Confucian school has already repaid them a whole winter’s worth; don’t tell me we’ll have to keep paying next year too?”
Only then did Qiqian’er learn that the old beggar chief’s name was Old Xin.
After arranging with Master Qiu to help with relief again this coming winter if they were able, Qiqian’er returned home over the rooftops—only to find the two fools from the Jiu Si Hall were still there.
The short one, Xie Liuhao, grinned sheepishly at Qiqian’er first, then murmured: “I knew it—you’re definitely no ordinary person. Turns out you really are some kind of immortal!”
Zhou Wujiu shook his head helplessly, rubbed his forehead, and clasped his hands in a bow to Qiqian’er: “You’ve had a hard winter of it, miss, thanks to us. It’s our duty that’s brought you all this trouble—please accept our apologies.”
Qiqian’er, in good spirits, laughed: “Starting tomorrow, I won’t be coming anymore. But where will you two officers be off to next?”
Xie Liuhao jumped in eagerly: “Immortal miss! Qingfeng City is about to get officials from the Ministry of Works coming in—there’s no water source in the city, everything’s inconvenient, so they’re moving things over to the area near Quanhou Manor. We two brothers have also just received new orders from the Hall—the public dueling platform mentioned in the official notice is still being built in the old city, so we’ll be posted there on watch from now on…”
Qiqian’er nodded and turned to leave, but Zhou Wujiu spoke up: “Miss, please do take great care of that bone token you’re holding.”
Qiqian’er paused, lifted the token and shook it a little. “This? Is there something special about it?”
Xie Liuhao’s eyes lit up, and he burst out laughing, clapping his hands and saying to Zhou Wujiu: “See! I told you to test her! Look, I told you she’s no ordinary person! You didn’t believe me, and she doesn’t even know the customs of the beggar clans! She didn’t even know who Old Xin was!”
Zhou Wujiu shot Xie Liuhao a glare. “Even Master Qiu, the kind benefactor, didn’t know either. At most, at most, this means the young lady really isn’t from the jianghu world.”
Qiqian’er blinked and asked curiously: “Old Xin? Isn’t that just the old beggar?”
Zhou Wujiu said: “Miss, you may not know this, but every trade and profession in this world has its own guild and guild head. In the old days, for the sake of appearances, Yanjing wouldn’t allow beggar guild heads to set up there. So the whole realm’s beggars pay homage to the seat here in Qingfeng City, and that Old Xin is the beggar chief…”
He went on, looking at the bone token with open envy: “Miss, you have quite the fortune here—do take great care to keep this thing. Everyone in the jianghu world knows that there are only two ancestral tokens among the beggar clans, granted by Ancestor Fan himself back in the day—and here you and the kind benefactor have ended up sharing one of them between you…”
Qiqian’er was stunned. “Just for a mouthful of elm bark flour, he gave us half of his family’s whole fortune?”
Zhou Wujiu looked pained. “Five years of warfare, the realm split north and south, Baishi Mountain fell, the healers scattered to the four winds, and the Hongshun era bred a hundred thousand beggars—one war turned it all to ash. Old Xin, at his side, carries the last breath of vitality left in the whole beggar clan. You and the kind benefactor have done a boundless act of merit! If we’ve offended you in any way before, please don’t hold it against us!”
Qiqian’er suddenly felt the token in her hand grow as heavy as a thousand pounds. She looked into the distance and drew a breath. “So that’s how it was…”
With that, she turned and bounded away out of sight once more.
Xie Liuhao watched her go, full of admiration: “I told you, she’s an immortal!”
Zhou Wujiu had no wish to argue with a fool, and only laughed: “Immortal or not, I don’t know, but that she’s a good, kind person, that much is true. Let’s go… at least yesterday wasn’t wasted—we did some good deeds too.”
“Right!”
Qiqian’er returned home just as the morning sun was rising.
As usual, she opened the door and swept the courtyard, and as she tidied up, she thought to herself: “In the end, legends are just legends—so I’ve become some kind of immortal maiden, but it turns out in my past life the kind benefactor Qiu was actually the beggar chief, no wonder people pay him such respect wherever he goes…”
Amused by the thought, and remembering she was supposedly a celestial being come down to earth, she struck a proud pose in the courtyard, and had just taken a few steps in the manner of an immortal from the opera stage when she heard commotion at the mouth of the alley.
She paused for a moment, then walked to the front gate and threw it wide open.
Before long, the clatter of hooves on the paving stones sounded, and Chen Dasheng was—was he actually talking with Chen Siniu right at their gate?
“I’m home now. Fourth Uncle, go on ahead—I’ll go in and clean up a bit before heading over to the old ancestress’s courtyard. The brothers have nowhere to eat dinner tonight, and things are busy at my place too, so I’ll sit down with you tomorrow instead.”
Outside, Chen Siniu’s voice sounded rather formal: “Sure, sure. You’ve been away many days yourself—go on in first. We’re uncle and nephew, plenty of time later!”
With that, the donkey’s hooves clopped and the cart rolled away. Chen Dasheng also said his goodbyes to his brothers-in-arms, telling them to come by that evening for dinner.
Qiqian’er stood just inside the gate, smacking her lips in annoyance. This “Stinky Bolt”—already arranging things without asking her first?
At the thought, she couldn’t help but plant both hands on her hips and stare at the gate.
The moment Chen Dasheng stepped in, he froze.
He saw a beautiful girl with jet-black hair, not too long, gathered into a short tuft, a burnt-silver orchid hairpin stuck through it, matching silver orchid dangling earrings jingling beneath her ears—she really did look just like an immortal maiden.
The immortal maiden wore a tender green knee-length rabbit-fur robe with an overlapping collar, matched with a rabbit-fur skirt of the same gray shade, her slender waist cinched with a plain-colored, subtly patterned palace brocade sash, from which hung a small embroidered pouch stitched with a little bird.
The immortal maiden’s skin was fair with a rosy glow, unpainted, undecorated, naturally lovely with almond eyes and a delicate nose—only her mouth was a touch large, and it was currently biting down hard, her fine eyebrows raised. She—she? The immortal maiden was holding a large broom in her hand?
Chen Dasheng stood frozen in the doorway, utterly stunned.
Was this—his wife? A few days apart and somehow she’d grown taller? And, and this much more beautiful?
Beautiful, sure, but looking at his wife’s expression—was she angry? Was she about to hit him?
Chen Dasheng gulped, backed toward the gate, bolted it shut behind him, then crept sneakily up to Qiqian’er and said: “Wife?”
Qiqian’er glared at this man before her—unshaven, dressed in official robes so filthy he looked like he’d been rolling around in the mud.
She snorted: “What?!”
Hm… that tone… not good! Was she really angry?
Chen Dasheng stood there obediently, racking his brain trying to think what he might have done wrong lately.
After much thought, he finally said with conviction: “Wife, I listened to everything you said! I didn’t break a single rule! I, I really don’t know what I did wrong?” He glanced around furtively as if checking for danger, then, once satisfied it was safe, slowly crouched down, covering his head, and said: “If you’re angry, why don’t you just quietly give me a beating?”
He’d learned this trick from his grandfather.
His grandfather used to shut the door and let his grandmother beat him too.
This fool—he could make her stop being angry just like that!
Qiqian’er crouched down helplessly, reached out, and grabbed hold of this pig’s ear of his, scolding quietly: “It’s the start of spring and you’re inviting your brothers over for dinner without even discussing it with me first! You may be a man, but you should still know how many grains of rice and flour are left in this house! Today’s fine, but tomorrow when your younger brothers are getting married and settling down, how many days’ salary do you have to keep feeding and entertaining people?”
Chen Dasheng, ever the blunt soldier, looked up and said: “Didn’t I give you the money?”
Qiqian’er flared up: “And where exactly am I supposed to buy things with it!”
Having scolded him, she suddenly remembered—well, in fairness, thanks to this man’s connections, the household never really lacked for food and drink; if anything, she was the one squandering more than half of it away on other things.
Still, a woman needs to make her point even when she’s not entirely in the right—she gave a snort, stood up, and scolded on: “Look how filthy you are! Go take your muddy horse to the stable and scrub it clean first! I’ll go boil water for you!”
With that, she hurried off, and before long, had lit a huge bathing cauldron in the front entrance room she’d fired up.
While she bustled about, Chen Dasheng’s blunt nature kicked in again. Seeing how spacious the entrance room was, and the big steaming cauldron looking so inviting, he thought—well, this had to be announced to the world! Today he was living well!
Feeling pleased with himself, he stood at the door and called out: “Qingguan! Jintai… come get cleaned up, your sister-in-law’s got the water boiling…”
He hadn’t even finished speaking when an old woman came scurrying out from the end of the alley.
The old woman moved with surprising speed, dashing straight up to Chen Dasheng, reaching out and expertly grabbing hold of his ear, then dragging him into the courtyard before starting in on him: “Are you a fool or what! You’re never home, and your wife runs herself ragged waiting on me, taking care of Magpie, sweeping this huge courtyard till her arms practically fall off! And you don’t even think to spare her a little? You come home and don’t just make her boil water for you alone—no, you go and open your big mouth and make it six pots’ worth! You think she’s made of iron…”
Before the old woman had even finished scolding, Yu Qingguan came skipping happily into the courtyard with a bundle of fresh clothes.
Seeing the old woman, he greeted her first with “Grandma,” then called out “Sister-in-law,” and with impressive efficiency went straight into the bathing room. No sooner had he gone in than he let out a cheer: “Whoa! Hey hey hey! What a huge cauldron, chief, get in here quick, let’s scrub each other’s backs, now that’s the life!”
Then came a splash, followed by a string of exclamations of delight…
Chen Dasheng, having just been ambushed on both sides by his wife and grandmother, was anxious not to lose face, so he bowed repeatedly in apology, and—being a man who could count these days—held up his fingers and pleaded: “Three pots! Three pots at most!”
And so the whole courtyard descended into a lively bustle.
With so many people in the house and a big cauldron to heat, Qiqian’er was run off her feet. She first brought out three full layers of fresh clothing for Chen Dasheng, then set his mud-caked clothes to soak.
Once that was handled, Qiqian’er ran to the sheep pen out back, picked out a large fat sheep, and led it out. But she’d barely made it to the front courtyard when she saw the old woman, wearing the large apron Qiqian’er used for cooking, sitting by the well washing clothes for her precious grandson.
Judging by the scale of it, this wasn’t the work of just one person—already two whole basins full, and from the racket in the bathing room, at least four people must have piled in.
Young people bathing together always turned into a water fight, and the noise was tremendous.
The old woman sat there, pounding at the laundry with one hand, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
Seeing Qiqian’er come out leading the big fat sheep, her expression suddenly soured, and she complained with a pout: “Hmph! The two of us really are just a pair of gluttons for punishment!”
Heh…
Guan Si’er was always the slowest to get things done, and was the last to arrive. The moment he entered the courtyard, he saw Second Aunt Ma and Cui Erdian standing there with bundles of fresh clothes, staring in fright at a corner of the courtyard.
Following their gazes, he too broke into a cold sweat.
There was his delicate, tender little sister-in-law, a gleaming ox-eared blade clenched between her teeth, a coarse cloth apron tied around her, hands pinning down a sturdy sheep, tying its front and back legs together.
Once the sheep’s legs were secured, she lifted it gently and set it up on the prepared butcher’s block, its head drooping over a wooden basin.
This—was she really about to slaughter the sheep herself?
Guan Si’er’s hair stood on end from fright. He wanted to rush over and help, but Second Aunt Ma stopped him, whispering: “Don’t! If you go over there, Granny will scold you! Don’t you remember last time when we hacked at the sheep’s head and wasted all the blood?”
Right, last time they’d just hacked at it with a blade, and though the sheep had died cleanly enough, the old woman had scolded them soundly for a whole hour afterward.
So—just watch, then?
While he hesitated, Qiqian’er had already gone to work.
They watched as her pearly white teeth parted, and with the knife in hand, she thrust it into the sheep’s neck and drew it back in one smooth motion—done in an instant. The sheep didn’t even have time to feel the pain, didn’t even struggle, before she’d already tossed the knife back onto the block, gripped the sheep’s body and head with both hands, and gave a sharp twist. There was a crack, and the sheep died instantly.
The blood gushed out straight into the wooden basin—not a single drop wasted…
The old woman, washing clothes nearby, gave a satisfied hum and glanced sideways at the young men, muttering without much courtesy: “See that? None of you lot are good for anything! That’s how it’s done, see?”
Guan Si’er rubbed his own neck, twisting his head around, and called into the house, his voice cracking: “Chief… my sister-in-law’s slaughtering a sheep with her own hands…”
A muffled reply came from the window above: “Ah, I saw it already!”
Guan Si’er jumped, startled, then, after a moment, pursed his lips and muttered sideways to Second Aunt Ma: “I’ve been feeling like our chief here really doesn’t have much use around the house, you know?”
Second Aunt Ma nodded firmly in agreement: “Mm-hm!!”
Truly, no use at all.
Skinning the sheep, cleaning out the stomach, sorting the organs, deboning and slicing the meat, kneading dough for steamed buns—Qiqian’er worked in silence, but quickly and steadily, with an air of quiet, fierce competence.
By the time Chen Dasheng emerged, dressed head to toe in fresh new clothes, she didn’t let him sit idle either, pointing to the big wooden buckets in the house and saying: “If you’ve got nothing to do, go sweep the mouth of the alley. Where people live, the melting snow’s turned everything to mud.”
Chen Dasheng’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed Yu Qingguan, and the two of them, each carrying a wooden bucket, headed off to the mouth of the alley with water drawn.
Once they’d gone, the old woman pursed her lips and scoffed again: “Hmph! I can see you’re no good at this—you can’t manage him! You’re the one who loses out! Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if it were me, I wouldn’t give him such an easy time… I’d just let him stew!”
Qiqian’er finished packing the steamed buns she’d made into a steamer basket, carried up three layers by hand, and went inside. When she came back out shortly after, she scoffed right back at the old woman: “Oh, I see, so this is my grandson, and only I dote on him? You’ve got the nerve to wash his clothes for him, don’t you!”
The old woman spat and kept pounding the laundry, muttering as she worked: “This is what falling into a mud pit looks like! Getting ready to make herself into a burial offering! Getting ready to go stand vigil in some giant grave, is that it?!”
Just then, Hu Yougui came out, hair disheveled, and upon hearing this, laughed and explained: “Grandma, this year the Sixth Prince went up the mountain to spend New Year’s with the old dowager consort. His Majesty had us go fetch him back yesterday—what with the melting snow, the roads aren’t easy, so, well, that’s how it went!”
The old woman blinked, full of curiosity. “Oh? Why did the old dowager consort go up the mountain?”
Hu Yougui hesitated, not daring to reveal too much, and blinked: “Um, there’s a temple up there!”
“What kind of temple?”
“A nunnery!”
“Which immortal maiden is it dedicated to?”
“Don’t know!”
“Is it a powerful one?”
“Don’t know!”
“Why don’t you know anything?”
“…I guess so!”
Qiqian’er, seeing the old woman going on endlessly, instructed Hu Yougui: “Go help your brother clean up at the mouth of the alley. Look how much you’ve said, and the old lady still didn’t understand a word of it…”
Hu Yougui fled like his life depended on it. By the time he reached the alley mouth, he found his own chief hadn’t been working at all—he was crouched with Hu Yougui’s own brother under the sign for Imperial Guard Alley, watching the excitement.
A number of carriages had arrived at the mouth of the alley—clearly some wealthy personage’s procession. But as the carriages drew nearer, and they got a look at the lanterns hanging from the lead carriage—surname Hu? Sixth rank? From the Ministry of Works?
Hu Yougui and the others hadn’t had the chance to study under Attendant She—the man wasn’t one to take on students casually. But Chen Dasheng, feeling for them, had this time learned his lesson and hired proper tutors directly.
All six of them were now, in the old dynasty’s terms, licensed scholars’ disciples.
It hadn’t been long, but these several had already memorized dozens of surnames, along with the key terminology of the various government offices.
They were, after all, just gatekeepers—but third-rank officials and above passed before their eyes every day, and they themselves held nominal ranks, so run-of-the-mill officials naturally didn’t catch their eye much.
Looking at that great procession—a full twenty-some carriages arriving—Chen Dasheng, sharp as ever, could tell right away: this must be the Ministry of Revenue’s housing-requisition officials, come at last.
Sure enough, after the convoy trudged through the muddy manor road, they finally spotted a decent stretch and, naturally, went looking for a respectable-looking residence.
Since Chen Dasheng and his men kept up their part of Imperial Guard Alley daily, it naturally looked far more presentable than the neighboring, untended rooftops nearby, so the procession stopped right at the mouth of their alley.
Chen Dasheng tilted his head and instructed Hu Yougui: “Go home and bring all our badges.”
Hu Yougui turned and ran back at once.
The driver of the lead carriage reined in the horses, reached down for the footstool, set it on the ground, and helped the master inside step down.
Only then did Chen Dasheng get a proper look at the man—gaunt-faced, hollow-cheeked, thoroughly exhausted-looking. He took the gray squirrel-fur cloak handed to him from inside the carriage and draped it over himself. He glanced this way first, and seeing two commoners in plain cloth sweeping the alley mouth, frowned and muttered under his breath: “Didn’t they say no one lived here?”
Muttering this, he turned and called toward the second carriage: “Brother Jiang!”
Before long, a round, plump head groggily emerged from the carriage behind.
A glance at the lantern—seventh rank, Ministry of Revenue, surname Jiang.
“Oh! We’re here already? I must have dozed off.”
The plump man, surnamed Jiang, was helped down from the carriage. He fastened his cloak, then pulled a small ledger from his sleeve, opened it, and muttered as he read: “Let’s see—here we are! Quanhou Manor, this is it! Six alleys, left to right—official residences, seventy-two in total…”
He counted them off one by one with a finger, then called out to the gaunt man: “Brother Hu! Brother Hu! This alley looks decent!”
Of course it was decent—otherwise, would the old woman have let Qiqian’er move them here?
And so, these two officials, ledgers from the Ministry of Revenue in hand, made their way toward Chen Dasheng and his men.
Just then, by sheer coincidence, Hu Yougui came running back and reached out to fasten a badge onto Chen Dasheng’s belt from behind.
Once it was fastened, he picked up his own bucket and got back to sweeping.
The sixth-rank official surnamed Hu naturally wouldn’t stoop to speaking with commoners. He walked toward the alley, looked up, and said with a puzzled expression: “Imperial Guard Alley? What guard? Whose guard?”
The two men exchanged glances, then bowed politely toward the crouching Chen Dasheng to ask: “Young sir, forgive the trouble, but may we ask—which guard unit resides in this alley?”
Both being seasoned officials, new to the area, they knew better than to offend anyone carelessly, so their tone was courteous.
Since they were being courteous, Chen Dasheng, thinking they’d soon be neighbors, stood up with a smile and asked: “Where are you two coming from?”
This was pure professional habit—he was one of His Majesty’s gatekeepers, after all; even to a second-rank official, his opening line was always, “where are you coming from?”
But these two weren’t used to being addressed so casually. The gaunt one held his tongue, while the plump one sneered and asked: “Boy! Is your master home?”
Now that didn’t sit well. How long had it been since anyone dared call him “boy”?
Chen Dasheng narrowed his eyes slightly. “I am the master here.”
The official surnamed Hu stepped up to Chen Dasheng and, suppressing his temper, said: “You… you’re the master of this place? But according to the vacant-housing records we brought from the Ministry of Revenue, there’s no mention of anyone living here.”
Chen Dasheng retorted without much courtesy: “That’s rich! So it’s fine for you Ministry of Revenue folks to occupy six whole alleys, but our Imperial Guard unit can’t have one?”
With that, he reached behind his belt, pulled out a bronze token, and held it up before them. “Colleagues, no need to compete over this. We’re all shedding blood and sweat for the court—there are plenty of houses around here, doesn’t matter much who tidies up which ones! We’ve already claimed this one, and we’ll report it to the Ministry of Revenue afterward. Besides, this place might not even be the Ministry of Revenue’s to decide—if anyone decides, it ought to be Qingfeng’s new prefectural office. You’re overstepping!”
The two men glanced at the badge—Imperial Long Blade Guard. As they finished reading it, Chen Dasheng flipped it over: Sixth-Rank Deputy Commandant, Chen.
One badge alone would have sufficed, but Yu Qingguan felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this very moment.
Suppressing his excitement, keeping his face composed, he too slowly held out a badge beside him: Seventh-Rank Imperial Commandant’s Clerk, Yu.
The two out-of-towners were just about to smile and greet them properly when the disheveled-haired one beside them also produced a badge with a smile.
Yet another untouchable Imperial guardsman.
Fatty Jiang burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling into two thin slits from the grin; the gaunt Official Hu was laughing too—laughing sweetly, even!
No helping it—Imperial guard officers outranked them by three whole grades on sight alone. The people these men saw every day, after all, were the ones the Emperor himself saw every day.
This “Imperial” designation was a rather significant distinction—it referred specifically to those attending directly on His Majesty. Take Liu Daya, for instance—he was Vice Commander of the Rear Guard, but he did not hold the “Imperial” designation.
Once Official Jiang finished laughing, he clasped his hands and bowed in greeting to Chen Dasheng and the others, who returned the courtesy politely.
They were all minor officials, after all—when meeting, best to state one’s standing quickly, with no petty posturing, lest they make unnecessary enemies of each other.
Official Jiang said with an easy smile: “Well now! Who would have thought we’d end up neighbors with brothers from His Majesty’s own guard! From now on, do let’s keep in close touch!”
Chen Dasheng grinned back: “You gentlemen have caught us at an awkward moment—our brothers here have been terribly busy, only got back home today ourselves, and we’d just finished bathing when the womenfolk at home chased us out to tidy up the gate…”
Both men were taken aback at this, and the gaunt Official Hu asked: “Lord Chen? You clean the courtyard yourself?”
What a fresh idea—if he didn’t clean it, who would? Have the two tigresses at home do it instead?
Chen Dasheng blinked and said with a smile: “No choice, really. Last year His Majesty issued a strict order forbidding all officials around Yanjing from privately purchasing servants. Just recently the ban’s finally loosened a bit—word is the Yanjing servant market will open again next month—but for now, all I’ve got at home is a grandmother and a wife. I couldn’t bear to have them do this heavy work themselves, so I just do it myself, heh heh… heh heh!”
The two officials’ faces twisted into strained smiles, and behind them, Hu Yougui and Yu Qingguan forced out matching chuckles as well, thinking to themselves: how convenient for you—your little sister-in-law softens up and gives you one chore to do, and you go and practically announce it to the whole world…
They weren’t wrong. That was exactly what Chen Dasheng meant by it.
We’re not useless! We do pull our weight at home too!!
The two sides continued their pleasantries, but just then, an old woman came bustling out from behind the carriages, shouting toward the front: “Hu Yuanju! Your son’s about ready to throw up and you’re back here dawdling over your mother’s business, taking your sweet time!”
Chen Dasheng didn’t feel the slightest bit slighted—old folks, after all! This one—well, she and his own grandmother might just get along famously.