Chapter 62: Four Stones

Zhou, the village chief, opened and closed his mouth but couldn't find the words to respond.

How utterly ridiculous!

Their lives lost on the battlefield, yet just because it can’t be proven they are dead, the remaining weak and elderly in the family still have to continue paying taxes.

How could he possibly voice such an absurdity?

The villagers who followed Old Man Chen were completely baffled, "What does this mean? Is Dashan nephew still alive?"

Old Man Chen sat down heavily on an unfinished stack of straw, belonging to who knows which family, slapping his thigh, tears streaming down, "It’d be great if he was alive. The man is gone, yet the taxes must still be paid. The man is gone, yet the taxes must still be paid! What kind of world is this? What kind of world?!"

Old Lady Chen, overwhelmed with fury, began to feel dizzy, swaying as if she might collapse backwards, but was promptly supported by both Sang Luo and Qin Fangniang.

The drying yard was in even greater chaos, a jumble of crying and cursing, more suffocating and desperate than before.

Zhou, the village chief, looked at the scene, his lips as if glued shut, struggling several times before he could finally speak.

But what to say? What could he say? What could he do?

Standing silently, engulfed by the cries and curses around him, Zhou closed his eyes for a moment.

"Folks, let's all head home for now. We'll talk about the tax payment tomorrow."

Yes, wait until tomorrow. He couldn't make any promises, only dared to say these seemingly futile words.

Clutching the registry in his hand, Zhou turned and strode towards the outskirts of the village.

His wife, seeing him, hurriedly followed: "Where are you going?"

Zhou shook his head: "Just out for a walk."

This walk lasted until the sky turned dark, and he hadn't returned. His family, frantic, went round and round in worry. His sons, in pairs, set out with torches to look for him.

Zhou Dalang and Zhou Sanlang, heading towards the county town, encountered their father walking back in the night. In his hand, he still held the registry from the afternoon.

Overjoyed, the brothers rushed to greet him: "Dad, where have you been all afternoon? Everyone’s been so worried, searching everywhere for you."

Zhou, his mood subdued, nodded: "Let's go back."

Back at home, Zhou’s wife reheated dinner and brought it to him, but he just shook his head, untouched.

Zhou’s wife sighed, "What can you do? You're called the village chief, but what difference does it make from anyone else in our village? Come on, eat something."

But Zhou still shook his head: "I can't eat, just leave it for now."

Zhou’s wife sighed, "Did you go to see Wang Liu this afternoon?"

Only then did Zhou look at her and nodded.

"What did he say? Did you meet Old Master Wang?"

"I did. Wang Liu took me to see him." He shook his head, "Old Master Wang said there's nothing he can do either. The demand for grain from above is very urgent. The quota is directly imposed. Our village’s situation is not unique; many in the county face the same. The county magistrate won’t relent on this."

"But this isn't the way to do things," Zhou’s wife lamented, her shoulders slumping as she sat down. "At the beginning of the year, they said they would collect this autumn's taxes in advance. Many families in the village haven’t had a proper meal in months. We’ve just harvested the grain, it’s not even stored yet, and now they’re demanding next year’s taxes. Are we supposed to tighten our belts until next autumn?"

"If we’d known from the start that we’d be starving for a year and a half, it would be one thing. But everyone thought they could at least eat well for three months in the coming year. This sudden demand is unbearable for anyone."

"Moreover, having to pay taxes for the deceased… where is the justice in that?"

"This afternoon, the cries in the village haven’t stopped."

Mourning for the sons who died at home.

Zhou remained silent for a long time, unable to utter that sentence.

He feared that next year would bring no relief.

If taxes can be collected six months in advance, or even a year in advance, what’s stopping them from demanding two years ahead?

Zhou Jiuzhang felt the lamplight tonight was exceptionally dim. A solitary flame flickered in the wind, casting a wavering shadow on the wall, like the lamenting souls of the unreconciled dead. He stood at the doorway of the main hall, gazing into the oppressive night sky, feeling an overwhelming sense of unease.

……

The same unease was shared by Sangluo, who had been home for a while.

That afternoon, as they sat together discussing, and until Shen An arrived, Sangluo had made her way home. By then, the others who had set up stalls had regained their composure, finalizing the tofu quantities for the next day’s sale. Contemplating her own tax dues, which included the share of the deceased Shen Lie, about eighty percent paid in cash and the rest in soybeans.

Chen Youtian had even revised the quantity he’d originally set for midday, reducing it to ten pieces of each tofu variety. Truth be told, no need for carrying burdens; Mrs. Chen could handle the amount with just a basket.

Starting tomorrow, business in the countryside would be tough.

Upon returning home, besides gathering fairy tree leaves, Sangluo dug up konjac. Already at the Chens', she had inquired about her household’s tax situation.

According to the household registry established by the local authority, the Shen family, being of the lowest class, owed four dou of household tax;

Ninety-nine percent likely deceased but officially unaccounted for, Shen Lie, having reached adulthood, was liable for two shi of adult male tax;

As for her, Shen An, and Shen Ning, considered as one middle and two small taxable males, the cumulative adult male tax amounted to two shi.

Therefore, to avoid being sent off for hard labor, by September 15th, Sangluo needed to come up with four shi and four dou of taxes.

Four shi four dou, with a bushel of grain costing seventy wen, oh, I heard the price has increased, now it’s seventy-seven wen per bushel in the grocery store of Sanli Village.

Four shi four dou equals three thousand three hundred and eighty-eight wen, assuming the grain price doesn't rise again before September 15th.

Over three thousand wen in less than half a month, Sangluo was bewildered. That afternoon, not daring to get distracted, she dug up konjac and then went to Mrs. Chen for some spices, returning home to get busy.

The nights in early September had turned cool in the mountains. Sangluo took advantage of the gaps while waiting for the konjac tofu to solidify to make fairy tofu.

But today, as she worked, her mind was elsewhere, partly over the daunting task of earning over three thousand wen in a few days, and partly, she glanced outside at the sky, fearing the weather might change.

Planning to prepare tofu at the break of dawn, she went to bed early but tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When she finally drifted off, she was caught in a nightmare of chaos and fleeing, trapped in the ordeal all night long.

Awakened by the crowing of the rooster outside, Sangluo sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

Seeing it was still early, she breathed a sigh of relief, collected herself, and hurried to the kitchen to light the oil lamp and start grinding the beans.

Before she even got the stone mill moving, Shen An and Shen Ning were already up, quickly coming over to say, “Big sister, we’ll grind the beans.”

The siblings took turns grinding the beans.

Since last night, the two younger siblings had become exceptionally quiet, eagerly volunteering for every task, and today it was even more noticeable.

Sang Luo sighed as she looked at the siblings, remaining silent.

Shen An, always observant of Sang Luo's expressions, grew increasingly anxious upon seeing her like this. Biting his teeth unconsciously, his jaw ached slightly from the pressure as he kept his head down, focusing on his work.

Sang Luo washed the Zanthoxylum and prepared the ingredients to make chili oil for the vegetarian tripe and crystal candy, which she planned to take to the county for sale.

As she was preparing the ingredients, Shen Ning had already gone to fetch wood to help start the fire.

This kind of initiative left Sang Luo momentarily at a loss for words.

If she hadn't noticed their extra diligence and carefulness yesterday, perhaps she was preoccupied, but today, how could she not see that the siblings were more industrious and cautious than usual?

Sang Luo could guess what the children were thinking; they probably knew about the rent tax and felt they were a burden as siblings – actually, three siblings.

Sang Luo didn't know what to say. It wasn't out of frustration with the children – having taken them in, she was willing to pay their share of the one-stone tax.

What she hadn't anticipated was having to pay an additional two stones for someone who was no longer alive.

Indeed, one person counted as three.

Wasn’t this absurd?

But she couldn't blame Shen Lie, the husband in name who died in battle. If these fallen soldiers had spirits, they'd probably rise from their graves to confront the current ruler and drag him to the underworld.

Reflecting on these thoughts and having had a series of nightmares the night before, Sang Luo was inevitably in a bad mood, thus feeling listless and disinclined to speak.

After preparing the tofu and vegetarian tripe, neatly packing them in ceramic pots, and finishing three jars of crystal fruit leather, the three sat down and had breakfast. Sangluo, keeping an eye on the time, removed the stones weighing down the tofu press, revealing perfectly formed tofu, which she efficiently cut into pieces.

The first light of day was breaking, no longer pitch-black to the point of being unable to see one's own hands.

Chen Youtian and Qin Fangniang came knocking, with Gan Shi and Feng Liuniang accompanying them. Sangluo handed over their orders, mentioning that she would join them on the trip to the county today.

After moving everything out and ready to leave, the younger siblings unexpectedly volunteered to carry a small jar each, following Sangluo down the mountain.

Chen Youtian was about to leave with the cart when Shen An couldn’t hold back his anxiety anymore.

Following Sangluo closely, when she suggested they return home to get more sleep, Shen An and Shen Ning simultaneously grasped her sleeves.

He glanced around, perhaps mindful of Qin Fangniang and the others nearby, uncertain how to begin.

Seeing him like this, Sangluo asked Chen Youtian and the others to wait a moment, and walked the siblings back, reassuring them, “Don’t overthink things. Didn’t sleep well last night? Go back and get some rest.”

The siblings simultaneously shook their heads in response.

Shen An spoke softly, “Big sister, I'm not tired. I've grown up now. I can make tofu, do household chores, forage in the mountains. I can help earn money for the family. Please don't leave me and my sister out.”

Shen Ning also nodded, “Big sister, I can raise chickens and ducks. If you buy some geese, I can take care of them too. They can be exchanged for money over the year.”

Hearing this, Sangluo smiled, her mood brightening as if illuminated by the first rays of dawn. She patted Shen Ning’s head, “Okay, after we pay the taxes and have some money, I'll buy more ducks and geese for you to raise. Our family’s eggs for eating and selling will all depend on you.”

This promise about future arrangements seemed to give the siblings a measure of reassurance, both breaking into smiles. Shen Ning nodded vigorously, “Yes, I’ll take good care of them!”

Sangluo smiled, “Go back, everyone is waiting. I won’t walk you further. Be careful on your own.”

After watching the siblings walk away, Sangluo turned back to rejoin Qin Fangniang and the others.

Qin Fangniang, with a soft voice, asked, “Did they find out about the tax payment?”

Sangluo nodded: “They’re afraid I see them as a burden, so they kept working non-stop.”

Actually, they probably also fear that she might abandon them.

Everyone sighed.

Among their four families, each had to pay a two-stone tax for a family member who went to war and never returned.

Two stones of grain – that’s what the best land, tended with utmost care for a year, might yield, and only if the weather is kind. If the land was leased, a portion would first go to the landowner. What remains after paying the landowner is all one’s own.

It’s like tilling two acres for nothing, with all the produce going straight to the government.

And then there are the taxes for these deceased men. With several sons from each family lost to natural disasters, conscription, and war, and in the absence of enough labor and draft animals, people struggle to cultivate much land. How much could they possibly keep for themselves?

Gan Shi lamented, “These children are fortunate to have met you.”

If they were still under Shen San and Li Shi’s care, facing yesterday’s predicament, their fate would be truly uncertain.

Driven to desperation, it wouldn’t be surprising if they were abandoned or outright split up, since Daqian Dynasty’s policies encourage splitting households to increase tax collection and discourage communal living.

Like Shi family's eldest and second branches, which are technically separate households in the registry, though they are united as brothers, and Shi Erlang’s wife gladly follows Gan Shi's advice, they still live together in daily life.

So, had they not encountered the refugee Sangluo and if Li Shi hadn’t seized the chance to pair the Shen siblings with Sangluo as a makeshift family, they might have been outright abandoned in the current crisis.

“The children are also very sensible,” Sangluo admitted, feeling quite fortunate to have met them.

On the way, Feng Liuniang lamented, “You know about Zhou Laizi's family next door, right? They were all crying last night. They don’t have much land but plenty of mouths to feed. I fear they can't afford this tax. Paying it might leave them unable to survive until next spring.”

Two years of taxes collected in one year would crush families already struggling.

Recalling what Zhou Lizheng read yesterday, Feng Liuniang asked Sangluo, “Did the government provide disaster relief in your hometown, Sister-in-law A'lie?”

Sangluo had memories of her original self on this matter and shook her head, “I don’t know about other places, but there was no relief where I’m from. We never even saw a bowl of watery rice soup. Otherwise, why would so many people flee southward? Even my well-off family, I don’t know how many of us survived.”

Sangluo hadn't spoken much about her family, but Qin Fangniang and others knew a bit. Her family had ancestral recipes, she was literate, and they lived with considerable refinement, even paving a flower path in the courtyard, likely no less distinguished than the local Wang family.

Everyone fell silent.

The government claimed it was struggling due to disaster relief costs, necessitating the early tax collection. While Gan Shi, Qin Fangniang, and the others didn’t grasp national affairs, they weren’t foolish either. Didn’t the continuous wars require money and grain? And what about the costs of maintaining imperial palaces and estates?

Where all these levies and grains ended up was something everyone wondered about.

From pitch darkness to dawn, Qi Yang County Gate loomed ahead. Regulars who visited the city recognized some familiar faces; the same people with added despair and numbness.

Seeing everyone’s demeanor, Sangluo realized if she continued to worry, she might end up no different from them. She briskly cheered up.

Worrying wouldn’t conjure up three thousand coins. She needed to smile and find a good buyer for her products.