Chapter 61: Absurdity

They didn’t have to wait until evening. Qin Fangniang and Mrs. Gan returned from the county in the afternoon, looking visibly upset.

Sang Luo initially thought they hadn’t sold all their goods, but seeing their empty carriers, she asked Qin Fangniang, “Auntie, what’s wrong?”

Qin Fangniang, pale-faced, replied, “Leaving the city, we saw the yamen’s runners posting a notice at the city gate about paying taxes. But we already paid our taxes early this spring. Why are they asking for it again?”

Feng Liuniang was still skeptical, “Could it be a mistake? Nobody there could read, and people were just passing along what they heard.”

Qin Fangniang seemed distracted, “I hope it's a mistake. I need to hurry home and inform everyone. Later, I'll ask my father to inquire with the village chief.”

Mrs. Gan, clearly anxious to return home, still confirmed her tofu order for the next day. Only then did Qin Fangniang and Feng Liuniang snap out of their daze, specifying their orders for the next day and saying they would bring the money later before hastily leaving.

Sang Luo, having just finished the two drying racks, lost the heart to continue working. She too decided to descend the mountain and head towards the Chen household.

……

“Paying taxes again?” Old Man Chen was as baffled as if he were hearing a fairy tale, shaking his head, “That can’t be; we’ve already paid our taxes for this year. Was it a proclamation read by the yamen runners?”

Qin Fangniang shook her head, “We left the city late; the runners who posted the notice had already left. We heard it from people discussing it nearby and asked them. They said it was about paying taxes.”

With the new grain still in the drying fields and not yet stored, hearing such news left Old Man Chen restless. He paced around before deciding, “I’ll go to the Zhou family.”

Just as he stepped out, he bumped into Shi Erlang and Old Man Lu, who had come together. On seeing Chen, Old Man Lu asked, “Heading to the Zhou family?”

Old Man Chen nodded, “Going to inquire about the situation.”

The two men decided not to enter the Chen household and instead accompanied him to the Zhou family. They walked together in silence.

On days for drying grain, Zhou, the village chief, usually didn't need to be busy outside, so today he was unusually resting at home. Seeing Old Man Chen and the others arriving, he was initially surprised. Considering that these three families might have members setting up stalls in the county, he vaguely guessed the purpose of their visit, feeling an ominous premonition.

With this in mind, he stood up and stepped forward to greet them, “Uncle Chen, Uncle Lu, what brings you here together so unexpectedly?”

He also greeted Shi Erlang and invited the three men inside to sit.

Old Man Chen wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries and directly shared what his daughter-in-law heard in the county, “We find it hard to believe. Didn’t we already pay our taxes this spring? Why would we need to pay again? Maybe there was a misunderstanding since there was no one literate by the notice. We specifically came to ask if you’ve heard anything.”

Zhou pondered for a moment, shaking his head, “I haven’t received any news here. However, I vaguely heard that several states in the north suffered severe disasters this year, and the overall situation isn’t good.”

He speculated but wasn’t sure, only suggesting, “Let’s wait and see. If the notice is true, the village chiefs should notify us by this evening or at the latest by tomorrow.”

Old Man Chen and the others couldn’t wait until evening or the next day, every moment of delay was excruciating.

They had barely seen the end of a difficult half-year, and now they were being told to pay taxes again. It was too much to bear.

Just as they were unsure of what to do next, they heard three gongs ringing in the distance and someone shouting loudly, calling everyone to the village drying ground for an announcement.

A call to gather at the village drying ground usually meant an announcement from the village chief or village elders. With the village chief present here, who could be summoning people with the gong?

The gong sounds confirmed Zhou, the village chief's earlier prediction, causing a sinking feeling in all four people present, shattering their last bit of hope.

“Let’s go and see.”

Zhou asked Old Man Chen and Old Man Lu to lead the way, following closely behind.

From a distance, they saw the figures standing in the drying ground – none other than Zhou, the village chief, and two other community leaders.

The villagers were still arriving in groups. Zhou went straight to Zhou, the village chief, “Qi Ge, what’s going on? Are we really being asked to pay taxes again?”

Zhou, the village chief, glanced at him, “You've heard?”

Zhou nodded, not divulging where he had heard it, just waiting for an answer.

Zhou, the village chief, however, waved his hand, “Wait then, I'll explain everything in a bit.”

……

Sang Luo had arrived with Old Lady Chen. Coincidentally, she ran into Shen San and his wife, who had also come out upon hearing the gong.

Shen San gave Sang Luo a disdainful look and snorted through his nose, striding ahead of the group.

Sang Luo: …...

"What’s his problem?"

Old Lady Chen patted Sang Luo's hand, saying, “Don't mind him. Let's go listen to what's happening. Surely they can't be asking us to pay taxes again? The government can't do this, can they?”

But Sang Luo’s heart was heavy with concern. She hadn’t forgotten that they had already paid taxes early this spring. Having done it once ahead of schedule meant it was not impossible for such a demand to be made again, shifting the baseline for a second time.

Gradually, the crowd gathered, filling the small area of the drying ground – men and women, old and young.

Zhou, the village chief, cleared his throat, finally ready to speak. He pulled out a proclamation and read it aloud.

Of course, the flowery language of the proclamation was hard for most people to understand. After he finished, he folded the proclamation and explained it in plain language.

Essentially, it said that there had been frequent natural disasters in various states over recent years, with the last year being particularly severe. The imperial court had provided relief in various forms, and now, facing difficulties, it was reluctantly asking everyone to pay next year’s taxes in advance to help the court overcome the current crisis.

No matter how eloquently worded, the proclamation was still a harsh demand.

The crowd erupted in uproar.

“Paying next year's taxes in advance? That’s unheard of. The crops in the fields won’t grow next year’s grain ahead of schedule for me.”

“Paying taxes twice a year, how are we supposed to live? We haven’t even tasted our new harvest, and now they want to take it away.”

“The court’s difficulties, the officials' hardships, does that mean we don’t get to live?”

Someone cried out in despair, “This world is devouring us alive, devouring us.”

The wails of adults frightened the innocent children, who also started crying. The air in the drying ground seemed to be filled with despair.

Standing next to Old Lady Chen, Sang Luo felt an overwhelming chill for the first time since her arrival in this era, a coldness seeping from head to toe.

It wasn’t the fear of not being able to pay this tax, but a dread of this time and space, this era, this world, and the imperial court that held sway over the fate of its people.

In her original memory, she only knew of her small corner of the world, but the proclamation mentioned frequent natural disasters in various states, not just in her home state or county.

And the so-called relief efforts by the imperial court were nowhere to be found in her previous life's memories.

Wars, constant natural disasters, a do-nothing government, heavy taxes and labor – these were not the signs of a golden age. If this continued... Sang Luo felt a numbing cold, too scared to imagine further.

She had never experienced chaos, but knew well the adage, "Better to be a dog in times of peace than a human in times of chaos."

Zhou, the village chief, continued trying to convince everyone, saying that if they paid this year, they wouldn’t have to next year. He reasoned with them and then threatened, conveying the imperial court's message: "The empire’s land is under the emperor’s rule. Refusing to pay taxes will lead to forced labor. You might leave with your life but may not return with it. Weigh your options."

He then handed a registry to the village chief, “This is the list of those who need to pay in your village. Let the grain dry for a few more days, work through the list. The yamen runners will visit our villages on the ninth, and we don’t want a bunch of people delaying payment. After the seventh, you'll have to take the taxes to the county yourself.”

“Everyone has just harvested their grain; no one should be unable to pay. Make it quick and decisive. Delaying does no good. The final tax payment deadline for our county this fall is September 15th. Missing this deadline is no joke; those refusing to pay will face the harshest labor. In case of war, you might be sent to the frontier as a soldier.”

Zhou, the village chief, clenched his jaw tightly as he took the registry from Zhou, the village official.

Zhou, the village official, noticing his grim expression, said, “That’s enough. Matters like these aren't for us to influence. We just have to follow orders. You get busy; I need to visit other villages too.”

Saying so, Zhou, the village official, called the other two community leaders, preparing to leave.

Zhou, the village chief, watched the villagers on the drying ground - some crying, wailing, or silently weeping in despair, including his own family, looking utterly bereft.

His heart was heavy, but he was powerless. There was no room for village farmers like them to question decisions made by the imperial court.

With this in mind, he opened the registry given by Zhou, the village official. After a few glances, he sensed something amiss and rapidly flipped through several pages, then hurriedly chased after the departing men.

Zhou, the village official, hadn’t gone far when Zhou, the village chief, caught up with him, shouting, “Qi Ge, Qi Ge!”

Zhou, the village official, stopped and turned around. Zhou, the village chief, out of breath from running, managed to say, “Qi Ge, there’s something wrong with this registry.”

Some villagers had noticed Zhou, the village chief, shouting and running after Zhou, the village official, and were now watching.

Zhou, the village official, glanced at the villagers on the drying ground and then at his cousin, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Shi Dalang, Chen Dashan,” Zhou, the village chief, flipped open the registry, pointing to two names on the first page, and continued flipping, “And many others - Shen Lie, Lu's second son, Li's third son, and the dozen or so men conscripted from our village. All of them fell in battle. Why are they still on the tax registry?”

Villagers with keen hearing had already picked up on this and were approaching.

Zhou, the village chief, looked at his cousin, waiting for an answer.

Zhou, the village official, lowered his eyes and then looked up, asking Zhou, the village chief, “Who said they were killed in battle? Where is the death certificate? Is there one?”

Zhou, the village chief, was taken aback by the question. After a moment, he replied, “Qi Ge, for this group that went, the court hasn’t issued any.”

Zhou, the village official, let out a barely audible snort, “There you have it. Without a death certificate, how can you prove they died in battle?”

Zhou, the village chief, glared at him, "Qi Ge, the court hasn't issued them, you know that. Everyone inquired from village to village; you could have pleaded on their behalf."

"I don’t know anything, what should I know?" Zhou, the village official, interrupted him: "I'm just the local official. I must follow the rules. What can the words of one or two veterans returning from the battlefield prove? How to plead their case?"

"Without a death certificate, it cannot be proven that they died in battle. That means they are still alive, still liable men, and they must pay their taxes." Zhou, the village official, said to his cousin, emphasizing each word: "That's the law, Lao Jiu."

He thrust the registry back into the hands of Zhou, the village chief, and walked away.

Old Man Chen, who was one of the first to notice Zhou, the village chief's commotion and among the few who vaguely heard the whole conversation, stared at the retreating figure of Zhou, the village official. He then turned to Zhou, the village chief, his face weathered and furrowed, his eyes suddenly unfocused and lost, a picture of utter absurdity.

No, it was surreal.

Old Man Chen turned his head, muttering, "Jiu Zhang nephew, what did he say? Did I just hear my son Dashan’s name on the tax list?"