Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Half a month later, the people of Wanxia Village delivered their grain tax to Taoli Village, a good ten days later than last year.

This timing was the result of a village-wide discussion. After all, outwardly, their village now only had a group of elderly, weak, women, and children left. The harvest would definitely take more time and effort, and going too early would arouse suspicion.

This timing was just right. In previous years, villagers from the Tongjiang Town area were always the first batch to transport grain to the town. But in reality, the officials dispatched from the county to collect taxes would stay in Tongjiang Town for a month and a half. There were who knows how many villages under several townships. The peasants had to travel entirely on foot; even with a wheelbarrow, folks from the more distant villages faced a day-and-night journey. Not to mention, the weather and how the crops grew varied from place to place—some ripened a few days early, others half a month late. This was normal, and urging wouldn't help.

Old Man Zhao was counting on this very point, hence the delay.

Half a month was about right. For old-timers who'd lived their whole lives working the land, even if the mainstays of their families were gone, the autumn harvest was such a major event that even the bedridden would drag themselves out to the fields.

That's just how farmers were. The importance of the autumn harvest was bred in the bone. As long as they could move, they had to work.

And each household's harvest was almost no different from previous years. On average, one *mu* of land yielded about 270 to 280 *jin* of grain. Only a few households reached 300 *jin*. Without even needing to bag it, experienced eyes glancing over the threshing ground could roughly estimate the amount.

Old Man Zhao kept telling outsiders that his family had harvested 300 *jin* per *mu* this year. His family were the first to sun their grain and the first to collect it. The ones minding the threshing ground were just kids, so naturally they couldn't tell. When those old hands had time to come winnow grain at the threshing ground, the Zhao family's grain was already half collected, so they didn't spot the trick.

For transporting the grain, they finally selected a dozen or so sturdy women and older men. Leading them was Li Laiyin. Though Old Man Zhao had no use for the old man, but give credit where it's due: the man could really cry and was a good actor, at least enough to annoy the Village Head, who couldn't stand the sight of him for a moment.

Last time, he was the one who went to Taoli Village to notify them. This time, he would lead again, since he knew the way.

The road from Wanxia Village to Taoli Village wasn't the mountain path they usually took to Tongjiang Town. It was a long detour. Although the road wasn't easy either, it was at least flat. Donkey carts and oxcarts couldn't pass, but wheelbarrows could. The grain tax for over thirty households in the village amounted to several thousand *jin*. Moreover, they couldn't bring just the bare minimum; they had to bring extra to deal with the officials' 'hu-kicking' scam.

"Kicking the *hu* and spilling the tip" was a form of "legal income" for officials during grain tax collection. Simply put, when commoners transported grain to the town and poured it into the *hu* measuring container, the officials would kick the *hu* with their toes. The grain that spilled out would be counted as loss during transport and storage, not included in the required amount.

If the *hu* wasn't full, the commoners had to make up the difference with their own grain; otherwise, the amount would be insufficient.

And this portion became the officials' legal income.

How much they kicked out, that much they got.

The tax system of the Daxing Dynasty was a one-fifteenth tax, meaning for every fifteen *jin* of grain harvested, one *jin* had to be given to the state. The old Zhao family's six and a half *mu* of land yielded nearly 2,300 *jin* this year. Calculating based on this, they owed about 150 *jin* in tax. However, they told everyone else 300 *jin* per *mu*, which was about 2,000 *jin* total, meaning around 130 *jin* owed. But to deal with the officials, they had to bring at least an extra ten or twenty *jin* just in case.

This had happened before. Some commoners brought grain exactly matching the tax amount, only to encounter a ruthless official who kicked out ten or twenty *jin*. In the end, the amount fell short, and they had to go home to scrounge up more grain.

Kicking the *hu* was a skill. It was said that for many clerks, learning this trick was their first order of business upon joining the yamen. After all, it was a perfectly legitimate way to line their pockets. Doing it once could fatten them for a year—this was no exaggeration.

The common people were fuming but helpless against the officials. The arm is no match for the thigh; that's how it had always been.

The old Zhao family didn't usually use a wheelbarrow. In previous years, the father and sons took turns carrying the grain on their shoulders, following the Village Head and others to the town. This year, that wasn't possible. Even their harvest was, officially, brought in with help from clansmen like Zhao Shanao. Similarly, if anyone came to the village and saw the newly built houses at the village entrance and exit, they could say the clansmen helped build them. Any excuse would do—like the mountains being too vast, they couldn't find people, but those hiding in the mountains could see the foot of the mountain. As long as they saw the new houses, they would know it was safe below and would return.

They could also directly say that villagers, seeing that they hadn't come down from the mountains for so long, took a fancy to the land and simply occupied others' homesteads.

These excuses seemed full of holes and couldn't withstand close scrutiny, yet they often managed to convince people. Because occupying others' homesteads happened all the time. A village had all sorts of people; odd behavior was par for the course.

But clearly, the village's decision after much discussion to leave three to five corpses on the path leading in and out of the village played a key role. During this period, no one set foot in Wanxia Village again, so they didn't need to use these flimsy excuses.

Early that morning, the grain transport team slowly left the village. The village men saw them off outside the village, stopping at that foul-smelling spot. They didn't go further, watching the dozen or so women and a few old men disappear slowly from view, treading on the morning dew.

After the autumn harvest, the village suddenly fell quiet.

If this grain transport went smoothly, upon their return—provided Zhao Dagen and the others hadn't lied back then—conscription would follow.

Conscription. A matter of life and death for all the village men, was about to arrive.

Everyone felt intense urgency and anxiety. Even old lady Wu and old lady Zhou, who had always been at odds, had no mind to bicker this time. Both of them were among those transporting grain. Don't let their age fool you; pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with one or two hundred *jin* was really nothing. Just like the Chunya sisters, who had done farm work since childhood, worked their whole lives, and even when they couldn't work anymore, they forced themselves to keep going.

Old lady Zhou was like that. Even if she couldn't push, she had to push.

For her old man, for her son, and even more for her grandson, what was she supporting? It wasn't just a wheelbarrow piled with two hundred *jin* of grain. What she was supporting was clearly the roof beam of her family, her son's life, her grandson's future.

With that necessary determination to persevere in her heart, how could she be tired? How could she not push?

It had rained the night before, making the road muddy. Several women slipped and nearly fell. They simply took off their shoes, tore some grass to tie their straw sandals to their waists. Gripping the slippery path with their ten toes, they walked for most of the day before reaching Taoli Village.

The people of Taoli Village had seen Li Laiyin before and were quite familiar with this old man. Without needing anyone to summon them, they ran off to call the Village Head.

When the Village Head saw their group, he initially wanted to grumble about why they took so long. All the other villages were ready, just waiting for them. But seeing a group of elderly, weak, women, and children covered in mud stains, even barefoot, the complaint on his lips couldn't be uttered.

"Was thinking if you didn't come soon, I'd have to send someone to fetch you," the Village Head said, glancing at the sky. He turned to a young man from Taoli Village. "Zheng Er, go notify the village heads of a few villages. Tell them to get ready. We'll set off for the town before dawn tomorrow. No dawdling; we won't wait for latecomers."

"Alright!" Zheng Er nodded, went home to stuff two pancakes in his pocket, and left the village without even eating lunch.

The Village Head looked at Li Laiyin and explained, "We can't go to the town today. The timing doesn't work. The officials in town finish work at *shen* hour. If we go, it'd be a wasted trip. We'll set off early tomorrow, queue up in town, finish the business, and come back early. Then we won't have to stay in town overnight."

Even if they left now, they'd reach the town in the afternoon. If fast, they might catch the officials before they left work. If late, they wouldn't even see a soul. They were all farming families who couldn't scrape together two copper coins from one pocket; no one was willing to pay for a dormitory bed. Besides, the grain needed watching. Rather than sleeping on the street for a night, it was better to leave early tomorrow. If all went smoothly, they could return in the afternoon.

Li Laiyin naturally knew this. In previous years, they would first send someone to Taoli Village to inquire about the specific date, then arrive before dawn to wait. This year was different due to circumstances. Rubbing his hands, his old face creased into a smile, "Sorry to keep you waiting, Village Head. You know our village's situation. After the rice ripened, the whole village, old and young, went to the fields to rush the harvest, even resting in the fields at night. We hurried and only finished gathering the grain the day before yesterday. We intended to come yesterday, but the weather looked wrong, like it was going to rain. We were worried the grain would get wet, so we delayed another day."

"Alright, alright, I didn't say anything. I know it's hard for you, I understand," the Village Head waved his hand, not wanting to hear more. He had heard the news. Previously, an in-law from Wanxia Village wanted to go to the village to see their daughter and grandson. Halfway there, they saw several corpses lying by the roadside, unbearably foul. The old woman fainted from fright on the spot. The old man had no choice but to take his wife and leave.

Rumors spread through the ten *li* and eight villages that Wanxia Village had probably suffered another disaster, and the refugees probably hadn't left yet.

The Village Head's threat to send someone to their village to notify them was pure bluff. He had already planned that if their village hadn't sent anyone by the day after tomorrow, he wouldn't wait. If officials asked later, he would take this opportunity to truthfully report Wanxia Village's plight. Even if it delayed tax collection, it wouldn't be his fault.

Now that people had come, and nothing seemed amiss, the Village Head initially wanted to ask about the corpses, but swallowed the words. He was afraid this old fellow in front of him would seize the opportunity to pour out grievances and ask him to help deal with those corpses.

Forget it, forget it. Less trouble was better than more. Better to pretend he didn't know.

"The Wang family built a new house in front; their old house is empty. I'll have a word with them. You can spend the night in their old place," the Village Head said, waving over a child and telling him to fetch Wang Dalang, as he had something to say.

Li Laiyin naturally thanked him profusely, his waist almost bending double.

They spent the night in rough accommodations in the Wang family's old house. It was truly rough—not even a worn-out mat, let alone food. Of course, they hadn't expected to eat someone else's food. It was just that when the Village Head handed them over to Wang Dalang without even a word of instruction, and Wang Dalang's attitude was quite cold, it felt rather uncomfortable.

Ah.

Being away from home, nothing felt comfortable. No wonder they said a golden nest, a silver nest, was not as good as one's own humble home. It was true. After just one day out, they started missing their own humble home.

Fortunately, that scoundrel Zhao Dagen had foresight, having each household in the village contribute some grain to steam plenty of dry rations for them to carry. One bite of dry ration, one sip of water—at least they managed two meals.

They slept restlessly at night. In someone else's house, they dozed with hearts on edge, never quite at ease about the grain in the yard. Waking up several times in the middle of the night, he saw the two women on night watch weren't dozing off, which reassured him.

The next day, when the sky was still murky with dawn, the village entrance became lively.

Torches resembled a long dragon, illuminating the still-dark night.

Villagers from surrounding villages gradually arrived—pushing carts, carrying baskets on backs, shouldering loads. Those doing the heavy labor were all men in their prime. Women held torches and carried hoes, kitchen knives, and such for self-defense.

Seeing the Wanxia Village group, some faces showed surprise. There were also men who had gone to the village to help bury corpses greeting them warmly. But more were indifferent, as they weren't familiar.

"Which villages haven't arrived yet?" the Village Head asked, walking over fully dressed, looking at his son who was talking with several village heads.

"Liziba and Yujiawan haven't come yet," the Village Head's son called out.

"Send someone to check," the Village Head frowned, his expression displeased. "Every year, those two villages are the slowest. One wouldn't know they're the ones living in mountain hollows. What are they dawdling about?"

Li Laiyin pretended not to hear. They would definitely be at the tail end later, so they wouldn't compete for position with people from other villages. Better be self-aware, just walk at the very back to avoid blocking others' way.

Bringing up the rear has its risks and its perks. If they had the rotten luck to run into refugees halfway, Da Gen had said to dump the grain and run for it.

If the refugees appeared from behind, then that was that; the village would surely give them a grand funeral upon their return, so they could rest in peace.

However, Da Gen also said the likelihood of encountering refugees was very low, so they shouldn't worry.

And if they couldn't relax? What choice did they have? For the sake of their children and grandchildren, even if it were the road to the Yellow Springs, they would have to muster the courage to tread it.

"No matter how fast they walk, they’ll still have to queue up in town. As long as we don’t fall behind, we’ll be fine," Li Laiyin told the wives and grannies of his village. "If you get tired along the way, just say so. We can stop and rest."

Old lady Zhou shot back, hands on her hips, unwilling to admit defeat. "Who are you looking down on? How could we possibly fall behind? If you men can carry a load of grain, so can I. Don't you look down on me—I’m plenty capable!"

"Exactly," old lady Wu chimed in, also displeased. These old men kept telling them to take it slow and steady, both in the village and outside it. She hadn’t seen them being particularly strong or fast either! They were just as exhausted and panting as the women. It was six of one, half a dozen of the other, so no one should be pointing fingers.

"Can’t be bothered to argue with you!" Li Laiyin was furious and wanted to scold them for being ungrateful. But as he turned his head, he saw flickering lights appearing on the dark path ahead, signaling the arrival of the people from Liziba and Yujiawan. He took a deep breath, spat twice into his palms, rubbed them vigorously, then bent down to grip the handles of the wheelbarrow. Gritting his teeth slightly, he steadied his center of gravity and pushed the cart loaded with several bags of grain, positioning himself at the village entrance, ready to go.

Seeing this, old lady Zhou and the others hurriedly shouldered, carried, or pushed their loads of grain to follow.

The villagers from Taoli Village at the front of the line had already set off first, followed closely by the two villages that had arrived earlier. Li Laiyin waited until the people from Liziba and Yujiawan had passed by before slowly starting their journey.

A group of elderly men and women, along with a dozen or so women of varying heights and builds—some thin, some sturdy—trailed at the back of the procession like heavily burdened snails.

Meanwhile, on another mountain path, Old Man Zhao carried Zhao Xiaobao on his back, walking swiftly and steadily.

It seemed they were also heading toward Tongjiang Town.