Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Anyone living by a mountain has one shared headache: keeping out burrowing weasels.

The old Zhao family lived right at the foot of the mountain. No matter how tight you shut the granary door, if you were even slightly careless, you were bound to find a big hole in some nook or cranny come morning.

Granaries, kitchens, and chicken coops were the weasels' favorite spots. In fact, it wasn't just weasels. Living at the mountain's base meant snakes, bugs, rats, and ants would all find their way into your home. When building a large granary, the best location was actually farther from the mountains. Walls of iron might keep people out, but they can't stop mountain critters. A man can't climb a high wall, but a rat can dig a tunnel. They had countless ways to ruin grain stores, making them nearly impossible to guard against.

Zhao Xiaobao talking about a 'dog hole' wasn't just her making things up. They probably kept dogs down there, maybe even cats. People guarded against people; cats guarded against rats.

A granary full of grain meant keeping a dog not only warned of wild animals from the mountains but also scared off humans. If the dog was clever and had a keen nose, it would start barking before anyone even got close. The thief would probably scare himself off before the guards even showed up.

In the pitch-black night, two figures, one large and one small, crept stealthily along the base of the wall.

"Pa, there really is a dog hole. I hear Blackie," whispered Zhao Xiaobao, just a little mud speck against the high wall. She moved like she was playing hide-and-seek with Xiao Wu and the other kids in the village, placing each footstep lightly, careful not to step on dry leaves or twigs that might crackle.

"You found it?" Old Man Zhao hurried over from the other side. He knew his girl was sharp-eared and clear-eyed, the cleverest in the whole family. If she said it was there, it definitely was. "Xiaobao, our dog's the only Blackie. Other folks' dogs are just 'other folks' dogs.' You can't go around giving them names," he couldn't help but clarify for Blackie's sake.

"Okay, got it," said Xiaobao. Squatting on the ground, she could already hear the dog's snuffling breaths from behind the wall. Her eyes lit up. Before the dog could bark, she quickly pulled out Blackie's wooden bowl from their cabin, poured in some leftover rice and bone-and-radish soup from their supper, and slid the bowl toward the dog hole in front of her.

Yes, she had found the dog hole. It was tiny, far too small for an adult to crawl through.

Of course, a dog could come out.

In the glimmering moonlight, a dog's head poked out. Its jet-black, clever eyes sized up the father and daughter for a bit. Then, body low to the ground, it slithered out with a *ziliu* sound—a large, tall dog with slender legs emerged nimbly from inside the wall.

"Wow, you've got such long legs!" Zhao Xiaobao exclaimed in a hushed voice, squatting before the hole and looking up at the dog, her eyes sparkling. It was even more impressive than their own Blackie.

The large dog stood before her, its tall frame looking down, appearing very majestic and imposing. Spotting Old Man Zhao to the side, it shifted its front paws slightly, bared its sharp teeth, and let out a low, menacing growl from its throat. Just as it was about to lunge, its front legs were gently hugged by a pair of small hands.

"Don't you snarl at my Pa!" Zhao Xiaobao gently stroked its leg. The fur felt wonderful, smooth and sleek. "Here, toll money. This is my supper. I'll share a little with you."

She pushed the dog bowl closer to it. Rice soaked in bone broth from the blessed land—no dog could resist that. The long-legged hound before her was certainly no exception. It had been on duty here for years, its territory covering the back hills and front slopes. During the day, it was confined to a small area, only released from its leash at night to roam freely. The dog hole was deliberately made by the guards: first, to give it a bit of freedom; second, to let it keep watch; and third, to catch weasels and other animals that came down from the mountains.

Even the most duty-loving dog has its rebellious moments. From birth until it took over its parents' role, the guards had never instructed it not to accept food from strangers. Since no one said *not* to, that meant it was fair game.

So it dug in.

Delicious. So delicious. It had never eaten such tasty dog food in its entire life. It spent its days scratching at grain sacks, eating rice with the guards every meal, and never lacked for meat. But compared to this bowl of food before it—which only had meat broth and not a single bone—what it used to eat was like crap!

The guards always forbade it from eating feces, so why were they the ones eating it?!

"If you eat Xiaobao's food, you can't stop us, okay?" Zhao Xiaobao patted its smooth fur. Before the long-legged hound could react, she whisked both the dog and its bowl into the courtyard of the wooden cabin in the blessed land.

The long-legged hound was barking its head off in fright inside the blessed land. Zhao Xiaobao turned to look at her father, her big eyes shining in the dark. "Pa, I'll get you through the dog hole!"

Old Man Zhao reached in to feel around. There didn't seem to be any traps inside, but the hole was simply too small. Forget him, even Xi'er wouldn't be able to squeeze through. "Baby, you scared without your Pa here?"

"Xiaobao isn't scared," she said, looking down and fiddling with her fingers, her voice lacking conviction.

Being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by darkness, not knowing what lay behind the wall or if officials with raised knives were waiting... It wasn't just because she was a child. Even adults would feel fear facing the unknown. For a moment, Old Man Zhao considered giving up. Maybe it was better to forget it. With his daughter under his watchful eye, if anything happened, they could both just duck into the blessed land. But leaving his little girl alone to crawl through a dog hole here? He couldn't bring himself to feel at ease.

"Xiaobao, forget it, Pa..." Before he could finish, Old Man Zhao felt the scene before him change. A fierce hound was snarling at him. Before he could react, the dog let out a furious bark and charged straight at him.

"Woof!!!"

Zhao Xiaobao didn't know her father was being chased and bitten by a dog. With her dad gone, the surroundings felt even quieter. A mountain breeze blew, chilling her small body and making her shiver.

Her heart filled with fear. She quickly glanced around. It was eerily silent. Sure no one was there, she plopped down on her knees, imitating how the long-legged dog had come out. She stuck her head in first, then twisted and wriggled her small body. At the same time, she pushed off the ground with her feet, using her arms to support and pull herself forward, her toes finding purchase. Though she was a bit plump, her frame was small, and a little girl's body was flexible. It didn't take much effort for her to squeeze through.

After a quick scan confirmed no one was around, she scrambled up, brushed the dust off her hands, and without a moment's delay, waved her little hand, releasing her father—who had nearly been pounced on by the big dog—from the blessed land.

Two thuds sounded simultaneously as Old Man Zhao landed and the long-legged hound, having missed its pounce, let out two startled noises, one large and one small.

"Ouch..."

"Woof? Woof woof woof?!"

Zhao Xiaobao quickly covered her father's mouth. Like a thief, she looked around and whispered in a hushed tone, "Pa, be very quiet. Xiaobao crawled through someone else's dog hole. Xiaobao is a bad child. We can't let anyone know."

Old Man Zhao nodded rapidly. He stood up, scooped his daughter into his arms, got his bearings, and began skulking along the base of the wall.

Though he didn't know what was special about each room, since the guards were currently using the first room to store grain, that meant this year's new harvest was all in the first room. The other rooms might also have new grain, but since he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he didn't want to risk all this trouble and danger only to bring back old, stored grain. That would be a huge loss.

To be safe and to save effort, he decided to boldly target the first granary!

His ambition was grand, but his actions were furtive. Old Man Zhao took each step with extreme caution.

From his observation on the mountain, after moving the grain into the storage room, the six guards had walked along the corridor to the very first room at the front. This, Xiaobao had seen clearly. Old Man Zhao's eyesight wasn't as good as his daughter's; he only saw the guards disappear under the eaves after finishing their work, not knowing where they hid.

That very first room at the front was probably where they slept.

The front was close to the main gate, convenient for transporting grain and working. Usually, large compounds had a backyard, but this large granary clearly didn't, nor did it have side gates or anything—just one main gate. However, Old Man Zhao had also noticed that while there were no side or back gates, there was an inconspicuous side room at the rear. That made sense. For such a large granary, you couldn't just guard the front. Even if there was no entrance at the back, you still had to guard against petty thieves scaling the walls.

If that side room was occupied, then there were at least seven guards.

The first storage room was on the eastern corridor. The dog hole happened to be in the middle of the eastern wall. The side room was on the western side, far away. As long as they didn't make a big commotion, they wouldn't be heard from over there. But whether east or west, both were relatively close to the front. Any sound could potentially alert the six guards. So, it was still very dangerous and required careful action.

Fortunately, Xiaobao had hidden the long-legged hound in the blessed land. The front and back were guarded by people, while the middle was the hound's territory. Now that the dog was gone, they had lost a helper with a keen nose and a loud bark, significantly reducing the danger.

Xiaobao truly was the family's genius.

Walking from the middle to the first storage room went surprisingly smoothly.

Even more delightfully, the storage room wasn't even locked!

Old Man Zhao trembled with excitement. They were so close to the front rooms he could hear the long and short snores. Working through the night was exhausting. He didn't know if the guards were cutting corners for an easy night, planning to load more grain tomorrow, or simply overconfident that no one would come, hence not locking the door... Regardless, the door truly wasn't locked. The latch was merely held in place by a twig stuck through it—not enough to stop a person, only enough to deter cats, dogs, weasels, and other small animals that might steal grain.

Gently setting his daughter down, father and daughter pressed themselves tightly against the wall. Old Man Zhao reached out, removed the twig, and pushed the door. It opened without a single creak, smoothly and silently.

Without needing her father's signal, Zhao Xiaobao squeezed inside first.

Old Man Zhao held the doorframe with one hand, slipped in right after her, and then quietly, without a trace, closed the storage room door.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, allowing the father and daughter to see the room's interior. Sacks of grain were piled high, stack upon stack. Even though she had studied arithmetic very diligently with Nephew Jin Yu, Zhao Xiaobao couldn't begin to count how many there were. The grain sacks were stacked all the way up to the roof beams.

"Pa, so many grain sacks," Zhao Xiaobao said, looking up, her eyes filled with undisguised envy. If their family had this much grain, her brothers and nephews wouldn't have to work so hard clearing land. They could just lie around and still have rice to eat.

"Yeah..." Old Man Zhao was also rendered speechless by the sight. Looking down from the mountain, the granary had seemed like a mere speck. Standing beneath the high wall, he realized the compound was unimaginably vast. The storage rooms that had looked like sesame seeds or beans from the mountain now, from within, revealed they could hold a staggering amount of grain—enough to feed who knew how many families.

There were so many grain sacks there was hardly any room to stand.

Old Man Zhao couldn't help but reach out and press a sack. That familiar texture—yes, it was millet. He sniffed deeply. Millet had a unique scent any experienced farmer could recognize. Just as merchants had a keener sense for silver, farmers had a particularly sharp nose for grain.

This room was filled entirely with new grain, not a single sack of old, stored grain.

"Xiaobao, move them," he said, barely containing his excitement, his hand trembling as it rested on a grain sack. "Move two sacks to the wooden cabin first."

Zhao Xiaobao nodded eagerly, her little hand pressing against the sack before her. The storage room was dim, so Old Man Zhao couldn't see clearly, but in the courtyard of the wooden cabin, the long-legged hound, which had been barking incessantly, had its tail whacked by two suddenly appearing grain sacks. It yelped in fright, jumping three feet into the air, its bark cracking with panic.

"Dad, should we move more?" Zhao Xiaobao asked eagerly.

"One more bag." Old Man Zhao rubbed his pant legs. "We paid over a hundred catties last year, so two years make about three hundred catties. Three bags should square us up."

Zhao Xiaobao nodded, placed her small hands on the stack, and the tall pile of grain bags before her shrank by another bag's worth.

"Your dad will soon be in his 'tiger leaving the mountains' year. Not counting the earlier years, starting from when I married your mother, I've been paying grain tax from age sixteen until this year—exactly twenty-nine years. Let's round it up to thirty. If I take one bag for every year I paid taxes, Xiaobao, move another thirty bags!"

Of course, last year and this year were calculated separately.

Old Man Zhao looked at the nearly full granary before him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted, but the words "take it all" stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out. Whenever greed surged, he would glance at his daughter beside him, telling himself to stop. One must not be too greedy, nor teach his daughter bad habits. He was here to take back his own family's grain, not to steal others'. Taking and stealing were very different.

He just didn't want the grain his family had worked so hard to harvest ending up filling who-knows-whose belly.

He must not be greedy, must not become a villain like those officials. Things that don't belong to you must not be touched—not even a bit.

Thirty bags of grain could fill their own family granary, but here, it was like a small bite taken out of a flatbread, just enough to let them take a couple more steps forward.

But it was these two steps that made Old Man Zhao pause abruptly.

Right in the cleared space at his feet, a square wooden plank was suddenly exposed. It should have been tightly fitted to cover the ground, but now it seemed pushed up by something, unable to stay flat.

The other end of the plank was weighed down by stacked grain bags, causing this end to lift slightly. Old Man Zhao had kicked the raised plank and only noticed it when he looked down.

Zhao Xiaobao imitated her father, squatting down and trying to pry the plank with her small hands. "Dad, what's this?"

With grain bags pressing on it, naturally, it couldn't be moved. Old Man Zhao thought for a moment, then slipped his fingers into the raised gap. The light was dim, making it hard to see clearly, but the sensation was unmistakable. A poke downward, that familiar indentation—yes, it was millet.

His jaw muscles tightened. Old Man Zhao stood up silently, glanced at the grain-filled granary before him, then nudged the raised plank with his toe. So he had been right after all. There really was a grain cellar in the storeroom.

Grain was piled on top and hidden underneath—so much that it couldn't even be contained, to the point where the wooden plank couldn't hold it down. "Hidden" might not be accurate; it seemed more like stuffing the maximum amount of grain into a limited space, especially since this place itself was very concealed.

Old Man Zhao couldn't help but look down at his feet. Below, that should be the grain cellar.

Right during tax season, they'd even gone and blocked the cellar entrance with grain. Were the other dozens of rooms like this too?

"Xiaobao, take fifty more bags." He reached out and stroked the rough grain bag before him. "Your grandparents slaved away their whole lives. The number of times they ate their fill can be counted on one hand. They honestly paid so much grain to the court but never saw any good come of it, subjected to back-breaking corvée labor every year."

"Consider it deposited. Now we're taking it back."

Looking at these granaries packed full, for all he knew, the slop buckets of the rich were filled with leftovers made from the very grain his parents had sweated to grow. He wasn't taking others' things; he was taking his family's own.

In his hazy childhood memories, there was a scene of his mother, on her deathbed, lying there wailing that she was sorry for him. She was old when she had him, just to bring him into a life of hardship, to go hungry, unable to even produce an extra piece of flatbread. The family truly had no grain left, so she told him to drink two more ladles of water and endure the hunger.

Mother was dying, couldn't raise her youngest son anymore. What will you do in the future?

Toiling for most of a lifetime, working oneself to the bone in the fields every day—what was the use? No use at all!

Her cries shook the heavens, repeating over and over: I'm sorry for you, can't raise you anymore, can't raise you anymore.

That very night, he lost his mother.

Fifty bags of grain—the fruit of his parents' lifelong labor. What did she mean, she didn't raise him? Old Man Zhao thought, I'll eat these few dozen bags of grain from now on, until I die. How did Mother not raise him? She raised him into old age.