Chapter 30 The Yamen Runner

Chapter 30: The Constable

The sun gradually dipped westward, and Tian Wang came to pick up Xiao Mei to go home, meaning the mess next door was wrapped up quick.

Tian Wang thanked Chang Jinhua up and down, but she couldn't be bothered. She used to at least crack a smile at the younger folks, but now it was just pure disgust.

"Finally, she's gone." Meng Wan stretched his sore back and got off the kang.

A square table sat on the kang, with a dumpling steamer on top. Chang Jinhua and Meng Wan started wrapping dumplings.

"We'll make extra tonight to freeze 'em, and have 'em again for breakfast tomorrow."

Meng Wan copied how she pinched the dumpling pleats while responding, "Huh, eating 'em again tomorrow? How long's this gonna go on?"

Chang Jinhua worked quick, finishing a dumpling in a few moves. "Till the fifth day of the new year. Eat 'em every day, have 'em every day. The more dumplings you eat, the richer you get."

Alright, guess it's a custom. Fine, let's eat!

The big pot steamed the dumplings, while the small pot heated up two leftover New Year's Eve dishes. Meng Wan figured it'd take two more meals to finish off the leftovers.

The extra dumplings were gonna be taken to the backyard to freeze. Meng Wan grabbed a shallow flat basket, lined the bottom with the rough linen cloth they used for wrapping tofu, propped it against the backyard wall, and started placing the dumplings on it one by one.

"Woo..."

Hearing that crying sound late at night, Meng Wan's hand jerked, and a dumpling dropped.

He wanted to cry but couldn't. Crap... he was gonna get yelled at.

"Woo woo..."

The crying from the backyard next door kept going, faint and muffled, not too loud, not too soft.

"Zhu Geer?"

The crying paused. Zhu Geer's voice was still hoarse, like it'd never get better.

"Wan Geer, it's me."

They were both quiet for a bit before Meng Wan asked, "Now... you still think it was a good idea for me to go to the Tian family and serve Tian Xing with you?"

Hearing that, Zhu Geer suddenly broke into loud sobs, his voice raw with pain.

"I'm sorry, Wan Geer. It's my fault, all my fault."

"Tian Xing's a beast, the Tian family's a pit of fire. I wronged Xiao Liu, I wronged him!"

Meng Wan pursed his lips. "Did your younger brother really kill himself?"

The crying stopped. From behind the wall, Zhu Geer's voice came out, exhausted.

"Does it even matter?"

"My parents took half a tael of silver and two sacks of grain from the Tian family and wheeled Xiao Liu's body back on a cart. I followed behind in secret. Only my mom shed two fake tears, and then they started celebrating the half tael they got for free."

Their own son's body wasn't even cold yet, and they were already happy about that half tael? Meng Wan silently cursed them in his head.

"They talked about burying Xiao Liu in some deserted spot because he was a geer and couldn't go in the ancestral graves..."

"But isn't there other burial grounds in the village!" Zhu Geer's voice suddenly shot up again, scaring Meng Wan.

He was like a madman, his voice going up and down, sometimes yelling, which soon got the Tian family's attention.

Tian Xing, already in a bad mood, slapped him twice. Zhu Geer's cheeks puffed up right away, but he didn't even whimper, instead laughing even more eerily.

Xiao Mei stammered, "Big... big brother, don't... don't hit him. I think sister-in-law doesn't seem right. Is she... is she running a fever?"

The weather was already cold, and Zhu Geer, thinly clad, had secretly followed his parents all the way out, falling sick at this critical moment.

Meng Wan wondered if the Tian family would call a doctor. As he headed back to the kitchen, he could still faintly hear an old voice saying they should lock Zhu Geer up.

Meng Wan shivered. This family was rotten to the core. Zhu Geer had been beaten for a long time—didn't Xiao Mei know? She was the one who first told Meng Wan about it, even with a tone of morbid curiosity at first, until things spiraled beyond her imagination...

She had just spoken up for Zhu Geer, so it seemed she was finally scared.

Did Tian Wang not know his sister-in-law was being beaten? He probably knew even earlier than Xiao Mei, but just stood by and watched.

That night, Meng Wan had dreams all through his sleep, but by morning he had forgotten everything, only feeling a bit listless and worn out.

"Aunt, I don't want to go anywhere today. I want to stay home."

Chang Jinhua touched his head, a hint of pity in her eyes. "Then stay home. We don't have many relatives anyway. You rest in the small room. I'll take Da Lang to the village to pay New Year's visits to the elders."

The house had no main hall. On the second day of the new year, with the door wide open, Chang Jinhua feared someone might barge in to pay respects and disturb Meng Wan, so she told him to hide in the small room and pretend no one was home.

Meng Wan curled up in the corner of the kang in the small room, idly flipping through Song Tingzhou's book. It was so soporific that he unconsciously fell asleep on the kang again.

Half-asleep, he felt a hand touch his forehead, followed by the voices of Chang Jinhua and Song Tingzhou.

"No fever. It must be the Tian family business that scared him. He talked nonsense all night in his sleep. Later, when Wan Ge wakes up, I'll take him to pay respects to your father, so he can protect him and keep those ghosts and spirits away from our little geer."

"Mm, Mother. I'll help you light the fire later and cook some fine rice porridge for Wan Geer."

"I've already washed the rice and started the stove. No need for you. Stay in the room and study, keep an eye on Wan Geer so he doesn't get a fever again." Chang Jinhua's voice faded away.

Someone sat down beside Meng Wan, their voice gentle and low. "Why are you crying? Having another dream?"

A warm hand tentatively touched the corner of Meng Wan's eye, as if scalded by his hot tears, then quickly pulled back.

After a moment, that palm gently cupped Meng Wan's cheek, trembling slightly, as if afraid of waking him, holding back with great effort.

The warmth of the palm spread to Meng Wan's face, gradually turning his cheeks red.

Meng Wan grunted and turned his head, burying his face in the blanket someone had covered him with. On second thought, this was the small room, so wasn't this blanket Song Tingzhou's?

His face under the blanket grew even redder.

Song Tingzhou seemed to sense something and abruptly stood up, speaking to no one in particular or muttering to himself.

"Mother should have finished washing the rice. I'll go get firewood and light the stove."

As soon as he left, Meng Wan quickly pulled the blanket aside and sat up, fanning his face with his hand.

When had he fallen asleep?

Meng Wan got up and drank two bowls of thin porridge, feeling much better by the afternoon.

The Tian family next door quieted down in the following days. No news came of Zhu Geer's troubles, though the smell of Chinese medicine wafted over from next door from time to time, suggesting they had called a doctor and bought medicine.

The Tian family had just started to see some improvement in recent years, but successive troubles had drained their money. If Zhu Geer died of sickness or was beaten to death, Tian Xing would never find another wife or husband in the nearby villages. Li Changxiang was too shrewd to let another death happen in the family, or the villagers' spittle would drown her.

On the sixth day of the new year, Meng Wan got up early and dressed. Chang Jinhua had gotten up even earlier, knowing he was sick of dumplings these past few days, so she started making tofu first thing in the morning.

"You've rested long enough. I'll freeze what we made today and start selling tomorrow."

Meng Wan had some concerns. He had no idea what Shopkeeper Huang would say, but paper was precious. Sanquan Village wasn't far from the town, so he'd likely have to go to the bookshop daily to paint lanterns. As a young man traveling alone, it wasn't safe, and Song Tingzhou would definitely go with him, leaving Chang Jinhua alone at home with the door open for business made him uneasy.

"Don't soak the beans for tomorrow just yet. Wait until we get back this evening. Bolt the door from inside when you're home alone, or better yet, go hang out with Aunt Liu for a bit."

Meng Wan sipped his fragrant soy milk from a bowl and gave Chang Jinhua a whole list of instructions.

Chang Jinhua laughed at him. "Look at our little man—after the New Year, he's really become a grown-up, and now he's lecturing me. It's you and Da Lang I should be worried about."

"What's there to worry about with us? Before the New Year, I just had a quick verbal agreement with the shopkeeper. Who knows if he'll even want me after the holiday!"

Of course, Shopkeeper Huang wanted him. The New Year paintings he'd sent out got a great response. The bookshop owner from the prefectural city told him he'd take more of that kind of artwork, all of it.

"These lanterns are already assembled and not suitable for hauling back and forth. I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you, young man, to come here for a few more days and paint them here."

Just as expected, Meng Wan wasn't surprised. "That's fine. Since you're providing the brushes, ink, and paper, Shopkeeper Huang, then let's not call it selling paintings. Just consider it me working for you. Just pay me a few copper coins a day, and that's fine."

This young man was sharp. Shopkeeper Huang didn't try to cheat him, especially with Scholar Song standing right there like a watchdog—he couldn't pull a fast one even if he wanted to.

"You're a straightforward guy, young man. In that case, let's do it by the piece. How about three coppers per lantern painted?"

The cheapest lanterns are five coppers, the ones with designs cost more. Shopkeeper Huang also had to hire workers to assemble the lanterns, provide materials, and supply the brushes, ink, and paper. Three coppers was already a pretty high price.

Meng Wan sealed the deal on the spot. Piecework, after all—Shopkeeper Huang didn't know how fast he could paint, so this way it was fair for both of them.

Since they were here and there were plain lanterns ready, Boss Huang found Meng Wan a quiet corner, and he started painting on the spot.

Song Tingzhou didn't idle either. Hand-copied bestsellers were in high demand at the bookshop, and some farm scholars came to copy books for money. Song Tingzhou did the same—he'd dealt with Shopkeeper Huang many times before.

The two of them, one writing and one painting, became a sight in the bookshop. On the sixth day, there weren't many customers buying books, paper, or ink, but those who did always took an extra look.

Most were probably watching Meng Wan. It was rare for a young man to be literate, let alone skilled in painting, which added an air of elegance.

Shopkeeper Huang, being worldly and more tactful than most, thought this wasn't good. Meng Wan was good-looking, and when he painted quietly, he carried a certain grace. The couple had no background, and he didn't want some wealthy lord or lady to take a fancy to them and cause trouble. So he moved Meng Wan to the back courtyard to paint.

Simple line drawings were naturally straightforward. Shopkeeper Huang even had pigments on hand—though only red, yellow, and blue—which was still better than plain ink.

Ancient people favored ink. The famous painters of the Yu Kingdom were known for their ink wash works, celebrating natural simplicity, elegance, and restraint over gaudiness.

But their ink came in five shades: thick, heavy, burnt, light, and clear. Even black could be divided into so many colors, which is why some said there were "five-colored blacks."

Meng Wan suspected such things existed, though he hadn't seen them yet.

Sitting on a small wooden stool, Meng Wan had a low table before him piled with adorable lanterns forming a small mountain.

Rabbits were the most numerous, followed by dogs, calves, sheep, chicks...

He painted every small animal he could think of, except for the dragon—that imperial-exclusive emblem was a death sentence without the emperor's permission.

Shopkeeper Huang occasionally peeked into the back courtyard. Seeing Meng Wan's painting method and speed, he was stunned. The masters he'd seen in the prefectural city were a hassle—bathing and changing clothes before painting, burning incense and sipping tea—and he couldn't even understand what they painted. Nothing like Young Meng, who dashed off a piece in a few strokes.

He'd have to push the workers; otherwise, they couldn't keep up with Young Meng's supply of plain lanterns.

Shopkeeper Huang wasn't worried about sales. Even if they didn't sell, the lanterns were easy to store. Occasionally, women and young men bought them for fun, and with Young Meng's lively, adorable paintings, even he felt like buying one.

Meng Wan painted straight through until afternoon. Song Tingzhou came in to find him. "Wan Geer, time to go home."

Meng Wan rubbed his right wrist. This exercise was far better than writing a few characters at home—his brushwork was already taking shape.

"I'll call Shopkeeper Huang in to count."

Shopkeeper Huang was right behind Song Tingzhou. He didn't need to be called. He was truly impressed by this young man. He'd thought ten or twenty lanterns a day was plenty, but Young Meng's speed was astonishing—this pile was at least sixty or seventy.

"I'll count them now. Please wait a moment."

Shopkeeper Huang did a rough count—about sixty-five. He fetched 195 coppers from the counter and handed them to Meng Wan.

"Young man, your painting speed is the fastest I've ever seen. I'm truly in awe," Shopkeeper Huang said sincerely.

"You flatter me, Shopkeeper. I only paint the form, so of course it's quick."

Meng Wan knew his own limits. He was just relying on novelty, with no real technique. Compared to traditionally trained painters, he was leagues behind—not even qualified to be their apprentice.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou took their leave.

Passing a pastry shop, Song Tingzhou paused. "We..."

"We need to hurry home. Auntie said she's making braised ribs tonight." Meng Wan clutched his little red pouch of still-warm coins, not even glancing at the shop's treats.

As they left the town, they encountered a group of people on the street, all strutting with their chests puffed out, as if desperate for everyone to notice their matching uniforms and important status.

Song Tingzhou tugged at Meng Wan. Understanding, Meng Wan hid behind him, shielded from view. Many others also avoided them.

Once the group had passed, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou took the path back to Sanquan Village. Only when they were alone did Meng Wan ask about what had just happened.

"Who were those people?"

Song Tingzhou walked beside him and explained softly, "We don't need to be too afraid. They're probably yamen runners from the county. They hold no official rank, but they act arrogantly in the name of the government. Ordinary folks dare not offend them."