In the tenth month, the Li family held their wedding. As one of the wealthier landowning families in the village, they put on a very respectable feast, lively and bustling.
By closeness of kinship, since Qin Xiong’s family was marrying into theirs, Qin Xiaoman, as a nephew, should have gone to help with errands. But since it was a ge’er being married off and the families were in the same village, it was enough to go block the door when the groom came to fetch the bride. The banquet itself was eaten at the Li family’s home.
The couple hadn’t had much interaction with the Li family before, and they had thought they would simply bring gift money and attend the feast. Unexpectedly, Li Kai held Du Heng in high regard and had come early to invite him to act as the account keeper for the wedding.
As a result, the two of them went out early in the morning—one to manage the accounts at the Li household, the other to go to the Qin household to block the door.
They didn’t return home until evening after a whole day of commotion.
The beginning of the month opened on a lively note, ushering in what was usually the most idle stretch of the year. The village households had just sold their grain and were, for once, a little flush with cash. Sure enough, the wine Du Heng had brewed really did sell.
People came to buy three liang, half a jin at a time, right up until mid-month, when officials from the county office arrived to collect the taxes.
Qin Xiaoman leaned over the table, going through the various taxes they needed to pay with Du Heng, while Du Heng wrote each item down carefully in the ledger.
“The head tax for an adult is one hundred twenty wen per year. For two people, that’s two hundred forty. Men must also perform labor service. According to the regulations, you were supposed to go this year and do one month of labor assigned by the prefectural office. Since you didn’t go, you have to pay two hundred wen instead. Our household only has two people, but no matter how few, once you’re registered as a household, you have to pay the household tax—two hundred wen.”
With each line Du Heng wrote down, his brow tightened a little more.
“Oh, right,” Qin Xiaoman added. “Besides that, there’s also the tribute fee—one hundred twenty wen per person per year.”
Du Heng frowned. “What is this tribute fee?”
“The emperor attends to countless affairs of state,” Qin Xiaoman said. “This fee is something all subjects under Heaven pay to express gratitude to the emperor.”
Du Heng pressed his lips together. Ordinary people didn’t seem to receive much care from the emperor, but they certainly paid plenty of taxes, and the categories were endlessly complicated.
He added everything up—eight hundred eighty wen, nearly a tael of silver.
Their household only had the two of them. Not only was the population small, the situation was simple as well—no children, no one of marriageable age waiting to be married off. Otherwise, there would have been even more miscellaneous taxes.
For families with many people, life was truly hard.
By the time the officials reached their household, it was already afternoon. There were four yamen runners with long sabers at their waists, two clerks keeping the registers, and one person specifically in charge of collecting and managing the money. Qin Xiaoman couldn’t name their exact ranks. In any case, they all bore county office business, and everyone had to respectfully call them “sir.”
When collecting taxes, the authorities were often short-handed and would temporarily recruit strong men to act as runners, and literate, numerate people to serve as clerks. Most of the clerks were xiucai or licentiates of some sort, with a bit of scholarly status. Following the county office to collect taxes not only earned them credit, they would also receive some compensation afterward.
Back when Qin Xiaoman’s father was still alive, he had once been called to do this kind of work. If the assignment happened to include one’s own village, it was more convenient—but all of it was decided by drawing lots.
The group crowded into the courtyard. The saber-wearing runner at the front barked aggressively, “It’s time to pay the taxes! Have you prepared the silver?”
Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman went out and motioned for them to sit.
“Sit? Sit for what?” the runner snapped. “This official is busy with public duties. There are so many households in a village like this. If every household drags things out, when will the whole village finish paying?”
Du Heng kept his tone polite, but seeing the man’s arrogant demeanor, he didn’t insist. He simply followed procedure and presented the tax money.
Seeing that the silver had been prepared, the lead runner stopped shouting and waited while the two clerks checked the household registry. Off to the side, the accountant began counting the long strings of copper coins that had been handed over.
No one spoke during the process, and no one else dared to interrupt.
Once the coins had been counted, the runners, clerks, and accountant exchanged glances.
Qin Xiaoman stood to the side. He twitched his brow slightly, stepped forward, and slipped half a string of coins into the runner’s hand. Politely, he said, “The weather’s about to turn cold as winter approaches. You gentlemen must have worked hard coming into the village to collect taxes. We farmers can’t do much to ease your burdens, so we can only invite you to have some tea.”
Then he added, “I don’t know whether my uncle happened to come down to the villages this time to collect taxes.”
The runner smoothly tucked the money into his sleeve. His tone softened compared to before. “Who is your uncle?”
“Oh, my uncle is the county clerk, Qin Zhiyan.”
“Oh, Clerk Qin,” the runner said. “This time, Lord Qin didn’t come down to the villages. He’s probably in the county office reconciling the account books—hard work as well.”
The accountant beside them also became more courteous. “So this is Clerk Qin’s hometown. Ge’er, your taxes total eight hundred eighty wen. The amount is correct. As expected of Clerk Qin’s relatives—so cooperative with county business.”
“Sir, you flatter us. This is simply what ordinary folk like us ought to do.”
“Indeed. If every household were like yours, affairs of the court would be much easier to handle. We still have other households to collect from, so we won’t stay any longer. We’ll take our leave.”
Qin Xiaoman saw them off courteously. “Safe travels, officers.”
Du Heng hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. Only after the group had gone far away did he ask, “Why did you have to give them that much extra money?”
Qin Xiaoman sighed. “The ones collecting taxes in our village this time were all unfamiliar faces. Even when they’re people you know, you still have to grease their palms a bit—let alone strangers. If you don’t give them ‘hardship money,’ they can claim they’re working on behalf of the county office. By the regulations, our tax should be eight hundred eighty wen, but they can just as easily say it’s one thousand one hundred eighty.”
“If you refuse to pay, they’ll say you’re violating imperial law. If you argue that they miscalculated, the runners will accuse you of deliberately causing trouble. With knives drawn, if something happens to you, even if you file a complaint afterward, they’ll say you caused the disturbance first. The county office will always side with the people carrying out its orders.”
Qin Xiaoman spoke calmly. Every year after the autumn harvest, when taxes were collected, things like this happened over and over. When had it ever been the common people who came out ahead?
These people were experts at bullying the weak. Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—officials were Heaven itself, and those who carried out official business were their enforcers. Ordinary people had no choice but to be squeezed and exploited. The only option was to smooth things over and placate these ancestors, so as to minimize losses and avoid conflict as much as possible.
“Give them some money to shut their mouths. And let them know there’s someone in our family working in the county office. Once they have something to fear, they won’t dare stir up trouble.”
Of course, even though Qin Zhiyan worked at the county office, it wasn’t something you could brandish right away to pressure people. Angering them would only backfire. If they deliberately made things difficult, even going to Qin Zhiyan wouldn’t necessarily help. His uncle had plenty of his own affairs to deal with, and not everything was his call. Dragging him in would only put him in an awkward position.
Du Heng let out a soft sigh. Farming households had it hard; merchant households weren’t any easier. In the end, it all came back to that old saying:
Of all professions, none suffer more than the rest—only scholars stand above.
If one had even the slightest official credential to one’s name, these temporary lackeys who waved chicken feathers as authority wouldn’t dare push you around so freely.
“You’ve really had to bend yourself in every way,” Du Heng said.
He placed his hand over the back of Qin Xiaoman’s hand. For someone so young to already be this shrewd in dealing with people—he had truly been forced to grow up early.
“Once you’ve seen enough, you understand,” Qin Xiaoman replied. “My father told me a lot of these things when he was still alive.”
Back then, his father refused to accept money skimmed by people in the same line of work. As a result, those people privately cursed him for being fake and pretentious, calling him holier-than-thou. The things they said were ugly.
After paying the taxes, there was nothing major left to deal with for the year. Farm work no longer needed to be rushed. Aside from digging sweet potatoes, it was mostly just plowing and turning the fields.
This year’s corn and rice had already been harvested, but the rice stubble and corn stalks were still in the fields. They would be dealt with while plowing. If they hadn’t fully rotted yet, they could still be used as firewood.
During the two busiest months of the autumn harvest, Du Heng had hardly had time to open a book. Now that things had eased up, Qin Xiaoman wouldn’t let him work the fields anymore, insisting that he stay home and focus on his studies.
The county-level examination for student scholars would be held in February next year—barely more than three months away.
Qin Xiaoman didn’t understand much about studying, but he did know that the months leading up to the exam were crucial.
“You just stay home,” he said. “Even if you don’t pass right away, going to sit for it a few more times will help you get familiar with the questions. That’s still better than not going at all.”
Earlier, when they had lent their ox to the Yao family, they really did come by to ask when Qin Xiaoman planned to dig up the sweet potatoes, offering to help. That made things much easier for him.
Unable to refuse Qin Xiaoman’s goodwill, Du Heng agreed to stay home and study, cooking meals for them in the meantime.
In fact, paying the taxes had only strengthened his resolve to obtain at least some official standing.
Throughout the tenth month, Du Heng hardly went out at all. Most of his time was spent reading by the window.
Naturally, he still took care of the family’s three daily meals. On top of that, there was laundry and preparing feed for the livestock. Household chores, done bit by bit, actually took up quite a lot of time. Because of that, even when tending the stove, Du Heng would hold a book of poetry in his hands, muttering lines under his breath as he memorized them while feeding the fire.
As winter approached, the weather grew colder. Around midday it was still tolerable, but later in the day one had to put on padded clothing. Sitting by the stove reciting books was actually warmer than reading by the window in the inner room. Still, he couldn’t stay by the stove all the time—too much warmth made it easy to grow drowsy.
Qin Xiaoman, just as during the harvest season, continued to leave early and return late, leading the ox out to plow the fields and coming back with two baskets of sweet potatoes.
With the ox helping, even though he worked all day, he didn’t feel particularly exhausted.
“How was your harvest this year, Madam Yao?” Qin Xiaoman asked as he swung his hoe to dig up sweet potatoes.
Early winter brought more rain, leaving the soil damp and compacted. Each swing of the hoe made the mud cling tightly to the blade, and lifting it again took real effort.
Working with one’s head down like that was tiring, so he chatted idly with Madam Yao, who was helping him dig.
“My husband and I only have ten mu of land altogether, all dry and poor. This year, even counting everything, we harvested less than ten shi of grain. After paying the land tax and then the head tax, we’ll have to scrape by another year.”
“With only the two of us, it’s still manageable,” she continued. “But it’s scary when something happens. As long as there are no disasters or illnesses, that’s already a blessing.”
Qin Xiaoman said, “The past two years have been fairly peaceful. The fact that there haven’t been any new levies or miscellaneous taxes is already not bad.”
Madam Yao nodded. “That’s true.”
Then she smiled and added, “Your family’s harvest was good this year—one of the best in the village. The other day, when I was out in the fields, I heard everyone talking about it. They were saying your Du Heng really knows how to manage farmland, and they’re all trying to figure out how you fertilized the soil.”
Qin Xiaoman replied, “How we fertilized it before—didn’t everyone see that with their own eyes? Back then they laughed at Du Heng for not knowing how to farm and for messing around. They even came to gossip to me, telling me not to listen to him too much. Now they want to learn how he fertilizes the fields.”
Madam Yao laughed. “You know what people in the village are like. That’s just their nature. It’s not that they’re especially bad—it’s just that they care most about that one mu and three fen of land. Now that they see your household’s bumper harvest and feel envious, how could they still remember what they themselves said before?”
People were saying, “Didn’t your family use oil-cake fertilizer on your fields before? This year the harvests have been bad, so everyone’s getting ready to stock up on oil cakes to fertilize their land. Early this morning, a bunch of folks ran to the Ge family’s place to buy some. Their house is packed with people every day.”
“But when the Ge family saw how well your family made money using oil-cake fertilizer, they suddenly refused to sell their next batch. They want to keep it to fertilize their own fields next year. To drive the villagers off, they said one oil cake costs three copper coins. Everyone was furious—cursing them as heartless profiteers.”
Hearing this gossip actually put Qin Xiaoman in a great mood. Watching them fight it out was entertaining enough.
Anyway, their own family had kept their oil cakes from pressing rapeseed oil this year. If it really came to it, they could just go to the county’s oil workshop to buy more. In any case, they were definitely done indulging the Ge family.
“Our family just doesn’t have the conditions,” someone sighed. “Otherwise we’d want to buy fertilizer too. All year long there’s never enough manure water, and in winter there’s not even enough firewood.”
After paying the production tax, even the firewood had been handed over as part of the payment. They didn’t own any private mountain land, so firewood was always scarce.
Qin Xiaoman’s brow twitched slightly. “I haven’t dug up the corn stalks and rice stubble in my fields yet. If you’re short on firewood, you can go dig them up and use them.”
“Really?”
Qin Xiaoman nodded. “I opened up more land this year, so there’s plenty of crop stalks. Plus, I’ve got firewood in the mountains too—I’m not short on fuel.”
Madam Yao felt both envious of the Qin family’s conditions and a little embarrassed. “We borrow your ox, and now we’re taking your firewood too… honestly, that’s too much. I’ll dig up the stubble and turn the fields over for you!”
Qin Xiaoman waved his hand. “Every household has their own work. No need. When the time comes, I’ll lead the ox over and plow the land—it’s fast. But plowing with an ox requires the stubble to be dug out first. If you dig it away, you’re already saving me a lot of trouble.”
Madam Yao was delighted. “Having livestock really is convenient. When the time comes, I’ll cut two bundles of fodder grass for your ox. Don’t try to refuse.”
Qin Xiaoman nodded. “Managing this much land this year really has been tiring. It’s only just winter, and I already feel lazy and don’t want to work.”
Madam Yao said, “You really have to take care of your body and not overwork yourself. You and Du Heng don’t even have children yet. If you exhaust your health now, it’ll be even harder later when you do have kids.”
Qin Xiaoman listened, but among farming families, who had the leisure to properly rest and recover? Every day was nothing but work.
By the time November came, the weather had grown noticeably colder.
Frost had formed on the vegetable beds in the fields in the mornings, and the sky was always dim and gray, the fog never fully dispersing.
Early mornings under the quilt were always warm. Qin Xiaoman hugged Du Heng’s waist, still half-asleep. “I dug up some more winter bamboo shoots and saved them. In a few days, I’ll go to the county and sell them, then buy a few bolts of cloth to make you a nice set of clothes.”
Du Heng nuzzled the back of Qin Xiaoman’s head. He should have gotten up to cook, but he couldn’t quite bear to move. “I have clothes to wear. There’s no need to spend money making new ones.”
“Aren’t you planning to sit for the exam at the beginning of next year? You should go in good clothes. When the time comes, we’ll go to the county together, and buy some new brushes, ink, and books too. We made quite a bit of money from the autumn harvest this year.”
It didn’t have to be fancy, but February was cold. Without a warm coat, how could he focus on the exam?
And as the saying goes, buy early, enjoy early—if they prepared in advance, he could also wear them for the New Year.
Du Heng chuckled softly and touched Qin Xiaoman’s red-tinted ear. “Alright.”
He lowered his head and pressed a long, affectionate kiss to Qin Xiaoman’s cheek. “Sleep a little longer. Don’t go out to the fields today. The fog is thick—it must be very cold. I’ll make you something tasty to eat.”
The drowsy Qin Xiaoman instantly became more awake. “What are you making?”
In winter, when work was light and the weather cold, people always craved something good to eat.
“You’ll find out later. Go back to sleep.”
The quilt grew cold for a moment as Du Heng got up.
Qin Xiaoman hissed softly. He felt like this winter was even colder than last year. He had always been resistant to the cold, but this year, even he was starting to feel it.
Maybe it was because he’d been working alone in the fields these days and was tired. He slept well at night, went to bed earlier and earlier, and in the mornings had trouble getting up.
Maybe Du Heng had spoiled him. In the past, when he lived alone, he had to get up, cook, eat, and then go to the fields—up before the roosters, and never felt this tired.
Sure enough, people couldn’t afford to grow lazy. Relax just a little, and you’re not as tough as before.
He glanced at Du Heng leaving, then burrowed back into the warm quilt.