Chapter 59

“The laborers my father hired were all dependable. Had he still been alive, he would have managed the land himself.”

Qin Xiaoman and Du Heng discussed reaching out to potential laborers. In truth, it shouldn’t have required much effort. Renting out land, as long as all conditions were met, was not like running a small business where one might worry about lack of interest.

If laborers did show interest, it was either because the landlord demanded a higher share of crops, the land was poor and produced little, or renting it violated imperial regulations.

Generally, once the word got out, nearby households without land would politely request to lease it.

All conditions for the Qin family’s land were favorable. Yet no laborers had come forward. This was partly because it was nearly March, and the spring plowing season was in full swing. Those without land had likely already borrowed fields from wealthy households last winter. Few remained unallocated.

This caused some worry for the couple. Land left idle could not remain empty, so Qin Xiaoman suggested visiting households who had previously worked as laborers for their family.

Ordinary villagers who became laborers rarely escaped that fate. Even free farmers with their own plots suffered layers of exploitation, while laborers were bound to a master, living year after year just to survive. Their children were often sent to serve their employer.

Laborers in Tianwan Village mostly lived on the outskirts. Many were outsiders, while the village itself valued original inhabitants and prominent surnames. Outsiders were often marginalized, especially those who settled due to hardship—second-class laborers.

These laborers tended to cluster together for warmth and mutual support, forming a small community of their own.

Du Heng followed Qin Xiaoman over a small hill and along a narrow winding path. From a distance, he finally saw a cluster of low, mud-and-thatch houses, and several villagers with more patches on their clothes than grains in a jar.

Had it not been for Qin Xiaoman bringing him here, he wouldn’t have known such a place existed even after living in the village for over a year. He had always thought the households he usually saw were poor, but the real hardship lay in this area.

Qin Xiaoman walked ahead, frowning deeply and raising an eyebrow. “If I hadn’t brought you back then, who knows? You might have ended up as a laborer here.”

Du Heng’s brows twitched slightly, then he chuckled softly. Xiaoman was right—seeing the villagers’ plight made him realize that had he ended up here, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take the imperial examinations.

He reached out and took hold of Qin Xiaoman’s arm, speaking in a playful, flattering tone: “I suppose no kind-hearted landowner would lease land to a cripple like me. I’d have starved. It’s only because of your kindness that you took me in.”

Qin Xiaoman smirked. Had he not been captivated by this handsome man’s appearance, he might have just married him off as a laborer’s husband.

“Not necessarily,” Qin Xiaoman teased. “If you were willing to sell your looks, perhaps some other family would have given you a plot. But you’re too proud, so you’d rather starve than serve someone else.”

“Master Xiaoman, what brings you here?”

Du Heng had been thinking he might as well settle for a small handout when a hoarse voice called out. Qin Xiaoman turned to look and his eyes brightened. “Uncle Erdan! I was just about to come see you!”

An old farmer approached, his skin yellowed and weathered, shorter than Qin Xiaoman by a head. He looked like a dried-up tree branch baked by the sun. Carrying a small hoe, the deep wrinkles on his face seemed able to trap flies.

Despite his clouded eyes, he recognized Qin Xiaoman and respectfully called him “master,” remembering his time as a laborer in the Qin household.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

Du Heng stepped forward and held Qin Xiaoman’s arm, explaining their purpose. The old man’s drooping eyelids brightened. “Quick, come inside.”

They followed the farmer into one of the mud huts. In the cluster of houses, a shadow zipped past, covering its backside.

“Go back inside!”

The old farmer scolded like a child, and a little figure darted away from behind the house. Many children of laborers, too poor to have a full set of clothes, ran about naked—boys showing bare bottoms was nothing unusual.

The weather was fine, and the farmer, embarrassed to have guests in such shabby quarters, set two stools in the relatively tidy courtyard for them to sit. He also brought out water, using broken pottery bowls in place of proper cups.

“Master Xiaoman, is it true that Du Tongsheng wants to recruit laborers?”

Du Heng helped Qin Xiaoman sit. “Yes. Our family plans to allocate thirty acres for laborers to farm. Time is a bit tight, but the fields have already been plowed earlier in the year. A simple preparation is enough to sow seeds. We came to see if there are laborers still looking for land.”

The old farmer hurriedly nodded. “Yes, yes!”

Laborers were often at a loss for land. Being approached directly by a landlord was unusual, especially by someone who had rented from them before—the farmer knew their character well.

“Master Xiaoman, why didn’t you say so earlier? You wouldn’t have needed to make this trip,” the farmer said, glancing at Qin Xiaoman’s belly. “Out here, news travels slowly. Though some laborers hadn’t secured enough land, they assumed none would be available at this time of year.”

The laborers were worried. After the court revised its regulations, the number of households able to hire laborers had dropped by half. With too few resources and too many applicants, renting land had become much harder.

Some households had managed to lease three to five acres, while others had only one acre, leaving them in distress. Now, in the midst of spring plowing, to have a landlord come to them was an unexpected blessing. The old farmer became even more respectful, fearing the family might choose someone else.

During his earlier service with the Qin family, Mr. Qin had been gentle and fair, never harsh with laborers. Unfortunately, such a good master passed away after just a few years, and every year, those who had worked under him would speak of him with admiration.

Now, seeing Qin Xiaoman’s accomplished husband—having passed the children’s exam and gained recognition—the old farmer was moved, wiping the corners of his eyes.

Du Heng reassured him. Seeing there were laborers interested, he felt relieved. “Uncle Erdan, please gather the people here. Those who wish to rent land should come by tomorrow to see the fields and sign the agreements. Thirty acres isn’t much, so not everyone will need it.”

The farmer, honored that Du Heng entrusted him to choose the laborers, nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes. We will gather suitable people and find the best for Du Tongsheng and Master Xiaoman.”

The next morning, after breakfast, Du Heng was in Mr. Qin’s study, checking for any essays or writings for the upcoming county-level exam. Though he had already taken the test, he was in the habit of rising early to study, and skipping it felt wrong.

Early on, the old farmer arrived with a few laborers. Huzi, the household dog, barked fiercely at the strangers in the courtyard until Qin Xiaoman sent him back inside.

Du Heng stepped out, still holding his book, and saw six people in total, including the old farmer. The other five were men, all strong and sturdy, likely carefully chosen by the old farmer to impress the landlord.

Qin Xiaoman’s eyes roamed over the men, surprised that so many capable laborers had appeared—he had never noticed them before his marriage.

Of course, he was merely curious.

Du Heng carried out two long benches, cleared his throat, and handed Qin Xiaoman the book he was holding. “Put this inside for me.”

Qin Xiaoman squinted, slightly surprised that Du Heng wanted him to carry the book indoors. But when he saw the front page bearing Mr. Qin’s name, he obediently took it inside.

Du Heng then said, “Sit.”

The laborers stood stiffly to the side, greeting Du Heng in turn. Once the old farmer sat, they followed suit.

Although polite, Du Heng still carried the air of a master. Sitting upright on the simple bamboo chair common in the village, he spoke seriously:

“Our family doesn’t reclaim leased land lightly. Once someone is settled, we try not to replace them frequently. According to standard practice, after the autumn harvest, a third of the crop goes to the landlord, the rest the laborers keep. Each acre is categorized as poor or fertile land, with minimum yield requirements.”

“Uncle Erdan has already mentioned this, right? I have thirty acres available. Discuss among yourselves how much each wants. If there are any questions or objections, raise them now.”

The men glanced at each other and ultimately looked to the old farmer, clearly feeling that only he had the authority to speak with Du Heng.

“Nothing else, just…” the old farmer hesitated before continuing, “we haven’t prepared enough seed grain. We… may need to borrow from Master Qin first.”

“No problem,” Du Heng replied. “Note the amount and sign. After the autumn harvest, return it in full.”

This eased everyone’s minds. With limited food at home, they had barely enough to eat, and any land rented before spring plowing had already been allocated. These suddenly available fields naturally lacked seed grain, and even if they could spare some low-quality food, it wouldn’t suffice as seed.

Hearing the master’s immediate agreement to lend seed without conditions, everyone relaxed.

With no further questions, Du Heng used a template from the local magistrate for leasing land agreements. The laborers filled in their own details and signed.

“Thank you, Du Tongsheng, for leasing the land. We will treat it as our own and deliver the grain on time at harvest.”

Du Heng nodded. “Excellent. As long as you tend the land well and produce a good harvest, neither Xiaoman nor I will treat you unfairly.”

“Yes, we will do our utmost,” they replied.

Qin Xiaoman leaned lightly against the doorframe, watching Du Heng—normally mild-mannered—take charge with a certain authority, surprisingly reminiscent of his uncle.

After the laborers left, Du Heng went once more to the magistrate’s office to complete the paperwork, securing the thirty acres. In doing so, he effectively became a small-scale landowner.

The arrangement was fortunate: many new scholars who passed the exam often had no land to manage and were left with only a title. Others had plenty of land but useless heirs, wasting property on laborers with high costs. The Qin family, however, had both land and a newly minted scholar—conditions envied by many.

Qin Xiaoman carefully put away the signed agreements. Though thin sheets of paper, their value was comparable to land deeds and money. He was pleased.

Du Heng understood his joy. Beyond the thirty acres for the laborers, the household still retained ten fertile acres—four acres here, six there. Enough to plant rice and vegetables for themselves and feed livestock.

Soon, the villagers noticed laborers working the Qin fields. Opinions arose:

“Xiaoman and Du Heng move fast! Just a few days ago they said they’d recruit laborers, and today they’re already in the fields. What good fortune!”

“Indeed, our village rarely produces scholars. The Qin family has two now.”

“Another one passed too, didn’t he? But it’s just a children’s exam. Outside the county, no one would even look twice. You folks are overreacting.”

Hearing this, some villagers turned to see Mrs. Zhao.

“You can’t say that,” she scoffed. “Those children’s degrees bought with donations may be ignored in the county, but legitimate scholars earn respect.”

She snorted. “Hmph, now that someone passed a children’s exam, you all rush to flatter them. And they don’t even hold a banquet. Obviously, they want to keep distance from the villagers.”

Some villagers felt a little uneasy. Indeed, passing with good marks would usually warrant a public celebration, but the Qin family had shown no sign of it. Though they couldn’t command the family, it was natural to feel slighted.

“Whether we hold a banquet is none of your business, Mrs. Zhao. Even if we did, you wouldn’t be invited. Why are you so eager to organize for us? If you want a feast, make your Zhao Qi earn a title, then hold one for three days and nights!”

The voice interrupted, causing everyone to pause. They looked up to see a visibly pregnant Qin Xiaoman carrying a hoe and stepping outside.

It was not unusual for a woman expecting a child to work in the fields; refraining would have seemed pretentious. Previously, when Xiaoman had been resting, the villagers often commented. Now, with the laborers already on the land, she was effectively supervising a batch of unpaid workers, yet still went out to help herself.

Madam Zhao immediately realized she had been caught in her own words. Even with a thick skin, she felt a little embarrassed—but she was an old hand, not as flustered as Qin Xiaoman’s aunt.

“I was just speaking the truth. You keep bringing up your Zhao Qi—what, still hung up on him?”

Qin Xiaoman rolled her eyes. “Take a good look at your son lying indoors for so long. If I didn’t mention him, you’d probably act like he doesn’t even exist in the village.”

The exchange grew harsh, and the villagers, though wanting to intervene, didn’t dare.

“Bah! Don’t think just because your family produced a children’s exam scholar that you’re so great. Show off all you want, but in the end, you’re still just a…”

“Quiet!”

Madam Zhao opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by a voice from the main road: Qin Xiong, driving a cart.

“Xiaoman, are the arrangements for the laborers done?”

Qin Xiong glanced at the distant fields, where Xiaoman’s laborers were busy, a hint of annoyance on his face. The villagers immediately noticed.

Qin Xiaoman had been in the middle of an argument with Madam Zhao, so Qin Xiong’s interruption made her pout. If she continued, Qin Xiong would inevitably scold her on Du Heng’s behalf.

Du Heng had a calm temperament and wouldn’t be intimidated by even Qin Xiong’s temper—but Qin Xiong could nag in ways far more irritating than a beating, whether at meals or at night.

Xiaoman held back. “Alright.”

Qin Xiong nodded. “Your uncle asked me to bring a message. Once Du Heng finishes handling the household matters, he should go to the county office to meet him.”

Xiaoman raised an eyebrow. “Uncle wants to see him?”

“Probably about his studies. He didn’t tell me in detail. The magistrate praised Du Heng earlier, maybe wants him to go to the county for a meal or to make some introductions.”

Xiaoman’s face lit up, her tail metaphorically wagging like a dog’s. “Oh, great! When we have a free moment in the next couple of days, I’ll send him over.”

The villagers were not deaf—they could hear every word.

“Go home now, Xiaoman. You’re heavily pregnant, don’t run around too much; Du Heng will get worried otherwise.”

“He’s in the fields; I’ll bring him the hoe,” she replied.

Qin Xiong nodded and drove off.

Though he hadn’t intervened in the quarrel, a few words from him carried more weight than ten rebukes. The villagers now saw that Du Heng, valued by the county clerk Qin Zhiyan, even praised by the magistrate, had prestige brighter than the March sun.

The magistrate oversaw scholars’ affairs, a man of high rank and considerable face, far above the county magistrate.

“Xiaoman, your Du Heng is really talented. Didn’t expect the magistrate to appreciate him so much,” villagers commented.

Xiaoman smirked internally. Her second uncle sure knew how to make a point.

“The magistrate values talent and treats scholars well. It’s just one praise; it’s not that big a deal. After all, he’s only a children’s exam scholar, even someone like Madam Zhao looks down on him,” she said.

Madam Zhao’s face alternated between red and pale, as if slapped in public. The villagers had seen the magistrate praise Du Heng, and here she was, openly dismissing him. No wonder she went silent, hastily pulling weeds from the field.

Qin Xiaoman, satisfied, went off to find Du Heng.

“Mother, in the future, don’t criticize the Qin family to the villagers. Old grievances are one thing, but now that Du Heng has stepped into the ranks of local gentry, speaking against him is only inviting trouble,” she advised.

Returning home, Madam Zhao started venting to her daughters-in-law, feeling she had lost to Xiaoman. The villagers, always quick to adjust, now sought favor with the Qin family, quietly remarking that Xiaoman was lucky not to have married into the Zhao family—otherwise, she’d never enjoy such fortune.

Hearing this at home, her daughters-in-law repeated it, fueling her irritation.

“Who are you to speak to me like that? Children don’t understand these things. What’s this, that Xiaoman and Du Heng are plotting against me? They have neither the power nor the ability!”

Before Zheng Cai’e could speak, Zhao Qi stepped out:

“Earlier, during autumn harvest, Mother was gossiping with the magistrate. When he came to register spring plowing this year, he raised the minimum required grain yields by two shi. Previously, this was never done. Now the rules have changed—he’s clearly favoring the Qin family.”

Farmers had to submit a third of their harvest to the state, not just from that year’s yield, but based on total output.

Lazy farmers often underperformed, so the state devised rules to ensure compliance. The new edict required evaluating each plot—dry land and fertile land—to meet a minimum yield.

For example, one acre of fertile land normally yields two shi of grain. Unless there were widespread disasters, the acre must produce at least one and a half shi to meet the minimum.

If the harvest fell short, the farmer still owed a third of the crop, and any deficit to meet the minimum had to be made up personally.

Though central rules existed, local officials had some flexibility, adjusting based on each household.

Previously, the Zhao family had been honest, leaving the official with a good impression. Even if their yield exceeded the minimum, the official had never raised it.

This year, when registering, the official raised the required grain quota by two shi on top of previous amounts.

“What!”

Madam Zhao’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected the official to suddenly increase the limit for their family. Two shi was the yield of one acre of fertile land. While their usual output could meet the target without issue, a fixed quota now hung over their heads—any slip could land them in trouble. The carefree days of before were gone.

“This official is shameless! Our Zhao family has always cooperated fully! I’ll go reason with him!”

“Mother, the official has always followed regulations. Previously, not raising the quota was a favor. If you go make a scene now, you’ll get no favors at all, and life will only get harder,” Zhao Qi cautioned his mother.

“I see now, the folks in Tianwan Village are all just opportunists!”

Zhao Qi shook his head. It wasn’t just the village—everywhere in the world was like this. Otherwise, why would people strain themselves, risking everything, just to earn a scholar’s degree?

“Qi, starting today, you’ll study too! Mother wants you to study! If Du Heng, busy with the fields, can still come first in the exams, then you—no more going to the fields—just stay home and study. I don’t believe you won’t succeed!”

Hearing this, Zhao Qi stiffened. He knew in his heart he wasn’t cut out for studying; he couldn’t even recognize all the characters. How could he possibly achieve any official rank?

“Mother, don’t get carried away. I really can’t read properly. Our family’s life has been fine all along. As long as you don’t gossip and offend the Qin family, it’s just the same as before,” he replied.

Seeing her usually obedient son stand up to her, Madam Zhao grew even angrier. She blurted: “Xiaoman was supposed to marry you! Now she chose a cripple, and he still became a children’s exam scholar. Don’t you feel any shame? Not a hint of fighting spirit!”

Zhao Qi had felt frustrated before, especially after being beaten at the temple fair while trying to mess with Du Heng. Lying in bed for two months had corrected his mindset. Pain had taught him a lesson, and now he had no desire to argue.

His wife treated him well, comforting and advising him. Now Xiaoman was doing fine, even expecting a child. It was time for each household to live its life.

He admitted she was right. But his mother, strong-willed as always, still couldn’t let it go.

Seeing Zhao Qi remain silent, Madam Zhao glared at Zheng Cai’e: “It’s you who spoiled my son! Now he doesn’t even respect his elders!”

“Mother, Qi isn’t three years old. Even if I had taught him, he knows right from wrong,” Zheng Cai’e replied, slinging her basket over her shoulder. She had no time to argue with her mother-in-law: “I’m going to the fields. If we don’t work, we’ll have to make up the grain ourselves this year.”

Fearing more scolding at home, Zhao Qi quickly picked up a hoe and followed Zheng Cai’e.

Watching her son trail after Zheng Cai’e, Madam Zhao’s head throbbed with anger. It was clear she was losing authority in the household.

Her son no longer obeyed her, her husband increasingly sided with Zheng Cai’e, and she had fewer people listening to her. She had underestimated Zheng Cai’e—turns out she was a formidable presence.

Though reluctant to admit it, she regretted giving her son this wife. Had Xiaoman entered the household instead, she might have had more influence; at least people outside would have leaned toward her.

Xiaoman was straightforward, not scheming to win favor like Zheng Cai’e.

Madam Zhao felt vexed, especially over the grain quota. The official’s alert had given her a private chill. After this matter, even though her heart resisted, she dared not act rashly. No matter how aggressive she got, she was just a farmer. Her sharp tongue alone could not compete with the powers now at play.

The household only had a few acres worth showing off. They had no official positions, no business to manage. A small shift of authority could leave her gasping. If properly outmaneuvered, how could her family withstand it?

The village, meanwhile, settled into quiet days.

A few days later, after sowing seeds in the fields, Du Heng had some free time. He tidied up and, as instructed, went to the Qin family in the county seat.