The yamen runners arrived

AD 1627, the Tianqi Seventh Year, Chengcheng County, Shaanxi.

Zhang Yaocai, the magistrate of Chengcheng, sat in the main hall of the county yamen, leafing through the account books his secretary had handed him. His brows were tightly knitted, his face full of displeasure. "Have the villages' overdue taxes still not been collected? Our superiors are pressing us hard."

The secretary hastily put on a placating smile. "County Magistrate, Shaanxi is suffering a severe drought. The land is barren for a thousand miles, and the people can barely survive. They truly have no grain left. No matter how hard we press them, there is nothing to collect. This is called [having no choice]."

He delivered "having no choice" with heavy emphasis and an exaggerated expression, looking rather comical.

Zhang Yaocai knew his secretary had always liked tacking some inexplicable phrase onto the end of his remarks, so he paid it no mind. He merely snorted. "They have no grain? Those lowlifes have plenty. They've just hidden it away because they don't want to hand it over as rent."

The secretary said awkwardly, "But the drought..."

Zhang Yaocai said, "There was a drought the year before last, and another last year. We managed to collect grain both times. Why is this year's drought suddenly making it impossible?"

The secretary said, "In the first year of drought, everyone still had grain stored away. In the second, they could barely pay their taxes by selling off everything they owned. But if the drought continues into a third year... people will die. How could they still have money or grain to pay? This is called [three times is the limit]."

Zhang Yaocai gave him a sidelong look. "What's this? You're actually speaking up for those lowlifes? How much have they paid you to dare pour such nonsense into my ears?"

The secretary jumped in fright. "County Magistrate, I have taken nothing from them! They can barely stay alive. How could they have money to bribe me? It's just that... I... had to say a word on their behalf. This is called [a stirring of conscience]."

Zhang Yaocai snorted and ignored the secretary altogether. Rolling his eyes, he addressed the yamen runners beside him. "You lot, put together a squad and go press them for their taxes... Hmm... let me see. Gao Family Village, Wang Family Village, Zheng Family Village... These villages have paid the least this year. Split into teams and pay them a visit. Remember, those lowlifes love to plead poverty. They clearly have grain hidden at home, but they'll use every trick they can to avoid paying. When you meet scum like that, show no mercy. Beat them to death."

The yamen runners roared their assent.

Horrified, the secretary threw his arms around Zhang Yaocai's leg and wailed, "County Magistrate, you mustn't! You mustn't! The people are already suffering terribly. If you keep pushing them like this, you may drive honest folk to rebellion. This is called [official oppression breeds rebellion]."

"Get lost! I've had enough of you, you lunatic." Zhang Yaocai kicked the secretary in the crotch. The man fell to the floor and curled up, clutching himself.

(PS: Zhang Yaocai was a historical figure, not an invention of this book's author. Historical records state: In the dingmao year of Tianqi, Shaanxi suffered a severe drought. Zhang Yaocai, magistrate of Chengcheng, enforced tax collection with extreme brutality, and the people could no longer endure his cruelty.)

The sun sank in the west, leaving the earth a shit-yellow hue.

Gao Yiye dragged her exhausted body back to Gao Family Village.

Her bamboo basket held the fruits of a day's hard work: just under half a basket of bark, roots, and wild greens.

Together with the boiled egg left over from earlier that day, these would surely fill her stomach tomorrow.

The thought put a little spring in her step.

The other villagers were also returning one after another, each carrying a basket of weeds and bark. When they saw Gao Yiye, many waved and greeted her, thanking her for the enormous egg she had brought them.

Responding to their greetings, Gao Yiye reached her front door and pulled back the bolt.

With a crash, the door opened, and a great heap of gleaming white rice slid straight toward her.

Gao Yiye was so startled that she only managed half a step backward before the sliding rice knocked her down and buried her, leaving only her head sticking out.

She froze, staring blankly around her.

Rice!

Such enormous grains of rice.

Each grain was the size of an egg. Just thirty or forty grains would weigh a jin.

While she was still wondering what had happened, the Heavenly Deity's face faintly appeared in the sky above her. It wore a smile, then vanished into the clouds a moment later.

Gao Yiye understood. The Heavenly Deity had played a little joke on her. He had filled her house with enormous grains of rice, waiting to give her a fright when she opened the door.

Once she realized this, she could not help bursting into laughter herself.

Being buried in so much snow-white rice was something she had dreamed of throughout these years of drought. She had never expected that dream to come true like this. How could she not be happy? Even her grief over her mother's death briefly faded.

Still, with only her head sticking out from beneath the rice, she could not move at all.

Gao Yiye had no choice but to shout, "Grandpa Village Chief! Brother Chu Wu! Everyone, come help me!"

At her shout, the neighbors immediately gathered around.

Then came their cries of astonishment. "Rice! Such huge grains of rice!"

Young and strong, Gao Chuwu hurried over, dug away the rice weighing her down, and pulled her out of the heap.

The Village Chief arrived almost at once, and soon all forty-two villagers had gathered outside Gao Yiye's house again.

Everyone stared at the great white grains of rice, each as big as an egg, utterly bewildered. For a moment, their minds simply stopped working.

Only after a long while did the Village Chief say, "This must be another gift from the Heavenly Deity, right?"

Gao Yiye nodded. "The Heavenly Deity played a little joke on me. He deliberately filled my house with rice so it would bury me when I opened the door."

The Village Chief said, "I wish he would play a joke like that on us every day."

Gao Chuwu grinned foolishly, picked up two grains of rice from the ground, and played with them in his hands. "How do we divide this rice? Does each household get fifty grains?"

The Village Chief snapped, "Stop! Put those down properly. We don't yet know whether this rice was given only to One Leaf or to all of us. If it was meant only for One Leaf, and you take it without permission and anger the Heavenly Deity, do you want to be smashed into pulp like those bandits?"

Gao Chuwu jumped in fright. His hands stiffened, and the two grains fell to the ground.

The Village Chief turned to One Leaf and said gently, "One Leaf, you're a good child. Since the Heavenly Deity has chosen to appear only before you, we can only ask you to speak with him. Sorry for the trouble, but please ask him whether this rice... whether we might share in your good fortune and have some too..."

Just as he said this, an arrogant voice suddenly rang out from the village entrance. "You lowlifes of Gao Family Village, get out here! Stop fucking hiding in your houses and playing dead. When are you going to pay off the taxes you owe the Imperial Court?"

At that voice, every villager's face darkened. Even the little children, too young to understand, were so frightened that they covered their mouths, not daring to cry.

Gao Chuwu lowered his voice. "This is bad. The county's yamen runners are here."

Without a moment's hesitation, the Village Chief said, "One Leaf, Chu Wu, and you other young ones, get moving. Put all this rice back inside One Leaf's house and shut the door. I'll go to the village entrance and deal with the runners. Everyone, remember: you must not let them see the rice in this house."