Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Living Bodhisattva Zhang Miaoke

The master of the house is to be married, though he is but an eight-year-old child. Yet, owing to the close ties with the Duke of Tang’s residence, the stream of gifts remains unbroken. Today, a man known as Old Liu the Sixth arrived at the door, bringing two children and carrying chickens and ducks, claiming to be tenants of the Yun family, come to offer congratulations.

Only then did Yun Hao recall that he owned two hundred acres of fertile land outside the city, along with five tenant households. Yun Hao had only visited once to take possession of the land, spending the rest of his time in the city. As for the profits from the land, the harvest season had not yet arrived. The wheat had just been reaped in June and July, and now was the time to sow winter wheat. If there were to be a harvest, it would not come until next year. This year, the fields would yield nothing. There were some melons and fruits, which merchants occasionally brought into the city.

In truth, Yun Hao’s reluctance to visit the countryside stemmed mainly from his sympathy for the peasants’ poverty. Everywhere were thatched huts; even mud-brick houses were rare. Wooden beams propped up holes in the walls that served as windows. Jinyang was in the north; though winters were not as bitter as those in the northeast, they were far from warm. Yun Hao wondered how people managed to survive in such grass huts.

Years of warfare had created a population of destitute souls. Truly destitute—two families lacked even iron pots for cooking, using his mother’s clay pots instead. Can one imagine producing a pot of glue-like food from a soot-blackened vessel? Indeed, tenant farmers in the Sui dynasty ate just that, with bits of green mixed in—wild vegetables. Every family lived half on grain, half on greens, so as not to starve during the spring famine.

Such were Yun Hao’s tenants, and he was sorely tempted not to collect rent from them. Yet he dared not, for that would break with centuries-old custom. If Yun Hao waived the rent out of pity, would Li Yuan, the greatest landowner in Jinyang, do the same? Until one had the power to set new rules, one must at least respect the existing ones. Few who dared defy tradition became pioneers; most ended as martyrs.

While he was contemplating whether to reduce the rent, Old Liu the Sixth walked right into the Yun residence.

“Listen, shouldn’t you show some restraint? There are still ten days until the wedding. Shouldn’t you be at home embroidering your wedding garments, or holding your uncle’s hand and crying all day? Why do you keep running to my house?” Yun Hao voiced his strong displeasure at Zhang Miaoke for having taken over the Yun household.

The key to the treasury now hung from Zhang Miaoke’s belt, and Yuan’er and Xin’er had become her most loyal henchmen. His mother spent her days smiling serenely like a Bodhisattva, unable to close her mouth whenever she saw Zhang Miaoke. Frequently, Zhang Miaoke and Mrs. Zhao would whisper together, followed by peals of laughter ringing out from the rooms. Yun Hao suspected Zhang Miaoke was his long-lost elder sister.

It was over! Yun Hao felt his status in the family had plummeted; the chicken leg at meals was no longer his exclusive right. Zhang Miaoke’s bowl could be stacked high with dishes, while the dignified master of the house—the only man—was left without a single piece of meat. His mother even solemnly declared, “Children should eat less meat; too much fat isn’t good for their health.”

Heaven! A month ago, you said, “How can a child grow without meat?” Now you say, “If he doesn’t grow taller, he’ll be a three-inch dwarf.” How is it that your opinions change like those imperialists—never the same on the first and fifteenth? Even mahjong rotates every four rounds, but you switch your stance at will.

Was it just because I secretly washed your feet? Just because I kneaded your legs and cooked for you myself? I am your own son—how could you be so easily won over? Yun Hao issued his most solemn protest, but it seemed as futile as casting a grain of sand into the sea, leaving not even a ripple.

Since yesterday, Zhang Miaoke had gone so far as to move into the Yun family. His uncle didn’t object; yet he, the father, considered watching her bathe as a sign of corrupted virtue. Living in my house before the marriage—what is this, a probation period?

“No choice—the master is too young, and mother is unwilling to manage affairs. So all these burdens fall to me, the poor bride-to-be. Oh! Marry a rooster and follow the rooster, marry a dog and follow the dog, marry a rabbit and chase it up the hill. Following you, this little monkey, I wonder what sins I committed in my past life.” Her slender fingers flicked Yun Hao’s nose and pinched his fair cheeks, reminiscent of how he used to tease a husky in his previous life—the technique was exactly the same.

“I am your husband, not a pet…” Yun Hao began to roar but fell silent, seeing Old Liu the Sixth enter through the moon gate. Family quarrels could be ignored behind closed doors, but showing discord in front of outsiders was unacceptable, especially not before one’s own tenants.

“Master! I am Old Liu the Sixth, whom you met when you took possession of the land.” Though he called himself an old man, Yun Hao judged him barely over thirty. Beside him stood two sturdy youths, whom Yun Hao recognized as his sons, Liu One and Liu Two. From their names, one might think the Liu family was in the mathematics business.

“You are thoughtful; it’s not easy for those who toil. Yuan’er, take the two children to eat in the kitchen. We’ve just steamed some buns—bring them some when they leave.”

Yun Hao suspected Zhang Miaoke had studied acting, for she sat as still as a Bodhisattva. Her mouth moved as she spoke, but her head remained immobile—a dignified serenity. The scene seemed familiar; after pondering, he realized it was just like the Longsun.

Liu One cradled a large goose, its legs bound with straw rope, honking incessantly. Liu Two carried a pole, with a chicken hanging from each end. Both boys wore earth-colored clothing, and at a glance, they looked like raiders returning from a sweep.

Seeing their sturdy frames, Yun Hao knew another batch of lamb buns would need to be steamed. It was a good chance to change the menu; ever since Yun Hao had steamed the first batch, Zhang Miaoke had become enamored of them, eating them three days straight. Now, whenever Yun Hao saw lamb buns, he felt itchy all over, as if wool might sprout from his pores.

“Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!” Old Liu the Sixth bowed repeatedly, while Yuan’er led the two simple-minded boys to the kitchen.

“How was the harvest this year? How does it compare to previous years? Is there enough grain at home?” Zhang Miaoke increasingly resembled the wife of a landlord, chatting amiably with Old Liu the Sixth.

“Madam, the harvest is good this year. But the Duke’s rent has gone up, though not excessively. Still, it leaves us poor folk with something—porridge in slack times, dry food during busy times, and a handful of wild greens to keep hunger at bay.”

“This year I am to marry your master, and the villagers have brought gifts. Knowing how hard life is for you, I discussed with the master that we won’t return the gifts; next year, your rent will be halved. Will that suffice?”

“Madam, you are a living Bodhisattva…!”

Here is the third update, though a bit late, luckily not past midnight. Still counts as today, Old Dragon has kept his word. Dear readers, the new book seeks your support—collect and recommend. With over a hundred thousand words now, only two thousand collections.