Chapter 13: Camp Village

Ding Jiu heard Wang Yang’s words and, seeing the attitudes of Xue Duizhu and Wang Wenshu, understood seven or eight parts of it—but he’d worked hard these past two days, and couldn’t bear to have it all been for nothing. Besides, what if this young aristocrat had some hidden trick up his sleeve? He ventured cautiously, “Young Master Wang, where do we go next?”

Wang Yang, delighted to have finally shaken off Xue Duizhu and Wang Wenshu, planned to press forward and rid himself of these two soldiers too—then he’d be truly free.

How do you shake someone off?

Borrow money.

He feigned a sigh: “I have nowhere to go for now. How about this—you lend me some money. When my second uncle sends someone for me, you won’t go unrewarded.”

Ding Jiu’s heart sank—he wanted to cry.

He finally understood why Xue Duizhu and Wang Wenshu had fled faster than rabbits. This young master was nothing but a braggart.

A member of the Langya Wang clan, reduced to borrowing money after entering Jingzhou—how utterly pitiful!

He forced a pained smile: “Young Master, you jest. I have no money at all.”

Wang Yang continued his shameless act: “No money? Then at least find me a place to sleep! I’m hungry—come on, let’s go eat first!”

Ding Jiu flinched and blurted out: “Young Master Wang, I have urgent matters at home—I must return now! I’ll serve you again later!” Then he vanished.

Wang Yang smiled inwardly, turned to the Black Han, and beamed: “How about you lend me some cash?”

The Black Han didn’t hesitate. He pulled a small cloth bundle from his robe and offered it with both hands: “Young Master, soldiers’ households rarely receive pay. I’ve saved only thirty-three cash coins—my entire fortune. Please take them.” His tone was deeply respectful.

Wang Yang blinked, stunned. What was this tactic?

Was his destitute image so obvious he couldn’t see it?

Or had Xue Duizhu and Wang Wenshu arranged this—to keep him under surveillance until his true identity was verified?

Thinking of the latter possibility, Wang Yang gritted his teeth and took the cloth bundle: “Let’s go eat.”

The Black Han hesitated: “Young Master, this sum is too small—even a decent meal is out of reach. After eating, we’ll need lodging, and it won’t be enough.”

Wang Yang, determined to scare him off, acted as if he had no choice: “I’m hungry and exhausted. You handle my meals and lodging.”

The Black Han thought a moment: “If you don’t mind, you may stay at my home.”

“To... your home?”

“Yes. My home is near Jingzhou. You may eat and rest there.”

Wang Yang feigned delight: “Perfect! I have no place to stay and no money—I’ll stay with you!”

The Black Han did not flee as Wang Yang expected. Instead, he bowed earnestly: “I will do everything in my power to care for you, Young Master!”

Wang Yang: ???

What’s going on?!

This didn’t scare him off?!

Is he just that naive—or did he receive a direct order?

Who’s really in control here?

Wang Yang, filled with suspicion, followed the Black Han out of the city. The fewer people they passed, the more remote the path became.

Wang Yang’s alertness spiked.

Was this man secretly involved in human trafficking or kidnapping? Though ancient times lacked “kidney snatching,” abductions and lures were common. The Han Yuefu poem “Pingling Dong” says: “At Pingling’s east, cypresses and paulownias—no one knows who seized the righteous man. Seized him beneath the high hall, demanded a million coins and a swift horse...” That’s kidnapping!

Could it be he saw Wang Yang’s Langya Wang lineage and planned to kidnap him for ransom?!

While the Black Han wasn’t looking, Wang Yang picked up a stone from the ground and hid it in his sleeve.

“Young Master, ahead is our Eighth Camp!” The Black Han stopped and pointed ahead.

“Eighth Camp?” Wang Yang’s heart jumped. Had he been lured to another military camp?

The Black Han looked embarrassed: “We’re soldiers’ households—our families must live under camp supervision, so our settlement is called a camp village. We’re the Eighth Camp—Eighth Camp Village.”

Wang Yang recalled that during the Six Dynasties, soldiers’ households were also called “camp households,” likely tied to this residential system.

Though named “Camp,” Eighth Camp Village showed no trace of a military base. From afar, it was just a cluster of broken thatch huts, with wooden frames and cloth hangings strung between them, drying clothes and quilts. The ground was muddy and black, filthy and disordered.

The Black Han’s home stood at the village’s edge, with no additions around it—seeming oddly out of place. Strangely, though the village glowed with scattered lanterns, his house remained pitch black.

Six or seven steps from home, the Black Han shouted loudly: “Ah Wu! My little Ah Wu!”

Wang Yang wondered if this was a signal to accomplices. He gripped the stone in his sleeve, wary.

Then came rapid footsteps—thump-thump-thump—and the wooden gate creaked open.

A tiny figure dashed out and flung herself into the Black Han’s arms: “Dad! I thought I’d have to wait another month to see you!”

Wang Yang was stunned. He really was going home!

The Black Han beamed, lifted his daughter into the air, spinning her around—she giggled, her long hair flying.

He pulled her close: “Ah Wu! We have a distinguished guest! Quickly, bow! Say ‘Young Master Wang’!”

She was a small, thin, dark-skinned girl, about five or six. Her long black hair was dull and yellowed. Her eyes seemed unnaturally large, perhaps from her emaciation. Her worn gray robe hung loose, like a sack dragging to her ankles.

“Greetings, Young Master Wang!” The girl bowed gracefully, showing none of the usual child’s fear of strangers.

Wang Yang crouched down: “You’re Ah Wu, right? Which ‘wu’?”

The girl’s expression changed, glancing at her father.

The Black Han patted her: “Go prepare food for Young Master Wang. I’ll help you soon.”

The girl glanced at Wang Yang, leaned close to her father, and whispered: “Do I need to prepare really good food?”

The Black Han nodded awkwardly: “Of course. Young Master Wang is a guest. Go set the bowls and chopsticks—I’ll be right there.”

The girl nodded and ran inside.

The Black Han looked uneasy, stammering: “There’s something I forgot to tell you before, Young Master—but since you’re here, I can’t hide it. My daughter—my daughter...”

Wang Yang asked curiously: “What’s wrong with your daughter?”

“She... she’s a Shuangwu child.”

"What?" Wang Yang didn't understand.

The Black Han mistook the question for anger and bowed urgently: “Please don’t be angry! If you’re superstitious, we’ll find another place to stay!”

“Superstitious? About what? What’s a Shuangwu child?”

“You’ve never heard of Shuangwu children? Ah Wu... Ah Wu was born on the fifth day of the fifth month.”

Wang Yang recalled an ancient custom: “On the fifth day of the fifth month, do not raise a child.”

“Raise” meant to nurture. Folk superstition held the fifth day of the fifth month—the Dragon Boat Festival—as an “evil day,” leading to rituals to ward off misfortune.

In modern times, a child born on Dragon Boat Festival is called a “Dragon Boat baby.” Back then, it was considered inauspicious—such children were believed to harm their parents or others. People avoided giving birth then; if unavoidable, many abandoned the child.

Wang Yang, of course, dismissed this: “The taboo of Shuangwu is nonsense. Meng Changjun was born on the fifth day of the fifth month—and still became famous!”

The Black Han beamed: “I knew you were learned! You wouldn’t mind such things!”

Wang Yang laughed: “What does being learned have to do with it?”

“The more you know, the more open-minded you become! Unlike our villagers...” His lips twisted slightly bitter, then he smiled: “Never mind! Could you tell me about this Meng figure? I’d like to tell others later.”

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Note: ① The term “camp household” relates both to families living under camp supervision and to their registration under military bureaus. For those interested, see He Ziquan’s “Military System of the Wei, Jin, and Southern Dynasties” and Chen Yuping’s “Research on the Military Household System of the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties.”

② Surviving documents from the Southern Qi are too scarce to reconstruct precise prices of the era. But if we treat the Northern and Southern Dynasties as a whole, a general price framework is possible—though we must sacrifice fluctuations and differences between dynasties, which is unavoidable.

The price system in this novel is based on the broader Eastern Jin and Southern Dynasties period. The “Yan Family Instructions” mentions a commander in Ye who was both corrupt and stingy: his servants’ daily meals cost “fifteen cash as a standard,” indicating that fifteen cash was below the normal ration for servants. The Black Han’s thirty-three cash could barely cover a meal for two—but his claim that it “won’t buy a good meal” is accurate.

③ People of the Northern and Southern Dynasties often prefixed names with “Ah.” Wu speakers called themselves “Ah Nong,” addressed children as “Ah Nu,” called sons “Ah Er,” and fathers “Ah Ye.” It was common to add “Ah” before names or courtesy names. Thus, “Ah Wu” is indeed “ancient-style” hh.

④ Don’t believe the Black Han—Meng Changjun didn’t have the surname Meng...