Chapter 331: Raise the Grain, Hey!

According to the Book of Changes, wood resides in the east and governs spring's qi, fire resides in the south and governs summer's qi, metal resides in the west and governs autumn's qi, water resides in the north and governs winter's qi, and earth resides in the center. Autumn departs and winter arrives, the north wind howls—this is the omen of water virtue sweeping across the world.

And the rebel Lin's illegitimate Southern Xia regime is known among the common folk as Dark Xia, secretly implying water virtue.

The Great Ming was founded on fire virtue, corresponding to the red sun. This children's rhyme secretly implies that Dark Xia will replace Red Ming, and the word "topple" further corroborates Zhu Changqing's judgment. The latter line about the cold cicada's cry gives Zhu Changqing a sense of being there himself—the fox mourning the death of the hare.

"Your Highness?" The prince's Guard Commander, seeing that Zhu Changqing had not moved for some time, asked with concern.

Zhu Changqing waved his hand at his subordinate to indicate it was nothing, then asked, "What's the story behind that children's rhyme?"

"Children's rhyme?" The prince's Guard Commander was a rank-three official who had almost no contact with common folk—how would he know anything about popular children's rhymes? He asked several of his men, and they all shook their heads too.

But one ordinary guard spoke up: "This rhyme has been around for a while now; it's hardly new."

The Guard Commander said, "Your Highness, shall I have that little girl brought over for questioning?"

Zhu Changqing hesitated for a moment, then nodded. It wasn't that he believed in metaphysics, but this rhyme seemed to be spread by someone with intent—very likely spies within the city. It could not go uninvestigated.

One of the guards saw the little girl being carried away by her mother, so he rushed forward and pounded heavily on the door panels.

"Open up! Open up!"

Inside the house, the husband and wife held their little daughter, trembling in fear. The little girl's face was covered in tears, sobbing without stop, while her mother clamped one hand tightly over the girl's mouth, terrified she might make a sound.

The knocking grew more impatient.

"Open the damn door! I know someone's home—I saw you!"

"What do we do?" The mother looked at the father with utter despair.

The father grabbed a carpenter's axe and said through gritted teeth, "I'll fight them to the death!"

"Bang!" With a tremendous crash, the door panels were kicked straight through by the guards. The father was so startled that the axe slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground with a clang.

Five or six guards poured in, grabbed the little girl, and dragged her outside.

The mother wailed hoarsely behind them: "She's just a child, she doesn't know anything! If she offended the noble lord, it's all my fault—arrest me instead, let my child go!"

The guards paid her no mind and brought the little girl before the Guard Commander.

The Guard Commander said with a smile, "That rhyme about 'the red sun topples, the cold cicada cries'—who taught you to sing it?"

The little girl was scared senseless and could only cry.

The Guard Commander asked twice more, then ran out of patience. He had his men drag the girl's parents forward and made them force the answer out of her.

The father asked softly a few times, but the girl kept crying without stopping. Driven to desperation, the father made as if to strike the child.

The mother stopped him. She first hugged the little girl and comforted her for a while, then asked in a gentle voice.

After being asked many times, the little girl finally said through tears, "Brother Wang taught me."

"Who is Brother Wang?" the Guard Commander urged with impatience.

The mother said, "He's the son of Wang the blacksmith—only five years old as well."

Upon hearing this, the Guard Commander sent his men to the blacksmith Wang's house to inquire. The two households were very close by, and before long they returned to report that Brother Wang had in turn been taught by the child of Zhang the potter. Moreover, Wang the blacksmith said that all the children in the city knew this rhyme, and no one knew how it had started spreading.

Hearing this, Zhu Changqing sighed and said, "Enough. When children pass things on by word of mouth, there's no guarantee of tracing the source."

Seeing this, the Guard Commander coldly threatened the child's parents: "Keep your own child in line."

With that, he strode off after Zhu Changqing. The family, having survived a brush with death, kowtowed endlessly in gratitude for the noble lord's great kindness.

Only after the Prince of Huai's entourage had gone did the family rise from the dust, weeping silently as they gathered up the broken door panels.

The neighbors emerged at this time as well. Looking at the family's shattered door, someone said, "Ah! It'll be dark soon—without a door, what are they supposed to do?"

Another said, "No use looking elsewhere. We're all neighbors—those who have spare, let's help out."

"If each household lends one door panel, that'll get them through the night."

Hearing this, the neighbors each went back to their own homes. Soon people returned with wooden boards, and with a flurry of hands they cut them short and assembled them, patching together something resembling a door. It still let the wind through, but at least it gave some psychological comfort.

The family, faces streaked with tears, nodded their thanks to the neighbors without cease.

After the neighbors went home, one loom-worker muttered lowly: "If only the Great Xia army had entered the city sooner."

His parents cursed under their breath: "Have you lost your mind? How dare you say such things?"

After returning to his residence, Zhu Changqing felt utterly exhausted. He removed his armor, bathed, changed clothes, and lay down on the bed, preparing to sleep—but he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

He thought of how the Great Ming had driven out the barbarian Hu, restored China, recovered the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun, and swept away the six hundred years of Han decline since the An Lushan Rebellion. Such achievements rivaled the sun and moon, establishing three hundred years of legitimate rule—how could it all be cut off in a single night?

And now the realm was weary, wars springing up everywhere—all because within there were treacherous eunuchs corrupting governance, and without there were rebels and traitors.

The Jianzhou barbarians, the rebel Lin, the Dashing Bandit, and She-An—these four great rebels had thrown the world into chaos and brought suffering to countless lives. They truly deserved death!

In his heart, he silently swore to the Grand Ancestor that even if he had to sacrifice himself for the state, he would defend the Zhu family's Great Ming empire!

After who knows how long, he suddenly heard the cries of battle. Before he could even tell whether he was dreaming, the door was violently pushed open.

"Your Highness, disaster! Rebel soldiers have broken into the city!" the Guard Commander said frantically.

Zhu Changqing sat bolt upright in bed. He saw the Guard Commander holding a wild-goose saber and wearing armor, and in the courtyard more than a dozen guards stood at the ready with torches, all with steel blades drawn.

In the farther distance, he could indeed hear the cries of battle, along with the occasional crack of gunfire.

The Guard Commander spoke rapidly, helping Zhu Changqing into his shoes as he said, "Your Highness, an hour ago, the soldiers guarding the city secretly opened the gates and let the rebel troops in. The militia and garrison troops have all turned their coats—the rebels are sweeping through the city unstoppably. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late!"

Zhu Changqing's face showed shock, then fury surged within him: "A pack of traitors and rebels! Vile dogs who abandon honor for profit!"

The Guard Commander said, "Your Highness, I've prepared a small boat south of the city. We can cross the Rao River and flee south—that will let us avoid the main force of the rebels."

Zhu Changqing let out a long sigh and said, "It seems there's no other choice."

Assisted by the Guard Commander, he put on his shoes, threw on an outer robe, and walked out. When he reached the courtyard, he stopped, turned back to gaze at the residence, and said with hatred: "I won't leave the prince's residence for the rebels! Burn it down!"

"Your Highness?" The Guard Commander wanted to dissuade him.

"Burn it!" Zhu Changqing spat out the single word viciously.

Under Zhu Changqing's orders, the prince's guards first dismissed the household servants, then set fires in various places.

But the Prince of Huai's residence was known as the Little Forbidden City of Raozhou—its scale was almost a miniature version of the Forbidden City, covering over fifteen hundred mu with countless halls and pavilions. How could fires be started there in a short while?

Apart from Zhu Changqing himself, there were also many family members. These people moved slowly and naturally had to leave first. Soon Zhu Changqing departed as well. When the remaining prince's guards learned the news, they unanimously threw their torches into the pond and began putting out the fires.

When the Great Xia army attacked, they would surrender with the residence intact—if not claiming merit, at least their crimes and merits would cancel out, wouldn't they?

Zhu Changqing walked along the road, seeing that the city was not the chaos of war he had imagined—instead, it was orderly beyond belief.

After all, the defending troops of Raozhou had offered almost no resistance; the Xia army had come less to storm the city than to take over and occupy it.

Zhu Changqing thought of how he had dipped into his own private coffers to feed such a pack of ungrateful wolves, and grief and rage welled up within him.

The group soon reached the south of the city. Due to the terrain, the Great Xia army had attacked from north to south, so the south was temporarily safe.

Zhu Changqing turned back to gaze intently, and saw that the flames of his princely mansion were not growing larger but were gradually dying down. A puzzled look crossed his face, then he understood—a surge of hot blood rushed to his head, and he swayed with fury.

"You traitorous scum, how dare you! Let's fight our way back!"

The Guard Commander climbed the city wall, gazing toward the river, and said urgently: "Your Highness, preserving your life is the most important thing right now! Take advantage of the fact that there are no enemy ships on the river and leave quickly—if we delay any longer, it will be too late!"

Zhu Changqing knew full well the relative weight of wealth versus life, but the Huai Prince's mansion was an inheritance built up by over a dozen generations of his ancestors. To hand it over so readily to rebel soldiers cut his heart like a knife, and the betrayal of the mansion's guards was even harder to accept.

Because the Rao River had been blockaded by Bai Qing, the Guard Commander had prepared only one boat on the river to avoid drawing attention. With the mansion's guards and family members numbering three to four hundred people, a single trip could not carry them all.

The Guard Commander had Zhu Changqing and his family board the boat first, while he stayed behind with his men to cover their retreat.

Zhu Changqing insisted on not boarding. Seeing that the boat was already full, the Guard Commander sent it across the river with one batch first.

Unexpectedly, no sooner had the boat reached the middle of the river than boat lanterns lit up in the reeds on the opposite bank. Three bird boats emerged from among them and quickly surrounded the prince's family in the middle.

Shouts of "Drop your weapons and you won't be killed!" rang out across the river.

Sure enough, not a single shot was fired from the prince's boat. An entire boatload of the prince's family members all became captives of the Xia army.

Zhu Changqing's eyes blazed with fury. He snatched a saber from one of his guards and made to wade into the water to fight the rebels to the death, but the Guard Commander held him back firmly.

Raozhou City was surrounded by water on three sides and mountains on one. Since the rebels had ambush troops on the south side, the east and west sides were surely the same.

They were now completely trapped in the city. The only way to escape was to break up into small groups and each fend for themselves.

The Guard Commander let the others go their own ways, keeping only two trusted subordinates to attend the Prince of Huai. The four fled to a small alley, broke into a house, and seized commoners' clothing. The Guard Commander wanted to kill the occupants to silence them, but Zhu Changqing stopped him.

"Enough. They don't know who we are—let them go."

Only then did the Guard Commander spare the family's lives.

Disguised in commoners' clothing, the four dodged about the city, hoping to slip out from the north. But the closer they got to the north, the tighter the Xia army's defenses became, and the city gates and walls were firmly held. The four could only hide and dodge throughout the city.

As dawn approached, seeing that they truly could not get out, they broke into a nearby house. It belonged to a newlywed couple. The Guard Commander bound the husband and wife, gagged them, and placed them on the bed—usurping their nest like a cuckoo.

Early in the morning, when the various Battalion Commanders came to the camp outside the city to compare accounts, they discovered that the Prince of Huai was nowhere to be found. Immediately they launched a house-to-house search throughout the city.

But the common folk, having endured the calamities of war, had an instinctive fear of soldiers. Even though the Xia army had excellent discipline and a good reputation, the people dared not open their doors.

Bound by military discipline, the Xia soldiers could not force their way in. They could only knock incessantly and plead with all their might—making the search extremely inefficient.

Zhang Moye was a fine hand at fighting, but what to do in such a dilemma had never been taught at military academy. He was stumped.

It happened that Lin Qian was in camp during this period. Only when the King personally inquired did Zhang Moye reluctantly confess the truth.

"Your Majesty, as long as the Prince of Huai remains uncaptured, the city cannot be unsealed. And the stricter our controls, the deeper the rift between the people and us. In my opinion, we might as well be forceful at the doors—better a short pain than a long one. Once we distribute the Prince of Huai's lands, the people will understand."

Lin Qian shook his head. This matter appeared to be a dilemma, but in truth, how to resolve it had already been demonstrated by predecessors.

Pondering as he walked, he stepped outside his tent. The tent was situated on high ground, offering a view of the scenery beyond the camp. Across the vast fields stretched waves of rice in a patchwork of gold and green, with many common folk moving through the paddies, harvesting.

Pointing at the rice fields, Lin Qian said to Zhang Moye: "Do you know why those common folk aren't afraid of us?"

Zhang Moye shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed into the distance, saying: "Looking at that rice, if it isn't harvested soon it'll rot in the fields. Even if the people are afraid, they have to come out."

Zhang Moye's family was from the mountainous region of Fujian, where the crops differed somewhat from those by Poyang Lake, so he could only speak in general terms.

Lin Qian explained: "That's early rice, a variety called 'Hundred-Day Early.' The seedlings are transplanted around Qingming, and late June is exactly when it ripens for harvest. This rice grows fast and matures even faster. Once ripe, the grains fall off extremely easily. You see how the bottoms of the ears are still green now—but if you wait until they're fully yellow to harvest, the moment the wind blows or a hand touches them, all the grain will fall into the mud and water."

Lin Qian had been a tenant farmer before. His home prefecture had a climate similar to that of the Poyang Lake shore, with similar crops—he had even planted Hundred-Day Early with his own hands, so naturally he knew this rice like the back of his hand.

"I see."

Lin Qian continued: "Every year when the early rice ripens, that's the busy farming season, the heaviest work of all. After the rice is cut, it must be bundled; after bundling, it must be carried; after carrying, it must be threshed and the grain hauled."

The work is heavy, and the time is tight besides. If you're slow, one heavy rain and the rice all rots.

So people can't rest—can't even sleep more than a little. Back when my family was in the busy season, we only lay down for four hours a day. The whole family worked together, so exhausted that our hands and feet were covered in blood blisters, leeches biting our legs, and our shoulders raw and broken from the carrying poles.

All over our bodies were wounds cut by rice awns. When we sweated, it stung and itched terribly—a truly agonizing torment."

Zhang Moye's family mostly grew winter rice. Though it was a different variety from Hundred-Day Early, when it came to the hardship of the work, he could empathize completely.

"And winnowing grain—I used to rather bend my back more in the fields than go winnow. After a day of winnowing, my arms didn't even feel like my own. I was covered in dust from head to toe and couldn't even fall asleep."

Lin Qian laughed: "Weren't you studying to become a xiucai back then? How did you end up doing farm work too?"

Zhang Moye chuckled: "During the busy season you have to help out a bit—otherwise, wouldn't all this strength of mine go to waste?"

Lin Qian sighed: "Well said... Let's go!" With that, he walked out of the camp.

Zhang Moye was slightly startled and hurried to follow: "What is Your Majesty going to do?"

Lin Qian said: "Like you said—this strength of ours can't go to waste."

"Huh?" Zhang Moye took a moment to react before saying, "No, no. Your Majesty, that's not what I meant. Your Majesty's person is precious beyond measure—how could you do such heavy labor?"

Lin Qian said: "What nonsense about a precious person? I can eat this rice but can't do the work to grow it—since when is there such a principle under heaven?"

As he spoke, Lin Qian had already left the camp, with his personal guards and Zhang Moye's personal guards following behind.

Zhang Moye wiped his sweat anxiously, saying: "Your Majesty, we can't leave camp—there are still military matters to handle..."

"Have the messengers deliver them to the fields!"

"Don't go any further, Your Majesty! If Commander Lei finds out, he'll tear me apart!" Zhang Moye wailed.

Lin Qian said: "Stop being so wishy-washy—come work with me. To tell you the truth, for that newly expanded division of the Army Department, you're the provisional choice for division commander." Zhang Moye was stunned for a moment, then straightened up and said: "Thank you, Your Majesty! I will serve with my life!"

Lin Qian joked: "Don't celebrate too early. If you don't do good farm work, that division commander position might not be yours."

"Huh?" Zhang Moye was dumbfounded.

As they spoke, Lin Qian had already reached the threshing ground at the edge of the fields. Around the threshing ground, a dozen or so women were gripping grain barrels between their legs, threshing rice by beating the stalks against them, while farmers carried in bundled rice on shoulder poles.

The center of the threshing ground was the drying area, where golden grains lay spread in a single layer like golden silk brocade. Two or three people were turning the grain over with rakes.

Downwind was the winnowing area. This work could only be done when there was wind, so it usually sat idle. Just then a gust of wind blew through, and several of the women who had been threshing clapped their hands and rose nimbly, ready to winnow—but seeing a crowd of soldiers approaching, they all froze in place.

When they saw Lin Qian walking straight toward them, the farmers all dropped their tools in fright and retreated to the side—yet dared not retreat too far, terrified that the soldiers might seize their grain.

A commotion rose among the fields, and a farmer in his forties or fifties emerged from the crops. His skin was dark, his body reeked of sweat, and most of him was caked in mud. He came out of the field, wiping his hands incessantly on his lapels, and finally worked up the courage to walk before Lin Qian. With a thud, he knelt down. "Masters, if you must take, then take. Just leave us some rations and seed grain."

Lin Qian said, "Who came to take your grain?"

The old farmer hastily changed his tune: "Right! Is it a levy? It's a levy! Our whole village has thirty-two households, over a hundred mouths. Master, leave us... leaving us half will do."

A young man behind him cried out in alarm, "Uncle! Half?"

"Silence!" the old farmer barked sternly.

That young man gritted his teeth and stepped forward to kneel before Lin Qian as well: "Master, our village has been levied twice by the Field-Leveling King and once by the Raozhou Prefecture. We truly have no surplus grain left. If this grain is levied again... we really cannot survive. Please, Master, show mercy."

"I'm not here to levy grain. Get up first, then we'll talk." Lin Qian stepped forward to help the two of them up.

The two were so frightened they hastily shrank back.

Lin Qian sighed. Some estrangements and misunderstandings could not be cleared up by words alone. The Gan Report run by Yuan Chonghuan had done no small amount of smearing against the Xia Army. The people of northern Jiangxi lived far from Xia territory and were little influenced by the Xia Times; instead, they had witnessed the true faces of all manner of Field-Leveling Kings. Their wariness toward the Xia Army was only human nature. In these times, what army was made of good men? If one did not actively plunder, that counted as strict discipline, and the common folk would burn incense in gratitude.

Lin Qian reached out, grabbed a wooden winnowing shovel, and plunged it into the half-dry rice pile. He scooped up a steady seven jin of paddy, faced into the wind, and flung his arms upward with force, calling out, "Winnowing the grain!"

That shovelful of paddy flew into the air. Under the pull of gravity, the plump grains fell to the open ground before him, while the husks, broken stalks, shriveled kernels, and chaff were blown downwind.

The personal guards of Lin and Zhang happened to be standing exactly downwind, and they were showered with chaff and dust from head to toe, all of them slapping themselves endlessly.

"Hahaha..." Lin Qian let out a string of laughter at his successful prank.

Zhang Moye said, "I'll have a go too!"

With that, he picked up a wooden winnowing shovel and took turns with Lin Qian tossing the grain.

The farmers stared in utter astonishment. At first they thought some young master had come to amuse himself, but after watching for a while, they saw that both Lin and Zhang winnowed with proper technique — not haphazard work. The plump grains gathered into one pile, not a single one landing outside the threshing ground.

Looking more carefully, the two did not bend their waists, arch their backs, rise on their toes, or squat deep. Standing on the windward side, they did not cover themselves in dust either. Every motion was correct — they were true masters of winnowing. The farmers exchanged glances, marveling inwardly.

Geng Wu saw Lin Qian working, and it clearly would not do for him to stand idle, so he went up to help as well. But having come from the Tanka boat people, he did not know how to winnow, so Lin Qian taught him how to apply force and how to use leverage.

Once Geng Wu started in, the pressure shifted to the ordinary guards, who all pitched in to help. With enough people winnowing, others helped with threshing and harvesting. After working for a while, they found carrying guns on their backs extremely inconvenient, so they stacked the guns in one place and detailed a few soldiers to watch over them.

With the king and the general both working, the camp officers soon could not sit still, and they came one after another with their men and tools to help.

Within two hours, soldiers stood packed across the fields. Most of these soldiers were farming folk from Fujian, no strangers to agricultural work, and they worked swiftly. This stretch of paddy covered nearly a thousand mu. With the whole village of over a hundred people pitching in, the fastest they could manage was three or four days to finish the harvest. But with over a thousand soldiers flooding in, everyone divided the work clearly and labored with vigor — half a day was enough to finish the harvest, filling the threshing ground to the brim.

Near dusk, muffled thunder rolled across the sky. The farmers' faces filled with worry, and they were just about to gather the rice when they saw Lin Qian had already led his men in piling the grain together. Lin Qian called out loudly, "Once rice touches rainwater, it will mold! Move quickly, everyone!"

"Yes!" Dozens of guards around him answered in unison. Shovels and rakes whirled fast in their hands, grains of rice flying through the air, and soon grains piled up like sand forming a tower. "Boom!" Another muffled thunderclap swept through, and the wind over the threshing ground shifted, blowing from the northwest.

Half the grain had already been gathered into piles, covered with straw mats and bamboo screens, pressed tight with oiled paper. The other half still lay spread out in the open. Lin Qian shouted, "Race to save the grain!"

At the command, the soldiers threw in all their strength. Golden waves of rice rolled across the threshing ground, and more soldiers came flooding in. Everyone worked together, and the grain piles rose at lightning speed.

Lin Qian glanced over and said, "Not everyone can pile grain. Zhang Moye, take your men to lay down the oiled paper!"

"Boom!" The late-summer rain came in a rush. In moments, the sky darkened completely.

Everyone on the threshing ground moved even faster. Pile after pile of grain was stacked and covered at flying speed. Hundreds of people bustled back and forth, their movements crisp and clean, without a trace of hesitation or slack. The sounds of running feet, covering, voices, scraping ground, thunder, and wind all wove together — the scene was urgent, filled with blazing activity. "Pat!"

At last, one enormous raindrop fell, and then countless more followed, soaking everything for over ten li in every direction.

Yet the farmers' grain had all been gathered in, not a single kernel lost.

Though the soldiers were so exhausted they could barely straighten their backs, seeing that they had beaten the damned sky, they all shouted with joy in the rain.

Even though that rice was not theirs, they felt genuine happiness from the bottom of their hearts.

As for the village farmers, they were all wiping away tears. Had the Xia Army not helped, one great rainstorm might have made half a year of their labor come to nothing. Now that the heavy rain had arrived, there was no more work to be done. Lin Qian ordered the soldiers to form up and return to camp. The old farmer stepped forward to block him and said, "May I ask the general's name, so that this old man may deliver grain to your camp?"

In the old farmer's view, these soldiers had done heavy work for them and saved them from loss, so grain had to be sent in return. This was not a levy, nor a seizure — it was what they deserved. No one should work for nothing.

Lin Qian smiled and said, "We are the Great Xia Army. Keep the grain for yourselves. We're off."

With that, he walked into the rain without looking back.

"Hey! Hey!" The old farmer chased after him, but the Great Xia soldiers all wore identical crow-blue uniforms, now covered in chaff and straw stalks. Once Lin Qian walked off with the column, he was like a drop of water merging into a river — impossible to find again.

On a slope not far from the threshing ground, an old man and a young man stood wearing conical hats and straw rain capes, quietly watching the scene.

The young man crouched, idly playing with a stalk of foxtail grass, and said, "This Great Xia Army does seem rather extraordinary."

Seeing the old man did not speak, the young man said, "Heavenly Master, should we go pay a visit?"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen