Chapter 103: The Play Performance and the Grievance-Airing Assembly

Huang Shunde supported his mother and brought the whole family to the threshing floor. His old father absolutely refused to follow the rebels and chose to stay home alone to watch the door.

His parents, elder brother, sister-in-law, younger brother, younger sister-in-law, himself and his wife, plus a nephew over twelve — the household's able-bodied persons came to exactly nine. If one more child reached twelve, they would hit Zhao Han's mandatory household-splitting threshold.

This was also what Huang Shunde resented. Forcing people to divide the family and split the property went against Confucian principles, and against moral custom as well.

Ah, but circumstances are stronger than men. Refuse to follow the rebels and you're finished.

Even if Zhao Han didn't lift a hand, those former tenant farmers could probably bully them to death!

The threshing floor was already packed with villagers, all ordered to come watch the play. One village after another, they performed it slowly, a few hundred spectators each time — any more and no one could hear what the actors said.

When Huang Shunde's whole family reached the threshing floor, they received no friendly looks.

In the old days, these low-born tenant farmers would have rushed over shouting "Master Huang," bowing and scraping to him, the child student.

Huang Shunde would rather pay more taxes to the officials as before — at least he could live with some dignity.

His elder brother Huang Shungong, however, thought things were better now.

Though owner-peasants hadn't been allotted land, they were beneficiaries too. Less land tax, no meltage fees, no miscellaneous levies, no corvée money — the family could keep several extra dan of grain!

If not for his father and younger brother holding him back, Huang Shungong would have thrown in with Zhao Han long ago. He did the most backbreaking work farming the family land.

Therein lies the complexity of reality: in the same household, brothers born of one mother — the elder willing to support Zhao Han, the younger loathing Zhao Han from the bottom of his heart.

In the center of the threshing floor stood a makeshift stage, and the whole village, young and old, sat gathered around it.

Huang Shunde's family had arrived a bit late and could only sit toward the back. He had no real interest in watching a play; he'd brought the whole family only because the village chief said there would be some benefit.

They waited a while longer as more and more people gathered.

At last, Chen Maosheng stepped onto the stage, cupped his hands, and said, "Elders and fellow villagers, I am Deputy Town Chief Chen Maosheng. Has the harvest been good this year?"

"Good!"

Men and women, young and old, all shouted out, their faces beaming with happy smiles, happier than they had ever been.

Chen Maosheng continued, "Mr. Zhao, Town Chief Zhao, still feels you have it too hard. Averaging it out, any household with less than two mu per person gets one extra mu! What does that mean? An example: if your family has five people and still less than ten mu, then Mr. Zhao gives you one more mu!"

"Good!"

"Bodhisattva bless Mr. Zhao!"

"Master Zhao is a great, good man!"

"May Master Zhao live a hundred years!"

"..."

Amid the jubilation, many peasants dropped straight to their knees, even though Zhao Han was not present.

By Ming-dynasty agricultural productivity, the best land in the south — one mu could feed one person. Going down the grades, two or three mu, three or four mu could feed one person. The dry fields of the north were far poorer, yielding only half as much, or even less.

The figures above rest on one premise: that the authorities levy the land tax normally, without arbitrary surcharges, without arbitrary meltage fees, without arbitrary corvée impositions.

Counting the barren mountain plots, Wuxing Town's total arable land was only about twenty thousand mu. Averaged out, that came to less than five mu per person (not counting children under twelve).

Moreover, Zhao Han himself held ten thousand mu, which brought the per capita arable land to under 2.5 mu.

Chen Maosheng waited for the crowd to quiet, then went on: "Some will say, those who got the least land didn't lift a finger during the struggle against the landlords. Why is it that when land is given out this time, those who did the work get nothing extra, while those who didn't get one mu?"

Many peasants nodded to themselves — that was exactly what they thought, but it was awkward to say so among neighbors and kin.

Chen Maosheng smiled. "Those households getting an extra mu this time, you'll have to put in some real effort now. Our five-hundred-odd soldier lads wear through their shoes fast in drill — there are rice-straw stalks everywhere now. You'll be making straw sandals for the lads! During drill periods, each household will send one person, taking turns to wash and mend for the lads! Also, Mr. Zhao plans to open a relief home, to care for the widowed, orphaned, and disabled in the village. You'll take turns sending people to carry water, haul firewood, and sweep for the relief home. How does that sound?"

"Good!"

To gain one mu of land, doing these things was certainly worth it.

And those households that didn't get extra land felt somewhat more at ease.

Chen Maosheng announced further: "Mr. Zhao also says, this year he is newly arrived and sincerely wishes to be friends with everyone. He sees how hard you all labor, so on all tenanted land, the rent is reduced by another half a tenth! Those who've already paid rent can come tomorrow to collect the refund and take it home."

The whole crowd erupted, dancing and waving their arms.

Because much of the land the villagers had been allotted was not enough to feed their families, they still had to tenant-farm Zhao Han's fields. It had already been reduced by one and a half tenths, and now reduced by another half tenth — the rent was only eighty percent of last year's.

"A cunning scoundrel!" Huang Shunde muttered.

Huang Shungong asked his brother, "What did you say?"

"Nothing." Huang Shunde shut his mouth at once.

Not cutting the rent by two tenths outright, but cutting one and a half tenths after spring planting, then another half tenth after the rent was paid — it was nothing but a way to keep showering favors on all the peasant households.

And within it, building trust.

Rent already collected, like meat already swallowed — to actually return it to the tenants, Zhao Han's personal credibility was about to explode!

Huang Shunde thought to himself: A cunning scoundrel like this, so skilled at deluding the masses — he's bound to stir up a huge disaster. Why haven't the authorities come to suppress him yet? All useless, mediocre officials! If you don't come wipe out the rebels soon, in a few days when the militia camp reorganizes, I'll truly have to join the rebels.

Then his mind turned again: If things do blow up bigger, and then they accept amnesty, could I wangle some official post out of it?

Whatever — let it blow up first, then we'll see!

As Huang Shunde's thoughts raced back and forth, the play had already begun on stage.

To make it more relatable to the common people, Zhao Han's adaptation of The White-Haired Girl had none of those bookish, refined lyrics. During rehearsals, he even had the illiterate actors revise it, turning all the dialogue into the local dialect.

The story was set in Huang Family Town —

Yang Bailao had lost his wife early and had only one daughter, Xi'er. They were often looked after by their neighbor Yang Dachun and his mother. The two families lived in harmony, the young boy and girl fell in love, and they agreed to marry after the autumn harvest the next year.

The evil landlord Huang Shiren, scheming to seize Xi'er, used heavy rent and usurious interest to force Yang Bailao to repay his debts by year's end. On New Year's Eve, unable to pay, Yang Bailao was coerced into selling his daughter. Overcome with grief, he took his own life. On New Year's Day, Xi'er was snatched away to the Huang household, where she suffered every indignity and torment. Then, Yang Dachun and his mother were driven out.

The male lead, Yang Dachun — his mother, while they were being driven out, fell ill from exposure and died. He was rescued by a certain Mr. Zhao. Hearing of Huang Shiren's evil deeds, Mr. Zhao agreed to help him rescue Xi'er.

Xi'er, now pregnant, was let go by a kind-hearted maid of the Huang household. On the road, she gave birth, but the infant died. She fled deep into the mountains, where her black hair turned entirely white. Because she stole offerings from a temple, the villagers revered her as the White-Haired Fairy.

Mr. Zhao returned with Yang Dachun, suppressed Huang Shiren, and distributed land to the people of Huang Family Town. Hearing the rumors of the White-Haired Fairy, Yang Dachun searched the mountains for many days, and the lovers were reunited at last.

On stage.

Xiaocui played Xi'er, Chen Maosheng played Yang Dachun, Fei Chun played Huang Shiren in disguise costume, and Fei Ruhe played a household slave who never spoke a word throughout. The rest of the cast were clerks from the town office and serving girls and matrons from Zhao Han's household.

The villagers all found it wonderfully strange — it was the first time they had ever seen a spoken play.

Never mind that there were few sung lines — the dialogue was in the local dialect, and the costumes were utterly ordinary, nothing like the formal theatrical robes on a proper opera stage.

What's more, the story was set in Huang Family Town, and Huang Shiren was also Master Huang — the sense of immersion was absolutely perfect.

Huang Shunde's wife watched with keen interest, but he himself was full of disdain, thinking this kind of spoken drama wasn't fit for a proper stage, its spoken lines and lyrics both utterly vulgar.

Gradually, Huang Shunde grew alarmed, because the villagers all around him were growing restless.

On New Year's Eve, Yang Bailao was forced by Master Huang to sell his daughter, and in despair, he simply killed himself. On New Year's Day, Xi'er was seized, beaten, and violated.

On the stage, several door planks were stood upright to serve as Master Huang's bedroom.

Because Xi'er resisted, she was first beaten outside the room, then dragged inside and raped.

The villagers could not see what was happening behind the door planks; they only heard Xi'er's repeated cries of anguish. Those near the stage could even hear the sound of clothes being torn.

"Beat Huang the Skinflint to death!"

At last, one villager could hold back no longer, and the other villagers roared in support.

Then several more people rushed up, seized Fei Chun, who was playing Huang Shiren, and gave him a flurry of punches and kicks, rescuing the pitiful Xi'er.

"Good!"

Seeing Xi'er rescued, countless villagers cheered and jumped for joy.

Chen Maosheng hurriedly led people to stop them, explaining over and over that this was just a play, telling the villagers not to take it for real.

The unlucky Fei Chun, beaten black and blue, still had to stay on stage and continue acting.

The plot that followed was just as oppressive.

Yang Dachun was driven out, and his mother died miserably on the road. Xi'er escaped with her life, but then her child died in infancy, and her hair turned completely white, like a madwoman, like a wandering ghost in the mountains.

At last, Mr. Zhao returned with Yang Dachun!

Mr. Zhao waged a battle of wits against Master Huang and led the tenant farmers in revolt. The hero and heroine were reunited, and under Mr. Zhao's auspices, they performed the wedding rites and became husband and wife.

The long period of oppression was released; the villagers rose to their feet cheering, and shouts of acclaim rose one after another.

Although the performance was not staged in Upper Huang Village today, Huang Yao was still invited to watch the play.

He did not even finish watching it, but quietly slipped away to the edge of the threshing ground, covered his mouth, and wept silently. Although his own experience only slightly resembled The White-Haired Girl, he felt as if the play was about him — his childhood sweetheart had also died a miserable death at the Huang house.

At some point, his new wife came up behind him and, without a word, stayed with Huang Yao, shedding tears.

On the stage, The White-Haired Girl had finished its run. The next part was the grievance-airing assembly.

Jiang Dashan was the first to take the stage: "I'm of an outside surname, and I've suffered more than most of you. Old Huang — Huang Zundao made a point of bullying people with outside surnames. My ancestors had land too, and Huang Zundao's ancestors took it all. Outsiders pay the heaviest rent; we never see any benefits, but we catch every misfortune. Transporting grain is bitter labor — we bring our own food to escort the grain to the county seat. The corrupt officials always find fault, deliberately spilling grain and claiming my shipment wasn't full. We transporters have to make up the shortfall ourselves."

"Whenever the Huang clan's ancestral hall, old family home, or irrigation canals needed repair, I was always roped in. No wages, no rations, and if the work wasn't good enough, a beating. During the great drought over ten years ago, Huang Zundao sent his household slaves to press for rent. They seized all my family's grain. My father, my elder brother and his wife — they all starved to death..."

As he spoke, Jiang Dashan began to weep and could not go on.

Chen Maosheng had him step down and asked, "Who else wants to air their grievances? Come up and speak freely. We are all people who have known bitterness — don't keep it bottled up inside."

"I'll speak!"

This time it was not a plant; an old peasant rushed onto the stage and began to recount his own miserable experience.

Huang Shunde listened with a pounding heart, and at the same time fell silent. He had studied diligently since childhood, but later his family grew larger and their circumstances gradually became straitened. He himself had no hope in the examinations, and in his twenties he began learning to farm, never paying much attention to the villagers' lives.

Only at this moment did Huang Shunde realize that his elder cousin had done so many evil deeds.

Should a great landlord like that be beaten to death and his land divided up?

Huang Shunde's thoughts fell into confusion. He was a scholar, had not endured much hardship, and still retained in his heart a trace of a literatus's ideals.

"Mother, did Elder Uncle really do all these terrible things?" Huang Shunde asked in a low voice.

Mother Huang sighed: "Ah, the man is dead. Don't ask too many questions."

So it was true.

Huang Shunde did not know what to say. He just stood there, stunned, listening as villager after villager took the stage to air their grievances.

(Thanks to Wangshi Chengyan, Yaoshen Yibian, and two friends whose names are finger emojis I don't know how to describe, for their alliance-leader tips. And thanks to all the other readers for your tips!)

(End of chapter)