Chapter 40: Charcoal Boy

If one were to ask where coal was first mined in the realm, the answer would be Hongnong (Right Corps Commandery).

There is a somewhat tragic story behind this: Dou Guangguo, the younger brother of Empress Dowager Dou of Filial Emperor Wen of the former dynasty, was abducted by human traffickers as a child, sold over a dozen times, and finally sold as a slave to Yiyang in Hongnong, where he was sent into the mountains by his master to mine coal. He worked by day and at night slept huddled with the other miners against the mouth of the coal pit for shelter from the wind. One day the pit collapsed with a thunderous roar — Dou Guangguo alone managed to escape by luck; the other hundred-odd men were all crushed to death alive.

Compared to Right Corps, the coal reserves of Liewei Commandery, located in the area of later Xianyang, were somewhat inferior, yet it was still the commandery richest in coal resources among the Three Adjuncts. The seams ran southward along the Jing River, growing thinner the further south they went.

The small coal pit belonging to the Fourth Clan lay roughly at the tail end of this seam, north of the dried-up old course of the Jing River. Normally only thirty-odd men worked it, and apart from the convict laborers and peasants who crawled into the shafts to dig coal, few people ever visited.

In the last ten days of the tenth month of the fifth year of Tianfeng (AD 18), however, the little coal pit was unusually bustling. Not only did Diwu Xian come in person, but the men in charge of the First and Fifth Clans also all arrived.

Seeing Diwu Ba step down from his carriage, pigeon-staff in hand, Diwu Xian immediately went over and bowed, not forgetting to thank him profusely.

"Had Boyu not persuaded that Inspector Ma to count our First and Fourth Clans as having voluntarily surrendered, slightly reducing the punishment, I fear I would already be a convict laborer, suffering the punishment of having my hair shorn."

Diwu Xian touched the scalp of his head, which had so narrowly escaped disaster, and could not help sighing with emotion — having a Palace Gentleman in court to lean on truly was a fine thing. Had they still relied on the First Clan as in the past, they could never have escaped conviction this time.

Since he already owed Ma Yuan an enormous favor, Diwu Lun decided he might as well owe it to the end and, setting aside past grievances, fished First Liu out as well. Only, the old scoundrel was too ashamed to show his face and had fallen ill with rage at home. Today his eldest son, First Guan, had come in his stead to meet with the elder and younger men of the clan.

They had gathered here in response to Diwu Lun's summons, to discuss "a matter concerning the very survival of the various Di clans of Linqu Township"!

For the First and Fourth Clans, their families truly stood on the brink of ruin. Voluntarily surrendering had only spared them the humiliation of corporal punishment; the authorities had still confiscated four-fifths of their family property to aid the border emergency.

The First Clan's granaries, coin, and silks were nearly emptied. The Fourth Clan, being merchants, also had most of the enterprises they operated seized.

Most fortunately, Diwu Lun had made Diwu Xian hastily write out a deed, "gifting" the house on Xuanming Ward in Chang'an to him. The family's total property had been slightly reduced, the coin and grain seized by the authorities had been a little less, and it had also allowed Diwu Xian to make a choice between the lime quarry and the coal pit.

"Keep the coal pit!"

Diwu Lun had instructed Diwu Xian thus, leaving him somewhat puzzled.

"Stone charcoal" sat at the very bottom of the fuel hierarchy — common folk disliked it, using it to smelt iron caused a drastic drop in quality, and it was only used for firing lowly goods like lime, pottery, bricks, and tiles. Most people only used coal for damp-proofing granaries and tomb chambers.

But Diwu Xian dared not disobey Diwu Lun, and so this small coal pit became his family's sole remaining enterprise.

The others had arrived half a shichen early; Diwu Lun came late, unhurried. This was the fourth rest day of the tenth month. He had left Chang'an last night before curfew and only reached this place at dawn; he would have to hurry back under the stars tonight.

Having slept poorly in the carriage, Diwu Lun's eyes were full of bloodshot veins. Without wasting words, he handed a contract to Diwu Xian.

"Clan Uncle, I have sold the house on Xuanming Ward for you. With this contract, you may go to Changping Hostel north of the county seat and collect a certain amount of coin and grain from the Qiongcheng Marquis's residence."

"So quickly?" Diwu Xian was overjoyed, yet feigned shame as he said, "This being the case, Boyu will have to find another place to live in Chang'an."

In truth, Diwu Lun had simply turned around and sold the house to Wang Long, who was always coming over to sponge off him — landlord and tenant had merely swapped identities. In any case, to the Qiongcheng Marquis's family, this bit of money was no more than the very tip of a hair off nine oxen; the price offered was even a little above market rate.

Diwu Xian had already steeled himself for the house property to be quietly swallowed up by Diwu Lun. Now, seeing him return the entire profit, he was deeply moved and wanted to give Diwu Lun ten percent of the coin and grain as thanks, but was refused.

"It is more urgent that we quickly confer together on the great matter concerning the survival of our three clans."

Next, Diwu Lun showed Diwu Xian and First Guan what he had had the people of Diwu Ward make during his last rest day: small coal balls. He stuffed a few into an earthen stove and lit them.

A major reason people of the time disliked using raw coal for heating was that it was hard to burn — as dense as stone, with air finding it very difficult to enter the gaps; it had to be broken into small chunks.

Coal balls had no such drawback. The coal lumps were thoroughly smashed, mixed with water and yellow earth, and when burned, the fire was stronger than charcoal. The only problem was that they did not last as long as charcoal.

But in Diwu Xian's eyes, being made like this was enough to sell for money. The heart he had kept hanging finally settled a little. Gritting his teeth, he said to Diwu Lun, "My family is willing to follow Boyu's plan!"

In the past, Diwu Xian would never have taken such a risk, but now, with his family wounded and even this winter hard to survive, he could only treat the dead horse as if it were alive.

On the journey here, Diwu Lun had already laid out each clan's tasks: "The Fourth Clan need only do as before — send the family's convict laborers down the shaft to mine, but double the manpower. In addition, dispatch a few eloquent younger clansmen to take charge of the final selling."

The First Clan, meanwhile, would send thirty or forty men to specialize in pounding the coal lumps into powder, and use their advantage of having many livestock and carts to handle the transport link.

"So this is why Boyu had my family pay coin and grain to the authorities to atone for our crime, but insisted we keep the livestock and carts?"

First Guan woodenly assented. His father had already collapsed, and Linqu Township now followed Diwu Lun's lead. If they did not cooperate again, the once most powerful First Clan would be thoroughly marginalized.

Diwu Lun looked at Diwu Ba and said, "Grandfather, our family will also send several dozen people. During the farming off-season, the clan members and ward folk have little work to do; better to come here and work for a month before the bitter cold of the twelfth month sets in. The Fifth Clan will take charge of digging yellow earth and mixing the coal balls — quite a few should be willing."

"The world is not peaceful these days. Pick another ten or so able-bodied clansmen to escort the carts with bows and blades."

Diwu Ba leaned on his pigeon-staff, beaming. He was now quite happy to follow his grandson's direction.

Diwu Xian pressed further: "Boyu, once these coal balls are made, where should they be transported for sale?"

"I have already found the place — it is precisely the various wards north of the city!"

This was the decision Diwu Lun had made after making a circuit around the outskirts of Chang'an on his last rest day.

First Guan, unfamiliar with trade, could not help but ask in confusion, "Why not go to the East and West Markets of Chang'an?"

"Entering and leaving the East and West Markets requires paying tax, and the same goes for entering the city — quite a lot of coin must be paid. The ward gatekeepers and ward chiefs will also drive you away and not allow you to hawk goods by the gates." Diwu Xian understood the tricks of this trade; the place Diwu Lun had chosen was indeed not bad.

Of Chang'an's one hundred sixty wards, at least one hundred twenty lay in the "outer ward" area beyond the walls. The northern part of the city alone spanned over thirty li, with several thousand households — an enormous demand for fuel.

Secondly, it was also close to Changling. Ox carts hauling coal balls would only need to travel a few dozen li, crossing the Heng Bridge to arrive. Oxen and horses needed to eat grass, carts would suffer wear and tear — traveling one li less meant saving a large sum in expenses.

Diwu Lun revealed his greatest source of confidence: "The man in charge of the thirty wards north of the city is the Colonel of the City Gates, Marquis Xiuyuan, Liang Rang. He is an old acquaintance of my teacher Yang Xiong. I used that connection to pay him a visit, and Colonel Liang has already agreed that our family's carts may enter and leave the thirty wards without restriction, and we may also rent a house near the North Market to use as a storehouse."

"As expected of Gentleman Diwu!"

Everyone was overjoyed — Diwu Lun had even secured the connections in advance. This set Diwu Xian's mind even more at ease. In his view, the goods were not what mattered; cultivating personal connections was the most crucial part of making a profit.

Diwu Lun told everyone not to worry about the rent: "When the clan elders and brothers previously sent me off to Chang'an, they pooled eighty thousand in stipend coin. Forty thousand was set aside as communal funds and must not be lightly touched. I have lived frugally and still have over thirty thousand left. I will now take out thirty thousand coin to rent the storehouse."

Thus, from raw materials, production, and transport to selling, every link had been properly settled. Only the most crucial question remained: how to divide the profits.

Diwu Lun said, "The coal pit originally belongs to the Fourth Clan. Adding in the mining and selling, which will rely on Clan Uncle, they should take thirty-five percent of the profit."

Diwu Xian rapidly calculated the accounts in his head and felt he was taking a small loss, but there was no helping it — this business could never be accomplished by his family's strength alone.

Diwu Lun then said to First Guan, "The cost of carting and transport is not small; adding the labor of crushing the coal, the First Clan may take fifteen percent of the profit."

First Guan did not dare object. He had resolutely gone against his father's orders and thrown his full effort into cooperating with Diwu Lun, hoping to pull his family back from the brink. But he still harbored doubts about whether selling coal balls would succeed. Well, so be it — Diwu Lun had thumped his chest and declared that if there were any losses this year, he himself would bear them.

"Our family shall take forty percent of the profit."

Diwu Lun glanced at everyone. None dared raise any objection, even though Diwu Lun had merely provided the idea and had the Fifth Clan members do the easiest work of digging yellow earth and mixing the coal cakes. But the connections and relationships that guaranteed this business would succeed were all in Diwu Lun's hands. Moreover, he was the hope of the entire clan, lacking only the title of "clan head" — it was indeed proper for him to take the largest share.

"The remaining ten percent will be used to pay customs duties. If there is any surplus, it will be placed in the communal granary, allowing the clansmen who come to work at the coal pit to borrow first. How does that sound?"

"As Boyu says!"

In that low, dilapidated thatched hut at the small coal pit, the three clans, by the dim yellow light, signed their names on the three silk documents Diwu Lun had drafted, dipped their fingers in the ink paste, and firmly pressed down their red thumbprints.

In the blink of an eye, it was the thirtieth day of the tenth month, the fifth rest day at the Gentlemen's Bureau. Diwu Lun again hurried back through the night and found that in just five short days, the scale of their "family enterprise" had already spread out at the coal pit.

The small coal pit was practically open-air, the tunnel sloping gently downward without needing to be dug very deep. Diwu Xian had staked everything, doubling the manpower. Fifty or sixty convict laborers and clansmen, picks and shovels in hand, toiled with heads down. The freshly hacked-out black coal was winched up by manpower using a windlass, broken into chunks on the ground, then carried in bamboo baskets to the streamside to be washed.

This was the "coal washing" step Diwu Lun had added — it couldn't match the refinement of later ages, the effect was modest, better than nothing at all.

The stream here was packed with baskets, but Diwu Lun spotted someone drawing water not far downstream and was instantly alarmed. He hurried over with his men to stop them, only to find two half-grown boys, filthy all over, hair a tangled mess, crouching by the water's edge, their bare feet red and chapped from the cold.

"If you're drawing water, go upstream." Diwu Lun waved the two boys off, meaning to send them away. The older one, gaunt as a rail, looked up at Diwu Lun with fear in his eyes and said, "Sir, but there's no crawlers to catch upstream."

There were no fish in the stream; they had come to turn over stones by the bank and catch those hideous crawling bugs to fill their bellies. In later ages, Diwu Lun had eaten them deep-fried in the countryside — say what you will, they looked disgusting, but once in your mouth they were genuinely tasty, and the protein was quite high.

But in this era, where would they get such means? All they could do was boil water in a pottery li-vessel, toss the crawlers in, scald them, and pop them into their mouths — not even a grain of salt. Looking at the swollen belly of the younger boy, who knew how many parasites were breeding inside.

Seeing how pitiful they were, Diwu Lun sighed and had someone bring a few millet rice balls. He handed them to the two boys. After walking on for a while, he turned to find the two brothers trailing behind him, refusing to leave.

"What are you two following our young master for?" Diwu Fu cursed and was about to drive them off.

"You're just a servant — the gentleman isn't angry, so what are you mandate omen about? I've seen the coal pits have gotten a lot busier these days, building sheds and digging earth. Are you still short of hands?"

The older boy shrank back to a safe distance, his eyes, veiled by grime, brimming with hope. He raised a scrawny arm: "This gentleman, I have strength. I can turn over stones, I can go down into the mine. Just let us have a bite to eat."

He glanced back at his frail younger brother and gritted his teeth: "If it really can't be helped, just one person's share will do."

Diwu Fu snapped back impatiently: "We're not short! Word got out that meals are provided — people from our three clans are still fighting to come work! Get going, or I'll start throwing stones at you!"

Diwu Lun kicked this surly servant, then turned back and asked the two boys: "What are your names?"

"Zhang Yu."

"Zhu Di."

"Different surnames — you're not brothers?"

"We are brothers!"

The two boys spoke in unison, which amused Diwu Lun. Fine, brothers it was. "Where are you from? Where are your parents?"

This time the older one, Zhang Yu, fell silent, as if a sore spot had been touched. It was the younger Zhu Di who mumbled: "Up north. The year before last, there was a famine. Mother walked a long, long way, brought me to the tableland, told me to stay right here and not move, she'd go find food, and then… I couldn't find them anymore."

Diwu Lun understood at once. At Changping Station, Jing Dan had mentioned it to him — the year before last, right when the Jing River flooded Changping Station and disaster struck, the Liewei Commandery and Shiwei Commandery produced tens of thousands of refugees. The court's relief efforts were useless; the able-bodied were absorbed by powerful families as tenant farmers and retainers, while the old, the sickly, and half-grown children no one wanted could only become wandering refugees.

And some families, utterly destitute and unable to feed their children, would trick them by saying they were taking them to find food, then lead them far away and abandon them.

Not as brutal as exchanging children to eat, but still a human tragedy.

Zhang Yu had likely gone through something similar — two children cast off by their parents, who had found each other and become brothers clinging to one another for survival.

What was there to say? Diwu Lun only felt a heaviness in his chest. He beckoned them closer: "How old are you?"

They shook their heads; neither could say how old he was. By sight, Zhang Yu was twelve or thirteen, Zhu Di just past ten.

"These past two years, where have you been living?"

Zhang Yu was putting on his pitiful act again: "Sir, we've been moving from place to place looking for food. We went begging in the hamlets, but the dogs there were too fierce, so we had to come back to the stream. We've been staying in an abandoned coal pit to the north."

No wonder their faces were always smeared black, just like the convict laborers in the Di clan's mine.

This put Diwu Lun in a difficult spot. He might be a coal boss, but he hadn't planned on hiring child labor. Yet if he left them be, these two kids might well be dead any day now.

A voice in his heart said: "The Xin dynasty's misrule, the people with no means to live — how many children like this are there under heaven? A hundred thousand? A million? How can you possibly look after them all? Do as much as your ability allows — focus on your clansmen first, build up your own strength. No room for a bleeding-heart complex. Whether they live or die is their own affair."

Another voice said: "If you don't help, you're watching them die and doing nothing. A transmigrator who can't even save two children right in front of him, yet still fancies himself the sole auspicious anomaly in this world? Pah!"

The two voices fought for a long time; no telling which one won. At last Diwu Lun asked them: "Can you two… roll clay pellets?"

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di misunderstood. They spat into their palms, rubbed their hands on their filthy bodies, and — good heavens — came up with quite a handful of "clay pellets."

"Even lumps of black coal are cleaner than you two."

Diwu Lun didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He ordered Diwu Fu, whose face was twisted with disgust: "Take these two upstream, shove them into the stream for a bath, scrub them clean, change them into thick hemp clothes, then bring them to the mine and teach them to roll coal balls."

This meant he was willing to take the two brothers in. Zhang Yu immediately pulled Zhu Di down to kowtow to Diwu Lun, knocking their heads on the ground several times, spouting all sorts of things about being his dogs and horses — who knew where they'd learned that.

But Diwu Lun's face hardened again, and he resumed the black-hearted manner of a coal boss. He said to Zhang Yu and Zhu Di: "You two mark this well."

"In my house, no idlers are kept!"

……

PS: Begging for recommendation votes.