Chapter 5: Even the Landlord's House Has No Surplus Grain

"Oh, 'gather like clouds and follow like shadows' — where'd you learn that fancy talk? Do the official school masters actually teach such things?"

Diwu Lun had thought this bold speech would win his grandfather's praise, but instead he got a hard knuckle-rapping on the head — it hurt so much the wine sobered him up at once.

Diwu Ba looked rough and crude, but his mind was sharp — he had, after all, lived a great many years. "And after they answer the call? That many people will need to eat."

"Who's going to feed three thousand able-bodied men? You? As the saying goes, before troops and horses move, grain and fodder go first. Our family's grain stores aren't even enough to feed the people of our own hamlet. You green boy really have never seen war — you think gathering a crowd is far too simple."

After the old master's ridicule, Diwu Lun felt somewhat indignant. The next day he rose early and, taking the servant Diwu Fu with him, set about taking stock of the Diwu clan's grain reserves.

Because of Wang Mang's economic policies — a disaster too convoluted to explain in a few words — the realm's entire currency system had collapsed. In the county town, Diwu Lun had seen that except for the officials, who still stubbornly paid salaries in a bewildering array of new coins, the common people had almost reverted to barter. And in these times, there was only one truly rock-solid hard currency: grain!

The Diwu clan's granary was in the rear courtyard and covered considerable ground — a hip-roofed building with left and right windows under the eaves for ventilation. Inside stood rows of large earthenware vats covered with heavy wooden lids, all filled with unhulled millet and wheat.

Diwu Fu's father was named Diwu Ge, and he was in charge of managing the estate's farmland and grain. He told Diwu Lun, "Young master, the land rents were just collected this month. All five granaries are full — roughly over a thousand dan."

Together with vegetables, fruit, and other side foods, this was enough to feed the fifty-odd people of the Diwu fortified compound — from the master and the main family to the servants and slaves — for two years. This proved the Diwu clan were skilled managers, unlike those families with no plan who ate and drank recklessly and often had no surplus grain.

But it fell far short of Diwu Lun's goal — short by… ten times, perhaps.

In Diwu Lun's mind, his family needed to stockpile at least ten thousand dan of grain.

And when he went to see Diwu Ba and put forward this plan, the old master laughed at him again.

"Ten thousand dan? Do you know how much grain the county granary holds? Just about that amount. Our Diwu clan is a mere single hamlet — our yearly harvest is limited. Where would we get that much grain?"

Diwu Ge, who managed the granary, did not understand why the young master wanted to hoard grain, but this was the perfect moment to propose a plan he had long been mulling over. "In the short term, of course, there's no way to stockpile that much grain. Unless…"

Diwu Ge's words were cold and blunt.

"Raise the rents!"

…

"The land rents of other powerful families in this township mostly take four-tenths of the harvest. But the Diwu clan has always cherished its kinsmen — for clansmen working our land, we take three-tenths; for ordinary tenant farmers, we take four-tenths."

Diwu Ge still found this insufficient. In his view, with grain prices climbing higher every year, they ought to raise the land rents.

"That way, we could collect an extra three to five hundred dan of rent each year."

When Diwu Lun first arrived in this era, he had found it strange: the Xin Dynasty's land tax was one-tenth, and the Han Dynasty before it had even been one-thirtieth. Why, then, were so many people willing to sell their land and become retainers and tenant farmers under powerful clans, rather than remain independent smallholders paying taxes to the court?

Later he came to understand: the so-called one-thirtieth or one-tenth tax was just a fine-sounding public figure. Far deadlier than the land tax were the corvée labor and the military substitution levy. In Han times, serving corvée meant distant campaigns to the Western Regions or the southwestern barbarian lands — the round trip took years, and it was easy to fall ill and die on the road, with military merit a hopelessly distant prospect. The Xin Dynasty was even worse, waging war on all borders at once, losing far more than it won — no one wanted to go and throw their life away.

And the military substitution levy was the most terrifying of all. The court imposed additional taxes without any regularity, and they demanded coin, not grain. Peasants had to carry their grain to market to sell it, only to be fleeced again by merchants or officials. If they could not scrape together enough, to avoid being arrested by the authorities and reduced to convict laborers, they had no choice but to borrow. Usury was a bottomless pit — the interest snowballed, and after a few years they could no longer survive. They could only sell their land, sell themselves, and throw themselves upon the gates of the powerful.

But the Diwu clan had no one at court — even the family head had to perform labor service and pay levies, let alone serve as a patron shielding others. So his family held little appeal for landless peasants; their landholdings had mostly come from annexing the fields of hamlet residents of other surnames, accumulated bit by bit over many years.

"No. Under no circumstances can we raise the land rents."

Diwu Lun shook his head in opposition. The tenant farmers and impoverished clansmen who rented land toiled all year round, yet what they reaped was not enough to sustain themselves — they were barely scraping by.

What was more, such a shortsighted act of killing the hen for its eggs would cost the Diwu clan something far more precious than grain: the people's hearts.

"There's no rush with the grain. Let your grandson find a way, slowly."

Diwu Lun brought up something he had noticed during his morning inspection of the storehouses. "I saw that in the granary, there are plenty of iron farm tools left unused, and in the pens, several extra plow oxen beyond what we need."

Powerful families completed their accumulation through exploitation. In the Former Han, the natural next step would have been to keep annexing and buying land — but restricted by the Xin Dynasty's Wang Tian decree, land could no longer be openly purchased. Since the scale of their landholdings was locked in place, surplus grain was instead used to acquire plow oxen and iron tools, seeking improvement through intensive, meticulous cultivation.

But ordinary farming households had no such means.

"When I was coming back yesterday, I saw people already beginning to plow their fields in preparation for planting winter wheat. Having no oxen, they could only work in pairs, coupled-plowing."

Coupled-plowing meant one person pulled the rope in front while another guided the plow behind. Yet as the farming proverb says: autumn plowing should be deep, spring and summer plowing shallow. Planting winter wheat required deep plowing. The impoverished farmers could only strain against the plow under the scorching sun, pulling with all their might, every step a struggle.

Worse still, Diwu Lun noticed that many households' plow blades were actually made of wood or stone!

This astonished him. "Wasn't it said that by the Qin and Han, we were already in the Iron Age? How can people still be using tools from primitive society?"

The blame for this, too, had to be laid at the door of Wang Mang's New Policies. The Xin Dynasty, imitating Emperor Wu of Han, had implemented the "Five Equalizations and Six Monopolies." In essence, six commodities — salt, iron, liquor, and others — had to be managed and sold exclusively by the government; private mining and sale were crimes.

The original intent may have been to strike at the powerful families who controlled the mines and private salt works. But no matter how good the intent, it still had to be carried out by people. A fine idea, once implemented on the ground, became oppressive policy, bringing great hardship to the common people. The tools cast by the government workshops were crude and barely usable, while iron goods grew more and more expensive. Over ten years, many had been forced to go back to using stone and wood. With the production methods of a thousand years ago, it would be a miracle if productivity were anything but abysmal.

Diwu Lun, taking all this in, was deeply moved. Now he proposed, "Grandfather, this autumn when we plow and plant the winter wheat, could the main family take the lead and lend our surplus iron tools and plow oxen to the poor clansmen of the hamlet?"

"Young master!"

Before Diwu Ba could respond, Diwu Ge, who oversaw the clan's farming affairs, cried out first.

"Those people may mostly be fellow clansmen, but they're independent smallholders — they don't rent the main family's land. No matter how good their harvest, they don't pay us a single grain of land rent. Why should we bother with them!"

"Furthermore, though we have many plow oxen, working them too often will tire them out and wear them thin. The same goes for iron tools — during deep plowing, they knock and scrape and are easily damaged. Renting them out would be a loss, let alone lending them for free!"

Just yesterday the young master had given away an Imperial Academy place to someone else, and now he wanted to lend out oxen and plows. Could it be, as the old family head had scolded yesterday, that he really was a wastrel?

Through the events of the previous day, Diwu Ba had seen clearly that his grandson had his own deep-laid plans — that what looked like soft-hearted gestures had profound calculations behind them. He silenced the clansman and asked Diwu Lun, "Speak, then. What scheme do you have in mind this time?"

Diwu Lun said, "I merely want to help every household finish their autumn plowing and wheat planting sooner by lending them oxen and iron tools."

There was a poem from the Spring and Autumn period, "The Seventh Month," that sang: "In the days of the First, they hunt the raccoon-dog, and take the fox, to make furs for our lord's sons… In the days of the Third, they ready the plows; in the days of the Fourth, they lift their feet to the fields. In the Eighth Month they beat the dates; in the Tenth Month they harvest the rice, to make the spring wine."

From the first month to the twelfth, the farmer was busy all year round. The stars had shifted over centuries, the realm had changed from enfeoffed states to commanderies and counties, yet life had seen no real change — it had only grown harder. The population grew ever larger, the arable land per person ever smaller. Without diligence, survival was impossible.

In the past, after autumn there had been a brief respite. But after Emperor Wu of Han began promoting winter wheat, along with the planting of vegetables and legumes, now there was work even in autumn and winter — there was almost no idle time at all.

By lending out the main family's surplus oxen and iron plows, Diwu Lun could indeed help the independent smallholders of the hamlet finish their autumn labors more quickly.

"And what would you have them do with that free time? Sunbathe?" Though Diwu Ba was the family head, he felt no sympathy for distant clansmen whose ties had grown remote — his concern was still the main family's interests.

"Of course not."

Diwu Lun did feel compassion, but even more, he wanted to earn goodwill among the clansmen — and, when their farming slack season came, to organize everyone to accomplish something great together. To forge iron, one's own hammer must be hard. If he could not even unite a single hamlet, how could he speak of making ten hamlets and eight townships rise up like clouds in answer?

He said, "When the time comes, I would like to ask Grandfather and the hamlet chief to organize the hamlet folk. Our family will provide the funds and the grain to rebuild the hamlet shrine!"

…

"The hamlet shrine?"

The hamlet shrine was where they sacrificed to the god of the soil — it was also the place of revelry for all the hamlet's people. On every shrine festival day, they would gather and drink in groups. On that day, drinking was not only perfectly open and aboveboard, it was practically mandatory — often, by dusk, every household would be supporting a drunkard home.

But ever since the Xin Dynasty was established ten years ago and issued the prohibitions of the Five Equalizations and Six Monopolies, liquor could only be sold by government monopoly. All at once it became fantastically expensive, and even private liquor rose several times in price. Ordinary people could not afford it; at most, they secretly brewed a little bitter liquor at home to taste.

Secondly, the Xin Dynasty modeled itself on the governance of Zhou and imposed punishments on those who gathered in groups to drink — any gathering of five or more was liable for punishment. The common people had lost a day of joy and release, and the hamlet shrines had grown cold and desolate, long fallen into disrepair with no one to fix them.

In Diwu Lun's view, how could a place like this — which could bring together everyone in the hamlet and strengthen their cohesion through sacrificial rites — be left to lie idle? Even without liquor, many things could be done there.

For instance, they could lay out a long-street feast and call everyone together for a rare full meal. Diwu Ba could take the stage and show off his swordsmanship, making the boys gaze with envy and longing. Then let the hamlet elders tell stories, recounting for everyone the Diwu clan's arduous journey when they migrated from the east two hundred years ago — the legendary lives and tragic end of their ancestors, the Tian Heng brothers. All of it would strengthen the hamlet people's sense of belonging.

In his previous life, Diwu Lun was actually a southerner, steeped in the clan culture of the south. Though village covenants and regulations were denounced as "feudal dregs" in the new century, in a specific era they could be turned from waste into treasure, becoming an aid for his self-preservation in chaotic times.

With the Han unified and the turmoil ended, families could live together long-term, steadily multiplying in stability. But it was still in the early stages of development, so it was far from being as institutionally complete as in later ages.

Diwu Lun was simply transplanting those southern clan practices. He planned that later, beside the hamlet altar, he would also build a community school, so that all children of suitable age in the hamlet could learn to read and do arithmetic — there was no need to study the Five Classics, that was a waste of time. For those a bit older, Diwu Lun could personally act as teacher and instruct them in more useful knowledge; he hoped a few talents could emerge from the hamlet.

He could also build a community granary to relieve clansmen and neighbors who were too poor, thereby smoothing over the conflicts between rich and poor within the hamlet.

With these benefits, he could win the hearts of the hamlet folk. Then later, under the pretext of guarding against bandits, he could muster them for formation and combat training during the farming off-season, and only then would people obey.

Diwu Lun had thought it through: "Guanzhong truly looks entirely peaceful right now. When I say the realm will descend into chaos, even Grandfather hardly believes it. If I started drilling the clansmen in warfare right away, not only would the local officials grow suspicious, but the hamlet folk wouldn't be willing either. People all prefer ease and hate toil; they'll never stand if they can lie down. I can only use personal ties and self-interest to slowly work toward it."

Reckoning it up, there was really so much he wanted to do — far more interesting than going to the Imperial Academy to study dead books.

Diwu Ba, however, pointed out the contradiction in Diwu Lun's thinking: "Lun, on one hand, you want to do these things that purely cost money and grain."

"On the other hand, you want to amass ten thousand dan of grain."

"Isn't this just like your head wanting to go north, while your body walks south? How absurd is that?"

"Grandfather's lesson is correct." Diwu Lun scratched his head a bit sheepishly. It was indeed quite contradictory. Doing all these things would cost a huge price, yet the income hadn't increased. If this went on, even the landlord's house would have no surplus grain.

"It seems I must think of some way to open up new sources and raise grain."

……

The next day, Diwu Lun went to the blacksmith's shop beside the fortified compound. Before he even entered, he heard the clanging of hammering.

The blacksmith was named Qiu Gaonu. He was not a member of the Diwu clan, but a retainer who had come from Shang Commandery to seek refuge, and he had some skill in ironworking. Later he gained his freedom and married a woman of the Diwu clan. Diwu Ba had let him open a small smithy at home, specializing in repairing farm tools.

"Young master."

Seeing Diwu Lun arrive, Qiu Gaonu, wearing a leather apron, hastily set down his iron hammer and accompanied Diwu Lun on a tour of the little smithy, then brought up another matter.

"I heard that the old clan head, in his kindness, has permitted every household in the hamlet to borrow the fortified compound's plow oxen to till their fields. Is it true?"

Although Diwu Ba had grumbled at Diwu Lun yesterday, he had still announced the lending of oxen and iron tools, winning cheers from the entire hamlet. He had also told Qiu Gaonu to hurry and repair the iron plows for distribution to each household.

"Of course it's true." Diwu Lun looked at Qiu Gaonu. The short blacksmith's face, baked before the fierce fire year-round, was perpetually ruddy.

"In that case, my younger brother is of a different surname — can he borrow an ox too?"

After Qiu Gaonu had settled in Diwu Hamlet, his younger brother's family had also come to seek refuge, becoming one of the few households of a different surname in the hamlet.

Diwu Lun had no wish to engage in clan-surname politics; that was far too petty. Only by treating all equally, regardless of whether they shared the surname or not, could he gather more and more people.

"Of course he can. But with so many households borrowing, who goes first and who goes later must be decided by a fair method…"

Namely, drawing lots!

If it were divided by closeness of relation, the threshold of the fortified compound would surely be worn flat by relatives coming to plead and pull strings. Better to let everyone rely on their own ability and let luck decide — that would actually save trouble.

However, Diwu Lun had come to the smithy today for another matter.

After making a round, Diwu Lun saw that Qiu Gaonu's craftsmanship was passable, and he was a versatile man. Besides hammering ironware, he could also do some woodwork. That was excellent.

Diwu Lun touched an iron shovel that had just been repaired: "Also… is there any spare iron?"

……

PS: Recommending a new book, "The Immortal of the Aztecs." I've been meaning to recommend it for a while but hadn't started reading it yet. It's about the Age of Discovery, a story of crossing over to the Americas and leading the indigenous people against the Europeans. Niche but written with great care. Those interested can go check it out.