Chapter 53: First Snow

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In the early Han, the Qin system was followed, with the tenth month as the year's start. After Emperor Wu of Han's calendar reform in the Taichu era, the Xia calendar was used, making the first month the new year's beginning.

When the Xin Dynasty replaced the Han, Wang Mang — that reform-crazed fiend — naturally wouldn't leave the calendar alone, so he changed the new calendar's year-start to the chou month, making the twelfth month the new year.

But the common folk were long used to a grand first-month New Year and felt nothing for the Xin Dynasty's "New Year's Day." On the thirtieth day of the eleventh month, court officials all went on holiday leave, yet the small coal pit north of Changling kept working.

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di, who had wandered homeless for years, knew even less what festivals were. Now they just stared wide-eyed, afraid of missing any excitement.

Over the past month, the coal lumps the miners dug were hauled to the surface using a windlass: a rope wound around a round log, with a basket hanging from the other end. Turning the log lifted the coal-filled basket — far better than hauling by hand, but it still took considerable strength.

Today Diwu Lun arrived at the coal pit, followed by carpenters and blacksmiths of the Diwu clan, and had the long-prepared contraption fitted onto the large timber at the mine-shaft exit.

In Diwu Lun's words, this thing was called a "pulley." It was carved by hand, knife and axe, from a solid block of hardwood. A single pulley consisted of three parts: a wooden frame, a grooved wheel, and an axle. The upper part of the wooden frame had two symmetrical round holes bored through for threading and securing the rope. A flick of the hand on the grooved wheel set it creaking and rattling.

To the miners, this was nothing more than an improved windlass part — the sort of thing often used in city-wall construction, common everywhere, nothing remarkable.

But the strange thing came next: Diwu Lun used two pulleys together, one above and one below, separated. One was fixed immobile high on the wooden frame, the rope passing through its grooved wheel. The other, linked to the rope attached to the coal basket, hung below. They were connected with a not-too-complicated winding method.

"Fill the basket with coal."

The retainers and miners gathered thicker and thicker, all baffled as to what this was for. Diwu Lun, however, turned and looked around, finally beckoning to Zhang Yu: "Zhang Yu, come here."

He actually wanted Zhang Yu to pull the rope — wasn't this demanding the impossible? Though Zhang Yu was already twelve, he was scrawny as a little monkey, and it wasn't as if he hadn't tried on ordinary days.

Even Diwu Pingdan laughed and said, "Young master, even if Zhang Yu mustered the strength of a suckling babe, he couldn't turn the windlass. Don't make things hard for him."

"This time is different," Diwu Lun said. "Just give it a try! If you can pull it up, you get extra food!"

Zhang Yu glanced at Zhu Di, gritted his teeth, spat into his palms, and gripped the rough hemp rope.

Unlike the imagined immovability, this time when he pulled the rope, he clearly felt the heavy load in the shaft slowly shifting. As the movable pulley turned, he really did pull that basket of coal, bit by bit, right to the edge of the mine shaft!

"With Zhang Yu's chick-like strength, he actually lifted it?"

Diwu Pingdan was astonished and, together with the crowd, caught the coal basket.

Zhang Yu, amazed at how great his own strength suddenly was, proudly flexed his muscles. The crowd, as if beholding an auspicious omen, crowded around the movable pulley, each person giving it a pull.

Before trying it themselves, they'd only thought others were lying. After testing it, they clicked their tongues in wonder — it truly saved a good deal of effort compared to the windlass, though none of them could figure out the principle behind it.

"This device can make strength go twice as far with half the effort. If assembled properly, even a puny lad who can't truss a chicken can lift a hundred-jun weight."

Diwu Lun, however, understood: this was merely the simplest movable pulley system. He'd racked his brains over it to raise production efficiency.

Over the past twenty days, buoyed by Diwu Lun's reputation, a total of fifty thousand jin of coal balls had been sold (one Han jin being roughly 250 grams). After deducting all costs, each coal ball earned two huoquan coins in profit. According to the agreed profit split, the Diwu clan received forty thousand coins.

But after factoring in the eight-thousand-coin fine Diwu Lun paid for the "group drinking offense," and deducting the several thousand jin of coal balls given as courtesy gifts to the Palace Gentlemen and Imperial Academy students, the net profit was just over ten thousand coins.

This money, Diwu Lun spent all of it in a flash: he outfitted each five-man squad of the Diwu clan's miners with a goatskin coat — these were communal goods, for them to wear in rotation. He also bought everyone thick hemp shoes, because Diwu Lun had discovered that many miners didn't even own shoes, working barefoot in the bitter cold. If their feet got frostbitten, a laborer was ruined.

He also refurbished the crude tools, replacing mining picks with iron ones and adding the movable pulley system to work in tandem with the windlass — all to boost efficiency and squeeze in a few more days of work before the snow fell. After all, they couldn't just not earn money and still run at a loss, could they?

But heaven did not oblige. Just as everyone was still excited over the labor-saving pulley system, the dark clouds that had been massing for days finally loosed their snowflakes, swirling down in flurries.

This was the year's first snow, and it had already given Diwu Lun face by arriving many days later than the previous year.

The crowd raised their heads, letting the snowflakes settle in their palms and melt on their chapped lips. As the snow grew heavier, before long they had all scattered clean away, heading back to the huts to sleep.

This snow, long anticipated, caused a rift among the three families cooperating on the mine.

"The coal balls we've already made are only enough to sell for twenty days." Di Si Xian had hastily inventoried the storehouses in Chang'an and at the coal mine and reported the reserves to Diwu Lun.

Di Yi Guan then said, "The twelfth month is when firewood is scarcest. Woodcutters can't go up the mountains, charcoal burners can't fire their kilns. Even if we doubled the price, people would still buy."

Over the past twenty days, Di Yi Guan had gotten a taste of the profits and vigorously urged Diwu Lun to keep forcing the clansmen, retainers, and convict laborers down the shafts while the snow was light. Those scavenged child laborers and the children of each family shouldn't idle either — no matter how cold, keep rolling coal balls!

In his view, even if they weren't working the mine shaft, one or two freezing to death was a common occurrence — why hesitate?

After Diwu Lun had improved the production conditions, wooden molds were mostly used to make coal balls, but handwork was still required. Even before it snowed, Diwu Lun had seen children like Zhang Yu and Zhu Di with hands covered in chilblains. If this went on, he feared permanent injury would result.

So he decisively called a halt to the coal pit and decided to shut down operations.

"For the remainder, raise the price by two coins per jin of coal balls, and sell until they're gone."

Faced with Di Yi Guan's insatiable greed, Diwu Lun smiled and said, "In trade and commerce, who ever recoups their investment in the very first month? Better a steady, long-term flow. What do you think, Clan Uncle Di Si?"

Di Si Xian hastily voiced his agreement; he now followed Diwu Lun's lead in everything. "That makes sense. It's no great matter if Chang'an folk get cold, but we mustn't let our clansmen and household retainers freeze and get injured. Otherwise, even the spring plowing would be delayed — that would be a loss greater than the gain."

Di Yi Guan had no choice but to agree. The order to cease work was given. The clansmen and retainers were indeed tired from the labor; after eating their morning meal, they all dispersed and went home.

Diwu Lun sat beside the small coal stove — he'd had someone try casting one — quietly burning anthracite, and flipped through the account book recorded on bamboo slips. Diwu Ge had been very meticulous; every entry was noted clearly.

The final tally: if the fifty thousand jin of coal balls remaining in the warehouse were sold at the raised price, the Diwu clan would net a profit of eighty thousand coins — only enough to purchase four hundred dan of grain.

"At least it solves the most urgent crisis."

Diwu Lun breathed a small sigh of relief. Last year had been a bumper harvest, but under his meddling, the Diwu clan's fortified compound granary had been more than half emptied. With this income, they could at least scrape by until the wheat ripened next summer.

Though the earnings weren't much, the foundation had been laid. Next year, they could gradually stockpile coal balls during the farming off-season, hoard them, and sell in winter, earning at least five times — even ten times — this year's profit.

The surplus money and grain would be invested in the other enterprises Diwu Lun was planning; the coal pit brought in money far too slowly. The greatest benefit of this trade was that after the loose, disorganized farmers spent some time living at the mine, they gained a modicum of order. The next step was to enforce strict discipline.

"What are you two doing here?"

Diwu Fu's scolding came from the doorway. Diwu Lun went out to look and found Zhang Yu and Zhu Di standing outside, hesitant and tongue-tied, their heads covered in snowflakes.

Zhang Yu's nose tip was red from cold, and Zhu Di was sniffling a runny nose. The two children looked up and asked pitifully, "Young master, now that work has stopped, can we still live in the huts at the mine?"

After a month of living like normal people, they truly did not want to go back to the starving, freezing vagrant life of the past two or three years. At the coal pit, they could eat hot meals and huddle together for warmth in the shared sleeping platform at night — that was enough. What's more, Diwu Lun wasn't a black-hearted man.

Diwu Lun, however, said, "No."

Zhang Yu and Zhu Di were filled with disappointment, but Diwu Lun continued, "The mine will be shut for several months. What would you eat here? Coal lumps or snow? Come back to Diwu Village with me."

This meant he was willing to take them in long-term. The two children were overjoyed. They kowtowed right there in the snow. Diwu Lun told them to get up, brush the snow off, and come inside the warm house.

Diwu Lun had observed that the two, each abandoned by their own parents, were not blood brothers, yet had managed to depend on each other for survival over two or three years — truly no easy feat.

Zhang Yu was extremely diligent at the mine; even when not rolling coal balls, he scurried everywhere looking for work to do, wanting to learn a trade. Zhu Di, though not much of a talker, was honest in his work. It was said that his family had been well-off before disaster struck; Zhu Di had attended a village school and learned some characters.

"You two remember: my household does not keep idle hands."

Looking at Zhang Yu and Zhu Di, who were growing fast and always hungry no matter how much they ate, Diwu Lun knew exactly the best place to put them.

"But the kitchen at Diwu Village truly is short two hands for odd jobs!"

……

After a trip to Diwu Village to settle the two children and discuss the year-end sacrifice arrangements with Diwu Ba, Diwu Lun hurried back to Chang'an.

"There is one matter Brother Boyu must still be wary of."

As they hauled the last few carts of coal briquettes toward Chang'an, Disi Xian quietly reported to Diwu Lun the rumors that had been circulating lately in the eastern and western market wards.

"Those same idlers who were loudly proclaiming on the streets the other day that the Duke of Chonggong had saved you — lately they have begun to slander you instead!"

Oh, it's started already, has it? That Duke of Chonggong, Wang Zong, truly is not the sort to accomplish great things — and here I was even bothering to take him seriously.

Diwu Lun smiled. "What are they saying?"

Disi Xian replied, "They say Boyu has forgotten all decency, that he cast aside the grace of being rescued the moment he turned his back, that he comes and goes from the Duke of Chonggong's mansion with insolent arrogance, and that he is forever staring at the legs of the Duke's favorite maidservant!"

"Cough, cough…"

Diwu Lun was instantly speechless. Such crude slander — surely Wang Zong would not stoop to this. Could it be that Wang Xing, the Duke of Fengxin, that former gate guard with no real judgment, had his people spread it?

Disi Xian said, "Snow that touches charcoal cannot stay white. Brother Boyu, this slander wounds you, and our family's coal-carts are now spread all across the north of Chang'an. Shall we return the favor?"

"Let me think on it." Diwu Lun told Disi Xian not to act rashly. The man had certainly grown bold lately — or perhaps he had realized that harm to one family was harm to both.

The capital's scenery today was utterly different from usual, as if dragon scales and drifting blossoms mantled the ancient city; Chang'an wore a light dusting of makeup, a plain, unpainted face.

When he returned to Xuanming Ward, Diwu Lun paused a moment to gaze at the Ding'an Lodge across the way. Ice crystals clung to its high eaves, glinting translucent-bright under the sunlight — amid the ice and snow, that old, unadorned palace was a striking sight.

Entering the ward, he saw the snow on the path had been swept to both sides, though wheel ruts remained. Diwu Fu let out a surprised sound and told Diwu Lun that a carriage had driven straight into their home — which was, in truth, now the courtyard registered under Wang Long's name.

But Wang Long and Jing Dan had gone back to Changling a few days ago and should not be there. Only Yang Xiong came often, and he was too poor to afford a carriage.

Just as he was thinking of his teacher, Yang Xiong emerged from the courtyard, hobbling along with the support of Hou Pa. He had clearly been drinking. Spotting Diwu Lun, he pointed at him and said, "Boyu, you are back at just the right moment. Someone has come looking for you."

"Who?"

Yang Xiong chuckled under his breath. "A young woman — and she has a child with her…"

What does that have to do with me! Teacher, that phrasing is dangerously ambiguous.

When he entered the courtyard, he indeed saw a covered carriage still parked there. Snow had settled on its canopy, and the patterns carved into its body were far finer than those on his own shabby cart.

Disi Xi hurried over to report: "My lord, the visitor claims to be a virtuous young lady of the Ma clan of Maoling!"

"Could it be Ma Yuan's younger sister?"

The day Diwu Lun was cleared of the charges, he had owed much to the help of Colonel of the Central Ramparts, Ma Yu. Yet when he later went in person to pay his respects, Ma Yu had shut his door and refused to see him, as though he wished to draw a clear line between himself and Diwu Lun — and the fugitive Ma Yuan, Ma Wenyuan.

So much so that Diwu Lun had never even had the chance to tell the Ma clan where Ma Yuan had gone. Knowing that scoundrel's temperament, he probably had not informed his family either. It had been nearly half a month — had someone from Young Ma's household finally grown too anxious to stay silent? That was just as well.

Diwu Lun brushed the snowflakes from his clothes and followed Diwu Fu into the house.

Inside, a small coal stove that Diwu Lun had commissioned was burning. A young woman in a sable fur coat was stretching her pale hands toward the warmth; she too seemed to have arrived only a short while ago.

Beside her was a little boy of four or five, slumped on the couch and nodding off incessantly.

At the sound of footsteps, the sharp young woman instantly shifted her posture, tucking her feet two inches beneath her hips, sitting upright with a solemn expression, shoulders level and back straight, chin set and gaze fixed forward, arms rounded as if cradling a drum, her small hands vanishing back into her sleeves.

Impeccable etiquette — worthy of a great clan from Maoling.

Diwu Lun took in her appearance: a jade hairpin in her dark hair — she must be past fifteen. Large eyes, fair skin; clearly a daughter of a wealthy house, raised in comfort and ease. But her features had not yet fully matured — or perhaps she simply had a naturally youthful face. In the terms of his past life, she was… "pale, slender, and young."

Diwu Lun bowed with clasped hands. "Diwu Lun is here. May I ask the young lady's name…"

"Palace Gentleman Diwu, I have intruded upon you today only out of sheer necessity."

The young woman raised her hands to her forehead and saluted Diwu Lun, then introduced herself.

"My father's courtesy name is Wenyuan."

…

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