Chapter 58: Clan Head

Diwu Lun thanked the assembled local magnates, saying he appreciated their goodwill, but the court forbade redeeming banishment to the Western Sea, so he dared not take a single coin or grain of their money and provisions. After drinking openly with them in a nearby pavilion hostel until all were satisfied, they dispersed.

When only Jing Dan remained, Diwu Lun smiled and said: "Where will you, Sunqing, be going to take up your post? Has it been settled?"

Jing Dan said: "It's settled — Marquis Chancellor of Gude."

Though called a Marquis Chancellor, in practice it was no different from a County Magistrate — only, where in the world was Gude?

"In Shuodiao Commandery, You Province."

Wait — You Province he knew, the area around later Beijing and Liaoning, but what on earth was Shuodiao?

Jing Dan was equally resigned; these days you had to give both the new name and the old before anyone understood: "Shuodiao is the old Shanggu Commandery, on the frontier of You Province, bordering the Xiongnu Left Division and the Wuhuan to the north."

It sounded like a poor place at a single hearing. Diwu Lun was somewhat ashamed: "It's my fault. I fear that when you, Sunqing, led the Palace Gentlemen to plead on my behalf, the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties bore a grudge, and that is why you've been transferred to a border commandery."

"What does it have to do with you, Boyu?" Jing Dan laughed heartily. "For outer gentlemen like us, with no real backing at court, doesn't an official career have to begin in some remote backwater county?"

This was an unspoken, tacitly understood rule. Jing Dan had not gone to his clansman Jing Shang, who held the post of "Grand Preceptor Xi Zhong," to pull strings; he accepted the appointment as sweet as syrup.

"I won't hide it from you, Boyu — though I came up through the Imperial Academy and served mostly as a civil clerk in the commandery, I have always admired the manner of the former Han generals Wei and Huo. In Liewei I sought but could not get the posts of Military Section Clerk or Bandit Section Clerk. Now, in Gude County in Shanggu, perhaps I will have the chance to lead county troops against the barbarian raiders and fulfill my long-held wish."

Jing Dan added: "As for you, Boyu, losing your post as a Palace Gentleman — that is truly a pity."

Diwu Lun felt no regret. Like Jing Dan, he had no patron; the reputation he had built up carried weight in his home commandery and native district, but it did not work nearly so well in Chang'an.

Those high-placed men who controlled appointments and dismissals might even deliberately shunt people of repute off to commanderies and counties where birds don't shit — places worse than the Shanggu that Jing Dan was heading to.

If he had been dispatched to a place like Rinan Commandery in Jiao Province, Diwu Lun would not even have time to weep. The mountains are high and the Emperor far away — good for rebellion? Fine — but it takes over half a year just to get there, and over half a year to return; a year and a half gone on the road, just like that. He might barely arrive at his post when word would come that the Great Xin had already fallen half a year ago, and by the time he rushed back, he would find his entire clan long since slaughtered to the last man.

With the travel conditions of this era, going far away essentially meant a final parting between the living and the dead. There would be no point in plotting for the Central Plains; he would have to settle for second best and become a local emperor carving out his own domain in Southeast Asia.

Not to mention the terrifying epidemics, the unaccustomed climate and water — the mortality rate from disease and death was extremely high. Even a transmigrator could not endure it. Unless one was a Filial and Incorrupt nominee returning to his native place, it was little different from being exiled to die.

Since he had already chosen Liewei Commandery and his clan as his base, he should build them up properly first. A hammer-blow in the east and a hatchet-stroke in the west would easily leave him drawing water with a bamboo basket — all in vain — losing the sesame seed and the watermelon together.

To avoid the risk, Diwu Lun simply resigned his post as a Palace Gentleman. At least it had allowed Diba Jiao to escape becoming a convict laborer — it could be said to have served its final purpose.

Diwu Lun then asked about the appointments of his other two friends, Geng Chun and Wang Long, and learned that both were staying in Chang'an.

"Geng Boshan is made a Gentleman of the Receiving Edicts."

"Wang Wenshan is made a Gentleman of the Works. Both are subordinate officers of the Nine Ministers, ranked at six hundred dan."

The Receiving Edicts was the former Han's Grand Minister of Agriculture; the Works was the new name for the Privy Treasurer. In the Xin Dynasty, below each of the Nine Ministers were established three Grand Masters, and below each Grand Master three Principal Gentlemen, to divide and manage the affairs of the various bureaus.

These two came from families with gate-post honor rolls, so they were kept on directly as capital officials — all too real.

Diwu Lun and Jing Dan, however, had no one to help arrange their futures. Their one "patron," the Grand Governor of Liewei Commandery, Zhang Zhan, was the sort who toppled the moment you leaned on him.

But since he had been their recommender, after all, they still made a trip to the commandery office to pay their respects to Zhang Zixiao and explain their respective prospects.

Hearing that Jing Dan was being transferred far away to Shanggu, and that Diwu Lun had simply lost his post as a Palace Gentleman, Zhang Zhan felt it was a great pity. The last time Diwu Lun got into legal trouble, he had written a letter, but it had not helped. Now, seeing that the two men's futures looked rather bleak, Zhang Zhan was for a time overcome with shame.

After Jing Dan took his leave, Zhang Zhan called Diwu Lun to stay. He first asked about the charity granary and charity funds his family was preparing, then said: "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, Boyu."

On the road back to Diwu Hamlet, Diwu Lun's heart was somewhat uneasy.

He himself was indifferent to official rank, but his grandfather was not. Diwu Ba was obsessed with office, and like many elders, he pinned the things he himself had never attained onto his sons and grandsons. Diwu Lun still remembered the day he was nominated as Filial and Incorrupt: Diwu Ba, alone, holding a candle, knelt weeping with joy before the ancestral spirits.

The previous times he had declined minor posts, but now he had voluntarily thrown away a bright future. He was deathly afraid that Diwu Ba could not accept it.

When he caught sight of the great tree spreading like a canopy, he found quite a few people already waiting beneath it. At their head was Diwu Ba, brandishing his pigeon-staff like a club.

"Grandfather, your grandson has returned."

Diwu Lun dismounted and stepped forward, bowing low before his grandfather. For a long time he said nothing, a little afraid.

Diwu Ba's expression was as ordinary as ever. He cursed and grumbled: "Since the thirtieth of last month, I haven't seen your shadow for nearly a ten-day week. Do you still have a home in your heart?"

"Grandfather, I..."

Diwu Ba cut Diwu Lun off and simply said: "It's good you're back. Living in Chang'an is no easy thing. This old man went there a few times in his youth, and I always felt the sky in that city was smaller than the sky over the countryside. People shut inside it are like pigs and sheep in a pen. And the pedestrians walking the streets — you can't call out a single one by name. It suffocates a man."

"The houses are cramped and expensive. In winter there's no firewood to burn. In summer, if you want to go hunting, you get to the edge and find out it's an imperial park — you can't go in. The water's a bit salty too, hard to drink!"

Having finished enumerating the faults of the great city, Diwu Ba then said: "It's still your own native soil that sets the heart at ease. When you do things, you have kin to help — you don't have to struggle alone. And it's easy to get into trouble there, to be caught up in some inexplicable collective punishment. Coming home is good! Compared to holding office, living safe and sound is what matters most!"

Hearing these words, Diwu Lun suddenly felt like weeping. When a wanderer far from home returns, what does he want most if not understanding? He could not help feeling comforted; it seemed Diwu Ba had come to terms with the matter after all.

But once they entered the fortified compound, he learned that was not the case.

There before the main hall, two fine oak boards had already been erected, inscribed with the record of Diwu Lun's service as a Palace Gentleman.

Wait — these gate-post honor rolls were supposed to be a final verdict set only after a man died. What was the point of writing it up while he was still alive?

"Grandfather, this..."

"What, is a former Palace Gentleman no longer a Palace Gentleman?" Diwu Ba was adamant and refused to let them be taken down.

Fine, fine, whatever you say. Now, after "Half-Day Filial Piety," he would have another title: "Two-Month Outer Gentleman."

Watching Diwu Ba, whose heart was plainly still full of unresolved grievance, Diwu Lun could only hope that the old man would take good care of his health and live to see the day when he himself grew strong and great.

After Diwu Lun returned to his room, Diwu Ge came over and asked cautiously: "Old Family Head, shall we still hold the La Sacrifice?"

"Hold it! Of course we'll hold it!"

Diwu Ba seemed intent on using a grand ceremony to compensate for the regret of his grandson's resignation:

"And we'll make it a big, lavish affair!"

The first day of the first month by the Xia calendar was, for all under heaven, the season for celebrating the great New Year festival.

But ever since the Xin Dynasty was founded and Wang Mang changed the twelfth month to be the start of the year, he had issued a decree: reform customs and transform habits — it was forbidden to observe the old New Year; the people were to celebrate the "New Year"!

Diwu Lun did a quick calculation: this Xin Dynasty New Year fell around the same date as the later Western-calendar New Year's Day. What a coincidence.

In any case, from eleven years ago onward, the first day of the first month was abolished by Wang Mang as a traditional festival. On that day, officials were forbidden to take leave, and the common people were forbidden to celebrate.

In other provinces and commanderies, the officials could not control too much, but Liewei was right beside the capital, so some restraint had to be shown. Still, the common people remained utterly indifferent to the "New Year" on the first day of the twelfth month, so they picked a middle date and celebrated the La Sacrifice and the Great New Year together.

On the eighth day of the twelfth month, Diwu Hamlet was livelier than on the Autumn She Day. Slaughtering pigs and butchering sheep were naturally indispensable, but the main offerings of the day were not fresh meats, but the cured La preserves prepared after the autumn harvest.

Salt was a scarce commodity in the Guanzhong region, and with the official monopoly under the Five Equilibriums and Six Monopolies driving prices up, it was even more expensive. But the rarer it was, the more it ought first to be offered for the ancestors and spirits to taste.

Chickens and ducks raised specially for curing were rubbed with salt and hung from the kitchen beams to air-dry, letting their flesh undergo subtle, delicate changes in the bitter cold, amid smoke and fire. By midwinter, their flavor was at its richest and most fragrant.

This year, the Diwu Lane La Festival sacrifice was laid out on a grand scale, with the various clans of Linqu Township invited to gather.

As a local gentry notable, Diwu Lun commanded immense rallying power. Before the morning meal, each household had already come calling, one after another.

The first to arrive was the Fourth clan, who had made money following Diwu Lun in the coal-ball trade. Their offering was cured goose.

"Top-grade Hedong great geese, bought from several hundred li away. The salt is white salt from the Xie Pool, applied generously — as salty as I am!" Fourth Xian joked as he handed the offering to Diwu Lun with both hands.

Next to arrive was the Seventh clan. Brother Biao came bearing many slabs of cured venison, saying that though he lacked Fourth Xian's wealth, his sincerity was full. He had personally taken bow and blade to the mountain forests of several counties north of the commandery to hunt, and had shot a doe: "Skinned and gutted it — every cut made by my own hand."

The gifts from the Sixth and Third clans were less elaborate — just ordinary cured hind and fore legs of pork, their color smoked to a golden brown.

When Diba Zhi came to the door, Diwu Lun went out to greet him, only to see that he had brought some cured hare.

Diwu Lun sighed at the sight. "This was what Jizheng loved most to eat. A pity he cannot be here."

Thinking of his most beloved youngest son, already far away in the Western Sea, Diba Zhi's eyes reddened. Though the matter had involved Diwu Lun, Boyu had given up his own post as a Palace Gentleman to save Diba Jiao, at least sparing him the shame of having his head shorn, and ensuring he would not have to go there as a convict laborer.

Moreover, before he left, Diba Jiao had sent back a brief letter saying he hoped the Diba clan would follow Boyu's lead well, and not act on their own as he had done. And so Diba Zhi felt only gratitude toward Diwu Lun, and dared not harbor resentment.

Diwu Lun consoled him: "Uncle Zong, please set your mind at ease. When the time is ripe, I will send someone to find a way to bring Jizheng back."

Diba Zhi offered profuse thanks. The last to arrive was the First clan — not only First Guan bearing cured goods, but even his stubborn, unyielding old father, First Liu, had come too!

Diwu Lun and Diwu Ba exchanged a glance; both felt rather surprised. The old man had finally been willing to bow his head and yield.

With the offerings from every household now assembled, they tied silk ribbons on them, ready to be carried into the Lane Benevolence Hall in the afternoon and presented for the ancestors to savor. Diwu Lun first invited everyone into the fortified courtyard for the morning meal.

Apart from the Second clan, who had long ago been caught up in the Guo Jie case and exiled further away a second time, from First to Eighth, seven families were gathered under one roof for the first time in memory.

Once everyone was seated in the hall by age and seniority, Diba Zhi, seated on the western mat, could only sigh with feeling: "For how many years have we, the various Di clans of Linqu Township, not assembled in such a full gathering?"

"Decades, I suppose." Diwu Ba, on the eastern mat, was equally moved, but when he noticed First Liu leaning on his cane and sitting sullenly beside First Guan, he went over on his own initiative and offered the old man a cup of wine as a gesture of reconciliation.

First Liu drank it down, but his expression remained sour. Having long been accustomed to being the leader, he still found it hard to accept his clan being pushed to the margins.

A small landlord's household had no music of strings and pipes to offer — just the household maids playing and singing casually. When the drinking reached its height, Diba Zhi rose to do honor to Diwu Lun, and on the spot recited a poem.

"The cherry-apple's blossoms — how splendid their calyx gleams. Of all men now living, none are like brothers, it seems.

When death and mourning threaten, brothers yearn deep in the breast. Across plains and marshlands searching, it is brothers who seek without rest.

The wagtail on the flatland, brothers rush to each other's plight. Though one may have good friends, they only heave long sighs at the sight.

Brothers may quarrel within the walls, but outside they unite against the foe. Though one may have good friends, in the end they offer no aid to show!"

Seventh Biao, a rough and unlettered man, could not understand a word and swore: "Hey, Eighth clan fellow, can't you speak like a human?"

Sixth Du, Diwu Ba, and the others nodded in fervent agreement.

Diba Zhi looked disdainfully at these uncultured kinsmen and said, "This is a poem the men of Zhou sang at their feasts, celebrating the bond between brothers. Its meaning is that clan brothers are like the branches and blossoms of the cherry-apple — they depend on one another. When death and mourning strike, brothers gather one another up. When urgent trouble comes, brothers come to one another's rescue."

Diwu Lun took up the thread: "Exactly. And the relationship between brothers is just as the poem says: though there may be small quarrels behind closed doors, the moment an outside insult comes, we must join hearts and strength as one!"

Hearing this, Diwu Ba rose to his feet with an imposing air. "I imagine you have all noticed — these last few years, the world has grown harder and harder."

Ever since Wang Mang's Xin dynasty took power, the Five Equalizations and Six Monopolies had been like hands clamped around the throats of the several clans, restricting their expansion. And to meet the wars on the northern, western, and southern fronts, taxes had grown heavier and heavier. The great magnates all complained, and small landlords had it no easier.

The First and Fourth clans had even more to say. In last year's anti-corruption campaign, the wolves and jackals in power were left untouched, while the two of them — mere scrawny foxes — had been plucked until their fur was bare. Had Diwu Lun not led the two clans in the coal-ball venture to earn a little money, even getting through the year would have been hard.

Everyone's hearts were heavy with shared feeling. Seizing the moment, Diwu Ba picked up a single chopstick and, using just one finger, snapped it with ease.

"A single chopstick is easy to break."

He placed seven chopsticks in his hand and gave them a casual, gentle bend.

An awkward sight followed — crack! — the chopsticks still broke. Who could help it, with Diwu Ba's brute strength? He had no choice but to forcibly grip them together and pretend he had not snapped them. "Seven are hard to break..."

"As with chopsticks, so with clans. In times like these, brothers and fellow villagers ought to huddle together for warmth and see these harsh years through together."

Diwu Ba made his proposal: "We were one family to begin with. Two hundred years ago, the Han Son of Heaven forcibly split us apart into First through Eighth. Now we ought to reunite as a single clan, and elect a clan head of high virtue and prestige to lead us in offering shared sacrifices to our ancestors!"

And who, one might ask, among those present, was the most virtuous and prestigious?

Diwu Lun, beside him, said nothing. He simply sat upright and rigid, resisting the urge to lean back in tactical satisfaction.

"Who else but Boyu!"

Diba Zhi began reciting poetry again: "When I have sons and younger kin, it is Boyu who teaches them."

He pointed at Fourth Xian and First Guan. "When you have coal fields, it is Boyu who makes them prosper."

Finally, he spread both hands forward and said with deep feeling, "Were it not for Boyu, who could carry this on?"

Fourth Xian clapped his hands in approval. First Guan glanced at his father, First Liu, who sat in silence, and seconded the motion.

Seventh Biao rose to his feet, emphatically praising Diwu Lun's boundless sense of honor — how he could even forgive his clan for doing something so foolish — and noted that he had also won the regard and admiration of many knights-errant in the Liewei and Jingwei regions.

If Diwu Lun were willing to walk the rivers and lakes, he might well become the foremost knight-errant of the Liewei commanderies. A man like that — Seventh Biao was naturally more than willing to be his little brother.

The Sixth and Third clans were not good with words and could only echo: "Same here!"

With all hearts turned toward him, everyone pressed Diwu Lun to take up the role of clan head. But he still had to show a little modesty himself.

"Lun is young and tender in years. With so many elder brothers, uncles, and senior kin here, if we go by seniority and standing, this position of clan head could never fall to me."

Everyone declared that age and seniority did not matter — only virtue, prestige, and breadth of vision counted. Boyu had been to the capital as a Palace Gentleman; he had seen the great world.

"Still, for the sake of fairness, everyone should speak freely."

How could it be an imperial appointment? One had to give everyone the illusion that "the clan head was willingly chosen by all together" — and then it would be a lifelong tenure.

Diwu Lun smiled. "Why not have each family send one person to raise a hand and indicate approval or rejection?"

The idea was a good one. Diwu Ba, representing the Diwu clan, was the first to raise his hand high. Then his tiger-like eyes swept over everyone present, and his voice boomed like thunder.

"Boyu as clan head — who among you approves, and who opposes?!"

PS: Begging for recommendation tickets.