Chapter 40: Returning Home (Part 2)

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"Stop right there, don't you run!"

That afternoon, the people of Rice Flower Hamlet all had their hands tucked in their sleeves, cheerfully watching the hamlet's daily drama — Ji Ying was being chased and beaten by his old man again.

"Your old man here worked himself to the bone raising you, sent your three brothers out to live on their own, all because I figured you, my son, had the least ability, so I left the fields to you to care for me in my old age. Never thought you'd want to run off and be some sort of garrison runner! With those scrawny arms of yours, what'll you do if the bandits kill you?"

After chasing for a while, Ji Ying's father couldn't run anymore. He leaned against a wall, panting heavily, and launched into a tirade: "Had I known it would come to this, I should've just drowned you the moment you were born!"

"Father!" Though Ji Ying was running so hard he was out of breath, he still turned back and ran his mouth: "I've heard that bearing a child and not raising it, but killing it instead, is against the law!"

"You unfilial wretch!" Ji Ying's father flared up at that, hefted his plow once more, and charged at his good-for-nothing youngest son: "It's not too late for me to beat you to death right now!"

Watching this familiar scene, the people of Rice Flower Hamlet were laughing so hard their bellies hurt. Some even egged him on: "Old Zhong! Want us to do it for you? We'll go to the authorities and report Ji Ying for being unfilial and defiant, have the magistrate sentence him to execution by request?"

Don't think only the Confucians advocate filial piety — the Legalist-governed state of Qin advocates it too, and even stipulates it directly in the law: a father beating his son is not a crime, and he can beat him to death! If a child is defiant and unfilial, the father can even apply to the authorities, and the authorities can help you kill him on the spot!

"Get lost, my family's business is none of yours! Ouch..."

Though he knew it was said in jest, Ji Ying was still so angry he cursed at these people who loved watching a good show. But he let his guard down and was caught by his old man, taking a kick to the backside...

And so, for the entire afternoon, Rice Flower Hamlet was filled with an air of merriment.

But not far from here, at Mudflat Hamlet in Cloud Dream Township, what Little Tao ran into was not so pleasant...

Mudflat Hamlet, true to its name, was a stretch of open ground left behind after the edge of Cloud Dream Marsh dried up. It was a poor place with nothing but mud, and Little Tao's family lived right here.

After parting ways with Heifu at the crossroads, Little Tao had been trudging along the road, carrying a large sack of millet he'd exchanged for money in the county seat. The country roads were narrow and uneven, with standing water in some places. By the time he'd made his way, one deep step at a time, to outside the hamlet gate, it was already noon on the second day of the eleventh month.

The moment he entered the hamlet gate, Little Tao ran into trouble.

"Well, if it isn't Little Stutter?"

A few young men leaning inside the hamlet gate spotted Little Tao and came over, grinning, surrounding him. Eyeing the new shoes on his feet and the sack of grain on his back, they clicked their tongues in wonder: "The rest of us come back from our labor service in rags and tatters, but you, Little Stutter, are wearing new shoes. Where'd you get them?"

Little Tao was scrawny and stuttered. Ever since he was a child, he'd never suffered a shortage of bullying from his peers. He could only lower his head and stammer, "It... it was the rotational conscript, the squad leader... gave them to me..."

"There's a squad leader that good?"

The two young men looked at each other, then at the heavy grain sack on Little Tao's shoulder. Their expressions shifted to smiles: "That grain sack is so heavy, must weigh a full dan. Here, here, we'll carry it for you!" Saying this, they grinningly moved to snatch his grain.

How could Little Tao not know? These two just loved bullying him, and this time was no act of kindness. Saying they'd help him carry the grain was just an excuse to extort a dou or two of millet from him.

So Little Tao suddenly stepped back, dropped the grain sack, and pulled out the dagger from his chest. In a fierce voice, he said: "Don't... don't come any closer! Dare to take my grain, and I'll, I'll make you bleed!"

This startled the two of them. They looked at Little Tao as if he were a stranger.

In the past, Little Tao would definitely have swallowed his anger and let them bully him. But after this month of labor service, he had unknowingly changed somewhat. What's more, this grain was lifesaving food for Little Tao's family — he wasn't willing to give a single grain to anyone else!

The two had only been bullying him because he was honest. Once Little Tao drew a blade and resisted, they didn't dare do anything to him. On top of that, the hamlet gatekeeper poked his head out to check, so they walked away cursing.

Little Tao breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the grain sack, and walked to his own front door on the left side of the lane...

A broken jar served as a window, and ropes tied the door hinge — it truly was a "jar-window, rope-hinge" home.

Mudflat Hamlet was poor to begin with, and Little Tao's family was famously destitute within the hamlet. What's more, everyone kept their distance from his family, since his mother had died of an epidemic disease.

Little Tao sighed and pushed the door open. The courtyard was cramped. His equally scrawny father was crouched listlessly in the yard, warming himself by a fire. Hearing the door creak, he looked up and saw Little Tao, but his face showed not a trace of pleasant surprise. Only when Little Tao placed the grain in front of him did a glimmer of life reappear in his sunken eyes!

"Rice!?"

Little Tao's father opened the grain sack, grinning from ear to ear. Then he hurriedly went to shut the door and said in a low voice, "Where did it come from? You didn't steal it, did you?"

Little Tao was so angry his face flushed red, but he couldn't get the words out. He just shook his head vigorously.

"Even if it's stolen, it doesn't matter, just don't let anyone catch you." His father no longer cared. He plopped back down and said weakly, "After you left, I've only eaten once a day. I'm starving to death. Hurry up and cook the rice."

"Mm."

Little Tao silently agreed and walked into the house. This dwelling was an even more dilapidated thatched hut than the one the rotational conscripts lived in. The floor was full of potholes. Inside was a low bed covered with straw, an earthen stove, and nothing else.

The only thing to be found was a small bow hanging on the wall.

This bow was different from ordinary bows — it was very light and nimble. The arrows piled on the ground were different too; behind each arrow was a thin fishing line...

This was called a yi bow, used for shooting birds and also for shooting fish. Little Tao's father had no other skill, just a hand at fish-shooting, which could supplement the family income a bit. But after he broke his finger during labor service a few years ago, this craft had been abandoned. Now the yi bow was covered in dust, and his father had grown increasingly dejected and lazy, unwilling to farm, unwilling to work. This life of his was finished.

But Little Tao didn't want to muddle through life in a daze, just like his father.

This month of labor service had let him see the outside world and taught him what honor and friendship were. Winning first place in the ten-day martial drill had been the most glorious moment of his short life.

Little Tao set down the grain sack, walked to the wall, stood on his tiptoes, and took down the yi bow. He blew off the thick layer of dust, gently plucked the bowstring, and let it emit a faint, trembling sound...

Looking at the bare, impoverished room, whether he was remembering his mother who had died a miserable death from illness, or thinking of his own family's plight, tears welled up in his eyes, but his fist clenched tighter and tighter:

"I... I'm going to enlist! Become a garrison runner! And never, ever come back!"

In the afternoon of the second day of the eleventh month, Heifu, whose home was farthest from the county seat, also arrived outside his hamlet.

On either side of the road were vast rice paddies and millet fields, long since harvested. Even the straw and stalks had been gathered up, leaving the land bare and somewhat desolate.

The sun was setting in the west. Gazing into the distance, within the sunset glow, that great banyan tree, its branches still lush with leaves even in the depths of winter, was faintly visible...

"Second Brother!"

Just as Heifu reached the hamlet gate, he heard someone calling his name loudly. He looked up and saw a person perched on a banyan branch, waving at him like a macaque.

"Second Brother, I'm up here!"

That was his fifteen-year-old younger brother, Jing. If history remained unchanged, Jing would die alongside Heifu in the unification war a few years from now, and that family letter would become their final words, not seeing the light of day again until countless years later, making future generations sigh with regret.

But now, all of this was going to be different — their lives, and their fates...

"This kid must've been born in the year of the monkey."

Heifu shook his head helplessly, but a hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm home!"

PS: As a side note, in the Qin dynasty, being unfilial was a very serious crime. The procedure for carrying out an execution-by-request of an unfilial son was simple and straightforward — basically, a parent just had to report it to the authorities, and they would immediately accept the case. In Slip 102 of the "Legal Questions and Answers," there is a passage: "An elder exempt from labor service reports someone as unfilial and requests the authorities to kill him. Should one seek reconciliation and forgive the unfilial son three times? Answer: No reconciliation is warranted. Arrest him immediately and do not let him get away!"

Once you understand this, Fusu's despair upon hearing Qin Shi Huang's edict ordering him to die is not surprising — he didn't even verify its authenticity and directly committed suicide. It wasn't just that Fusu was naive and kind-hearted; it was also because "if a father wants a son to die, the son must die." In the Qin dynasty, this was not just morality, but also law.

So, transmigrators heading back to the Qin Dynasty, you absolutely must remember to be filial to your parents.

(End of chapter)