Chapter 42: The Joy of Family Harmony

"I got here first!"

The nephew clinging to Heifu's left leg laughed, a gap-toothed grin making his words a little slurred.

"Uncle, big brother's bullying me."

The little niece pursed her lips and brought out her trump card: tattling, though her milky baby voice made it sound more like wheedling.

Her hair was jet-black, a tiny red mole sat above her brow, and her chubby cheeks puffed out adorably — though Heifu's family wasn't well-off, the mother, as grandmother, would rather eat less herself than let the two children go hungry. Theirs wasn't the poorest household; as long as plague and famine stayed away, a bit of frugality let the children grow up sturdy and strong.

"Yang, you're the elder brother — you ought to give way to Yue a little more."

Heifu crouched down, used his sleeve to wipe the snot about to drip into Yang's mouth, and patted his niece's little head with his other hand. Before them, he was the kindly elder.

"Both of you go wash your hands. I've brought you something good."

Yang and Yue exchanged a glance and scampered off. This had been their uncle's peculiar habit ever since the ninth month: every mealtime, he would urge the two of them to wash their hands clean first. It felt odd at first, but they gradually got used to it. Yue especially began to feel that her clean, fair little hands were rather nice, and she even started to disdain the dirty hands of the neighbor girl she played with.

What Heifu had brought back for them was the era's favorite children's sweet: malt sugar. It was a food made by fermenting grains like wheat. The liquid form was what later ages would call maltose; what Heifu had bought at the county market was the harder white malt sugar, made from millet, dried until it had a faint sweetness and a pleasant fragrance, though it did stick to the teeth a bit.

"Thank you, Uncle!"

The two children clutched the malt sugar and ran off giggling. Heifu passed by the kitchen and exchanged a greeting with his sister-in-law, who was cooking, before stepping up onto the platform and entering the main house. Beneath the tiled eaves sat a grey-haired old woman in a thorn hairpin and coarse cloth skirt, head bent as she wove something from bamboo strips…

Her complexion was sallow, her face not looking terribly aged, but her hair was more white than black, her health none too robust, and her spirit somewhat faded, as though she had just recovered from a grave illness.

"Mother, your son has returned."

Heifu knelt and bowed low until his head touched the ground. It seemed his elder brother had been right — because of his affair, his mother had fallen seriously ill.

"So you still remember to come home."

His mother had long known he was back, but had only sent his younger brother to receive him and had not come out to the gate just now. She still kept a stern face, though it was hard to tell at whom her anger was directed.

Heifu of course knew what this was about, so he sidled over and said with an ingratiating smile, "Mother's weaving a bamboo sieve again? In the dead of winter, what if the strips cut your hands? Let your son do it…" So saying, he reached to take the bamboo strips.

His mother, however, lightly swatted the back of his hand with a strip and scolded, "Of the three brothers, you're the clumsiest. A sieve you wove wouldn't just let rice through — it'd let stones fall through! I don't want it!"

Heifu had no choice but to pull his hand back. He glanced at his elder brother Zhong in the courtyard, who was cleaning fish; Zhong merely smiled and shook his head at him.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before his mother could hold back no longer and spoke: "When you fought with those bandits, which hand was injured?"

"The right hand." Heifu hurriedly added, "A small wound, nothing serious."

"A small wound? Let me see it."

Heifu had to push up his sleeve and reveal the nearly healed wound.

His mother touched the long, thin, savage scar, her heart aching. She sighed. "What did I tell you when I saw you out of the hamlet gate? No matter what happens, never be rash, and never come to blows with anyone — let alone vicious bandits. When your eldest brother came home and told the story, everyone else praised you for fighting three men alone and seizing a blade barehanded with such martial skill, but I was so frightened my heart nearly leaped out. Tell me, if that brigand's sword had been just a little truer, your hand would be ruined, and your very life might have been lost! Are you trying to anger this old woman to death?"

After fiercely poking Heifu's head with her finger, the old woman stopped weaving her bamboo sieve and began to wipe away tears.

Her husband had died a few years ago; the year before last, her eldest son had been wounded in the leg on the battlefield, making even working the fields difficult; her third son was too young and senseless. If anything were to happen to her second son, usually the most steady of them, she truly did not know what she would do.

"Mother, isn't Heifu perfectly fine? It's all in the past now."

Zhong hurried over to comfort their mother, while Heifu pounded her back and kneaded her legs, saying only the good things, and with great difficulty managed to stop the old woman's grieving.

"As long as you're all right. You've earned the rank of Gongshi, which does bring glory to our house. When I walk through the hamlet and hear people praise my son, it gives me face as well."

That was just how his mother was. When it was time to grieve, her tears could not be stopped, but only for a little while; once the grieving was done, she would straighten up again and do what needed to be done. In Heifu's memory, whether it was his good-for-nothing father passing away, or his elder brother being carried home covered in blood, it was the old matriarch who gritted her teeth and managed everything, holding this household together.

By now, the old woman's talk had turned back to its usual rambling. Patting Heifu's hand, she said, "That sheepskin jacket you had Zhong buy is quite warm, but at my age, there's no need to spend money like that. All that money, I've pressed it coin by coin under the sleeping mat, saving it for you. In two years, Jing will come of age. I've discussed it with your eldest brother — we think it's best you split off and live separately. Naturally, a house must be built first."

Unlike later ages, splitting up the family in this era was always a matter of having no choice. When Shang Yang enacted his reforms, in order to collect more taxes, he decreed: "For any household with two or more adult males that does not divide, double its taxes!" Thus in Qin, the once-large clan families were broken apart into small peasant households of five to eight members.

Their household now had seven members, with three brothers. Once Jing came of age and was registered for corvée, one of them would have to split off.

With Jing's temperament, whether he could even survive living on his own was uncertain; his mother would surely not be at ease, and would rather keep him by her side to watch over. Zhong, meanwhile, was already married, had a son and daughter, and was also responsible for looking after their mother. Since Heifu had become a Gongshi and been allotted residential land, the best solution was naturally for him to split off. To this, Heifu had no objection whatsoever.

But as for what came next, he had very strong objections indeed…

He heard his mother continue, "You'll be eighteen after the winter solstice, and now that you're a Gongshi, it's time to arrange a marriage. I was just planning, in a few days, to go to Bian Hamlet and speak with your aunt about this, to see if there's a suitable girl…"

Heifu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His elder aunt understood the Day Book and loved nothing more than playing matchmaker, rather like a marriage broker of later ages. And his elder aunt's greatest achievement had been helping his eldest brother Zhong marry his sister-in-law — and while she was at it, she had casually taken it upon herself to arrange the marriages of both Heifu and Jing as well.

But Heifu had absolutely no such plans at the moment. Besides, by the aesthetic standards of a man from a later age, even if he were to take a wife, she would have to be a fair-skinned, beautiful, graceful maiden — he couldn't just settle for some crooked, shriveled village girl at random.

So Heifu hurriedly said, "Mother, let's discuss that slowly another time. Coming home today, I also have an important matter to talk over with you and with my eldest brother!"

His mother stopped her chatter; Zhong put down the work in his hands; even Jing poked his head out from the kitchen to look at him.

Heifu smiled. "Mother, because I earned merit capturing bandits and also placed first in the militia drill, the County Right Commandant thinks highly of me. He had the county summon me and appointed me as Chief of Huyang Station! If I pass the assessment, I can take up the post next month!"

"Station Chief!"

At these words, Zhong's eyes widened in stunned delight, Jing whooped in ecstatic glee, but on his mother's face, joy and worry mingled in equal measure…

…

Early the next morning, Heifu was woken by the crisp sound of rice pounding…

Though the family sleeping mat was also stuffed with rice straw, it was warmer and softer than the one outside. He had slept especially soundly and peacefully last night. The days of a family living in happy harmony — though a bit hard, they were the most comforting of all.

Thump, thump, thump, thump…

He glanced over; the sky was not yet fully light. From outside came the sound of rice pounding again, solid, powerful, and rhythmic, piercing the hazy dawn and rising and falling across the hamlet.

This was the village life Heifu had long since grown accustomed to.

He closed his eyes, listening to these sounds, when suddenly a thought stirred in his heart, and he made to roll over and rise from the mat.

Who would have thought that as soon as he turned over, he would discover that Jing, who slept on the mat opposite, was already up, and was now kneeling right in front of Heifu's mat, staring at him with eyes ablaze!

"What are you doing?"

Heifu was badly startled by the boy.

"Second Brother!"

Jing's eyes were bloodshot, yet his gaze was piercingly bright; he had likely been too excited to sleep a wink all night. Without another word, he performed a grand salute toward Heifu, then implored him with earnest urgency:

"If you're going to Huyang Station to be Chief, take me with you!"

(End of chapter)