Chapter 433: The Son of Heaven Bestows a Clan Name!

In the twenty-ninth year of Qin Shi Huang, during the second lunar month, spring warmth and blooming flowers lined the shores of Cloud Dream Marsh, and new shoots were already sprouting in the sugarcane fields that had been cut just the year before. Outside a walled residence surrounded by sugarcane fields on the outskirts of Anlu County, a long line had formed since early morning.

The Anlu County Magistrate, the Assistant Magistrate, and the County Commandant stood conspicuously at the very front, flanked by household slaves bearing gifts. Behind them, in order, were officials such as the Chief Clerk, the Prison Clerk, and the Granary Overseer. The village elders and bailiffs from hamlets and villages for ten li around, and even local magnates from neighboring counties, all waited outside the gate, craning their necks in anticipation.

In Anlu County, only one man's household commanded such prestige — that of Hei Fu, the Commandant of Beidi Commandery.

For several centuries, ever since Lingyin Ziwen of Chu, this small backwater of Anlu had produced no figure of real consequence. Yet in recent years, Hei Fu had suddenly risen, from a mere commoner to a high frontier official, a minister of the two-thousand-bushel rank! It was even said that he enjoyed the deep trust of His Majesty the Emperor and was frequently granted personal audiences with the sovereign.

Hei Fu's family was not only of an exalted status beyond reach, but also immensely wealthy, possessing a fortune of a thousand gold pieces. Years ago, Hei Fu had transplanted wild sugarcane from the shores of Cloud Dream Marsh back to his home. Improved with sweet cane varieties left behind by the Chu royal house in Jiangling and Shouchun, the crop had now taken root throughout Anlu County, across half of Nan Commandery, and even in the commanderies and counties along the Great River.

Many tracts of alluvial land unfit for growing grain had been replaced by sugarcane groves. Absorbing the nutrients of the silt, the cane was harvested in vast swathes during winter by convict laborers and hired farmers, then processed in workshops into cloyingly sweet brown sugar. This sugar sold briskly in Jiangling, Shouchun, and Huaiyang, and if transported to Xianyang, could fetch a considerable price.

This industry, worth millions, was registered under the name of Hei Fu's mother. The old woman, whom merchants respectfully called "the Sugar Crone," was even ranked by some just below Wu Shi Luo and the Widow Qing of Ba, with people opining that she would sooner or later become the third richest person under heaven.

Power and wealth — Hei Fu's family possessed both in full measure.

And today, rumored to be the Sugar Crone's birthday, officials of every rank had, without prior arrangement, come to offer her their felicitations. Even those who felt it was unnecessary, seeing that all their colleagues were going, feared that staying away would make it seem as if their household bore a grudge against the Commandant of Beidi's family, and so could only steel themselves and go along.

"County Lord, for those presenting less than a thousand cash today, shall they be seated below the main hall?"

The Chief Clerk of Anlu County, a former subordinate of Hei Fu, had volunteered to act as the master of ceremonies for the day's banquet, even though the host family had not asked him to.

The County Magistrate was noncommittal. At that moment, the long-closed gate, guarded by a dozen or so retainers, finally swung open. Hei Fu's elder brother, Zhong — the black-robed, black-capped Field Bailiff of Anlu County — walked out in a fluster of awe and trepidation. He bowed low before the Magistrate, the Commandant, and the Assistant Magistrate, saying:

"I know not who spread the false rumor that today is my mother's birthday. Yet my mother is of humble birth and does not even know the month or day of her own birth, much less has she ever held a birthday celebration. To have troubled the three senior officials to come here is a fault of our household. My mother's legs are infirm and she cannot come out to receive you. This humble official bows here in thanks to the senior officials and all my colleagues. Our family will bear your goodwill firmly in mind, but as for these gifts and congratulatory cash, I beg your pardon, we dare not accept them…"

The crowd looked at one another in bewilderment. No one knew who had first spread the rumor, but it had been told with such vivid detail. Some colleagues had even asked Zhong, who served as a county clerk, about it, and at the time Zhong had acknowledged it in a muddled way. Who could have guessed that now he would flatly deny it?

Although the County Magistrate and the others felt some displeasure in their hearts, they were far more eager to curry favor with Hei Fu's family than to risk giving offense. So they joined in cursing the person who had started the "rumor," and after a round of polite demurral with Zhong, had no choice but to retreat crestfallen with their gifts…

Only after he had sent the crowd outside the gate away did Zhong breathe a sigh of relief. He ordered the retainers to shut the gate tightly and went back inside to report to his mother.

Today truly was his mother's birthday. The main hall was festooned with lanterns and colored banners, and everywhere busy bondservants bustled about. As Zhong passed by, they all bowed to him respectfully.

There had not been so many rules in the household before; they had all been established in the half-year after his second younger brother's wife had come to stay. At first, Zhong had not been accustomed to this life of a superior, but slowly he had grown used to it.

"Where is the Old Madam?"

When he reached the rear courtyard, his mother was nowhere to be seen in the vegetable patch where she usually loved to spend her time. Zhong asked a convict woman who was fertilizing the field with night soil and was told that his mother might be at the chicken coop.

Zhong could only make his way to the coop where over a hundred chickens and ducks were kept, and sure enough, there he found his mother. She was still dressed in a plain, simple hempen robe, holding a winnowing basket in her hands, scattering spoiled vegetable leaves gathered from the patch, mixed with grain and rice bran, to the chicks. As she scattered the feed, a kind, gentle smile spread across her face…

"Mother."

Zhong hurried over to take the basket from her. "These tasks — just let the servants do them!"

"Servants, servants. Do you now consider yourself a master?"

His mother raised a hand to stop him from taking it and asked, "Have the county officials outside left?"

"It took great effort to persuade them to go."

Zhong gave a wry smile. "Actually, their coming to offer you birthday felicitations was a gesture of goodwill."

"Goodwill? I cannot afford such goodwill."

The old lady, growing ever more stubborn with age, pursed her lips and said, "A few years ago, if this old woman happened to meet a mere village bailiff, I had to kowtow and bow my head to the ground. Now, to have the County Magistrate and such great officials come to kowtow and wish me long life — wouldn't that be cursing this old woman to an early death? When the time came, should I bow to them, or should they bow to me?"

Zhong gave a dismissive laugh. "Compared to my second younger brother, a Commandant, the County Magistrate is a minor official. Besides, with age comes precedence — naturally, they should bow to you, Mother."

Though he was an honest man by nature, a rising tide lifts all boats, and their family's status now was vastly different from before.

"Indeed. The reason those people came to fawn on us is simply because their official rank is lower than my second son's. When our family lived in Poor Hamlet a few years ago, why didn't I see any of them coming to offer birthday greetings?"

Though Hei Fu's mother's eyesight was failing, her inner eye remained sharp and clear.

She pointed at the chickens pecking on the ground and said, "Chickens must eat many times a day. The reason I don't let the convict women feed them is that they find it a bother and are too lazy to make many trips, so they put out a great deal of grain and vegetable leaves. Chickens are foolish; they don't know the difference between hunger and fullness. As long as food is in front of them, they bury their heads and eat furiously, and in the end, they eat themselves to death!"

"People are just like chickens. If you accept every gift others bring to your door, I fear you will also eat yourself to death. When the time comes and your eyes roll back white, it will be too late for regret."

She gathered a handful of grain and said with earnest gravity, "Whether man or chicken, the belly has its limits. No matter how much wealth there is, this old woman eats only three meals a day and uses only so much. Now, with your second younger brother properly serving as an official in the north and your cousin managing the sugarcane fields and workshops, our family has no worries about food or clothing and can even support retainers and bondservants. We have no need to covet those gifts. Just live quietly behind closed doors and do not bring trouble upon your second younger brother — that is enough…"

Men die for wealth, birds die for food. Though his mother's philosophy of life was couched in rough language, the principle behind it was sound. Zhong was filled with deep respect.

"If there comes a year when you children truly and sincerely wish to celebrate my birthday…"

His mother stopped her hand mid-scatter. Gazing at the four fluffy little chicks huddling together under the wings of the old hen, she said with a touch of melancholy, "Then let the four of you, brothers and sisters, reunite and come back to share a meal at my side. This old woman would be content…"

At present, however, only Zhong and his second daughter, Huan, were at home.

As she spoke, tears threatened to fall from his mother's eyes.

Zhong quickly said, "Jing has been granted leave and should have taken a boat from Yuzhang Commandery to Xiakou yesterday. He will arrive home by evening."

In the past, his mother had doted most on her youngest son, but now, the one she worried about more was her second son, whom she had not seen for over two years.

Zhong added, "With war about to break out again in the north, my second younger brother, as Commandant, must guard the frontier for His Majesty the Emperor. I fear he cannot return. However, he has just sent a letter…"

Zhong drew from his bosom the letter that had just been presented by Hei Fu's retainer-knight from the north, outside the gate — a letter he had not yet had time to read. A smile spread across his face; this was the surprise he had prepared for his mother. "This is my second younger brother's birthday gift to you, Mother. You will surely like it!"

"Quick, let me see it!"

His mother hastily wiped her hands on her clothes out of habit and took the letter.

In the past, letters from home had been nothing more than a rigid wooden tablet, and even filled on both front and back, it could not hold many words.

Letters nowadays, however, were sheet after sheet of thin hemp paper, allowing for far more words of endearment and news to be poured out. This was the reason his mother loved paper most — and not merely because it was something Hei Fu had overseen the production of.

As a mother, her only fear was that her son would go silent and give no news; how could she ever complain that he had too much to say?

Her wrinkled hand stroked the characters written in her second son's own hand, as if by doing so she could somehow touch him. Only then did she hand the letter back to Zhong and say with a stern face, "This old woman can't read! Read it aloud to me!"

"Yes."

Zhong supported his mother by the arm and led her to the rear hall. He then had his wife summon his younger sister Huan, his son Yang, and his daughter Yue. Whenever a letter came from Hei Fu, the whole family would gather to listen.

As Zhong unfolded the letter, a look of delight involuntarily spread across his face. He stopped reading aloud and summed it up concisely: "My second younger brother says that our sister-in-law has given birth safely in Yiqu City. Last month, on the tenth day of the first month by the Xia calendar, she delivered a dark, plump baby boy! Seven jin and four taels in weight!"

"Mother and child are both safe?" his mother asked, agitated.

"Both safe!"

His mother had been secretly calculating Ye Zijin's due date and had already guessed it must be about this matter. A moment ago, her hand had been tightly gripping the hand of Zhong's wife, so tense that she dared not loosen her hold for an instant.

Only upon hearing that both mother and child were safe did her taut body relax. She patted her chest, and a smile returned to her face.

Once she had caught her breath, she took her grandson and granddaughter by the hands and led them into the courtyard. Kneeling in the direction of Cloud Dream Marsh, she kowtowed and said, "The Lesser Master of Fate has blessed us. My prayers to them for my daughter-in-law's smooth delivery were not in vain…"

The Lesser Master of Fate was the deity of life worshipped by the people of Chu, who also presided over human progeny.

Mother decided that in a few days, she would invite the county spirit-medium to the shores of Cloud Dream Marsh to sacrifice pigs and sheep and fulfill her vow.

But then she grew anxious again: "Seven jin and four liang — isn't that a little light?"

Zhong's wife nodded: "When Yang was born, we borrowed the village scales and weighed him at seven jin and nine liang."

"Exactly!"

Mother murmured to herself: "This old woman must still build a shrine to the Lesser Master of Fate by the lakeshore, and raise a statue, with incense and offerings year after year, so the Lesser Master of Fate will always protect my grandson…"

This was also Mother's long-cherished wish. She had always felt that managing to raise three sons and one daughter, surviving every plague and war without losing a single child — it was nothing short of a miracle, surely the secret protection of some spirit.

"There is one more thing."

But Zhong had not finished. Once the family had calmed down, he held the letter in both hands and said, his voice trembling: "Second Brother also says that His Majesty the Emperor, hearing that he would soon have an heir, has granted him — and thus granted our family — a clan name!"

"Eldest Brother, what did you say? The Son of Heaven has bestowed a clan name!?"

Just as the whole family stood stunned, Jing's voice came from the doorway. He had just returned home in high spirits, and as he stepped over the threshold, these words shocked him so much that his legs went weak — thump! — and he dropped to his knees!

No one could believe it was true. Mother felt a buzzing in both ears. Heavens, this birthday gift was far too terrifying.

"Jing, these words are too hard to read aloud. You read it."

Zhong could no longer steady himself either. He hurriedly passed the letter to Jing, who had just barely managed to stand, then sat down behind the table, gulping water and gasping for breath.

To their little household, the Emperor and Heaven itself were nearly synonymous. In Mother's words, it was like the Great God Eastern Emperor Taiyi, whom the people of Jing-Chu revered above all, suddenly opening his mouth to speak to them — how could it not be terrifying?

Jing swallowed several times, and at last, stammering, he relayed what the First Emperor of Qin had said to Heifu two months earlier.

"When the Son of Heaven establishes virtue, he bestows a surname according to birth, grants land, and confers a clan name. Feudal lords take their posthumous titles as clan names, and thereby form lineages. If an office has hereditary merit, it becomes an office clan; a fief likewise."

"Now, although Heifu's forebears had no clan name, and the man himself holds no enfiefed land, he does hold an official post — Commandant of Beidi. He may follow the precedent of Wei Liao of old, taking his office as his clan name, and be granted the clan name 'Wei'!"

"Wei!"

When Jing finished reading, he burst out laughing. He too had spent some time in official circles and had often been troubled by his lack of a clan name. Now, thanks to his elder brother's glory, this great problem was solved!

He pointed at his own nose: "From now on, I am Wei Jing!"

"Eldest Brother is Wei Zhong!"

Jing clapped his nephew on the shoulder: "Remember, from now on you are Wei Yang!"

"As for Second Brother, he should be called… Wei Heifu!"

……

"Wei Heifu…"

At that same moment, in Yiqu City in Beidi Commandery, Heifu pushed the rocking cradle the craftsman had made for him while complaining to Ye Zijin, who was still somewhat weak after childbirth:

"I am already deeply grateful that His Majesty granted me a clan name. But this 'Wei Heifu' always sounds a bit strange when spoken! With the same clan name Wei, 'Wei Liaozi' sounds so much smoother to the ear…"

Even so, Heifu recalled the mischievous curl at the corner of the First Emperor's mouth — it had nearly scared him to death at the time. He had thought the Emperor might randomly bestow some bizarre clan name like "Gongce," "Quan," or "Mo."

Fortunately, the First Emperor did not push him into rebellion. He summoned the ritual officials, looked up the ancient procedures for granting clan names, and gave him a perfectly steady and proper "Wei"…

Well, names like Sima and Sikong — those clan names also evolved from ancient official titles.

Hearing Heifu say this, Ye Zijin laughed so hard she shook like a flowering branch, her barely healed belly aching from laughter, and in the process she startled their sleeping son awake and made him cry.

In the end, she could only say helplessly to her husband: "My dear, it is not that I mean to be rude, but your given name — spoken alone it is smooth enough, yet no matter which clan name you pair it with, it becomes a bit of a tongue-twister…"

Heifu caught what his wife left unsaid, but he said with a serious face: "I can change my clan name, but I do not wish to change my given name."

From ancient times to the present, changing a name has always been easy. Zhao Yang could become Zhao Zhifu; Liu Ji could become Liu Bang; Zhu Chongba could become Zhu Yuanzhang; Mao… well, never mind that one.

But the name Heifu held an extraordinary significance for him.

After soothing his son back to sleep, he said softly: "I took off my coarse brown clothes, threw away my straw sandals, wore down my calluses, healed my scars, and left my homeland."

"Sometimes, when I look at the man in the bronze mirror — at his fine robes and rich food, at the great power in his hands, at him feasting guests and raising high towers — I even feel a stranger to myself."

"If I changed even this name, I fear that in the future, I would truly forget… who I am!"

He was a transmigrator, and he was also Heifu. Heifu: eight generations of savages before him, three generations of black-headed commoners, the second son raised through bitter toil by peasant women and weaver girls. One body after two souls merged — he had risen from the bitter earth, thrown down his farming tools, and in this brutal era of corpses strewn across the wilds and lives worth less than weeds, he had struggled upward with all his might.

At first it was to stay alive, to give his family a good life. Later it was to bring his fellow villagers and subordinates home, to spare them the disasters of history. Until he entered Xianyang, stood at the center of the world, and looked up at the crown of power — then he began to think about what he could do for this era, for this country destined to endure cycles of suffering.

None of this could be forgotten.

History was being changed, but his original heart could not change.

"I understand. I will never mention this matter again."

Ye Zijin listened with solemn respect. Though she did not fully understand why Heifu was so stubborn, she felt that her husband must have his reasons.

After a long silence, Heifu smiled again.

"Still, what is past cannot be remedied, but what is to come can still be pursued."

Heifu stroked his wife's beautiful hair, then looked at the sleeping infant in the rocking cradle, his eyes brimming with love. He smiled: "I am beyond help, but fortunately, I have already given my son a fine, smooth-rolling name!"

PS: A big four-thousand-character chapter! July Dog here begging for recommendation tickets and monthly tickets — woof woof woof!

(End of chapter)