Chapter 309: Courier's Labor

When Little Red drifted back to the Mountain God Temple, Pan Yun was checking the blessing pouches collected that day and refilling them with seven-colored rice.

Seeing Little Red drift back, Pan Yun casually greeted her, "Back? Was it fun outside?"

Little Red crouched beside her, and after a long silence said, "I think I had a mother too."

Pan Yun's hands paused for a moment, and she said evenly, "Everyone has a mother. What was yours like?"

"I don't remember what she looked like, but she also seemed to bring good things home to share with me, just like them…"

Pan Yun asked no more, letting her think, letting her remember.

Little Red fell silent too, thinking hard, remembering hard.

The quiet between the living and the ghost did not lift until Wang Cong came over.

He rubbed his back and said, "Little Martial Aunt, I've sorted all the grain, and I did a recount. Because we're cooking porridge at noon, we don't have enough white rice—we need to buy more. Oh, and Magistrate Ming sent word that the village heads have passed the message down to the countryside. Conservatively, at least two thousand three hundred people will come to the Mountain God Temple fair; at the upper end, it might exceed three thousand."

Pan Yun: "That many?"

Wang Cong nodded. "So the blessing pouches we've prepared probably won't be enough—we still need to add more."

Pan Yun frowned. The expense was getting too large—money…

Pan Yun thought for a moment and said, "I'll go to the county town tomorrow to buy some grain, and have a talk with Magistrate Ming."

Wang Cong agreed, smiling. "You should still take Miao Zhen and Miao He with you."

"If we all go, only you and Tao Yanbai will be left at the temple. Will that work?"

Wang Cong said, "Little Martial Aunt, call my father down too. These past two days on the mountain he's been giving me that look—nothing I do is right in his eyes. Let him come down and feel how hard we work, and let him see that I really haven't been slacking since coming down the mountain."

Pan Yun shot him a sideways look. "Don't think I don't know—you just don't want to cultivate. Anything else is fine, just not cultivation."

Wang Cong: …

Pan Yun: "Your talent isn't bad, but Miao Zhen's cultivation is almost catching up to yours now. Great Nephew, shouldn't you really put in some effort on cultivation?"

Wang Cong looked left, looked right, and finally pointed at Little Red. "Little Martial Aunt, take Little Red with you too. Let her see the world beyond."

Pan Yun waved him off, stopped nagging him, turned and asked Little Red, "Are you going?"

Little Red still wanted to see the women she had spotted today, shook her head and said, "I'm not going. I want to play at the Mountain God Temple."

Pan Yun didn't press her. The next day she hitched up the cart and set off happily for the county town with Miao Zhen and Miao He.

They hadn't gone out to play in several days either; since their trial, the world beyond had become far more appealing to them.

Pan Yun was driving the ox cart when she suddenly looked up at the sky, and after a moment said, "It's going to snow."

Sure enough, snowflakes began to drift down, and the further they went, the thicker the snow fell.

Miao Zhen reached out and caught one; the instant the snow landed on her palm it melted into water, icy and faintly cold.

Pan Yun reached out her hand too, and then a drop of icy rain fell into her palm.

Miao He, sitting to one side, said happily, "I caught a snowflake—look!"

Pan Yun and Miao Zhen turned to look, and saw a fully formed snowflake lying in her palm; only after a good while, under the gaze of all three, did it gradually melt into water.

Miao Zhen took it in stride, accepting it calmly.

Pan Yun: …

When it comes to luck, it really is all about luck.

Pan Yun conceded, and declared she accepted it calmly.

"Sleet," Pan Yun glanced up at the thin layer of dark clouds overhead and sighed, "It's going to be even colder tonight."

Miao Zhen: "We can light a brazier inside."

Miao He: "When we get to the county town, shouldn't we go have a bowl of lamb soup to drive out the cold? What if we catch something from getting wet?"

Pan Yun nodded. "You make a good point."

Even Pan Xiaohei let out a "meow" and said to Pan Yun, "I want to eat flatbread soaked in lamb soup."

Pan Yun lowered her eyes to look at it. "You certainly know how to eat."

Miao He heard and immediately asked, "Little Martial Aunt, what did Xiao Hei say it wants to eat?"

Pan Yun: "It wants lamb soup with soaked flatbread."

Miao He said "Oh~" and then said, "That shopkeeper is from Shaanxi. Xiao Hei and I ate there once—it's really good. Xiao Hei, my treat!"

Pan Xiaohei graciously hopped into Miao He's arms and meowed at her.

The girl and the cat burst into high spirits together.

Pan Yun couldn't help smiling too. Just as she was about to speak, she saw a person appear ahead, a carrying pole across his shoulders, two huge, heavy bundles hanging from either end, and a small pack on his back as well.

Though called a small pack, it was like a camel's hump, completely covering the man's back and making him look as though a mountain peak were jutting out from his spine.

Miao Zhen saw him too, peeked over and said, "His clothes… look like a courier's."

Pan Yun slapped the ox's rump with a crack, urging it faster. As the cart passed him, the three of them and the cat all turned their heads to look. He seemed to be a middle-aged man, his face lined and creased, looking deeply troubled; because his load was so heavy, his whole face was straining.

He had been walking with his head lowered; hearing the cart, he shifted the pole on his shoulders, tilting it forward to clear a path and let the cart pass.

Sensing eyes on him, he looked up too, and saw three little Daoist priests sitting on the ox cart, looking at him with curious faces as they brushed past.

The man couldn't help smiling at them. Pan Yun and the other two, meeting his bright smile, grinned too and waved to greet him.

The man didn't wave, but nodded at them, then lowered his gaze back to the road at his feet.

The ox cart gradually pulled away from him. Miao He realized belatedly, "We should have invited him to ride with us."

Pan Yun pulled on the ox, slowing the cart. "It's not too late now."

Miao Zhen suddenly cried "Oh no!" and the other two immediately turned their heads to see the man behind them slip; with a tremendous crash he fell to the ground.

Pan Yun immediately reined in the ox, tossed the rope to Miao He, and she and Miao Zhen leapt down and ran toward him.

In a flash the two of them were at the man's side. Pan Yun lifted the heavy pole off him with one hand, while Miao Zhen went to help him up.

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But the ground was too slippery, and he had fallen too hard; with the huge pack still on his back, two attempts failed to get him up.

Seeing Miao Zhen reached to take his backpack before helping him up, but her hand had barely touched it when the man, still prone and unable to move, grabbed the pack with his other hand and said, voice pained, fearful, yet resolute: "Don't touch my pack."

Pan Yun set down her carrying pole and the two massive bundles tied to it, turned her head, saw his courier uniform, pressed Miao Zhen's hand down, one hand on his waist, the other bracing his right shoulder, and with a strong heave flipped him over.

After sitting up, the man was still dazed; he stared in awe at Pan Yun. "Little Daoist, you're incredibly strong."

In the blink of an eye, she flipped him from the ground.

Pan Yun smiled, silently sliding her foot beneath his backpack, slightly lifting her toes to relieve more of the pressure.

She glanced at his courier tunic and asked, "Are you a courier?"

The man replied, "I'm a courier for the Mo Jidi Post."

He quickly looked up at the slowly dispersing clouds overhead; seeing the sun already high in the sky, he grew frantic. "We're already late—can't be any later."

Saying this, he strained to push himself up.

Pan Yun pressed one hand on him. "Are you heading to the county seat? We're going there too—want to travel together?"

The man looked at their ox cart, hesitated, then nodded. "You're really going to the county seat?"

Pan Yun nodded. "We're truly going to the county seat."

Miao Zhen had already turned the cart around, driven the ox over, turned again, and pulled to a stop right beside them.

Pan Yun helped him place the two massive bundles from the carrying pole onto the cart, then one hand supporting his backpack from behind, the other holding his shoulder, she and Miao Zhen together lifted him onto the cart.

Seeing him drenched in sweat from panic, Pan Yun patted the ox's rump to urge it faster, while shifting his focus: "Are you a hired courier?"

Tears nearly spilled from the man's eyes, yet he forced a smile and answered: "No—I'm a labor-service courier."

Pan Yun paused slightly. "But I see your shoes—how long have you been serving?"

The man: "Six months."

Perhaps Pan Yun had touched a sore point; the tears he'd held back finally broke free. He choked out: "My service period was supposed to end this month, but now I'm late again—I'll not only be beaten with the rod, but forced to serve another month…"

Pan Yun frowned. Though she knew she should change the subject, she couldn't help asking: "When you were conscripted, how long was your term supposed to be?"

The man: "Three months."

"So the extra three months are all penalties?"

The man nodded.

Pan Yun was curious—how had he earned these penalties?

It was simple.

Private courier services and parcel delivery had appeared among the people during the Song Dynasty, but were small-scale, since the imperial court still handled most such business.

But by the Ming Dynasty, private courier bureaus and escort firms for letters and packages sprang up like mushrooms after rain, especially flourishing in the Jiangnan region—why?

Because the Hongwu Emperor, after founding the dynasty, suppressed this private sector.

He believed imperial post stations should focus solely on transmitting official documents and military intelligence; to curb connections among heretical sects and collusion among officials, he imposed strict rules on civilians using the post for letters.

Prices rose, inspections multiplied, and sometimes one had to fill out lengthy questionnaires.

Thus, private courier bureaus gradually emerged.

Most crucially, by reducing civilian mail and parcel services, he naturally assumed post stations had less work—so most duties fell to basic couriers.

These basic couriers were mostly conscripted laborers, paid next to nothing, burdened with excessive tasks, and bound by harsh regulations.

If a letter arrived late, and the authorities deemed it not due to force majeure, the courier was flogged.

After accumulating too many such offenses, he was punished with extended service.

This courier's term had stretched from three months to six, and might extend further still—precisely because of such penalties.

(End of Chapter)