Chapter 933

Xue Shao climbed out of the water; the night wind blew, and he shivered.

Xue Shao's heart stirred; he looked up thoughtfully at the dim starlit sky.

Xi Jin fell onto the Tian Geng, scrambled to his feet in panic, and supported Xue Shao in distress: "Young Master, you're soaked through."

Xue Shao came to his senses, wringing out his robes as he comforted him: "It's fine, let's hurry to the village to find shelter."

The people were simple and kind-hearted; by nightfall, the village lost all light—whether they could sleep or not, they all went to bed, especially tonight with the rain, perfect for slumber.

But when Xi Jin knocked, the villagers still opened the door; seeing them in distress, drenched to the skin, they still invited the two inside.

Sounds gradually rose in the house; the whole family woke up. An old man stepped out wrapped in his clothes, coughing as he asked: "Little son, who is it?"

The villager replied: "A Mr. accompanied by his servant is passing through and seeks lodging."

The entire farmhouse had no light; both father and son were night-blind, and only when they leaned close could they make out Xue Shao.

Seeing him, one felt immediate warmth—he was clearly a scholar.

The old man smiled, hurried to the kitchen to light a torch, and woke his wife and daughter-in-law to boil water and cook for the two.

Xue Shao declined, murmuring: "We've already eaten; we're not hungry. Thank you, Old Man, but could your wife please brew some medicine?"

The old man immediately agreed.

This family bore the surname Wang; their son was named Wang Jin, about Xue Shao's age.

Xue Shao handed Wang Jin the medicine bundle he had taken from his space when they reached the village entrance.

Wang Jin saw Xue Shao's lips were pale and quickly gave the medicine to his wife: "What is this medicine for?"

Xue Shao said: "For preventing and treating colds."

Wang Jin's eyes flickered with confusion—why did he carry medicine for preventing colds in advance?

But he didn't dwell on it; after handing the medicine to his wife, he pulled Xue Shao inside and stripped off his own clothes to give him.

As for Xi Jin, he was only soaked on the outside—he took off his outer robe and dried his hair.

Xue Shao stared, holding the clothes.

Wang Jin smiled awkwardly: "If your noble self finds this offensive, why not change into dry clothes and get under the quilt? I'll have them dry yours by the fire—perhaps you can wear them tomorrow."

Xue Shao realized: in poor households, one family often owned only one set of clothes; in the previous dynasty, some families had only two sets total—one for the man, one for the woman.

But this was Great Ming, and this was Hangzhou—how could it come to this?

Xue Shao felt a pang of sorrow; he smiled at Wang Jin, took off his wet clothes, dried himself and his hair with a cloth, then put on Wang Jin's father's old garments.

When the medicine was brewed, he and Xi Jin each drank a bowl, then hung their damp clothes to dry over the kitchen fire, and slept in the same room as the father and son.

There was no choice—they had only three thatched huts.

After half an hour of bustle, the lively farmhouse courtyard fell quiet again; outside, the rain had thickened into a curtain.

Xue Shao sat on the bed, watching the rain outside; Wang Jin remade the bedding, and his father, leaning on a cane, sat beside the bed, gazing out.

The room fell silent, save for the sounds of Wang Jin and Xi Jin laying out the bedding.

The heavier the rain outside, the brighter the old man's smile grew; he chuckled: "Since the second day of the second month, Hangzhou has had four rains—each time just a light sprinkle. Tonight's rain is good, very good. Spring rain is worth its weight in oil."

Xue Shao nodded slightly: "I hope it lasts till morning, then clears—then not only will the wheat yield well, but the rice seedlings will grow fast, allowing us to transplant before April."

The old man smiled warmly at Xue Shao: "Young Master knows farming?"

Xue Shao: "Our family owns a few humble acres; before I left to study, I worked the fields every spring and autumn. The academy also taught it."

"It should be taught—we teach it in our village and county school, but not much in the city. Strange, isn't it? The city's top students don't learn farming—when they become officials, how will they encourage agriculture?"

Xue Shao smiled: "From your words, Old Man, you've studied?"

The old man puffed up, straightening his back slightly: "I studied for a few years. When I was young, the founding Emperor established schools and ordered all school-age children to enroll—I attended for three years."

He pointed to Wang Jin: "My son may be slow, but as a child he too was lucky enough to attend school, studied for a few years, learned to read a few characters."

Xue Shao looked at him with admiration: "How many children in the village attend school?"

"Quite a few," the old man said. "We're near Hangzhou, so when the imperial court enacts good policies, we benefit first. Of ten school-age children, eight attend. The other two? Either their parents don't care for them, only thinking of themselves, or they're as stupid as oxen—unteachable."

As Xue Shao listened, he realized the old man had studied far more than just three years.

Indeed, though he had only studied for three years as a child, afterward, whenever he could, he sought out books to read.

The more he read, the wider his world became; his knowledge and thoughts differed from ordinary people's.

"Still, we never managed to improve our lives," the old man shook his head, sighing. "But such is life—not every effort yields good results."

This man had never stopped striving, never ceased fighting to better his family's lot.

The Wang family had once been prosperous; at their peak, they owned twenty-eight mu of land and nearly built a brick-and-tile house.

The old man pointed to the wall: "Behind there—our back courtyard, empty land—we'd already laid the foundation. We were about to build."

Xi Jin listened, stunned—he loved hearing stories of rising from poverty, always sought out such tales in novels, never cared for the clichéd plots of poor scholars marrying rich daughters and soaring to glory.

So he asked eagerly: "Why didn't you build it? How did your family fall?"

The old man said: "While laying the foundation, my eldest son went up the mountain to quarry stone. He used gunpowder to blast rocks—accidentally struck by flying debris, he rolled down the mountain and died."

Xi Jin's mouth hung open; he looked at Xue Shao like a guilty child.

Xue Shao's expression was calm; he simply gazed kindly at the old man.

The old man's face showed no sorrow—he had clearly made peace: "The family believed the new house's feng shui was bad, so we stopped. Later, my third son was conscripted to fight in Luchuan—he never returned. I had four sons and three daughters; two sons and my eldest daughter, weak from birth, died after three or four years. Only this youngest son remains with me."

"Later, my wife fell ill, my youngest son married—we sold eight mu, leaving twenty. Last year, the wind disaster—we sold ten more just to survive…"

Xi Jin's heart ached, yet he felt relief: "At least you still have ten mu."

The old man shook his head slightly, smiling bitterly: "By autumn, even those ten mu may be gone. If we're lucky, we might keep two."

"What? Why?"

Wang Jin growled: "To pay off our debts!"

The old man silenced Wang Jin's remaining bitterness, speaking softly: "The contract was signed willingly—we can't blame others, only ourselves for being foolish. Had we sold the land outright instead of borrowing, we might have kept a few more mu."

Wang Jin: "But they paid absurdly low prices! Normally, top-quality land in Hangzhou sells for twenty taels per mu, medium-grade for fifteen—but after last year's disaster, they slashed prices to five taels for top land, then down to three. And grain prices… isn't this trying to drive us to death?"

The old man sighed and fell silent.

Xue Shao asked, "Who bought the land?"

"Wang the Elder from East City," Wang Jin growled. "He even came from our Wang Village—said we were family five hundred years ago, yet he cheated us mercilessly."

The old man muttered under his breath: "We really were family five hundred years ago..."

Wang Jin grunted: "That's what he said when he sold us the land. But when the wind disaster was over and he came to seize it, he said something entirely different."

Xue Shao asked: "Did you also borrow money from them?"

Wang Jin nodded.

Xue Shao then asked: "How much did you borrow, and how much must you repay?"

They borrowed grain, and they repay with grain.

Borrow one dou, pay one dou interest monthly, compounded, with land as collateral.

Wang Jin covered his head and crouched on the ground: "I was half-dead from hunger. When I went to his house, all I saw was grain—I didn't even hear what he was saying. He said, 'Borrow one dou, pay one dou interest.' I thought: I borrow one dou, and when the harvest comes in a year, I'll repay him—twelve dou interest plus one dou principal, so I'll pay back at most thirteen dou. So I borrowed three dou. I had no idea the interest itself would accrue interest—don't ask me how much I owe now, I can't even calculate it."

Xue Shao:...

Xue Shao pressed his throbbing head, patted Wang Jin's head, and smiled: "This isn't unsolvable. Tomorrow, come with me into the city. File a complaint at the county government office—have the magistrate set fair interest."

Wang Jin looked up, bewildered: "Huh?"

Xue Shao smiled: "In the Great Ming, lending at exorbitant interest is illegal. Lending grain at usurious rates during a natural disaster is also illegal."

"How would the county magistrate care? Officials and merchants are all in cahoots."

The old man quickly added: "He's my only son—I can't let him fight the officials."

Xue Shao said: "Normally, I wouldn't advise Brother Wang to take such a dangerous step. But times are different now. Brother Wang, and the other families in your village—or even other villages in Hangzhou—if you have grievances, now is the best time to file at the county government office."

Wang Jin looked confused: "Why?"

Xue Shao whispered: "Because not only is the Jiangnan Censorial Inspector here, but the State Preceptor is here too."

The father and son's eyes lit up—they didn't care about the Censorial Inspector, only the State Preceptor: "The State Preceptor is in Hangzhou?"

Xue Shao nodded with a smile: "Yes. The State Preceptor is in Hangzhou."

He said: "The State Preceptor despises evil. The Zhejiang Provincial Administration Commissioner Sun Yuanzhen and the Right Commissioner Yang Zan are both seeking his favor—they dare not suppress public grievances now. So during this time, if you have injustice, go file your complaint. Miss this window, and you'll truly need to tread carefully."

The old man, hearing Xue Shao speak the names of the Provincial Administration Commissioner and Right Commissioner so freely, realized his origins were extraordinary, and trusted his words more.

He gripped his staff tightly, his heart burning, and asked again and again: "Is the State Preceptor truly in Hangzhou?"

Xue Shao nodded firmly: "Truly!"

After confirming three times, the old man's breathing quickened. He glanced at his son, then gritted his teeth: "Boy, go early tomorrow and find your Uncle Wu and Uncle Qing. Keep this quiet from the village head..."

Wang Jin agreed at once, his chest burning with hope.

He was willing to fight with all his strength to keep ten mu of land.

This land had taken his father and brother decades to save up—was it easy?

Only then did the old man ask Xue Shao: "You're not an ordinary scholar, are you?"

Xue Shao smiled lightly: "I hold a modest degree, so I hear news others don't."

It wasn't just modest—it was extremely well-informed.

Yet Xue Shao's clothing was unremarkable; the clothes he'd changed out of were plain fine cotton, typical of scholars from modest families. He'd seen a patch on the hem when he'd taken them to the kitchen to dry.

That's why the old man never thought him a noble.

Even an Provincial Graduate, an ordinary scholar, couldn't have known such news, could he?

And to speak the Provincial Administration Commissioner's name so freely.

The old man lay down, puzzled.

But Xue Shao sat cross-legged on the bed, awake—he circled his Qi three times until his body grew warm and a light sweat formed, then he ended his practice and lay down.

He had been so careful, yet when he woke the next morning, his throat was dry and swallowing hurt.

Xue Shao suppressed his unease, asked Wang Jin's wife to brew the medicine from yesterday again, took it, then left.

Meanwhile, Wang Jin had spent the morning visiting households in the village, rallying support. He'd approached several families, and by the time Xue Shao took his leave, he'd gathered eight young men willing to follow him to the county government office.

Though the young men followed Xue Shao into the city, they were still anxious and afraid.

Along the way, they kept asking: "Will this really work? If we sue Wang the Elder, will they beat us with bamboo sticks?"

"Yes, if they beat us now, we won't be able to work the fields—we'll miss the planting season."

"And we'll have to spend money on medicine."

"What if we lose? We'll not only lose the land, but end up owing even more money."

The more they spoke, the more anxious they grew, and their steps slowed.

Xue Shao knew that if he said two more words, Wang Jin's hard-won group of eight would scatter.

He stopped and turned back with a smile: "Gentlemen, I know the Prefect of Hangzhou—we have some connection. If you speak only the truth, I guarantee you'll receive a fair and impartial judgment."

They froze, then hurriedly asked: "Are you the Prefect's relative?"

Xue Shao shook his head with a smile: "Not a relative, but we have a decent relationship—you'll see when you get there."

The men no longer hesitated and hurried to catch up with Xue Shao.

Wang the Elder was powerful—but not powerful enough to know the Prefect, right?

Xue Shao brought them to the county government office gate, watched them strike the great drum outside, then turned and left.

Wang Jin had barely struck the drum when he turned to find Xue Shao gone—his heart sank.

He was about to run after him when a government office Runner stepped out and grabbed him: "Wait, wait—you're the one filing the complaint, right? Where are you going? Get inside!" (End of Chapter)