Chapter 6: Craftsmen and Apprentices

On the way back to the village, the three of them made a detour to “Longevity Stone Slope” to pick up sheep droppings. Jia Sanyang gloomily told Wang Ge, “The straw hat you gave me yesterday, my mother took it away.”

“Don't pout, I'll make another one for you.”

“Really?”

Wang Ge nodded.

Jia Sanyang immediately took out a sickle from his basket. “Use this to cut the grass, Sister Ge. Don’t you have a sickle at home? Look at your hands… don’t they hurt?”

Her face was as beautiful as her hands were rough. Wang Ge’s hands were covered in old wounds, calluses at the base of her thumbs and knuckles. “We have a sickle, but it’s never enough for the fields. When I earn some money, I’ll buy another one.”

“Earn money? Sister, you’ve never left the village, do you know how hard it is to make money?”

“You’ve been to town?”

Jia Sanyang boasted, “I’ve even been to the county!”

“So, in the county, do merchants trade goods for goods, or do they buy things with money?”

“Both. I’ve seen peddlers accept coins, grain, and cloth.”

“Sanyang, did you know that craftsmen in the county have exams? You can take a test to become a certified craftsman!”

“Hmm… I think my older brother mentioned that once. Ah, your hand is bleeding!”

“It’s nothing.”

Wang Xing’s eyes were red as she blew softly on her sister’s hand, “Does it hurt?”

“No. Once you grow calluses, the cuts no longer hurt.” Smiling, Wang Ge cut off a corner of her skirt and wrapped it around her palm. She continued weaving the straw hat for Jia Sanyang and asked, “Should I make two, so your father can have one as well?”

“Yes, yes!”

Wang Xing lowered her eyelids, watching the blood seep through the cloth. How could it not hurt? But Sister knew, telling others about pain was useless. She secretly plucked sheep wool, hoping to make cotton shoes for her grandparents, so she had to win Jia Sanyang’s favor.

After supper, Wang Ge and her brother, finding the courtyard empty, carried two sets of wooden tablets to their grandparents’ room.

“Grandfather, we found treasure today!”

Wang Oldman noticed his grandson’s eyes were brighter than ever before and happily pulled him close, “What wonderful thing did Tigerhead find?”

Wang Ge had no intention of playing riddles with the elders. She untied the string binding the tablets. When the four pieces were laid out on the mat, the grandparents were utterly astonished.

“These are… bamboo slips? Where did you get them?” Wang Oldman rubbed his hands on his clothes before daring to touch the tablets, while Granny Jia didn’t even dare to touch them. Clearly, even ordinary folk know how precious such objects are.

Wang Xing immediately knelt properly, and Wang Ge recounted in detail how she encountered nobles twice, once at Longevity Stone Slope and once by the riverbank.

“Our Tigerhead is truly blessed!” Granny Jia pressed her palms together to thank the heavens.

Wang Oldman, proud, said, “But it’s only because these siblings are sensible that they could catch the eye of noblemen!” Then he lamented, “Noble people don’t know how to manage things. Look at these wood pieces, so much space left empty. Tigerhead, you mustn’t waste like this in the future!”

“Yes,” Wang Xing agreed.

Actually, even though Wang Ge had lived two lifetimes, she found her grandfather’s words reasonable.

“Grandfather,” she asked, “do you think I could try for that craftsman exam the nobleman mentioned?”

“Why not? Just as well, we have some grain to sell. Don’t wait for the village officials; we’ll ask around ourselves in town. If we can’t find out there, we’ll go to the county!”

Wang Ge’s eyes grew red, “Grandfather, you treat me so well!”

The siblings left hand in hand; the tablets were family treasures, naturally entrusted to their grandparents for safekeeping.

Granny Jia finally calmed down, tenderly stroking the smooth wood.

“Don’t touch the writing!” Wang Oldman reminded.

“I know!” Granny Jia’s fingers carefully avoided the ink, holding it up to her nose, “It smells a bit odd.”

“Don’t talk nonsense! That’s what’s called the fragrance of ink.” He tied the two sets of tablets together again, but didn’t know where to store them. “We’ll have bigger expenses now, I’ll need to make a proper desk for Tigerhead.” Though he spoke with worry, his smile reached his ears.

“Give them to me!” Granny Jia shot her husband a look; she knew just where to put them. She opened the chest by the bed, where in the lower right corner sat a bamboo box filled with treasures. She placed the tablets beside the box, then covered them with clothes.

The courtyard gate creaked; Wang Ge had gone to fetch water.

Granny Jia sat back, worried, “Ge is capable, but in two or three years she’ll be of marriageable age. What will we do about the eldest boy? Tigerhead is still young, sigh.”

“Ask around outside. Best to find a wife for the eldest, otherwise Ge will have to marry within the village.”

With a granddaughter of her character, marrying within the village would be a waste. Jia She Village was so remote that any outstanding girl dreamed of marrying into the county, or at least a town.

If a girl married into Jia She Village, she surely came from somewhere poorer. For example, the new wife in the third household, Yao, had come from the poorest hamlet, Sha Tun.

Granny Jia asked, “Husband, what about that boy Zhang Cai?”

“No.”

“If she must marry in the village, isn’t the Zhang household quite good? They have many sons and two strong oxen—no one can match them for breaking new ground and farming!”

“They don’t have enough rooms! All those sons squeeze into one house!” Lowering his voice, Wang Oldman explained, “It’s precisely because they have so many sons that it won’t work. If the girl’s family is strong, she has confidence when marrying out! If her maternal relatives are strong, we can stand up for Ge if she’s wronged. How could we fight them? We’d be outnumbered!”

“Tsk!” Granny Jia glared at her husband, “You’re always thinking about fighting, even before anything happens!”

The next morning, Wang Oldman and several villagers rode a cart drawn by oxen to the town. Those not transporting goods paid two measures of rice to the owner of the ox, while those, like Wang Oldman, who brought grain, paid five to ten measures.

This was called “porter’s money,” paid for the round trip—even if you didn’t ride back, the fee wasn’t returned. That was why Wang Ge hadn’t asked to go to town.

Wang Oldman left in high spirits, but returned sighing, “If only I’d known a few days earlier.”

It turned out that, upon asking in town, there really was such a thing as craftsman certification, granting reduced taxes and corvée, essentially a stipend from the court. The lowest rank was “Apprentice Craftsman,” and the exam was held on the seventh day of the fifth month—only once a year.

Granny Jia was delighted, “Isn’t that good? There are two months to prepare.”

“Ah, but for the trade Ge wants to register, they’ll count the number of applicants in three days. No fee, just present your craft. If your skills pass, you first become ‘Craftsman,’ and in May, you’re eligible to take the county exam for ‘Apprentice Craftsman.’”

Wang Ge refused to give up, “Grandfather, how do you present your craft?”

“I’m old now, never heard of such a new method. It’s called: Counting Flower Drums.”

Soon after, Wang Ge returned to her room and pulled out the basket from under her wooden bed—it was filled with stones she’d picked up before. When troubled, she’d sort stones to ease her mood.

The “Deer Stone” she gave to Zhang Jiying hadn’t been found at the riverbank; she’d carried it with her for some time. Occasionally, noble sons would visit Jia She Village, and she hoped to catch their fancy. With rare stones, she’d traded for lacquered ear cups, feather fans, stone ink trays—all precious items for common folk, including the tablets she’d exchanged just days ago. All were entrusted to her grandparents.

Both in her past and present lives, she knew opportunities belonged to the prepared.

As she sorted through the stones, she pondered the news her grandfather had brought home.