Chapter 64: You Help Me, I Help You

From the entrance to the exit corridor and all the way to the rest area, there were rain shelters made of grass. Wang Ge no longer had to endure the rain, her hands were freed, and she forced herself to come to terms with it, but how could it be so easy? Turning back to look, she could truly understand how lucky and enviable it was to persevere inside the examination hall. Once she left, there was no going back; see how timely this rain had fallen—those inside were nourished by it, perhaps they could hold on for another day. If she were still inside, after finishing twenty pieces, would she have dared to keep pushing? And really, what would it matter if she collapsed from exhaustion and was carried out? Could she have achieved the rank of superior artisan?

All these unknowns were destroyed.

The female examinee who knocked into Wang Ge had just finished beating the Drum of Defeat, shivering from the cold as she handed over the mallet, sobbing, “I’m sorry, I truly don’t know how I tripped—I didn’t mean to, ah…” Her wails were almost desperate, as if she wished she could smash herself against the drum. She had crafted eighteen pieces, only one more to go—just the one in her hand, and she would have been a mid-level artisan.

“What did you trip over? What kind of object could trip someone so badly?” Wang Ge’s question was sharp and to the point, but the young woman was so distraught, it didn’t register.

The drum mallet was snatched from her by a large hand and thrust before Wang Ge’s face—it could only be that patrol officer. To avoid further humiliation, Wang Ge took it, stood on tiptoe, and struck the drum’s surface with all her strength, shouting, “Bouzhizhuang, Jia She Village, Wang Ge—my skills are inferior to others!”

Admitting “my skills are inferior” was humiliating—more humiliating than wetting her pants. She held back her tears and handed back the mallet.

The patrol’s palm clenched in anger; he had wanted her to beat the Drum of Defeat over and over, to shame her completely, but she was cunning—her voice rang louder than anyone’s. “Heh, Wang Ge, is it? You beat the Drum of Defeat with such vigor, it’s rare.”

Wang Ge said nothing, knowing this sort could be troublesome. The patrol, though the lowest of the officers, was still an official, and responsible for apprehending offenders; all were physically capable. She’d already suffered at his hands—she could not afford another setback.

He didn’t dare be too brazen and swaggered back to the examination hall.

The female examinee approached, still sobbing, about to speak, but Wang Ge turned and left abruptly.

Fools should be avoided! Besides, she was nearly bursting—she needed to retrieve her belongings and find the latrine. The evening meal was long past; she wondered if she could ask for a wheat cake.

The rain shelter path was only three steps wide, rain sloshing on both sides, and right in the middle strode a tall figure, who asked, “Are you Wang Ge?”

Wang Ge looked up. The gentleman seemed about twenty years old, dressed in wide robes and a sash, his smile gentle yet laced with authority—not an ordinary citizen. “Yes. Sir…”

“I bought this from a peddler—did you make it?” He held out the item, and it was indeed the tumbler that Feng the peddler had purchased some time ago.

“Yes,” she replied.

He stood before the Drum of Defeat, picked up the mallet, and examined it.

Wang Ge silently followed.

The female examinee lingered by the drum, still sobbing, but when this gentleman glanced at her calmly, she grew fearful and hurried away.

He mimicked striking the drum, then set the mallet aside, uninterested. Looking back at Wang Ge, he asked, “If you make me another tumbler, I’ll deal with that patrol officer for you. How about it?”

Wang Ge tensed, bowing her head lower. “After I finish, how shall I deliver it to you?”

“Huan Zhen is my clan nephew; give it to him.” The Magistrate of Huan studied her intently. “Artisan Wang, do not rush home—wait for the posting of the results.”

“Yes,” Wang Ge answered, watching him enter the examination hall, filled with gratitude. He must be the Magistrate of Huan. He had just witnessed the patrol’s bullying, and knew well how terrifying it was for a peasant girl to be targeted for private revenge by such an officer.

How could she repay him with just a tumbler? She would devise something even better.

Returning to the female artisan’s rest area, she found her bamboo basket untouched, with bedding, thick clothes, footwear, and bamboo flask all intact. At last, she could go to the latrine. In one corner stood a basket larger than a vat, filled with soiled clothing.

She changed everything on her body, and when she emerged, the rain had stopped.

She sought out the artisan woman, who sized her up and knew she had just left the examination hall. After handing her a wheat cake, she asked, “You must have finished nine pieces, right?”

“Mm,” Wang Ge replied, wolfing it down and nodding twice.

“The results are slow—it’ll be at least two days.”

“Mm.”

“It’s nerve-wracking to wait idly.”

“Mm,” Wang Ge thought, you’re more anxious than I am; if you have something to say, just say it.

“You know how to make hemp sandals, don’t you?”

“Mm.”

“The workshop at Qinghe Village has urgent orders and is looking for artisans who can make hemp sandals. Though the results aren’t posted yet, those like you who left today can be hired as lower-level artisans. Five coins per pair, paid for each pair finished—what do you think?” The artisan woman glanced around cautiously, indicating the square-toed style she herself wore.

Square-toed sandals were more troublesome than straw shoes, but five coins was a fair wage. Wang Ge was tempted and asked, “Qinghe Village is quite far, isn’t it?”

The woman smiled. “The manor is far, but the workshop isn’t. Look—you can see it from here.”

Qinghe Village’s temporary workshop stood dozens of yards from the examination rest area, brightly lit. Interestingly, the other side of the road housed the temporary workshop of the Nanshan Villa.

And so, Wang Ge, having left the examination hall for only an hour, entered the workshop as a hired hand. She worked for two days, suffering more than in the examination, and her illusions about artisan work were shattered.

Earning money was still hard!

The square-toed hemp sandals required thickening at the forefoot, with tightly woven uppers and wide soles—nothing like the comfortable, fitted pair the artisan woman wore. The soles were thick; after finishing the upper, one had to stitch it to the sole with a large needle, and the stitches had to meet a fixed standard. Some examinees who came with her wasted their effort because their stitching was not up to spec.

Sewing the upper soon made her joints ache, and if she paused even briefly, the artisans and supervisors came to scold. Especially the woman who gave her the wheat cake—no longer kindly, she patrolled the workshop corridors, barking, “Artisan—what is an artisan? An artisan is a tool! Whether lad or lass, all must follow the rules!”

“Were you this lazy during the exam? Your nine pieces must have been made from grass sticks!”

“If you don’t want to work, leave! Who are you crying for?”

“It’s the same at any workshop!”

“Watch how the veteran artisans make shoes. They finish two pairs while you’re still working the left foot! Yes, I mean you!”

Wang Ge’s hand was rapped—pain was nothing compared to her urgent need for the latrine, but the vast workshop had none. If one needed relief, she had to run into the darkness outside and go wherever she pleased—no company, no supervision.

In the middle of the night, how could she dare?

Two days later, at the main eastern passage of the artisan examination hall, crowds gathered—results were about to be posted.

The wooden board for the postings had been erected, standing as tall as the great drum.

In the distance, a huge boat rested on the river. It was Wang Ge’s first time seeing such a vessel in the ancient world and witnessing laborers struggling to load the carp stone aboard.

There was lively discussion among the crowd: “Did you hear? The Nanshan Villa bought the carp stone, so from now on there’ll be no carp stone in the artisan exam.”

“How could that be?”

“There’s sure to be big changes in this year’s exam.”

Wang Ge listened, but no useful news reached her. Of course—if anything major were to happen, would word be so widespread?

Patrol officers and artisan assistants lined up, followed by the examiners, with the Magistrate of Huan surrounded at the center.

The posting began.

Patrols maintained order with their spears; no one dared push, and it was pointless anyway, as most couldn’t read.

Wang Ge stood far back—short and unable to see anything.

Examiner Gu called out, “Silence! We begin with the lower-level artisans. This time, the following have been selected…”

Wang Ge listened anxiously to the end—her name and birthplace were not listed, and she finally relaxed. She had crafted exactly nineteen pieces; if an assistant had missed counting one, she would have been relegated to the lower-level artisans.

One patrol officer’s mood was quite the opposite—unwilling, angry: Could that impudent girl really have been selected as a mid-level artisan?

Rules and standards: refers both to the tools of the craft and the need to follow strict protocols while making.

End of chapter.