Chapter 67: Is a Roly-Poly All You Want?

"Go south, Wang Nanxing... Wang Nanxing..."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Beneath the forest... beneath the forest... head south... head south!"

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Wang Ge woke with a start.

The pounding outside was even louder than in the dream—it was the sound of roadworkers tamping the ground.

"Are you awake, elder sister?" Wang Xing came in carrying a wooden basin, ready for their father's morning wash. "Elder sister, don't leave the room! I'll fetch your basin too." The little fellow, afraid his sister would manage without him, hurriedly picked up Wang Ge's basin and dashed out.

Wang Ge slipped on her shoes and tried to recall the nightmare, but aside from the chaotic, drum-like noise, she remembered nothing else.

After breakfast, their father and the second brother hitched a ride on the Zhang family cart to the wild hills. Today was especially cold; they needed to gather extra firewood. Little Jia was in the kitchen with her children, pickling wild radishes. The rest were in the main house: Old Madam Jia stitched clothes according to a pattern, Wang Dalang and Wang Ge unpicked seams, while Wang Peng watched over Wang Ai at play.

Wang Xing, meanwhile, sat alone in the outer room, half the door open, practicing her calligraphy in the light.

Whenever Wang Ai tried to go find Wang Xing, Wang Peng would coax her back. Seeing this, Wang Ge quietly praised, "Peng is really growing up."

Wang Dalang replied, "We owe that to Young Master Huan. When he teaches the boys with stories and lessons, he lets Peng listen in. Peng actually pays attention."

Overhearing his uncle's praise, Wang Peng squatted over and said, "Cousin, I really did listen. Young Master Huan even praised me!"

Wang Ge bumped his head gently against hers. "He was right to."

Old Madam Jia, watching Dalang unpick the seams, worried he’d cut his hand or ruin the cloth. But the more she watched, the more she saw that, though slow, he was doing quite well.

Seeing her grandmother’s concern, Wang Ge said, "I want to finish unpicking in one day, so I asked father for help. Tomorrow I must make a tumbler doll for our benefactor."

"Yes, that’s the proper thing to do," replied Old Madam Jia.

Dalang, whose eyesight was poor, hated burdening his family and dreaded being forbidden to contribute. As he worked and found no one stopping him, he felt genuine happiness.

In the kitchen, Little Jia sliced the radish into long strips, blanched them, then divided them among three jars, poured in salt, and had each of her three children knead a jar of radish strips with the salt.

"Shu, this afternoon don’t follow us. Go wherever your cousin goes. From now on, always follow her."

"Alright. Since cousin is unpicking clothes, I’ll help her this afternoon."

"You silly child!"

Wang He burst out laughing.

Wang Shu looked aggrieved, eyes brimming with tears, not understanding what he’d done wrong.

On the new east-west road through Jia She village, Yuan Yanshu handed Magistrate Huan’s personally written letter to Huan Zhen, then reported his recent investigation of the Jia landlord’s household: "A pity about Old Master Jia—decades of kindness are about to be squandered by Jia Feng of the main branch. That fool deceives the villagers, not knowing he’s the real idiot!"

Huan Zhen had applied a thick layer of face powder that morning, but now he was smeared with yellow and black dust. He didn’t care, though. He glanced at the letter, slipped it back in its pouch, and said, "When someone is bent on destruction, you can’t stop them. The court is finally preparing to use force against the Qiang and Hu. They’ve just issued the Ordinance of Manufacture—all molds registered at the Directorate of Works, everything meticulously recorded. How dare a petty landlord like Jia Feng try to imitate this now, cheating his own villagers!"

Their conversation concerned the sewing job Old Madam Jia had taken on.

Wang Ge’s caution had been justified. That self-righteous eldest son of the Jia family, upon hearing that the county’s workshops were desperately recruiting for hemp clothing, with strict requirements for measurements and stitches, had an idea. He made his own patterns and set the stitch length. When the villagers finished their work, he would reject it for non-compliance and pay less in grain—or mix moldy grain into their rations.

The Ordinance of Manufacture was meant for grave matters of state, its rules strict by necessity. But Jia Feng, a petty landlord, was selling winter clothes to ordinary merchants—so this job was simply a way to treat all the villagers like his personal laborers.

Yuan Yanshu asked, "What does Young Master Huan wish to do?"

"If Old Master Jia has done good, he deserves good in return. Give the Jia clan one chance—find someone to warn Old Master Jia." Huan Zhen stressed the word "one." Yuan Yanshu understood—if this happened again, the minor branch of the clan would be finished.

"I’ll go to the township and have an official deliver the warning."

"And buy more face powder at the county town."

Yuan Yanshu's look said clearly: You already put on enough.

Huan Zhen clicked his tongue. "It’s not for me—it’s for a gift!"

Yuan Yanshu raised his brows and left, wondering if, when Huan Zhen returned to the capital and faced all the noble youths, he would click his tongue just as often.

Most of Huan Zhen’s thoughts lingered on the words in his clan uncle’s letter, not noticing that he’d already picked up the local accent.

The Magistrate had written that the origin of the fugitive bondsman’s bowstrings had been discovered. The criminal came from a minor clan in Xuancheng Commandery known for bow-making. The whole clan had been convicted nearly ten years ago. The case at the time had left the Ministry of Justice suspecting the clan’s secret bowstring craft, but house searches and interrogations turned up nothing—though the suspicion remained in the case files. Those in the clan not directly involved in the main crime had been sentenced to fifteen years.

The reason the criminal had killed the man named Hu was that Hu often harassed a female bondservant, who was the criminal’s beloved. She often wept to him and even contemplated suicide. The criminal's rage grew until he resolved to kill.

The murder was simple. Hu went to the latrine nearly every night at midnight. The criminal lay in wait, bowstring of ox sinew thin and sharp, and strangled Hu in two breaths.

A large cache of hidden bowstrings had since been found. Those involved in the main crime would all be executed; the rest would face heavier sentences. This was why the criminal had tried to bite his tongue and end his own life.

At the end of the letter, the Magistrate gave two instructions:

First, investigate whether the female bondservant was an accomplice in Hu’s murder.

Second, do not accept just a tumbler doll.

"Do not accept just a tumbler doll? What does that mean?" Huan Zhen cast a suspicious glance toward the Wang household. Was it related to Wang Xing’s sister?

That evening, Third Brother Wang returned home haggard, his cheeks chapped purple from the cold. "Ge is back."

"Uncle," Wang Ge had finished unpicking all the mis-sewn seams and, knowing her uncle had words for her grandparents, took her younger cousin Wang Shu and left.

When she came back to the main house, she heard her younger brother in the dim room reciting to their father. She crept over and leaned on the door frame to listen.

"Thus are the rules and systems aligned with the stars above, bringing everlasting peace..." Wang Xing glanced at Wang Ge and beamed, reciting on: "...objects are bestowed with praise, deeds are proclaimed in song... That’s all, father. I only know one passage of the Ode to the Hall of Radiance. Sister!" Although it had only been half a day, he threw himself at her as though they’d been apart for years.

As soon as Wang Ge lifted him up, she heard scolding from the main room.

Wang Dalang: "Has your third uncle returned?"

Wang Ge and her brother sat across from their father. "Yes. He came home on his own."

"Tiger, you needn’t worry about this. Even if Wang Zhu returned with you, your grandfather would send him away again."

"I know. That wretch isn’t worth my concern. I’m just wondering what to make for Magistrate Huan that could ever repay his kindness."

(End of chapter)