Chapter 78: The Young Boy from Xunxi Village

Wang Xing was bent over her desk, writing swiftly. The matter of the compass was not urgent; Wang Ge's self-testing was finished, and from today, she would begin crafting actual rulers, squares, and compasses.

She succeeded in making the ruler and square on her first attempt, having fully understood their segments and outer contours. Without suitable tools, she could only wrap cloth around her bamboo knife and smoothing blade, using them in tandem with a saw.

For drawing lines, she used her younger brother’s carving knife. This knife was a gift from Master Zhang, meant for scraping errors from bamboo slips. Sharp and light, it was extremely handy.

Making the compass was more troublesome. First, she had to draw the entire shape onto a thin wooden board with the carving knife. Magistrate Huan had given her ten compasses, all of the same design: both legs of equal length, the bottom ends pointed, and either leg could fix the center when used. The top connection—the “hinge”—was a round, protruding piece on both sides, requiring carving and polishing.

Wang Ge mused that if the compass were made of bronze or iron, the hinge would surely be adjustable, otherwise it would be too wasteful of materials.

She compared the largest compass after making it, checking it carefully against the mold. Even the circular top was measured with hemp rope, and everything matched. During this comparison, Wang Ge understood what “gu” meant.

A “gu” was the internal angle of a regular hexagon.

When Huan Zhen taught Wang Xing arithmetic, he once mentioned that “six gu” made a “grasp”—referring to a set of bamboo counting rods, totaling two hundred seventy-one. These bamboo rods, in their standard form, combined to make a “grasp.”

At this moment, Wang Xing paused her pen and asked, “Sister, what day is it today?”

“The first day of midwinter.”

“I want to record the date. Once Master reads my letter, he can calculate the distance traveled by carriage. Midwinter, the new moon.”

How pleasant it was to hear the learned speak. Wang Ge, delighted, felt all the more the importance of knowledge and understanding.

On the earthen path past the waterside pavilion, heading toward Jia’s village, Liu Bo trudged along in bulky winter clothes, carrying a heavy bamboo basket filled with cakes, salted meat, preserved beans, meat sauce, and fish paste his mother had steamed and prepared for his uncle. The road was rough; he had stumbled once, tearing a large hole at the leg of his trousers, and each step shook loose reed fluff. Whenever he passed reeds by the roadside, he stuffed more into the hole, dropping as he walked, stuffing as he went, reciting aloud from his books, quite pleased with himself. “Flat at the new moon. Short days, the Pleiades shine, marking midwinter. The people are secluded, birds and beasts grow soft feathers…”

Early afternoon.

At the bend of the clear river beneath the wild hills, a squad of five village soldiers trudged wearily, leading a hunting dog. The dog, called Xie Xiao, had a short snout and excelled at tracking and chasing. They had come from Xunxi village, where the border between the two villages was being repaired. Last night, a bonded man and woman escaped, and through various traces and the dog’s guidance, they had tracked them to Buzhi village.

If Huan Zhen saw these village soldiers, gaunt and ragged, he would surely be grateful for his clan uncle’s mercy. Xunxi was the poorest village in Duyi County, and these five had long worked at the ferry site, exposed to wind and dirt, hair matted, faces grimy, looking like wild monkeys.

Now, as they ran after the dog, they knew they were chasing fugitives, but to outsiders, it might look as if they were simply hunting the dog for food.

In winter, the tenant women washing clothes at the river suffered much; gone were the cheerful voices of summer. At the sight of the hunting dog, they screamed in fright and scattered in panic. The five soldiers pulled the dog close, one shouting, “We are village soldiers from Xunxi. We are hunting a fugitive man and woman. If you see anyone suspicious, report them to your nearest pavilion. Do not shelter strangers!”

One woman, hearing the young voice, laughed and scolded, “You’re strangers yourselves!”

Laughter erupted as the women returned to their washing.

The soldier who had shouted now splashed water on his face, warning the woman from a distance, “We’re serious. The fugitives were bonded laborers repairing roads at Jia’s village—they must have returned.”

The woman quickly pointed, “Young man, just follow this path. There’s a soldier’s camp ahead; the officers at the waterside pavilion are stationed there. The pavilion chief’s surname is Ren!”

The soldier swept aside his messy hair and smiled, “Thank you, lady.”

“Tut-tut… how handsome,” said another woman. Others around her remarked, “How come Xunxi has such young soldiers? I remember there’s a young man surnamed Huan at the waterside pavilion…”

The soldier ran a few steps closer, seeing the women wary again, and stopped to ask, “Sister, did you just say that young soldier’s surname is Huan?”

“Pah, who’s your sister! Yes, Huan, like ‘pay back.’ That surname is unforgettable.”

The soldier ran back, tears streaming in the wind, muttering, “Oh… is it you, Brother Huan? Oh… I’ve suffered so much, oh…”

At this time, Liu Bo arrived at the village’s western soldiers’ camp.

Ren Suzhi, full of concern, unloaded the heavy basket, quickly wrapped his nephew in a quilt, scolding, “Your mother, honestly, why trouble you in this cold? Do you think I’ll starve?”

“Uncle, when will you marry again? Only then will my mother be at ease.” Liu Bo’s face was blue with cold; fortunately he’d caught a ride on a cattle cart, or he’d never have arrived before nightfall.

Ren Suzhi had married twice: one wife died of illness, one in childbirth. Though people had suggested matches, he hadn’t agreed yet. At the mention, he smacked Liu Bo’s head, but his nephew’s dignified composure was no use here. Huan Zhen happened to arrive, saw this, and laughed, feeling even more kinship.

Liu Bo straightened his hair and said, “Ah Zhen, my mother made some meat sauce and fish paste; take some, and there’s fine wheat cakes too.”

Ren Suzhi’s ox eyes widened, shouting, “Weren’t they all for me?”

Liu Bo explained earnestly, “There are three shares. Besides Ah Zhen’s, there’s one for Master Wang. My mother specifically instructed: uncle is family, so he gets the least.”

Such a petty nephew! Ren Suzhi looked at his rough hands and regretted smacking his nephew too soon.

Huan Zhen thought a moment, then suggested, “I owe the Wang family many favors lately. Why not have dinner there tonight and leave the rest of the sauces with them? What do you think? It’s been ages since you saw Master Wang, right?”

Liu Bo nodded, “Good. My mother wants to ask Master Wang for a pair of bamboo hairpins.”

The two, close in age, didn’t bother with elder or younger, chatting as they walked out, “What kind of hairpins?”

“Proper hairpins for tying up the hair.”

“Take yours out, let me see.”

“Meat sauce…”

“Three bamboo leaves, nothing much to look at.”

Tie Feng fetched a large empty basket, poured out the jars of sauce and small pots from Liu’s basket, then untied the cloth bundle of steamed cakes, leaving only two.

With each item Tie Feng took, Ren Suzhi would say, “That’s enough,” or “Almost done.”

“Ha, farewell,” Tie Feng laughed.

Wang Ge had already finished crafting six standardized compasses. With their legs stacked, she gazed at the regular hexagon they formed, wondering if the area inside matched the standard “grasp” of the counting rods.

As for the other nine wooden compasses…was there a theory for them as well? She felt ever more the limits of her knowledge. Weaving mats, planing wood, carving grooves, engraving patterns—these were just the beginnings of carpentry, like the multiplication tables in arithmetic. There was much for her and her brother to learn.

Huan Zhen, Liu Bo, and Tie Feng entered the courtyard.

The elders Wang Weng and Wang Xing were the first to greet them.

Wang Ge went to the main house to help her father out. Though her father’s eyesight was poor and he struggled to move, Liu Bo had met him before and brought much food; as the eldest branch, her father certainly could not hide in his room like the second or third uncle.

“Liu Bo pays respects to grandfather and uncle.” He smiled warmly, looking at Wang Ge. “Greetings, Master Wang, and Brother Xing.”

Wang Xing returned the greeting properly.

Young Jia peeked through the door crack, her thoughts whirling in moments—resentful, angry, and irritable.

She resented how the eldest branch grew ever stronger! At this rate, wouldn’t the second branch be suppressed for life?

She was angry at her daughter’s lack of ambition! How good it would be to stay close to Wang Ge at times like this—how handsome that Liu boy was, his good looks undiminished even by rough clothes. If only her own Ah Shu were two years older… alas.

She was frustrated with Wang Erlang! Such a husband, pleasing to the eye but useless, unable to measure up even to a blind man at crucial moments!

Gu: here means “angle.” The counting rod method recorded in the “Han Calendar Treatise.”

The phrase “Flat at the new moon…” comes from the “Canon of Yao”: Mao, Jue, Yu, Yu. This describes how people in ancient times determined midwinter. After midwinter, all things flourish, and birds and beasts grow soft feathers.

Xie Xiao: an ancient short-snouted dog used for hunting.

(End of chapter)