Chapter 30: Clothes Make the Man, Tack Makes the Horse

Tie Lei burst out laughing. “Pfft! I…” He’d intended to say that if he were the one doing the combing, there was no way he’d end up with one side of his hair sticking up and the other drooping like a forked branch. But seeing as their young master had fallen on hard times, he couldn’t let his respect slip. So, he changed his words mid-sentence: “I… wouldn’t dare! If the head steward noticed, you’d end up losing another meal as punishment.”

Tie Feng said, “I’ve checked into it—this steward at the Riverside Pavilion is surnamed Ren, given name Li, courtesy name Suozhi. He’s known for being upright and despises nothing more than laziness, trickery, or pampered scions! We’d best tread carefully. Otherwise, not only will we be of no help to you, we might drag you down instead. If Ren Suozhi reports us, we’ll be in real trouble.”

Tie Lei replied, “Exactly. We mustn’t give Magistrate Huan any excuse. If he decides to send you to an empty pavilion, that’s even worse!”

Empty pavilions were usually located in desolate areas overgrown with brambles, meant only for weary travelers to rest—they weren’t staffed with pavilion guards. At night, wild beasts frequently prowled those places.

Tie Lei whispered, “Look—twelfth time he’s scratched himself.”

Huan Zhen, in truth, had gotten lice.

Never in his life had he combed his own hair. After being sent off to the Riverside Pavilion by his uncle, he’d taken extra care at night to keep his hair tied up while he slept. But this morning, the incessant itching had made him scratch till his hair was a mess. The steward on patrol in the stables spotted him and, without a word, hauled him over. Annoyed by the way Huan Zhen tilted his head uncooperatively, the man smacked him on the back of the head, then used his own hands to part the hair, tied it with coarse hemp rope, and fashioned two ridiculous “ram’s horn” knots.

This was just the beginning of his days as a dependent, suffering under another’s roof.

Huan Zhen had considered throwing it all to the wind and heading back to Luoyang, but he quickly suppressed that rash impulse. He wanted to earn his way into the Young Guards on his own merit, to set out on the road to becoming a military commander! Since that dream was unshakable, then he’d have to endure this year of militia training, no matter what.

He was a direct descendant of the Huan clan of Longkang! There was no luxury he dared not enjoy, and no hardship he dared not bear!

Smack!

His lofty resolve was interrupted by a slap on the back. It was Ren Suozhi. “What are you standing there dazed for? Get to the back!”

Only then did Huan Zhen realize he’d unwittingly walked too quickly and ended up far ahead of the measuring cart. He returned to his mule in silence, took out a small bamboo box from his cloth pouch, scooped a dab of bitter greens paste, and let the sharp, earthy flavor flood his mouth and mind, hoping its bitterness would mask the taste of endurance.

The road was difficult today; Madam Jia hurried her sons and daughters-in-law down the slope early, making sure they’d be home in time to cook supper.

A wooden shelter had already been set up against the wall of the main house. Wang Ge, beaming, thanked her grandfather. With Lady Jia absent, Wang Shu felt at ease helping in the kitchen. Both young women were quick and capable—they soon had the cakes steamed and pickles mixed.

The courtyard was still damp, so the family ate in the storage room.

Yao repeatedly pinched her husband Wang San under the table, forcing him at last to ask, “Second Brother, did you… did you take a gift to apologize to your wife this morning?”

“A gift?” Second Brother Wang feigned innocence.

Yao couldn’t hold back. With a forced smile, she said, “Oh, come now, don’t play dumb. This morning, you came out of your uncle’s room with a huge bundle in your hands. Now, I know, if your uncle gives you something, I shouldn’t pry…”

Old Wang glanced at his wife. Madam Jia caught the cue and cut her off. “Then don’t ask! If you’re so capable, go back to your own family and see if I let San bring you a gift to fetch you home!”

Wang Ge, Wang He, Wang Shu, and Wang Xing all buried their heads in their bowls at once.

Grandmother had struck just the right note!

Yao awkwardly wiped the smile from her face. Her husband was indeed soft-eared and indecisive, but not just when it came to her—he was even more so with his parents! If she really went home to her family, with the distance and the passing of time, Wang San might well divorce her and remarry!

After the meal, Wang Ge took advantage of the remaining daylight to weave bamboo fans, teaching Wang Shu as she worked. When night fell, the sisters tidied the storage and kitchen rooms together, chatting and laughing. Wang Ge deliberately ate less at supper, saving half a cake for after she fetched water at night, knowing that otherwise, hunger would keep her from sleeping.

Wang Shu didn’t accompany her to fetch water; the younger girl was too timid, afraid of both the well and the dark.

The well to the north of the village had some houses nearby, but no enclosed courtyard—just two lonely rooms. The owner, a man in his seventies with a lame leg, had lived alone for years. Few in the village knew his surname, so over time, everyone referred to him as “the old widower.”

Fortunately, the Jin dynasty had strict laws on care for the elderly: anyone over seventy was exempt from taxes and labor; those over sixty who were widowed, orphaned, or solitary were to receive regular grants of grain and cloth from the government; those unable to support themselves could be housed in county pavilions and provided for by the state.

The old widower’s two rooms had been built for him at public expense.

Usually, he rarely showed himself when villagers fetched water, but tonight was different—the dozen pavilion guards from Riverside Pavilion had to squeeze into the two rooms by the well for the night. Disliking the noisy crowd, the old man sat by the path where Wang Ge would pass, casting a shadow that startled her. “Sir, the mosquitoes are thick tonight—why are you sitting out here?”

“There are a bunch of militia boys at the well. A young woman like you would be scared; I’ll go with you.” The old man spoke with a whistle, teeth missing. He leaned on his peach-wood cane, tapping the ground with every step.

Wang Ge’s face lit up with delight. “You’ve received your peach-wood cane, sir! Congratulations!”

“Heh heh, the steward brought it himself. Ah, old as I am, I’d forgotten I was seventy already!”

Tap, tap, tap!

High in the big tree near the well, Tie Lei yawned. “Here we go again. Ever since he got that cane, the old fellow comes along every time someone fetches water.”

“If I live to seventy,” Tie Feng said, “I’ll show off even more—walk all over the Jin realm with my peach-wood cane!”

“Pfft!” Tie Lei chuckled, shaking the leaves.

Huan Zhen cleared his throat, and Tie Lei immediately quieted down.

When Wang Ge arrived, she saw several large mule carts lined up along the eastern wall of the rooms. Men moved back and forth by the well, some wearing flat-topped headgear, marking them as low-ranking military officials.

She gave the scene a quick glance and dared not look further. The water bucket was in Huan Zhen’s hands; when he saw a villager approach, he passed the bucket over. They exchanged the bucket in silence, neither meeting the other’s gaze, until Tie Lei exclaimed softly, “Huh? That young lady…”

Wang Ge was startled. She hadn’t expected anyone to be up in the tree above her! Huan Zhen glared at Tie Lei, then, turning back, locked eyes with her.

Wang Ge bit her back teeth to keep from laughing aloud. Clothes really do make the man. How once valiant and handsome this youth had been—now look at him, so bedraggled! His uniform was filthy, and who had done his hair in those ridiculous ram’s horns? Was it vengeance? One stuck upright, the other wilted and drooping.

“What are you doing here, sir?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Yes.” Wang Ge quickly hoisted her water and left. They had only met twice before, and she didn’t even know his surname—best not to be nosy. As for a young nobleman switching between plain clothes and the garb of a pavilion guard, that was certainly not her concern.

When Wang Ge came for her second trip, the old widower was once again at the little fork in the path. “Sir, why are you still here?”

The old man got up nimbly. “The well is full of boys from other villages. I’ll walk you over.”

Tap, tap, tap!

“Hurry up, what are you dawdling for?” the old widower urged, tapping the ground as he went.

Tap, tap, tap!

Wang Ge realized what was going on—the old man just wanted to show off his peach-wood cane, the symbol of longevity!

Huan Zhen, as the lowest-ranking guard, wasn’t bullied outright, but all the odd jobs—cleaning the sleeping quarters, feeding the mules, mucking out—fell to him, leaving no time for rest.

In the pitch dark, holding a dustpan full of dung, he had no idea where to dump it.

Tie Feng and Tie Lei dared not help him. When Wang Ge arrived with the old widower, Huan Zhen asked, “Sir, where should I dump this?”

“I’ll show you,” the old man replied, tapping his cane as he led the way.

“Hurry up, what are you dawdling for?”