Chapter 45: Splitting Bamboo and Sorting Silk

Meanwhile, it must be said that the Jia Landlord’s family was truly well-informed. After the township chief led the convoy out of the village, Jia Dalang Jia Feng drove a cart loaded with freshly harvested vegetables from the fields—radish tops, amaranth, and ginger—to catch up with them.

The township chief did not disappoint the villagers’ goodwill; he readily accepted the produce but insisted on paying Jia Feng according to market price, and certainly not a penny less.

Jia Feng dared not refuse the money, but felt uneasy in his heart.

The township chief said, “Lingran, I have a task to entrust to you.”

Jia Feng was surprised the township chief knew his courtesy name, and hastily replied, “Sir, please instruct me.”

“The incident west of the village must have reached your ears. In a few days, another group of indentured servants will arrive, and the township militia lacks manpower. Go back and tell your grandfather to organize some tenants to assist the militia in supervising road repairs during their free time. The sooner the road is fixed, the sooner the village benefits. Isn’t that so?”

“Rest assured, Sir, I will see to it.”

After the convoy continued on, Jia Lingran puzzled over the cargo, “Why so many bamboo baskets? What are they for?”

Life in a farming household is never-ending. When Yao was in the house, her laziness went unnoticed, but now that she was gone, each family member truly felt the extra burden of work.

The day after the wife was cast out, and the day after that, Wang Sanlang had to go into the wild hills to cut bamboo, gathering bamboo leaves and wolfberry flowers along the way, so busy he had no time to pine for Yao. Feeding the chickens and sweeping the yard fell to Wang Peng and Wang Xing, who teamed up to handle the chores. Wang Ge went out to plant red beans in the fields, all the while pondering next month’s batch of bamboo wares to sell to the traveling merchant.

Since food boxes fetched a high price, she was determined to keep making them, this time adopting a gourd-shaped design for auspicious symbolism. She set a rule for herself: every food box she made would have a unique form, so that wealthy youths wouldn’t face the embarrassment of “matching lunch boxes” during outings, like wearing matching clothes in later generations.

Aside from these practical bamboo wares, she wanted to craft a decorative piece: the “Drunken Immortal Catcher,” known in modern times as the “roly-poly toy.”

According to her previous life’s history, the Drunken Immortal Catcher appeared in the Tang dynasty as a drinking game tool, carved from wood in human shape, slender at the top and broad at the bottom. During banquets, people would spin it, and whoever the wooden figure’s finger pointed to would drink. No records remain of when or by whom it was transformed into the roly-poly toy with a black gauze cap.

Such a thing could not be crafted out of thin air. She first filled an eggshell with millet, letting Tigerhead discover that poking the eggshell wouldn’t topple it. Then, inspiration struck, and she praised her little brother: “You truly are your sister’s lucky star! I just thought up a new novelty, and the merchant will surely buy it.”

“Is it as novel as the rolling lantern or bamboo dragonfly?”

“Yes.”

With a rationale, once Third Uncle returned from cutting bamboo, Wang Ge immediately began preparing the bamboo.

The Drunken Immortal Catcher’s principle was a light top and heavy base, which gave it stability and balance—in truth, easier to imitate than the rolling lantern. To fetch a good price from the merchant, she had to focus on the exterior, weaving the shell from extremely thin and delicate green bamboo strips, adorned with special embellishments to make it exquisite and charming enough to serve as a decorative item.

She first used a bamboo knife to split strips three-tenths of an inch wide (less than a centimeter) and about a foot long, separating the green skin from the inner wall. The inner wall was discarded as waste, while the green skin was layered and soaked in a basin of water. Soaking enhanced the flexibility of the bamboo strips. Drawing on her experience from her previous life, she periodically bent the strips, testing their resilience and refining their pliability to see if they met her standards.

Once she was satisfied with their flexibility, she took them out. With her self-made sharp stone knife, she made a small notch in the bamboo strip, set down the knife, and split the fibers by hand. After splitting this vertical strand, she made a second notch and split again, all by hand.

The entire process—from separating the green skin and inner wall with the bamboo knife to splitting the fibers by hand—was called “preparing the bamboo.”

Each strip was ultimately to be split into ten threads, uniform in thickness. Of course, they could be split even finer, but that would not suit the shell of the Drunken Immortal Catcher.

In her previous life, master bamboo weavers could split bamboo threads until they were as thin as cicada wings, even finer than hair. Wang Ge’s skill was far from that, but since she was still young, diligent practice would surely bring improvement.

All the green skin strips soaking in the basin were split this way. Once done, care had to be taken: those close to the bamboo’s surface were naturally darker, and those near the inner wall lighter, so each had to be stored separately. The color gradation would affect the shell’s transition.

The splitting process demanded total concentration—one lost all sense of time. Wang Ge’s eyes, mind, and heart were wholly immersed, so much so that she didn’t notice her grandfather’s return, nor Tigerhead leading father past her side.

Wang Weng waved his hand, signaling Wang Shu to prepare the evening meal. The old man walked softly to examine the bamboo threads Wang Ge had split, carefully picking one up to feel its softness and holding it to the light to admire the sheen of its grain.

Wang Ge finished the last thread in her hand, only then realizing her grandfather was sitting beside her. “Ah, is it so late already?”

“No rush, I’ve asked Shu to cook dinner. Ge, grandfather wants to ask, do you plan to take the craftsman’s exam this year?”

The craftsman’s exam was held annually at the county, with a fixed date in late September, and registration required by August at the township.

That year, only the top ten new apprentices could register. But each apprentice could only take the craftsman’s exam three times in their life. To avoid wasting opportunities, qualified apprentices usually chose to take the exam the following September.

Wang Ge smiled shyly, “Grandfather saw through me. Yes, I don’t want to wait another year.” She didn’t want to be an older candidate.

Wang Weng stroked the bamboo threads in his hand, saying proudly, “With your skill in splitting bamboo, if you don’t pass the exam, it’s pure blindness on the part of the judges.”

Wang Ge was deeply grateful. “With grandfather’s faith in me, I feel even more confident.”

Wang Weng replaced the thread and lowered his voice, but spoke with utmost gravity, “When you have time, weave a window mat, just like the one the Yao family took last time.”

Wang Ge straightened, “Yes.” Grandfather wouldn’t mention the Yao family for no reason—father must have told him about the suspicions regarding Wang Zhu.

At dinner, the family still struggled to adjust to Yao’s absence; the third household felt it most. Wang Peng managed, but Wang Zhu and the youngest sister were both teary-eyed, sniffling through the meal.

The next morning, all three in the third household woke with swollen eyes, proof of a night spent crying. Nothing could be said to console them. Strictly speaking, for Yao’s misdeeds, being cast out was already mercy.

Today, Wang Erlang didn’t go to the fields; he had to join the neighbors who had harvested flax to go to the town. Every year, the village sold the new flax to the same oil shop, bartering for stored grain—millet or wheat. New grain paid the rent; the remainder was exchanged for old grain to eat. This was the norm for humble farm households.

The wolfberry flowers had filled half a sack and could be sold to the pharmacy or the merchant.

Wang Ge, while simmering bamboo-leaf porridge, kept an eye on the courtyard’s bustle. Seeing Second Uncle about to leave, she rushed out, pressing all her wealth—four coins—into his hand, and whispered as if entrusting a secret mission, “Second Uncle, please buy some pork fat for me.”

“What’s wrong? Is someone ill again?”

“Me.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve come down with a craving.”

Wang Erlang swallowed hard. Oh dear, craving was indeed an affliction—he had caught it too.

Wang Ge never learned to cook in her previous life, nor picked up culinary skills after crossing over. These past years in the kitchen, she cooked nothing but bean porridge and steamed wheat cakes. Her appetite grew, but her body grew thinner. Since four coins couldn’t buy much, she might as well go all in and render pork fat for cracklings.

As for how to render it? She refused to believe that a top apprentice craftsman like herself couldn’t figure it out!