Chapter 79: Struggle! Water Caltrop!

Those with narrow minds see narrowness in all around them. Old Master Wang had all his sons and daughters called out; after a brief and informal greeting, Wang Shu assisted her grandmother in the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.

After Wang Erlang spread the straw mat from the storage room in the courtyard, Wang Sanlang brought over the mat from his own room, rolling it up and adding it on top for extra warmth. Sitting in the courtyard now was brighter and warmer than being indoors.

Liu Bo explained his purpose to Wang Ge: “My mother wishes to have a hairpin-pen made.”

The hairpin-pen, ostensibly a hair ornament, was truly designed for writing on the go. Yet in the Jin Dynasty, such an item was forbidden to commoners—only officials who regularly wrote were permitted to wear one.

Sensing Wang Ge’s confusion, Liu Bo continued without prompting: only the pen shaft was to be crafted, a round rod six inches long, tapered at the top and thicker at the base for securing in the hair. The pen-holder and nib he would make himself.

“Master Wang, please subtly mark your name on the shaft. My mother said you are the very first first-class artisan in the Jin, perhaps the only one—your distinguished name should travel far. Once the hairpin-pen is finished, we will have it sent by express post to the capital’s Imperial Academy for my father before the twelfth month. If you later become the youngest master craftsman in the Jin, this pen will be even more precious.”

How pleasing the words of scholars! Old Master Wang and Wang Xing were both visibly moved. Truth be told, ever since Wang Ge had earned the first-class artisan title, gossip in the village had taken a sour turn. Many wondered why a first-class artisan, when even the lowest could find work at the workshop, would stay at home all day, not even visited by peddlers anymore.

Wang Dalang, standing at the kitchen door, called to his mother working inside, “Mother, did you hear? Hu Bao is truly capable.”

Madam Jia was so happy tears welled in her eyes. “I heard.”

“Brother Liu, rest assured, I shall begin at once,” Wang Ge replied, understanding the honor Liu Bo bestowed. He had never imagined Liu’s father was at the Imperial Academy—the scholars’ counterpart to the craftsman’s ideal Ministry of Works! Truly remarkable.

Huan Zhen chimed in with praise: “Good fortune comes in pairs. Please, Master Wang, could you make a ruler for me? Subtly marked, no need for etched lines. My old one broke a few days ago—struck Tiger Head and rapped your hand too hard.”

All joy vanished from Wang Ge and her brother’s faces, their heads drooping.

Wang He, peering from the storage room, let out a snicker, silenced by Wang Erlang’s glare.

Old Master Wang was about to change the subject when suddenly someone dashed into the courtyard. The newcomer flung himself toward Liu Bo, sitting with his back to the gate, crying, “Brother Huan! Oh, I’ve finally found—” Wait, was it not?

Huan Zhen tilted his head, “A Tian?”

Wang Tian turned, startled, then moved closer, “Brother Huan? What’s happened to you?”

“Better than you.”

“You don’t know what I—”

“Wait!” Huan Zhen called Wang Xing over, placed his hands on the little one’s shoulders, and set him before Wang Tian. “This is my junior apprentice. Xing, greet Brother Wang.”

“Greetings, Brother Wang. I am Wang Xing, named for the water plant, resilient in water!”

Wang Tian replied blankly, “I am Wang Tian—Tian, for peace.”

Peaceful, indeed—so oblivious! Huan Zhen held out his hand. “Meeting gift.”

“Oh.” Wang Tian wiped his nose with his left hand, rummaged in his clothes with his right, and produced a small, gray-white token made of beast bone, round at the bottom and adorned with cloud patterns at the top. Embarrassed, he explained, “I’ll give this to you now, little brother. When I return… once I’m admitted to the county guard camp, I’ll get you something better.”

Before Wang Xing could accept it, Huan Zhen took it and handed it to Old Master Wang. “This is his tally. Tomorrow I’ll have Tie Feng take Erlang to Qinghe Village—with this tally, you could trade for a whole ox.”

Everyone in the Wang family who heard this—well, even days later, when Wang Erlang returned with an ox and a cart full of grain, it felt like a dream.

For now, the family only felt gratitude; none dared to dwell on it.

While Wang Tian tearfully recounted his months of hardship to Huan Zhen, Wang Ge took advantage of the light to return to her room and craft the hairpin-pen. She had made such things before in her past life—without the pen-holder or nib, it took less than a quarter of an hour to shape. Afterward, she paused, sighing softly. In both past and present lives, she dreaded owing favors, yet now she owed young Liu more than ever before.

As for subtly marking her name, artisan rules forbade those below the master’s rank from inscribing their names on their work.

So she would carve a vine.

People often said vines signified entanglement, but to her, they meant resilience, enduring wind and rain, and spoke of unyielding self-strength!

Huan Langjun’s bamboo ruler was finished alongside it, also engraved with a vine. This vine spiraled around one end—making it easier to grip and, hopefully, discouraging him from using that end to rap her brother’s hand.

Outside, after Wang Tian finished his outburst, his mood soared. He was quick to join the kitchen crowd, sweetly calling out “Granny.” Madam Jia, moved with pity, stuffed a piping-hot flatbread with meat sauce for him, mixed hot water for him to wash his face, tied his hair into twin horns like Huan Zhen’s, and fetched out Wang He’s newly mended winter clothes for Wang Tian to wear—fortunately, they fit.

Once tidied up and returning to the courtyard, everyone realized how handsome Wang Tian truly was.

No less than Liu Bo!

Young Lady Jia peeked through the door crack, pacing anxiously. Ah, this silly Ah Shu, as clueless as her father! This handsome young man, being friends with Huan Langjun, was surely no ordinary village guard—yet Ah Shu only cared about cooking in the kitchen, not even circling the courtyard a couple of times!

As the sun set, everyone moved indoors. The guests had come chiefly to deliver food; apart from Wang Tian who gorged himself, the rest ate little before taking their leave.

Huan Zhen took the bamboo ruler, Liu Bo accepted the hairpin-pen, and after walking three dozen paces from the courtyard, both turned back to see the Wang family still standing at the gate, seeing them off.

Wang Tian waved, “Grandpa, Granny, Sister Ge, Brother Xing, I’ll be back!”

Just then, Ren Suzhi arrived with Cheng Shuang and a few others, lanterns in hand. “You must return immediately—the two escaped convicts are still at large!”

Wang Tian had already explained why he had come to Bubuzhi Village. Huan Zhen and Liu Bo acknowledged and then heard the sound of hooves.

At this hour, most farmers had finished their supper. With Ren Suzhi’s group silent, the surroundings were extremely still.

The hoofbeats grew heavier, approaching. It was Yuan Yanshu, leading his horse. The beast was unsaddled, and two people lay draped across its back, motionless. “Constable Ren, I’ve caught them. They tried to steal grain from the old widower’s house, so I knocked them out.”

Ren Suzhi examined their faces—they matched the descriptions from the Xunxi Village guards. After bowing in thanks, he said, angry and anxious, “I’d ordered thorough patrols at the springs and other places. Seems these two scoundrels were wary as well.”

“Yes, they’re clever. The old widower rents out a room; that family has a son who loudly recites at the well. When the patrols passed by, these servants would wait for the boy’s reading, guessing the constable had left, then slip out from hiding.”

Ren Suzhi thanked him again.

Yuan Yanshu glanced at Huan Zhen, who understood and walked to the roadside.

Tie Feng followed, the two men still avoiding each other’s gaze and words.

“Huan Langjun, while watching the fugitives, I overheard the tenants at the old widower’s house—truly detestable. The young master there is a cousin of that fool Jia Feng, the very one who bribed the township officials about the rolling lantern. Jia Feng was punished by the family elder, and this one too was beaten half to death—the whole family driven from their ancestral lands east of the village. The young master, old enough for matchmaking, heard of Little Lady Wang’s reputation as a craftsman two months ago, but back then, emboldened by Jia Feng’s influence, he hesitated to propose. Now, in hardship, he regrets it, and schemes to have his son approach Master Wang by underhanded means. He said if subtlety fails, he’ll pester relentlessly, and if that fails, approach another of the Wang daughters.”

“I see.” Huan Zhen folded his arms, paced a step away, then back, having made up his mind. “If a son is raised poorly, the blame lies not with the child. If so, let the son lose his father and see if he changes. If not, then the mother must lose her son, and the son his child.”

Family titles: According to the “Yan Family Teachings: Conduct,” in the Wei and Jin periods, “my father” and “my mother” were humble ways of referring to one’s parents. By the late Northern and Southern Dynasties, these titles fell out of use.

Tally tokens: In the Qin and Han, tallies were used for imperial commands, such as tiger tallies. Later, they indicated identity; the earlier-mentioned “transit pass” was a travel document.

(End of chapter)