Chapter Seventy: The Protest of the Villagers of Tumen Village

As he stepped out of the bookshop, Gou Ye looked back at everything within, memories vivid and clear. It began here, and it ended here—was this, then, the fate destined for him? Yet, when Gou Ye turned his gaze forward, he could not help but laugh. The bright avenue ahead seemed to offer him an answer.

Both the village and the county town held Gou Ye’s deepest feelings and devotion. If not for the pressure from Magistrate Qin and his wife, Gou Ye truly would not have wished to leave this beloved place so soon. He had even imagined, rather than seeking fortune in a grand city, he might remain here, raise a family, write manuscripts, run a modest business, earn enough for a comfortable life—a beautiful prospect.

Yet, despite these thoughts, plans must be carried out as intended; departure was inevitable. What troubled Gou Ye most now were the villagers’ livelihoods. Every endeavor must have its beginning and its end. Even though he would repay all the silver spent by the villagers, Gou Ye still felt a lingering debt. The thought that many would continue to endure hardship stirred a quiet unease within him.

During supper, Gou Ye watched the maid busy with the dishes. “Xiaodie, you have been with me for some time. I had hoped you might care for my mother, but now that she is gone, here are fifteen taels of silver. It is not quite a month, but I am giving you a full month’s wage. Tomorrow, pack your things and return to the county town to find your own way.”

The maid hurriedly bowed in gratitude. “Young master, you are too generous. Xiaodie does not dare accept so much. Though our days together were few, you have always treated me kindly, never once raising your hand or voice. Xiaodie is grateful and could never accept such a sum.”

Gou Ye pressed the silver into Yun Niang’s hand, and she walked to Xiaodie, gently raising her hand to place the silver in it. Smiling warmly at the young girl who had accompanied her for many days, she said, “Xiaodie, you are about my age. Our family never regarded you as a servant. We are all from humble origins—like sisters, really. Keep this silver, and when you marry one day, you’ll have some savings to draw upon. Accept it, and tomorrow we’ll arrange a cart for you, with Dali to escort you home.”

Xiaodie thanked them both again, gratefully tucking the silver away. Gou Ye let out a long sigh—another arrangement made. “Yun Niang, add some more layers, I want to go up to the roof and look at the night. Will you keep me company?”

The two dressed warmly and leaned on each other atop the roof. The autumn wind was bleak, and the calm of summer was gone; outside, the soft rustling echoed, much like Gou Ye’s present circumstances—scenery still beautiful, but beset by unrest. Yun Niang felt a chill and moved closer to Gou Ye. “Brother Gou Ye, when we go to Yangzhou, who will you bring along?”

Gou Ye thought for a moment. “The journey is long and uncertain. Let’s bring the Guo brothers. Their martial skills are strong and they can protect us. As for Dali, he has an elderly mother to care for, so I hope he stays behind for her sake. There is one thing, Yun Niang, I would like you to handle before we leave—would you?”

“Speak, Brother Gou Ye.”

“These past days, have you noticed Dali coming to our house often, though not to see me? I was curious at first, but this morning I understood. I saw Xiaodie cooking for Dali.”

“Do you mean Dali has feelings for Xiaodie?” Yun Niang asked, surprised. Thinking back, it was just as Gou Ye said—Xiaodie and Dali had been spending much time together lately.

“Not only does Dali care for Xiaodie, but I believe Xiaodie cares for him as well. Did you not see her thoughtful expression when I spoke to her about her dismissal today? To my eye, she wasn’t pondering her future, but the pain of separating from her beloved.”

Yun Niang laughed softly, unexpected delight in her tone. She had not imagined that the maid, brought in almost by chance, might find herself matched. With confidence, she replied, “Don’t worry, Brother Gou Ye, leave it to me. But tomorrow Xiaodie is to be sent away with Dali—how will they have the chance to spend time together?”

Gou Ye slapped his forehead. “Ah! All I thought about was arranging things for her. I only just realized. Then delay Xiaodie’s departure a while—let her stay until after we’ve left. In those days, their matters are yours to manage. Xiaodie is gentle and diligent, and I trust her with Dali’s simple heart.”

“Brother Gou Ye, you often use words I don’t understand. What does ‘simple heart’ mean? And last time you mentioned ‘before liberation’—you never explained that either.” Gou Ye felt awkward, unsure how to clarify, and so pointed up at the sky. “Yun Niang, look—a shooting star!”

The next morning, Gou Ye was still deep in dreams of becoming the god of writers when Dali burst in, waking him abruptly. Dali’s face was tense and urgent as he said, “Young master, trouble! The authorities are here!”

“Are they looking for me again?” Gou Ye asked.

“No, this time it’s the villagers. They’re seizing their tools, almost fighting over them. You’d better hurry and see for yourself.” Hearing this, Gou Ye quickly threw on a coat and ran out, losing a shoe somewhere along the way.

The village was in chaos. Yamen officers and villagers had become a tangled mass, all scrambling for the cooking tools used for making snacks. Even the elderly Village Chief Li was involved. Gou Ye paid no heed to the mud beneath his feet and pushed through the crowd, directing Dali to intervene. With Dali’s shout of “Stop!” everyone gradually ceased their actions.

Gou Ye strode up to the officers and asked in a grave tone, “Sir, what crime have my villagers committed that you would seize our property today? Has our Ming Dynasty no law left, that officers come as thieves?”

A yamen officer produced a writ and announced loudly, “I repeat: By order of the county office, due to recent incidents at snack stalls harming the public, all sales of newly invented snacks are hereby suspended. We are commanded to confiscate all implements used in snack-making, to prevent further trouble and ensure county safety. Any resistance will be dealt with according to the law.”

As soon as the officer finished speaking, the crowd erupted again, protesting the county’s injustice and the officers’ theft of their property, struggling fiercely with the yamen men over their tools. Even Dali’s repeated calls could not quell the turmoil.