Chapter 81: One Stone Becomes Five Bushels

Wei Renshi fell into deep contemplation, charting a course for his future.

Lost in thought, he was suddenly startled by the rustling of leaves all around, followed by the sound of something falling from above.

Just as he looked around, something struck the top of his head, sending a sharp pain through him. With a cry, Wei Renshi clutched his head and leapt aside.

As he jumped away, a thought flashed through his mind: Newton was struck by an apple and opened a new world for physics. Now, struck like this, am I to usher in a new Great Tang?

Perhaps it was the lingering influence of his earlier musings, and being struck so suddenly conjured this strange notion.

“Forgive me! Forgive me! Young master, I beg your pardon. This old woman did not see anyone beneath the tree!” A voice called from behind the large tree. Wei Renshi looked up and saw an old woman hurrying down the slope.

She was advanced in years, her steps unsteady as she hurried over, dragging a long bamboo pole, nearly stumbling several times.

“Don’t worry, grandma, it’s nothing,” Wei Renshi reassured her, noticing her age and shabby clothing, realizing she was someone who had lived a hard life.

“Grandma, isn’t it a bit early to be gathering acorns? They’re not ripe yet. You’ll have to wait another two or three months,” he added with a smile.

“So long as you’re unharmed, young master! You gave this old woman quite a scare!” The yellow-haired crone sighed with relief, then with another sigh explained, “I was knocking a few down to see how this year’s acorns are faring. If they grow well, we’ll manage through the winter. If not, I’ll have to sell my eldest girl.”

Wei Renshi was shocked to hear such a dreadful statement in response to his casual question.

“What on earth does acorn harvesting have to do with selling your daughter?” he asked in alarm.

“The tax is due at month’s end. When the officials come to collect, there won’t be a grain left after paying, what with the poor harvest and rain during the wheat cutting,” the old woman replied, her eyes filling with tears. “Then we’ll have to borrow food. After the autumn planting, there’s tax again. After paying tax and repaying the grain, there’ll be nothing left for winter. If the acorns grow well, we can at least fill our stomachs through the cold. If not... my grandson is but a month old, and to see him survive the winter, I’ll have to sell my eldest girl for some grain.”

Wei Renshi glanced at the unripe acorns scattered on the ground.

Though acorns were edible, and their starch content nearly matched that of grain – even their fat, protein, and vitamin content slightly exceeded it – whether made into acorn flour or meal, they were hard to digest and absorb. Their nourishment, therefore, was of little actual benefit.

Moreover, they tasted bitter, and excessive consumption could lead to central nervous system poisoning.

To rely on this for winter...

The old woman stooped to gather the fallen acorns, apologized once more to Wei Renshi, and hobbled off with her bamboo pole.

Wei Renshi’s mood soured, and he turned to descend the hillside, waiting by the roadside below.

After a while, Shi Laoda and the others came down together.

“Young master, the coal here is easy to dig. Only dug less than a zhang down, and it’s all coal,” Shi Laoda reported. “The others found much the same.”

Wei Renshi had already guessed the coal seam lay close to the surface, but hadn’t expected it to be so shallow. No wonder the locals could easily dig up coal for fuel with just a few strikes of a hoe.

“Let’s go back,” Wei Renshi nodded, intending to draw up designs for hand-operated coal diggers and stoves.

The road home passed through several villages before reaching Changgu.

There, Wei Renshi saw that the assistant storekeeper, along with county officials, was already at work collecting grain taxes.

It had been years since the twice-yearly tax law was enacted. Originally, taxes were assessed by currency, but with the government demanding coin and the market short of currency, its value rose while goods depreciated. Farmers were forced to sell silk, grain, or other goods at a loss to pay tax in money, increasing their burden. Several times the government allowed payment in goods instead.

Over time, however, local officials, eager to show results for promotion, devised schemes to extort beyond the legal quotas, levying arbitrary exactions. The tax law, in reality, no longer existed.

“Officer, this is truly a full dan. I weighed it myself. If it weren’t enough, I wouldn’t dare bring it!” an elderly man’s desperate cry caught Wei Renshi’s attention.

“Don’t talk nonsense! It’s clearly only half a dan!” a bailiff cursed, pointing at the old man. “You think you can fool me? Look at the scale!”

The scale did show half a dan. The old man, close to tears, protested, “It really is a full dan! The difference is plain to see…”

“Will you pay or not?” another bailiff shoved the old man aside. “Take this wretch and lock him up! If you don’t pay the full amount, you’ll get the stick and be sent to forced labor!”

A younger man, unable to bear it, stepped forward. “Sirs, I can vouch for him. The grain was weighed before we left home, and a cart holds exactly a dan. If it were only half, it couldn’t fill the cart!”

“Who are you to speak up? Which pauper are you? Bring your tax grain here and let’s see how much it weighs!” sneered a bailiff.

The assistant storekeeper, silent till now, stepped forward and addressed the old man, “You’re short five dou. If you can’t make up the difference, you’ll face the stick and forced labor. Since we’re from the same county, I can help you. I’ll lend you five dou of grain so you can pay your tax, and you can repay me after the autumn harvest. But you’ll have to return more than you borrow. Will you accept?”

With the cangue already around his neck, the old man, aged and frail, would not survive a beating, let alone forced labor.

“I’ll borrow! I’ll borrow!” Tears streamed down his face as he nodded in despair.

Seeing his submission, the bailiffs unlocked the cangue, and one led him away to mark the loan.

The remaining bailiff pointed at the younger man who had spoken up, “Next! Bring your tax grain to be weighed!”

The young man pushed his cart over and unloaded the grain onto the scale. The bailiff immediately glared and barked, “So! You too dare to short the tax! Look at the scale – is this a dan? It’s only half!”

Wei Renshi clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax.

A sudden cold snort came from behind.

Turning, he saw Shi Laoda, eyes blazing with anger as he glared at the bailiffs.

But then his fury faded into dejection, his eyes full of helpless resentment. “It’s the same everywhere,” he muttered.

“Uncle Shi?” Wei Renshi asked.

“They weigh a dan as half, then lend the rest at high interest. Your own grain is stolen, and you must rent it back, paying these vultures for the privilege,” Shi Laoda ground out.

“Everywhere?” Wei Renshi pressed.

“Everywhere.”