Over at Xing Yue’s place, the little one, Qingguo, was fairly easy to soothe.

He took the bib off the string and fastened it around the child’s neck. Then, using a small wooden bowl and spoon, he fed him the milk kept warm in the pottery cauldron. Qingguo stopped wailing and cheered up again; after each spoonful, he’d give him a silly grin—he was simply adorable.

Xing Yue couldn’t help but laugh at the sight and teased him, “You sure know how to be cute!” Of course, Qingguo didn’t understand a word of it.

With his eyes half-closed and his little fists clenched, his chubby cheeks radiated the contentment and peace of mind that comes from drinking milk. After he finished, Xing Yue coaxed him to pee, then picked him up and began walking around the backyard.

The Qingheng family’s backyard was vast.

To the west stood a fortress wall, and inside it grew several thick, towering trees. At the base of the wall beneath the trees, a row of shrubs had taken root. Now that the leaves had fallen for the season, only bare branches remained, and Xing Yue couldn’t tell what kind of trees they were.

To the east lay a spacious courtyard with sandy, gravelly soil; the ground was clear of clutter, smooth and clean. In the center of the courtyard stood a large drying house riddled with holes; through the gaps, one could faintly make out the grapevines hanging inside.

Further east lies the earthen wall separating them from Jiu-ger’s house. Leaning against the wall are a stack of firewood and a large haystack. The firewood consists of saxual and tamarisk branches; the haystack is half straw and half alfalfa.

Unlike the front yard, the back yard was enclosed by a high wall, as tall as a grown man. From Qingheng’s house, one could not see into Jiu-ger’s backyard.

A short distance south of the drying house stood another earthen wall, over a person’s height, with a door cut into it. Xing Yue had gone inside last night and knew it housed an outhouse, overgrown with shrubs. Further south lay the fortress wall.

The entire compound was remarkably spacious, as if the land were free.

Xing Yue couldn’t even imagine how much such a large plot of land would cost in a modern city.

Meanwhile, in the spacious courtyard, Jiu-ger—who had somehow managed to climb over the wall—was now sitting on the sandy ground outside the drying house with Xing Zhao, both of them engrossed and full of enthusiasm. Unable to communicate, they were each chattering away to themselves as they played in the sand.

“I’m Daddy, and you’re Baby. This is the house I built for you, and the food I made…” Jiu-ger pointed at a piece of wood on the ground with one little finger, then scooped up a handful of sand with the other and fed it to Xing Zhao’s mouth.

Xing Zhao leaned in, smacked his lips a few times, and laughed, “I’m all done!”

Then, unable to wait any longer, he scooped up a handful of sand with both hands and held it to Jiu-ger’s mouth: “This time, I’ll be your Daddy, and you be the baby. I made this rice—it’s better than yours. Have a taste~.”

Jiu-ger also leaned in, smacked his lips, took a bite, and looked up at Xing Zhao with sparkling eyes: “Thank you, Daddy. It’s so yummy.” Xing Zhao’s eyes crinkled with joy as he replied in a babyish voice: “Thank you, Daddy. Yours is delicious too.”

Xing Yue：“……”

Don’t ask why Xing Yue, who doesn’t understand the dialect of Xizhou, could understand the conversation.

He simply figured it out on his own based on the context and Xing Zhao’s words.

However, after glancing at Xing Zhao’s clothes, Xing Yue’s mouth twitched as he closed his eyes and turned on his heel to walk back.

Damn it, spoiling the kid’s fun—but if he didn’t scold him… he simply couldn’t stand the surge in his blood pressure.

He could just imagine Xing Zhao taking off his clothes at night and shaking off several pounds of dirt.

Fortunately, Qingguo in his arms was quite sensible; in no time at all, his eyelids drooped, his little mouth pursed, and he fell asleep.

Xing Yue took just one look and couldn’t help but feel his heart melt—children really are creatures that are both a hassle and inexplicably adorable. Any normal person who spends even a little time with them would find it impossible not to like them.

Xing Yue removed Qingguo’s bib, carried him to the room where he slept, laid him on the bed, tucked him in, and then headed back out to the front courtyard.

“Asleep already?” Qingheng asked, lowering his voice as he turned to look at him.

“Mm-hmm.” Xing Yue walked over to him, glanced at the grain in the winnowing basket he and Lady Wang were holding, and asked in surprise, “Aren’t gera and the women supposed to be exempt from taxes?”

He had already finished reading the legal code excerpts, but it was better not to have looked at them—once he did, he was completely confused.

Why did Qingheng say he was going to pay taxes with Lady Wang? Didn’t the Code of Laws stipulate that only able-bodied men had to pay taxes? They shouldn’t have to pay.

“We really don’t have to pay?” Upon hearing this, Lady Wang shot him a surprised look and muttered angrily to Qingheng, “I heard from others that we don’t have to pay—we never did in previous years. Why did they start this year?”

“What on earth is this?” Lady Wang said, furious. In a fit of rage, she scooped a pebble out of the winnowing basket and slammed it down on the ground. “How dare they treat us like this!”

She was speaking the dialect of Xizhou, which Xing Yue couldn’t understand, but he could clearly see that she was both furious and deeply troubled.

“Is it written in the laws?” Qingheng asked Xing Yue.

“Yes,” Xing Yue nodded, puzzled. “Didn’t you know?”

“I know.” Qingheng looked down and tossed the pebble in her hand aside. “Lizheng mentioned it; I just wanted to confirm.”

Xing Yue：“……”

Then why ask? He wasn’t quite sure.

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “How much do we have to pay?”

“Two shi of millet, twenty days of corvée labor, and two zhang of silk for each able-bodied male,” Qingheng replied. “Lady Wang and I pay half of what a male would pay—two shi of millet.” 

“That’s not too bad,” Xing Yue mused. “It’s not much, but…” Why do you two look so glum?

Before he could finish, Qingheng and Lady Wang interrupted him loudly: “What are you talking about?”

Though they spoke different languages, their gazes—united in purpose—were filled with shock and disbelief. Xing Yue instinctively understood what Lady Wang had said and realized that both were questioning him—and were very angry.

He looked completely bewildered, unsure of what he had said wrong: “I said… what’s wrong?”

Lady Wang clenched her teeth, eyeing him up and down with contempt. Her voice was full of resentment: “You’re quite a handsome fellow, my dear, but you’re completely devoid of any human warmth.”

She had been speaking the dialect of Xizhou until now, but this time she switched to Mandarin. Her speech was halting and heavily accented—clearly, she could understand it but had little ability to speak it herself. She had switched to Mandarin specifically so that Xing Yue could hear her.

After speaking, she slammed the winnowing basket down, glared furiously at Xing Yue, picked up the winnowing basket, and turned to leave.

“…Hey!” Qingheng reached out to stop her, but Lady Wang was clearly furious and marched back to her room without looking back. Qingheng: “……”

Xing Yue：“……”

Qingheng turned and glared at Xing Yue.

Xing Yue sensed his gaze and instinctively took a step back, feeling a little guilty. “What’s wrong?” Had he let something slip?

Instead, Qingheng eyed him up and down, rolled his eyes, and picked up the winnowing basket, heading toward the storeroom.

Seeing no suspicion in his eyes, Xing Yue breathed a sigh of relief, caught up to him, and walked side by side: “Did I say something wrong?”

He paused, then asked, “What did she mean by that last remark she made about me just now?”

Qingheng glanced at him sideways. “What do you think it meant?”

“I think she was cursing me.”

“No, she was complimenting you.”

Xing Yue didn’t believe him: “Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm,” Qingheng said calmly. “She was complimenting you—saying you look like a god.”

But as he spoke, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Xing Yue: “……”

“How can you be so out of touch with reality?” Qingheng laughed and laughed, then stopped, glaring at him in exasperation.

“Looks like she’s just scolding me,” Xing Yue said with certainty this time, then added with a hint of irritation, “What gives her the right to scold me? I didn’t say anything that bad.”

Qingheng：“……”

He took a deep breath and began to explain: “She only has fifteen mu of land in total. Five of those are dry fields with poor soil that need to be left fallow every other year. The remaining ten mu are common fields, of which two mu are top-grade common fields planted with grapes, and eight mu are medium-grade common fields suitable for growing grain. But whether it’s wheat or millet, the yield per mu is just over one shi, so her total annual income is only nine shi. She and Jiu-ger eat very little, so nine shi is barely enough to keep them from going hungry—how could they possibly afford to pay taxes? If they paid them, they’d have to go hungry.”

Xing Yue had read the legal codes and understood the distinction between butian fields and private fields, yet she was still astonished: “Only a little over one shi per mu?”

And… do they really eat that much grain in a year?

Even a modern person eating as much as possible wouldn’t consume three shi in a year.

Of course, realizing that this remark might be problematic, he stopped himself in time and didn’t voice it.

Qingheng: “……”

Just how out of touch with reality must this man be, not even knowing the grain yield per mu?

But when he thinks about it, he supposes he can understand.

After all, he’s the son of a high-ranking official, living a life of privilege every day.

It’s we common folk who really find it utterly baffling.

To him, they didn’t even seem human: “Do you lot grow up drinking dew every day?” No wonder they’re always raising taxes.

The common folk don’t have three heads and six arms; even if they pour all their sweat into the fields, they might barely harvest a little over a shi per mu—and that’s if they’re lucky. Xing Yue caught the sarcasm in his words and felt awkward: “I thought the yield per mu would be higher.”

He had studied how low grain yields were in ancient times, but in modern times, the average yield for wheat was over a thousand jin per mu, and while millet was a bit lower, it still typically yielded five or six hundred jin per mu. Converted, that meant yields of around ten shi and five or six shi per mu—he was used to those figures.

He hadn’t expected this era to be one where yields barely exceeded one shi per mu.

After a pause, he was at a loss for words: “And you said she wasn’t cursing at me? She was basically calling me a monster!”

Qingheng：“……”

He wanted to laugh but held it in, glaring at him. “Can’t she even scold you?” 

Xing Yue: “……”

The two glared at each other, but as they stared, they couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Forget it.” Qingheng went into the storeroom, pouring the sorted millet from the winnowing basket into a burlap sack while sighing helplessly and muttering, “Who told you to say those words?”

“But,” he said, as if a thought had just occurred to him. He suddenly looked up and warned Xing Yue with a serious expression, “Once I’m out the door, don’t you go wandering around aimlessly.” 

“Why?” Xing Yue quickly helped him hold the sack steady so he could pour out the grain.

Confused by the question, he lifted his eyelids to look at him.

“You ask why?” Qingheng rolled his eyes at him. “I’m afraid the moment you open your mouth, the villagers will beat you up.”

Xing Yue：“……”

After that, Qingheng didn’t leave the room; he stayed in the storeroom sorting through the grain. Xing Yue squatted across from him, helping to pick out small pebbles.

But as they worked, the world began to spin before his eyes, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded.

“Don’t you get dizzy from crouching on the ground?” Xing Yue said, and just then, everything went black before his eyes.

He managed to grab a nearby burlap sack just in time, barely preventing himself from collapsing to the ground. Instead, his whole body went limp as he leaned against the sack and plopped down onto the floor.

Qingheng hadn’t expected him to faint so suddenly. He froze for a moment, then hurriedly stood up and walked over to him. He placed a hand on his forehead and asked with concern, “Are you okay?” Xing Yue shook his head. It took a while before he felt the strength return to his arms.

He raised his hand to his forehead, pressing his temples firmly with his thumb and middle finger. After a while, the ground stopped spinning, the dizziness faded, and the sparks before his eyes cleared. “I’m okay!”

Qingheng, worried about him, took his arm. “Let me help you to bed.”

“I’ll go out to the kang.” Xing Yue wanted to catch some sunlight.

It was pitch-black inside the room, and he felt his dizziness would only worsen there.

“Don’t they have chairs in Xizhou?” Xing Yue asked.

He really can’t squat anymore. He was fine sitting on the kang all morning, but after squatting for just a moment, he started to collapse. If there were a chair, he wouldn’t be so frail.

With a chair, Qingheng could sit down to work, too.

And…

Xing Yue thought of Qingguo.

The little one can’t stay on Qingheng’s back all the time, can he?

“A chair?” Qingheng didn’t quite catch what he meant. 

Xing Yue: “……”

Alright, he gets it. It’s probably just another tool that hasn’t caught on yet.

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “We’re going to the county seat tomorrow. Could you buy me some paper and a pen?”

Qingheng didn’t answer, just tilted his head and stared at him curiously, speaking frankly: “I don’t have much money; I can’t afford to support your studies.”    

“No, that’s not it…” Xing Yue knew he’d misunderstood, but under the gaze of those clear, open eyes, he felt a bit embarrassed: “I just want to draw a…”

He paused, thinking of how Qingheng had provided him and Xing Zhao with free food and lodging, treated them when they were sick, and would later help support Xing Zhao—he had already done everything in his power and been as kind and generous as possible. Xing Yue shouldn’t ask for too much; that would be taking advantage of the situation.

He gave an awkward smile, trying to backtrack: “On second thought, it’s not really necessary. Never mind, don’t bother buying it. Thanks for your trouble.”

Qingheng stared at him for a moment, said nothing more, nodded, then bent down to help him up.

Back in the front courtyard, they took off their shoes and settled onto the kang. Qingheng then brought out the quilt she’d bought the day before, draped it over him, and tucked it in. Just then, Lady Wang’s somewhat cold voice drifted over: “What’s wrong with him?”

Xing Yue looked up and saw that Lady Wang had already come out of the house and was winnowing grain in the courtyard next door. Chaff and dust were flying everywhere, and she was staring at them with a cold expression, her eyes scanning them from head to toe.

Her gaze was anything but friendly.

Qingheng, however, didn’t seem to mind; completely unfazed by her attitude, he smiled. “He suffered a severe head injury and is physically weak. He fainted just now, so I helped him over here to rest.”

“Madam, please don’t be angry about what happened just now.” He smiled, his voice unconsciously taking on a pleading, almost pleading tone: “He’s injured and has lost his memory. And can’t recall many things—that’s why he spoke out of turn. He wasn’t trying to rub salt in our wounds on purpose, so please don’t hold it against him.”

“He’s lost his memory?” Lady Wang was taken aback. She paused in her winnowing and stared at Xing Yue from head to toe. Xing Yue didn’t understand, so he just gritted his teeth and let her scrutinize him with an innocent expression.

Seeing his face—as pretty yet as clueless as Qingguo—Lady Wang paused, then rolled her eyes. “No wonder he’s so stupid.”

Xing Yue：“……”

Although he couldn’t understand the words, he could certainly read the roll of the eyes.

He looked at Qingheng with an accusing gaze: Did she just insult me again? 

Qingheng: “……”

He could only roll his eyes too: Just bear with it.

Xing Yue：“……”

Seeing him at a loss for words, Qingheng raised an eyebrow at him and flashed a smug smile.

Watching the two of them exchange flirtatious glances and playfully tease each other, Lady Wang sighed, “If you keep this up, he’ll run off with you sooner or later.” 

“No way,” Qingheng said, dropping his smug expression and snorting confidently. “If anyone’s running off, it’ll be me luring him away.” Lady Wang rolled her eyes and scoffed, “You’re just being stubborn!”

Then she turned on her heel, humming a little tune as she went back into her room.

Xing Yue was completely baffled the whole time, having no idea what had just happened. Their neighborly relationship had thawed like ice, and they were on good terms again.

After resting for a while, Xing Yue felt he was mostly recovered, so he called Qingheng out of the storeroom again. He placed the winnowing basket on the bedside table and sat on the bed to help sort through the pebbles.

Half a day passed quickly.

Two people working together were faster than one.

Not long after lunch, the three stones of millet were all sorted and packed into burlap sacks.

“Why three shi?” Xing Yue asked, puzzled.

He had originally thought they were gathering extra for food, but seeing Qingheng about to load all three sacks onto the cart, he couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Qingheng spread a filthy, almost colorless piece of burlap over the rented cart, and Xing Yue helped him smooth it out.

“The villagers say the officials are picky,” Qingheng said. He crouched down, hoisted a sack onto his back with a heave, walked to the doorway, and, leaning sideways, set it down on the parked cart. “If we hand over two shi and they’re not satisfied after inspecting it, we might have to spread out a piece of burlap there and sift out two shi all over again until they’re satisfied.”

“Is it really that much trouble?” Xing Yue asked in surprise.

“Hmm. If everything goes smoothly, we might pass in just one or two tries,” Qingheng said. “If things don’t go well, we might have to spend the night in the county seat and continue the next day.”

Xing Yue：“……”

“In that case, we’ll need you to keep an eye on things at home,” Qingheng reminded him earnestly. “We have two children. If thieves break through the fortress walls, shout as loud as you can—don’t go after them alone. The villagers will usually come out when they hear you, and we’ll all fight the thieves together.”

“Alright,” Xing Yue said.

“If you encounter a thief from the village,” Qingheng’s gaze grew a bit cold, but his words still made Xing Yue feel uneasy, “just ask him what he’s doing. He usually won’t dare to continue. Remember not to get into a fight—wait for me to return.”

For some reason, Xing Yue felt as though his words were spoken through gritted teeth. He nodded. “Alright.”

Qingheng couldn’t resist teasing him. “Why are you so well-behaved? You just say ‘okay’ to everything. Lady Wang even said you’d trick me into running away, but looking at you like this, I might be the one getting tricked into running away at any moment.”

With that, he burst out laughing.

Xing Yue：“……”

Who knows which one of us will end up running off with the other?

The two chatted and laughed as they worked. After loading the grain, they loaded a large sack of alfalfa hay onto the cart—this was the old horse’s rations. Later, when Qingguo woke up from his afternoon nap, Xing Yue kept him entertained while Qingheng went to the water pond to fetch two buckets of water, filling the water jar.

The two of them divided the tasks: one took care of the baby and tended the fire, while the other made pancakes and cooked the meal. By the time Lady Wang from next door returned with the cart from A-Jia’s house, Qingheng’s family had already finished eating, and everything was ready.

Qingheng took Jiu-ger and Xing Zhao with him, herded the two families’ sheep to Jiang Liu’s house, and then went to the village chief’s house to return the winnowing basket and report their plans. After finishing all this, he went to bed early that night.

At the sound of the gong in the third watch of the night, he exchanged a few words with Xing Yue, who had risen to see them off, then met up with Lady Wang, and they went together to Jiang Liu’s house. Soon after, the fortress gate opened, and the five or six men, women, and gers from the three families set off in the dark, driving their carts in a grand procession to the county seat to pay this year’s taxes.

Meanwhile, Xing Yue, left alone to care for the child, faced a very eventful—and rather trying—day as the villagers came to observe him.