Chapter 7: He Scoops Manure, I Hold the Handle—We Are Both Unmarried Men

The night was beautiful. A gentle breeze stirred the air, and fireflies flickered softly.

The elderly parents, having toiled in the fields all day, complained at mealtime of aching arms and legs; now they had finally rested.

The girls of the household sat obediently beneath the jujube tree.

The eldest sister-in-law, like a patient teacher in a classroom, tirelessly instructed the young girls in the art of needlework.

If a mistake was made, she was never angry, simply coming forward to gently rub the child's head as a mild reprimand.

The men sat in the courtyard, chatting animatedly while repairing farm tools.

The eldest brother took center stage, flanked by Ping An and Xiao Huan, while Li Hu stood nearby attending to their needs.

Once, the eldest brother had dreamed of a military life, but after a harsh kick from the old patriarch, he was forced into a farmer’s existence. More than half his life had passed since then, and whenever he recalled it, all he felt was regret.

At this moment, he was sharpening a manure fork against a stone, with his eldest nephew Li Liang crouched beside him, steadying the handle.

Seeing the family gathered harmoniously, the eldest brother was struck with rare melancholy. “Time flies swiftly. People, like this fork, rot away. No matter how often you grind it, it no longer holds its former sharpness.”

“In my heart, it should be a halberd, capable of leading me on the battlefield...”

Li Ping An teased, “Big brother, that’s not a halberd; it’s more like a spear or a trident.”

Li Liang was lost in thought, staring blankly until the eldest brother scolded him sharply, “Can’t even hold the handle properly—what use are you?”

Li Liang immediately lowered his head, afraid of another kick.

The eldest brother smiled bitterly at Ping An, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “Don’t laugh, little brother. I possess martial skills but have been forced to live as a farmer, leading a careless life.”

“Honestly, I could take on thirty tax collectors by myself, but every time I see them, I have to bow and smile. It’s humiliating.”

“Sometimes, when they bully us relentlessly, I truly want to take a few down, just to vent my anger. The drought is bad enough, yet they still torment us.”

The second brother, chewing on wild grass, exhaled and encouraged him, “Big brother, storytellers say that men like us must endure loneliness when opportunity is scarce. We must be content living among common folk, like ants—enduring hardship and fatigue is no matter, so long as we honor our parents and care for our children. At our age, grievances are trivial.”

“But the world is vast, and every few decades, a great opportunity arises. That is when true skill is revealed, when one can soar like a mighty dragon, commanding the winds and clouds. Third brother, what is that called?”

Li Ping An replied calmly, “The ninth day of the lunar month: 'Hidden Dragon, Do Not Act.' It means a gentleman must wait for his time, like a transformation between dragon and serpent.”

Li Xiao chuckled, “Right! Though we live hard now, with the third brother back, perhaps when the chance comes, the three of us will become dragons.”

The three brothers chatted long into the night until fatigue set in, and each returned to rest.

Yawning as he entered his room, Li Ping An—once the hidden dragon—felt a bit overwhelmed.

Why?

The old Li family’s house was small. The main room was for the elderly parents; two side rooms housed the eldest and second brothers’ families, and another side room was for the girls.

As for himself, he had to share a room with Li Liang, Li Yun, Li Kun, and Li Peng—several lively boys.

Fate was cruel. When he left the military, he swore he would only share a bed with young women—maidens or newlywed wives.

Yet here he was, sleeping with a bunch of boys.

Especially Li Kun—a rambunctious child—clutching a leather ball, bouncing on the bed, restless even when lying down, twisting left and right, driving Li Ping An nearly mad.

Li Yun, clutching a book, whispered prayers under his breath, making Li Ping An’s head buzz.

Just as he was about to say something, Li Liang’s snoring began.

That boy held Li Ping An’s arm like a great halberd, dreaming aloud, “Wife, look at the mighty spear in my hand, isn’t it impressive?”

Li Ping An, irritated, thought to himself that once he had money, the first thing he would do was move out and build his own house—even a thatched hut would do.

“Enough, stop staring and go to sleep.” Li Ping An shook off Li Liang, grabbed Li Yun’s book, and said firmly,

“Uncle, I’m already much slower than others; I dare not slack.” Li Yun’s face was full of grievance.

“That’s not how you read. Stop for now, focus on building your strength. When your body is strong, you can read again. Su Xun didn’t start striving until he was twenty-seven, Emperor Gaozu of Han began his conquest at forty-seven, Sima Yi staged the Gaoping Tombs coup at sixty-seven, Jiang Ziya only started fishing at seventy-seven, and Lady White Snake began courting Xu Xian at a thousand and seven years old. You’re only seventeen—what’s the rush?”

Li Yun, weak and sickly, wanted to cry but dared not resist, retreating under the covers to quietly recite.

The world finally quieted a bit, except for the annoying Li Kun who occasionally leaned in for a playful headbutt. Still, the night was far calmer than before.

Just as he lay down, pondering how to earn enough money, shouting and scolding erupted outside.

“Damn you! Kneel down right now! How dare you bully Li Ping An? You must want to die! So what if Ping An took something from your field? You actually want to fight him? You’ve got no chance!”

“Sister Er’Ya, stop hitting me! I was wrong. It’s just that Li Ping An stood there with his bare legs; it was disgusting...”

“Stop talking nonsense! I’ll beat you to death!”

Li Ping An opened the door and stepped outside.

He recognized the woman furiously confronting Li Si as the butcher Zhao’s daughter—broad-shouldered and feisty. She always seemed captivated by Li Ping An, unable to stay away.

Since Li Ping An married into the Song family as a live-in son-in-law, the two rarely interacted.

Yet now that he had returned, Zhao Er’Ya had appeared again.

He somewhat understood why a humble man like himself could become a live-in son-in-law—this pretty face of his had left a lasting impression over the years.

Ah, life is as lonely as snow. Li Ping An, oh Li Ping An, only this face gives me a modicum of satisfaction.

Er’Ya was also formidable, wielding a butcher’s cleaver that terrified Li Si into wetting his pants.

But was Li Ping An the kind of man who needed a woman to vent his anger?

He rose to leave, followed by his eldest and second brothers, while Li Liang gripped the halberd handle, full of indignation.

The moment Zhao Er’Ya saw Li Ping An, her expression softened, “Brother Ping An, come quickly! I’ll get justice for you!”

“Speak! How will you compensate me for scaring my little brother Ping An?” She turned and kicked Li Si again.

“This is my family’s grain. I’ll give eight catties to Brother Ping An as compensation.” Li Si cried, pulling out a sack of grain. “Er’Ya, please stop kicking me! I know I was wrong.”

Zhao Er’Ya glared at him, “You’re smart.”

She hoisted the sack, “Brother Ping An, please accept this grain. I know you just returned and must be struggling. Take these eight catties of rice. If anyone bullies you again, tell me—I’ll chop them up!”

“Er’Ya, you don’t have to...” Li Ping An smiled bitterly, recalling old memories and feeling sorry for her.

“Brother Ping An, no need to say more. I must go.” She looked at him reluctantly, fearing he might say something she didn’t want to hear, and quickly stopped him.

Before leaving, she kicked Li Si hard once more and then dragged him away.

In truth, Zhao Er’Ya was already married. Her husband had died a few years back from a snakebite while chopping firewood.

Zhao Er’Ya’s coming to Li Ping An’s aid was one thing; her various acts of support were another.

Li Ping An could see that, despite the years, Zhao Er’Ya remained unchanged.

“Uncle...”

Li Liang put down the trident and picked up the grain sack, unsure what to do.

By the usual temperament of their uncle, he would return gifts openly and then sneak them back later.

Don’t think this is needless. The old Li Ping An cared deeply about face and dignity.

Though fallen on hard times himself, he looked down on Zhao Er’Ya, thinking her crude and beneath the dignity of a scholar like him.

He originally didn’t want the grain, not wanting to take advantage of Zhao Er’Ya as before. But if he returned it, she certainly wouldn’t accept it. This compensation from Li Si could silence her.

Returning it to Li Si was out of the question.

He hadn’t married into the family; with two hot-tempered elder brothers, it was already good enough not to have to deal with him. Why give back the grain?

More importantly, the Li family was nearly out of food, and these few catties could fill their stomachs for a couple of meals.

Still, he felt a bit embarrassed, knowing this rice was soft food—something he had never known in his past life of poverty and wealth.

At critical moments, the second brother comforted him, “It doesn’t matter; just keep it. We owe Sister Er’Ya a favor anyway. When the third brother prospers, we’ll find her a good husband. If not, we’ll just send Liang over.”

He picked up the grain sack. “Second brother’s right. Just remember we owe her one. Now, let’s go to bed.”

Li Liang was displeased. “Second uncle, what’s that supposed to mean? Why send me and not third uncle? He digs the manure; I hold the handle. We’re all bachelors!”

Li Hu grabbed the fork and struck Li Liang with a stick. “Dare insult your third uncle? You little brat need a beating!”

Chaos erupted in the yard. Li Ping An knew his eldest brother had wanted to punish Li Liang for some time.

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