Chapter 8: Setting Out in Grand Procession

At dawn, Qilibao Village began to stir with life.

Villages bearing the character "bao" (fort) in their names typically indicate the presence of a defensive military fortress, much like villages named after a bridge often owe their names to significant landmarks. This contrasts markedly with villages named after families, where surnames tend to be more varied and ancestral halls are often absent.

Qilibao once had such a fortress, but in peaceful times, the locals dismantled it to lay foundations for their homes. Still, the place held some importance—nestled by the mountains and once bordering the frontline of the Southern Yue region—so many residents were retired soldiers.

Now, the men and boys of the village were already heading out to the fields. Regardless of the state of their crops or how parched the land had become, no one dared idle.

Li Ping’an had a restless night—not because of his brother Li Liang’s sleep-talking, but because the children at home must have had stomach worms, grinding their teeth relentlessly as if harboring a deep grudge. The creaking and grinding noises had persisted all night.

If only he had some rock sugar candy—he would have stuffed a handful into each child’s mouth.

The family lacked proper beds, only a hard wooden plank with a straw mat laid atop. The craftsmanship was poor, leaving everyone covered in tiny prickles. Fortunately, no one smoked; if someone had, a stray ember could have set the whole house ablaze.

Li Ping’an felt the weight of his responsibilities—not just feeding the family, but preparing for winter, ensuring they had shelter to survive the cold months. Last night, his eldest brother had mentioned that every year, a few villagers froze to death.

He turned over and rose. The children were already up.

The eldest brother wielded his trident, sparring with the second brother armed with a bamboo pole, reliving old battles. Li Liang squatted nearby, waving his hands excitedly as if casting spells. Li Yun sat on the windowsill, quietly reciting from a book, occasionally glancing at the training.

The old matriarch scolded angrily, “You’re just stirring trouble! How do you expect to work in the fields later?”

The two sisters-in-law led the girls tidying the yard. Despite the family’s poverty, these two daughters-in-law were diligent, leaving no weeds in the farmhouse courtyard.

They waited for the patriarch’s return, who came back dejected. “No work in the town today again.”

The matriarch sighed helplessly, “No harvest today means one less meal. One less meal won’t starve us.”

“This year is a famine year; we must be frugal,” the patriarch added.

At such times, Li Ping’an could sense the faint, unspoken dissatisfaction in the eyes of the sisters-in-law and nephews. Probably, the eldest brother had quarreled with his wife last night, and today the wives took it out on him instead.

“We can’t go hungry!” Li Ping’an frowned.

He turned back inside and brought out the few pounds of rice Zhao Er’na had procured yesterday.

To be honest, Li Si—the miser—had given a sack of rice that was blackened and slightly moldy. Eating too much might cause diarrhea.

He opened the sack. “Everyone, eat and drink as you should. I promised—now that I’m back, our family will start having full meals.”

The matriarch had also heard the commotion from last night.

She hurriedly said, “Ping’an, don’t you feel bad toward Er’na? We can’t eat this rice.”

Zhao Er’na often helped the Li family with supplies. Though Li Ping’an maintained a façade of pride, he accepted all aid, leading Zhao Er’na to think there was hope.

Then, quietly, he became the family’s son-in-law.

Since then, the Li family felt indebted to the Zhao family.

“I owe my debts and will repay them myself. Now, let’s eat,” Li Ping’an said coolly. “There’s no extra oil or fat. I’ll cook half the rice. Later, I’ll take Li Yun out for a walk—we can’t go hungry.”

Li Liang immediately objected, “Third Uncle, why not take me along?”

Why was Li Liang so eager?

Because Li Ping’an was notorious for slyly shirking work. Following him meant a day’s reprieve from labor.

The second brother Li Xiao shot a glare at Li Liang and scolded, “I think you—”

Li Liang quickly shut up, waving his hands, “I’m not...”

Though eight pounds of rice seemed substantial, the Li family was large.

If they ate freely, it wouldn’t last a day.

The eldest sister-in-law, practical as ever, added yesterday’s nuts into a pot with some tree bark to boil.

She called the girls, who soon returned with two full baskets of wild vegetable roots.

The second sister-in-law washed and chopped the roots before tossing them into the pot.

Li Ping’an smiled bitterly. The Li family truly made do; others had wild vegetables, theirs were just the roots.

But the others seemed unbothered.

They had plenty of firewood, and soon the big pot bubbled and steamed, filling the air with a rich aroma.

The patriarch, who had walked far to the town’s dental clinic early, now rested nearby, boasting to his grandson Li Peng, “Grandson, don’t underestimate this pot. Back in the day, your grandpa used it as a shield and wielded his big kitchen knife to cut down twenty-seven barbarians!”

Li Kun, already tired of his grandfather’s tales, licked his lips and edged closer.

The girls, busy with chores, kept swallowing their saliva. Li Mei whispered to her sister Li Yu, “Sis, will I get a big bowl of porridge later?”

Li Yu, also tempted but restraining herself, braided her sister’s hair. “We’re girls; a small bowl is enough. We can’t drink too much.”

“Grandma said girls who eat too much will burst.”

Li Ping’an frowned at such nonsense. Seeing the two girls were clearly starving after their work, he unwrapped some chestnuts he hadn’t eaten yesterday and handed them over.

But when he turned away, he found the chestnuts had somehow ended up in Li Peng’s mouth.

The two silly girls each had one in their mouths, giggling foolishly.

Soon, the rice porridge was ready—each person was served a large bowl.

Li Ping’an took charge of ladling the porridge, then sat beside the girls, vigilantly watching those around him to see who might be the culprit behind the theft.

Everyone else ate ravenously, the patriarch gulping down large spoonfuls.

Li Ping’an lost his appetite.

But he forced himself to eat—without food, there was no strength to work. It was already the second day; time was short for making money.

Just as Li Ping’an had consumed half a bowl, the patriarch coughed.

“Ping’an, this rice can’t be given away for free. We have to account for it. Rice costs thirteen wen per pound. We ate about three pounds—that’s thirty-nine wen. And yesterday’s food wasn’t cheap—count that as a hundred wen.”

Li Ping’an sighed, “Father, please don’t say that. I already promised to give the family 20 guan. Your nitpicking isn’t worth mentioning.”

Li Liang belched contentedly, “Third Uncle, you’re a real man!”

The patriarch, irritated, dragged Li Liang by the ear out the door.

“Third Uncle, you said you’d take me out. What are we doing?” Li Yun stood up. Since eating Li Ping’an’s rice, his gaze had changed.

“I’ll take you to make money and to strengthen your weak body,” Li Ping’an stood. “Don’t save dinner for me or Li Yun tonight. We’ll eat in town.”

Everyone was stunned.

Especially the patriarch and matriarch, who wondered if their precious son had lost his mind.

Why eat out in town? The food there was beyond the reach of ordinary villagers.

The eldest sister-in-law opened her mouth to speak but swallowed her words.

What if Li Ping’an hadn’t changed at all and was just pretending?

She didn’t want to be deceived again.

After the meal, Li Ping’an found two bamboo poles and a length of rope. Using his sickle, he crafted a long-handled bamboo clamp, like those used in winter to carry coal.

Li Yun carried a bamboo basket—an outer large basket with a smaller one inside, tightly covered.

He looked puzzled. “Third Uncle, how are we going to make money? What is this thing?”

“Don’t speak. This is your Third Uncle’s secret. Remember, whatever you see today, don’t tell anyone.”

Li Ping’an then retrieved five spirit resins from yesterday, found realgar powder in the matriarch’s wardrobe, ground it to powder, and packed it.

He pulled out the old man’s hidden gourd flask, tied it to his waist, and the two of them set off boldly into the day.