Chapter Twenty-Five: Little Chubby's Secret

If one were to speak of this rain, it came swiftly and vanished just as quickly. In but a brief moment, though some gloom lingered in the sky, not a single drop continued to fall. Gou Ye and Yun Niang stepped outside, breathing in the earthy fragrance that followed the storm.

In that instant, Gou Ye felt his mind clear. Though he did not care for the dilapidated thatch hut before him, it was not without its sentiment. Since his arrival in this world, meeting Yun Niang, battling daily to write, all manner of ideas had sprung from this very hut. Approaching it, he ran his hand over the wet thatch, and softly said, “Well then, old friend, I won’t tear you down after all. Remain here and be at the mercy of fate. I’ll seek another place to build anew.”

At Yun Niang’s house, Gou Ye unrolled a sheet of rice paper across the table and, with a flourish, began sketching. He knew little of architectural design, so all he could do was capture a rough layout from memory. If such a crooked drawing were presented in the modern world, it would surely provoke laughter. But here, in the Ming dynasty a century past, Yun Niang was thoroughly amazed, for Gou Ye claimed it was a house, yet she could not see a roof no matter how long she studied it.

At last, Gou Ye gave a long sigh and, satisfied, finished his “masterpiece.” He even proudly handed it to Yun Niang and her mother for their close inspection, explaining his intentions, but the two women were utterly baffled.

Next came the matter of choosing a site. There were many empty lots in Tumeng Village, but to raise a house required the village head’s approval. So Gou Ye took Yun Niang and made his way to Village Chief Li’s home.

“Grandpa Li, Gou Ye and Yun Niang have come to see you.” As they entered, the thick reek of dry tobacco made them both cough.

Village Chief Li, seeing them, approached with a smile and a bow. “What brings you two here today?”

Yun Niang, now unashamed of such remarks, had long since accepted her bond with Gou Ye. She put on a mock swagger and replied, “Grandpa Li, are you not happy to see us?”

“Of course I am. Come in, come in, have a seat.”

Once they were seated, Gou Ye explained, “Grandpa Li, the house I live in now is far too rundown. I’ve managed to earn a little silver in town, and plan to build a new house here in the village. I came to ask for your approval.”

The village chief chuckled. “What’s this about approval? It’s just a house. Our village doesn’t have so many rules—choose any land you like.”

“I’ve had my eye on a plot to the east of the village—would it be alright to use it?”

“That big?”

“Yes, Chief,” Gou Ye said, producing the sketch. “This is the house I want to build. I measured it in my mind, and it needs at least that much space.”

“I’ve lived in this village all my life and never seen a house so large. Gou Ye, you’ve got some imagination. Do you have craftsmen lined up?”

“Not yet.”

“Then hire our own villagers. They may not be merchants, but they’re strong and know their way around hard work. No need to let outsiders take the silver; this way, you help your fellow villagers too.”

Gou Ye replied, “Alright, I’ll follow your arrangements.”

“Good,” said Village Chief Li. “I’ll gather some men for you.” With that, he shuffled outside, and soon, under his call, seven or eight young strongmen had assembled. They were no strangers to house-building, but when they saw Gou Ye’s sketch, all were perplexed—none had ever seen such a strange structure.

Village Chief Li turned to them. “Don’t be afraid! I haven’t seen such a house either, but just do as Gou Ye says. Whatever he needs, do it, and your silver will be paid in full.”

He then called Gou Ye aside, took a long draw on his pipe, exhaled slowly, and spoke solemnly, “Gou Ye, Grandpa Li is old now. All these years, I may have earned some respect here in Tumeng Village, but I haven’t had the ability to lead everyone to prosperity. Now that your illness is cured and your mind is sharp, people see you’ve started making money. The villagers are anxious, even jealous. But worrying gets us nowhere; envy is even less useful. You have your skills, and that’s why you can earn. But I’ve noticed—your talent is growing, and surely, you’ll make more and more. I believe it won’t be long before you leave Tumeng Village for greater things. No matter how much you earn, or how far you go, remember this: don’t forget the villagers here, those who raised you, mouthful by mouthful. People still feel indebted to your parents; no one wants to trouble you now that you’ve succeeded. But Grandpa Li doesn’t mind—I watched you grow up. I hope you can help Tumeng Village, help those who suffer. I don’t ask for riches, only that you do what you can to see that they are warm and fed.”

It was the first time since arriving in this world that the village chief had spoken to him at such length. Staring at the honest young men before him, Gou Ye reflected that though his days here had not been many, his life had steadily improved—who wouldn’t envy that? He was grateful, yet until now, he’d done little for the village. Grandpa Li must have held these words in his heart for a long time; had Gou Ye not come today, perhaps he’d never have spoken them.

Seeing the chief’s grave expression, Gou Ye nodded vigorously. “Grandpa Li, don’t worry. Honestly, I can’t promise to make everyone in Tumeng Village rich, but I will do all I can to help. For those suffering most, I’ll make sure they never again go cold or hungry.”

“With those words, I am at ease.” Turning away, Village Chief Li slowly shuffled off, his back stooped.

Though Gou Ye knew little of construction, with the villagers’ help, his thoughts soon became clear. He found the most knowledgeable local, calculated the required materials, made the purchases, and began building. Gazing at the vast open ground, Gou Ye could already envision a future villa.

That night, as always, Gou Ye left Yun Niang’s house. Each time he walked these country roads in the dark, a sense of fear crept over him. Yet he also knew, at a certain spot, Aunt Wang’s little Fatty would appear.

So it was tonight. Little Fatty wagged his tail and sauntered over, barking softly. Gou Ye scooped him up, and as they reached his own hut, he said, “It’s cold outside tonight. Why don’t you sleep in your den? Why do you never go inside, little dog?” Worried the den might be damp after the morning rain, Gou Ye reached in. The closer his hand got, the stronger a peculiar smell became. Groping about, he felt something inside. Curious, he dug away the dirt and pulled out a box, its odor overwhelming. Little Fatty quickly scampered away.

So this was why the dog wouldn’t enter the den—a hidden secret! Perhaps Aunt Wang had placed it there? On second thought, it seemed unlikely. Better to take it back and have a look; if it was hers, he would return it to her.