Chapter 9: The Underclass

As soon as Ning Dalang returned home, Mrs. Meng could tell from his demeanor—though he tried to appear indifferent—that he had been hurt again by his own father and brother. The slight redness in his eyes and the nervous way he rubbed his hands betrayed his pain.

“Hurry and take these things to the village head and the local magistrate’s residence,” she urged.

She added with emphasis, “Remember to go to the village head first.”

The gifts had to be the same for both, as both were important. Once this was settled, a token of gratitude would need to be sent to both the village head and the magistrate’s household.

With no officials from their own community, this was the only way—they had no choice.

If they didn’t handle things properly now, and later officials came to arrest the head of the family and throw him into the jail with no one to plead for him, that would be a truly disastrous loss.

“Go quickly, or else A Xin and the others will be back,” Mrs. Meng urged.

Ning Dalang did not hesitate, grabbing the provisions and striding out the door.

Mrs. Meng closed and latched the courtyard gate, then smiled helplessly as she went to feed the chickens in the backyard.

From next door came the soft sobbing of Zhaodi and Daidi, and Mrs. Meng’s heart ached.

She stepped onto a stone and sure enough, the two sisters were huddled together in an embrace.

Mrs. Wu was in a foul mood and hadn’t given the children breakfast.

A truly cruel woman.

“Zhaodi, Daidi,” Mrs. Meng called gently.

The sisters looked up in unison, their faces lighting with joy.

Mrs. Meng gestured toward the back door, signaling them to go there.

The sisters brightened and carefully went to open the gate to the backyard.

Mrs. Meng waited at the courtyard entrance, then pulled them inside. She glanced left and right to make sure no one was watching before closing the door behind them.

Her caution was understandable—the Wu family was ruthless.

If Mrs. Wu discovered she was helping the two children, she would only worsen their abuse.

She led the sisters into the kitchen.

“For breakfast, there are pancakes. Eat quickly.”

There was no egg-drop soup left, so Mrs. Meng gave them a bowl of sweetened water instead.

“Aunt…” The sisters were stunned at the sight of the sugar water.

They were not accustomed to such treats; having pancakes was already a great blessing, never mind sweetened water.

“Drink it. It’s just this once. Finish it quickly and then go back, so your mother doesn’t find out…” Mrs. Meng encouraged them.

If Mrs. Wu called for them and they were missing, they would be beaten again.

The sisters nodded obediently.

So well-behaved.

Before they left, Mrs. Meng told them to rinse their mouths with clean water and wipe them dry to avoid arousing Mrs. Wu’s suspicion.

Though Mrs. Wu was stupid enough not to notice, it was better to be safe.

After enduring daily beatings, who knew when it would end?

Mrs. Meng worried deeply for these two children.

Meanwhile, Ning Dalang arrived at the village head’s house with the provisions and explained that he wanted to build a house.

“That patch of wasteland at the foot of the mountain? Why choose that spot?” the village head asked.

“Village head, to be honest, I wanted to build near the village entrance, but we can’t afford that land. The mountain foot is wasteland—hard to clear, yes, but it’s cheap,” Ning Dalang explained.

The village head nodded.

“That’s true. One plot at the village entrance costs as much as four down by the mountain foot. If you clear it, you can farm it, and you won’t have to pay taxes on it later. It’s a good deal.”

“Exactly,” Ning Dalang agreed quickly.

He handed over the provisions. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“It’s my duty,” the village head replied. “Come on, let’s visit the magistrate’s house, then discuss how to mark the land and write the petition. You’ll go to the county seat tomorrow to prepare for the officials who will come. If…” The village head paused, then added, “When you go to the county seat, don’t be stingy with the silver.”

If Ning Dalang wanted this done efficiently and quickly, it all depended on whether he was willing to pay.

He understood that well.

The magistrate held more power than the village head, overseeing seven villages and about six hundred households.

Ning’s village and the surrounding ones were all sparsely populated with vast land. Were it not for heavy taxes, every family would gladly cultivate dozens of acres of mountain land to plant corn, beans, and sweet potatoes.

Even if rice was scarce in the fields, these legumes could sustain them.

But buying land came at a price, and the annual taxes to the imperial court meant little grain ever reached their tables.

If a bad harvest came, with no grain from the fields, all would be lost.

With the law on one side and clever schemes on the other, buying land to build houses, with the surrounding land counted as vegetable plots, became the homeowner’s private property, sold together with the house.

As long as the silver was sufficient, and the land was barren rocky mountain ground, the size and boundaries were decided by officials.

The land Ning Dalang wanted was precisely that rocky patch at the mountain foot, full of stones of all sizes—perfect hiding places for snakes and insects.

The village head and magistrate, seeing the benefit, immediately accompanied Ning Dalang to mark the land and assess the cost. If all went well and Ning Dalang was willing to pay, officials might come by tomorrow to confirm the deal, draft the deed, and make it official.