Where Immortals Once Walked

Ride at once? So this was sudden?

He Lingchuan did not overthink it. Behind him, however, Ding Zuodong’s face changed slightly. “Young Master, the evidence still isn’t ready.”

“No chance we’ll have it by today?”

“Not a chance.”

What now? The original plan had just been thrown off a cliff. He Lingchuan’s eyes flickered, then he made the call on the spot. “Then we’ll just have to do things the hard way.”

He bent to whisper a few words to Ling Guang. The medicine ape froze in surprise, hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod.

He Lingchuan gave a sharp whistle. A moment later, the rock wolf Lu Xin came bounding out from nowhere, its tail swishing as it sped over.

“We’re setting off. Our destination, Xin Township.”

He Chunhua usually indulged in his eldest son’s whimsies and troublemaking tendencies, but at critical moments, He Lingchuan could not afford to let his father lose face.

A little over a quarter of an hour later, the party rode out of Dunyu City and sped toward Xin Township.

Two days earlier, Jiao Tai had only just been dragged out of a lightless jail cell. His wounds had festered with pus and needed more time to mend, so he stayed behind. Other than Shan Youjun, there were also six other robust men in their prime riding right behind He Lingchuan.

These men had once been private soldiers of the Li and the Shu families. Once He Chunhua’s decree was put forth, both families had been forced to disband their private forces on the spot. Most of those men were inducted into the army, but Shan Youjun had personally recommended these few. He had handpicked them from fifteen or sixteen hundred for their skill, character, and clean backgrounds.

Whether a man was useful or not, one could only really find out by using them. So He Lingchuan simply waved them all along to handle this errand together.

There had not been snow or rain the past few days, so the road was in good shape. The horses stretched into a full gallop, and they reached Xin Township in less than two hours.

His reputation isn’t undeserved. Township Steward Zhou stared when he saw He Lingchuan and silently sighed. He Lingchuan sat astride a tall bo beast, with a monkey perched on one side and a wolf loping on the other, and seven hard-eyed men in his wake. He looked every inch the rich heir swaggering through the countryside to “set things straight.”

This bo beast had, in fact, been a gift from a minor noble, but on paper, it had been “sold” to He Lingchuan.

“Where’s that insolent village?” asked He Lingchuan lazily. He beckoned for a man to lead up a spare horse for Township Steward Zhou. “Show the way.”

A township steward was essentially a local tax officer. However, because the township government office was short-staffed, Township Steward Zhou also had to juggle other chores, mediating disputes, and coordinating among provincial and township government offices and between the township and the villages under its jurisdiction.

At this time, the ground was still frozen hard, though most of the snow had melted. Along the roadside, He Lingchuan glimpsed several faint shoots of green poking out from cracks in the ground.

The trees and scrub were still bare, but if one looked closely, one would notice that tender buds had already begun to swell. Pheasants scratched for food in the fields, while does grazed from dawn till dusk and bolted at the first sight or scent of people.

Just from the signs of wild game, He Lingchuan judged that Dunyu’s land was far from barren. Heavy as the tax that burdened the farmers was, they were better off than many elsewhere.

Winter was waning, and spring’s breath threaded faintly through the air.

On the way, He Lingchuan asked, “So this Shuangyu Village refused to hand over their land and even threatened you?”

At that, Township Steward Zhou sighed inwardly. This is troublesome, indeed. This young master had actually rushed here without even understanding the details. If this turns into a standoff, what then? Who would bear the blame? He had heard that Young Master He had a temper, but Shuangyu Village was a hard bone to gnaw.

Still, he could only answer carefully, “Yes, Young Master. A few days ago, a clerk newly appointed by the governor-general’s office purchased sixty-six hectares of fertile farmland from villagers, with seals and contracts all in order. But when it came time to take possession of the farmland, Shuangyu Village refused. They claimed that any sale had to be stamped by the village elders first, or else the contract was invalid. And they said those sixty-six hectares had been leased out, with seven years left on the lease, so what the provincial government had bought was only the bones of the field rather than its surface, and thus had no right to repossess the land. I accompanied the county magistrate’s assistant there the last time, and even he got shoved to the ground.”[1]

“Hoh, quite the defiant village, eh?” As the saying goes, the common people must never fight the government. Despite that well-known saying, it appeared as though Shuangyu Village had something to rely upon that gave them the gall to go against the government. He Lingchuan homed in on the part that mattered. “They don’t have the law on their side, do they?”

“That’s... not quite right.” Township Steward Zhou coughed. “Places like our Xin Township and Zhangbai Township all have longstanding township regulations. For decades, anyone selling land must first obtain the elders’ approval. It’s an unwritten custom, yet everyone in these areas recognizes it. The new clerk probably was not familiar with the local ways and blundered straight into it.”

He Lingchuan grunted. His father had beheaded a flock of old, rotten hats and set new men in their seats. That sort of shake-up had pros and cons. While it was true that the tone of the provincial government office had changed for the better, and that the new hires were loyal to He Chunhua, they were green to local soil and customs, and the pitfalls would catch them one by one.

And here, apparently, lay one such pit.

“So all the residents of the townships follow this custom?” He Lingchuan snorted. “The ones who sold land to the provincial government clearly didn’t seem to think so. Where are they now?”

“They abandoned the township and headed south. They haven’t returned since.”

He Lingchuan understood at once. “After cheating the government, would you dare come back? Those were clearly one-and-done deals.”

When panic first swept through Dunyu and the surrounding townships, rumors flying thick as crows, many residents had already begun packing to flee south. He Chunhua’s swift lockdown order had only spurred them on.

Where there were sellers, the government stepped in to buy. This could perhaps even be called “reacquiring public fields.” Reverting private land back to public land was hardly He Chunhua’s invention. Great Yuan had done it at least twice in its history, both times to recover farmlands that had slipped into the hands of nobles and the wealthy.

However, the new hires of the provincial government were unaware of the local rules. They paid, yet could not collect.

Now that reports of victory having been claimed in the northern region of the province, many of the would-be refugees were slinking home in droves.

Most had fled in haste, leaving their houses unsold. On the road, they thought it over, and it dawned on them that if they went back, they still had a roof to sleep under.

Besides, being a refugee was no paradise. Wandering like a stray dog, being scorned, side-eyed, and robbed as they wandered was not a life that ordinary folk could endure. In reality, few could truly bear such a fate unless they were truly desperate.

Hence, once they heard that Dunyu was safe and the province had even claimed several victories against Xun Province’s troops, more than eight in ten of those who had followed the Zhan Family south turned right back around. Over the last few days, they were trickling back to their homes one after another.

As for those Shuangyu villagers who had slyly sold land to the government and fled, none of them dared return. Hence, the sixty-six hectares of fertile farmland had become a bone of contention between Xin Township and Shuangyu Village.

“I’ve got one more question,” said He Lingchuan, getting to the crux at last. “Does Shuangyu Village have any ties to Cloud-Piercing Pavilion?”

“Of course,” Township Steward Zhou answered at once. “Everyone knows that the second elder of Cloud-Piercing Pavilion’s Southern Courtyard was born in Shuangyu Village.”

“Are you referring to... Elder Liang?”

“That’s right.”

That explains why Father had quietly sent someone to hurry me along. He clearly wants me to settle things here before Elder Liang makes a move.

Another official might have chosen to back down, but He Chunhua was no such official.

Township Steward Zhou added timidly, “Shuangyu Village also has some ties to Dunyu’s Shu Family. Their refusal this time may well have something to do with that.”

He Lingchuan smirked. “So the other villagers are obedient, and this is the only one that’s biting back, eh? Then they’re just troublemakers.”

The great families had suffered enough losses under He Chunhua’s hand lately. Perhaps they hoped to use this as a means to vent their spite and trip up the provincial government.

Township Steward Zhou hesitated again before adding, “The agricultural bureau has been purchasing fields elsewhere, too. Everyone’s watching Shuangyu Village to see who yields first.”

It was the government versus Shuangyu Village. If the government bowed today, other villages would test their limits tomorrow. If Shuangyu Village caved, the rest would follow suit. Regardless of the outcome, it would set a precedent.

He Lingchuan gave a short laugh. “Of course they’re watching.”

They rode their horses across a breadth of fields and soon reached Shuangyu Village.

It was a relatively large settlement of over a hundred and thirty households. As Township Steward Zhou had said, it was the biggest village in Xin Township, sitting on the richest soil around.

Because of the land dispute, nearly every able-bodied man in the village seemed to be home. When they saw He Lingchuan’s party bearing down in force, they rushed out with hoes, rakes, and pitchforks in hand.

He Lingchuan could clearly see the open hostility burning in their eyes.

The air was tense.

Township Steward Zhou hastily stepped forward and raised his voice, “The provincial government is here to mediate the land sale! Call your village chief!”

The village chief arrived shortly after.

He was not the white-bearded elder He Lingchuan had pictured but a sturdy man in his early forties, weathered yet vigorous. He offered a shallow cupped-fist salute, refraining from prostrating, then invited them into the village to talk.

As they walked, He Lingchuan looked around. Shuangyu Village seemed no different from any other—dogs barked, chickens clucked, and kitchens had smoke rising through their chimneys. Where many feet had passed, the thin crust of frost had melted to mud.

In places like this, news spreads fast. Within a few minutes, He Lingchuan was seated in the Shuangyu Village’s council hall. He faced six or seven village elders, most of whom were older than the chief. Meanwhile, villagers crowded outside, their necks craned long to eavesdrop on the discussion inside.

Village Chief Liang was the first to speak. “May I know who this sir might be?”

He Lingchuan sat at ease, his legs planted wide, with two beasts sprawled at his feet and seven hulking men standing behind him, their hands tucked behind their backs.

“I’m the assistant to the staff officer of the agricultural bureau.”

I’d say it’s more like the staff officer is your assistant, thought the village chief. However, he swallowed the quip and offered a polite smile instead.

Township Steward Zhou promptly supplied, “He is also the eldest son of our new governor-general, Lord He.”

Across the table, the elders exchanged glances, their expressions shifting.

The provincial government sent the governor-general’s own son? Are they meaning to press us with status?

“Lord He ordered me to resolve the dispute over the public lands,” He Lingchuan said evenly. “The agricultural bureau purchased sixty-six hectares of fertile farmland from seven households in Shuangyu, with seals and contracts complete. That much is not in question, is it?”

The elders opened their mouths at once—seven voices in a mess. He Lingchuan could only note their agitation.

Village Chief Liang raised both hands until silence returned. “We’ve seen those contracts. What the agricultural bureau bought from those households was the field bones, not the field face.”

Ding Zuodong had walked He Lingchuan through the terms in detail yesterday.

In Great Yuan’s northern territories, ownership of land was divided into the field bones and the field face. The field bone referred to title and ownership, while the field face referred to tenancy or right to cultivate. One field could have two owners, and either right could be bought or sold separately.

This dual-ownership system had not spread to the south of the capital. Hence, when He Chunhua had brought in certain men to serve in Xia Province, they found themselves tripped up by local customs.

He Lingchuan had also seen the title deed himself. It did not explicitly distinguish between field bones and field face, yet after review, his father and the clerks of the provincial government came to the conclusion that the purchase was of the field bones.

1. Bones of the land/field refers to the underlying land ownership, while the surface of the land/field refers to the right to use or cultivate the land. ☜