After the New Year, spring plowing season arrived with the coming of March.
On Qingming Festival, the Crown Prince wanted to take Su Yan out for an outing. They brought several guards, riding eastward from Mount Zhong toward Tang Mountain, and along the way passed a ferry crossing called Qin Family Ferry.
Beside the ferry lay vast stretches of farmland. Seeing farmers with sleeves and pant legs rolled up, transplanting rice seedlings in the fields, the Crown Prince grew curious and stopped his horse to watch.
The captain of the guards suggested, “There’s a fine willow grove by the bridge ahead, young master. Why not stop there for a rest?”
So the group dismounted under the willows to rest and drink water. Zhu Helin sighed, “This reminds me, every year on the second day of the second month, Royal Father holds the Spring Plowing Ceremony, to set an example for all under heaven, promoting agriculture and praying for the realm’s prosperity. It’s a grand ritual, passed down since the Zhou dynasty. No emperor has ever dared to neglect it.”
Su Yan had no memory of attending such a ceremony; he recalled that on last year’s second of the second month, he hadn’t accompanied the Emperor, but had gone to visit Ruan Hongjiao, then investigated the Fuyin case at Linhua Pavilion, that very night, the Baizhifang exploded.
“What’s the ceremony like?” he asked.
Zhu Helin replied, “Oh, nothing special. A minister leads the ox, the emperor takes the plow and tills three furrows, then it’s done. I’ve seen several paintings of the Spring Plowing Ceremony from past dynasties. Honestly, with their wide robes and long sleeves, those emperors couldn’t have done much. It’s mostly for show. Royal Father, though, takes it seriously, he always changes into rough cloth clothes, and plows the entire field himself before finishing. Once, an official slacked off while leading the ox, and Father punished him for it.”
Su Yan found it hard to picture the elegant and dignified Emperor Jinglong dressed like a farmer, plowing a field. He couldn’t help but smile. “The Ming dynasty’s policies do encourage land reclamation and reduced farm taxes. His Majesty understands that agriculture is the lifeblood of the nation, and he knows well the hardship of the farmers, that they are the most humble and honest people, who must never be deceived or exploited.”
Zhu Helin was fine praising his own father, but hearing Su Yan praise the Emperor made a spark of competitiveness flare up in him. He leapt from his stool. “I know that too! I may not have joined the Spring Plowing Ceremony, but I’m no Sima Zhong saying, ‘Why don’t they eat meat porridge!’ Just you watch, I’ll go down there and help those farmers plant their seedlings!”
Su Yan caught the hem of his pleated robe. “I believe you, I believe you! But your outfit isn’t suited for the fields, best not go planting. What if you ruin the seedlings they’ve already set in…”
He swallowed the last half of the sentence, fearing it might provoke the crown prince.
But Zhu Helin was already untying his belt, stripping off his outer robe and boots, left only in a white undershirt and dark trousers. He rolled up his sleeves and pant legs, and with a splash, jumped barefoot into the paddy field.
The guards, seeing their master step into the field, couldn’t just stand idle. They quickly shed their own outer garments and boots and followed him in.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” shouted a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old farmer, raising his head at the commotion. He pointed at Zhu Helin with a muddy hand still holding rice seedlings. “This is a rice field, not a pond! If you want to catch fish or shrimp, go to the ferry over there!”
Zhu Helin almost slipped in the mud but steadied himself, calling back, “You seemed short on hands, I’m here to help plant!”
The young farmer blinked, then bellowed back with full lungs, “Who said we’re short on hands? This is our own field, we don’t need help from outsiders!”
“Oh-ho, what a big attitude,” Zhu Helin said with a smirk toward Su Yan. “Humble and honest, you said? This is what you call that?”
Standing on the ridge, Su Yan advised, “Since they don’t welcome outsiders, perhaps you should come up, Your Highness. Let’s just go wash our feet in the river instead?”
A slightly older farmer approached. Su Yan noticed his bare, sturdy upper body, his skin tanned to a deep honey sheen, muscles taut beneath it. His gaze, bright and sharp, carried a hint of wariness. He held a long-handled hoe, forearm muscles knotted and tight.
“Gentlemen,” the farmer said, words polite but tone cold, “we common folk are busy with the fields and can’t properly attend to you. The paddies are muddy and slick, not the place for a spring outing. Please, make yourselves at ease elsewhere.”
The Crown Prince arched a brow, about to retort, when a firm old voice called from nearby:
“Meizi, if they want to help, let them help.”
The young farmer, Meizi, turned and frowned at the short-clad elder who’d spoken. He was clearly unwilling but said nothing.
“You there, the young one, yes, you! Come over here.”
“Me?” Zhu Helin pointed to himself, then noticed the old man staring directly at him, and even pointing at Su Yan on the ridge. Irritated, he muttered, “He’s clearly younger than me, old man. Are your eyes…”
Before the word blind left his mouth, Su Yan reached forward and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Mind your manners, Your Highness! If you say something rude and this turns into a fight, our few guards couldn’t protect you.”
Just a bunch of farmers, Zhu Helin thought, I could take twenty of them myself!
But he knew that imagining himself “fighting farmers” sounded ridiculous and beneath him, so he swallowed his pride, adjusted his tone, and cupped his hands toward the elder. “We mean no harm. Seeing how hard everyone’s working, we just thought we’d lend a hand.”
“Come here,” said the old man, beckoning him closer. Then he glared up at Su Yan. “And you! Your companion’s already in the field, why are you still standing idle on the ridge? That’s no way to behave!”
“Me?” Su Yan pointed to himself, then chuckled wryly. “All right, I’ll come down.”
He removed his belt, outer robe, and boots, rolled up sleeves and trousers like the Crown Prince, and stepped carefully into the muddy field.
Zhu Helin turned to stop him, but the old man shoved a large bundle of seedlings into his hands.
“Stand here beside me,” the elder instructed. “Now, follow my lead, hey, not like that! Don’t shove the whole bunch in at once! Hold them in your left hand, and with your right, take three or four at a time, careful, don’t pinch too hard or you’ll snap them! Grip the stems with your index and middle fingers, and push them straight down into the mud… That’s it. Keep the seedlings upright, space each clump two fists apart, and step backward as you go, don’t trample the ones you just planted!”
Zhu Helin had never in his life been ordered around like this. The old man was short and wiry, his voice surprisingly loud for his small frame. There was a commanding tone in his speech, but somehow, it didn’t make one resent him.
Zhu Helin had planted two clumps of seedlings before his daze cleared. He turned to study the old fellow.
Judging by his bearing and the force of his presence, he didn’t look like a mere farmer; but judging by his clothes and the practiced ease with which he worked the fields, he was undoubtedly one. Zhu Helin couldn’t quite pin down his identity. Those thick brows, fierce eyes, and hooked nose looked faintly familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall where he’d seen him before.
After teaching Zhu Helin how to transplant the seedlings, the old man turned toward Su Yan, intending to instruct him as well, only to find that Su Yan had already started on his own.
At first, his clumps were uneven, showing the awkwardness of someone who hadn’t done this in many years. But his hands clearly remembered the technique; before long, his movements grew smooth and efficient.
A trace of approval flashed in the old man’s eyes. “You, young fella, look soft-skinned and delicate, but didn’t expect you’ve done farm work before. All right, keep at it like this. When you can’t take it anymore, go up and have some water, rest a bit.”
He then led “Meizi” to the far end of the paddy field.
Bending down to plant another clump, Zhu Helin asked Su Yan, “You, a man who can’t even lift a chicken…”
“Stop right there! If I hear that phrase again, ” Su Yan raised a handful of bright green seedlings, threatening to stick them into Zhu Helin’s hair.
Zhu Helin burst out laughing. “Fine, fine. But you, a scholar who reads the classics, how come you can do farm work?”
He’d learned it in his previous life, helping his grandparents tend their small field during school holidays when he went back to the countryside with his parents. But of course he couldn’t say that. The Su family had been scholars and officials for generations, a true house of learning. So he only replied vaguely, “Because I’m especially clever. Just listened to the old man’s instructions a few times, and I got it.”
Zhu Helin puffed his chest. “And am I not clever too? Look!”
Su Yan glanced over, the seedlings were planted decently enough. Thinking of how the Taizu Emperor had risen from humble roots, he figured that perhaps farming and herding were simply in the Zhu family’s blood. He smiled. “Yes, yes, Your Highness is most impressive.”
Pleased with the praise, Zhu Helin redoubled his efforts.
After a little more than an hour, the farmers, with their help, finished transplanting the seedlings ahead of schedule.
Zhu Helin was used to training with weapons for an hour or two each day and had never thought it tiring, but bending up and down to plant seedlings for the same amount of time, repeating the same movement thousands of times, left him aching all over. Still, pride wouldn’t let him show it, especially in front of Su Yan.
Su Yan, on the other hand, had the technique but not the strength. Halfway through, his body stiffened from exhaustion, and Zhu Helin had to drag him under a tree to rest.
Su Yan felt deeply embarrassed, but none of the farmers seemed to mind. They probably thought it natural that a pale scholar couldn’t handle farm work, and that lasting even this long was already commendable.
The farmers began packing up their tools. Meizi returned with the surly young farmer from before, a lad of seventeen or eighteen, to thank them.
The youth grinned sheepishly. “Earlier, I overreacted. To you…”
“Gentlemen,” Meizi corrected pointedly.
“Uh, to the gentlemen, my apologies…” The youth scratched his head, then blurted out, “How about we treat you to lunch?”
Meizi glared daggers at him.
The young man ducked his head and muttered, “It’s just a few more mouths to feed, not like we can’t afford it…”
Zhu Helin laughed heartily and waved it off. “No need, no need. We’ve brought our own dry rations. We’ll be on our way soon after lunch, planning to visit Tang Mountain.”
They walked back along the field ridge to the riverbank to wash their hands and feet, then put their outer robes back on.
At some point, the old man reappeared, carrying a bamboo basket. He handed it to Zhu Helin. “This is lunch.”
Curious what the farmers ate, Zhu Helin lifted the lid, inside were yellowish flatbreads, coarse and crumbly to the touch, hard as stone.
Aside from the bread, there was only cold water.
“This is your food?” Zhu Helin asked in surprise. “You work all morning like that and only eat this?”
“This is the common farmer’s meal,” the old man said evenly. “Young man, do you want some?”
Zhu Helin picked up a flatbread and took a bite, and nearly cracked a tooth. He stared at it for a long moment, then took a deep breath and began slowly chewing.
The gritty cake, mixed with millet flour and bits of husk, scraped against a mouth and throat pampered by fine rice and flour. The Crown Prince chewed and swallowed with effort, his eyes gradually reddening.
The guards thought he was choking and quickly offered him water.
Zhu Helin waved them off. “You all eat, too. Qinghe, you…”
“I’ll eat as well,” Su Yan interjected, picking up a piece and washing it down with cold water.
The group sat beneath the tree, gnawing on coarse flatbread. The old man said nothing more, simply took the empty basket and turned away.
After he left, Zhu Helin’s eyes grew even redder, his voice thick as he forced the words out: “I always thought… aside from places along the Yellow River where floods break the banks or bandits raid villages, most of Great Ming’s people lived in peace, with no want for food or clothing. I’ve seen the capital and Nanjing, pork sells for only a few copper coins a pound, and the common folk there all wear smiles…”
He looked down at the flatbread in his hands, biting into it hard. His teeth ground against it, his voice choking. “And yet, just a few dozen miles from Nanjing, the farmers here eat this… How can that be? Qinghe, tell me, how can it be like this?”
Su Yan let out a long sigh, not knowing where to begin.
Indeed, in the great capital and major cities of Great Ming, the people lived content lives. Prices were stable; rice, oil, and meat were all cheap. A family could feast daily for just a few coins. Small households earned a handful of coppers each day and lived comfortably. Farther south, in Suzhou and Hangzhou, the prosperity was unmatched, crowds everywhere, the picture of a golden age.
But in poor and barren lands, it was another story…
In regions struck by natural disasters, like the areas flooded by the Yellow River the previous autumn, life was unspeakably miserable.
He had also traveled through Shaanxi, where corrupt officials harmed the people so severely that refugees turned to banditry. The frontier troops, starving due to unpaid wages and exploitation by their superiors, had no choice but to engage in illicit sales of military horses, knowingly breaking the law.
And even broader than that, in the counties and villages outside the main prefectures, the farmers at the very bottom of society, after paying their summer and autumn taxes, still had to perform winter labor service. Often, their only sustenance was coarse millet cakes.
How could one make the Crown Prince understand that this was a rupture caused by the gap between rich and poor?
Yet even more astonishing was that, despite the court repeatedly reducing agricultural and other taxes, leaving the treasury at a consistently low level, the farmers’ lives remained hard.
“Why is this?” Zhu Helin asked, shocked, after Su Yan’s explanation.
Su Yan wore a troubled expression. “Because of the tax system in practice, because of entrenched class interests, because of the deeply rooted mindset of the entire civil bureaucracy… in short, it’s complicated.”
Zhu Helin frowned, bewildered. “Qinghe, explain it to me in more detail.”
Su Yan sighed. “I’ll explain more when we return to the mountain residence. Even then, I can’t cover everything at once, I’ll just tell you what comes to mind at the time.”
Zhu Helin looked down at the mostly eaten millet cake in his hands, reflecting: “In any case, so many people must work so hard just to survive. How can the government not care for its people? Those in power must put the people first.”
Su Yan nodded. “Your Highness already has that understanding and resolve, and that’s very good. Other policy improvements can still be realized in time.”
“Finished eating?” Zhu Helin asked the guards, stuffing the last bite into his mouth. “Once we’re done, mount up. I’m in no mood for a spring outing; let’s return to the mountain residence.”
The group loosened their reins and rode back the same way.
A few riders disappeared into the misty willows, and the old man and the farmers, who had just left, reappeared on the field ridge.
The old man watched the departing riders, a faint smile breaking his stern face. “‘Those in power must put the people first,’ did you hear that?”
Meizi beside him nodded.
“That’s the virtue the Crown Prince of Great Ming should have,” the old man said, patting Meizi’s shoulder. “No matter how chaotic the capital’s court may become, it’s none of your concern. Don’t forget, you serve only one person, one object!”
“Yes, Grand Marshal,” Meizi replied.
