The grandest place He Xi had ever been was Yuanzhou. If that couldn't compare, what kind of place must the capital be?
The officials wore such fine clothes, and even ordinary people dressed like that. The capital must be an incredible place.
They already thought it was amazing that Fang Zichen had gone so far. But now they learned he was even more impressive—greater than the county magistrate, able to see the emperor every day.
The news spread all afternoon. Suddenly, the villagers truly understood how remarkable Fang Zichen was. Everyone felt proud. But some also thought: he's impressive, sure, but he's living it up in the capital. What does that have to do with me? I still live in a mud hut. I still work in the fields before dawn every day.
Just as those thoughts arose, the men who had gone to town for work came back the next day.
They were all bruised and beaten up, some of them limping. They looked a pitiful sight. As soon as they entered the village, someone spotted them and hurried over to ask what had happened.
One of the men explained. They'd been hired by a rich landlord in town to work on some land he owned outside town. They'd cleared and cultivated for four days straight. But when the work was done, the rich landlord refused to pay. He claimed they'd worked too slowly and would only give them twelve copper coins per day instead of the agreed eighteen.
If it were one or two copper coins less, they might have swallowed it. After all, he was a powerful man in town, so they didn't dare to cross him. But six copper coins less? That was three meat buns. None of them would accept that. So they argued. The rich landlord ordered his servants to attack them and beat them.
Then a merchant, unable to stand by, came over to ask what was happening. When he learned they were from Xiaohe Village, he turned to the landlord and said:
"Have you grown tired of living? Or are you just feeling bold? Even Xiaohe Village people—you dare take advantage of them?"
"What of it? They're just village folk. Mud between their toes. Why should I be afraid of them?"
"They're village folk, sure. But this year's zhuangyuan is from Xiaohe Village. Do you know if any of these men have ties to him? And even if they don't, they're from the same village. Do you think he'd just stand by while you bully them like this?"
"Well... I..."
"That zhuangyuan is known for loyalty. I heard that back in the day, a family surnamed Liu helped his fulang. He remembered that kindness, took them to Yuanzhou for work, and found a school for their child. Even his chili sauce business—he buys the chili peppers from his own village. He could buy them anywhere. Don't you understand what that means? And do you think that zhuangyuan is someone to push around? Remember the Sun family a few years back? Their place was smashed to pieces. That Sun bastard laid a hand on the zhuangyuan's son, and the zhuangyuan had him carried into town, barely alive. The memory still haunts people. Now the zhuangyuan is far away in the capital, sure. But if these men send word to him, and he sends someone back, you might find yourself meeting the King of Hell."
That made sense.
Though he was an outsider who had settled in the village, he had lived there for two or three years, so he was sure to have close friendships with some families. And in a village, everyone is connected by marriage or blood. So if someone laid a hand on one villager, it was like slapping the zhuangyuan in the face.
The landlord had seen what happened to Sun Shangcheng when he was carried into town—he was barely recognizable as a person, just a pitiful, broken mess.
Even now, the memory made him shudder. And since he didn't have a leg to stand on, he quickly apologized and paid a hefty sum in compensation.
The village men had heard the whole exchange.
They'd watched the landlord, so haughty just moments before, bowing and apologizing to them. Now they understood—it was good to have someone accomplished in the village. Earlier, they'd thought: this man isn't part of my family. His success won't help me. What does he have to do with me? But now... if it weren't for Fang Zichen's reputation looming over everyone, they'd have worked four days for free and gotten a beating on top. And they'd have had nowhere to go for justice.
It really was good to have a successful person in the village.
When one person rises to prominence, even the chickens and dogs ascend to heaven.
Once the men told the story, those who had thought differently stopped talking.
Their own husbands had been among the ones beaten.
After that, when they went to town to sell vegetables or firewood, things changed. Before, if they arrived early and claimed a good spot, they'd be chased off. Because the other sellers had connections in town and they didn't dare cross them. But that never happened anymore. The regular sellers had all chatted with their neighbors at the stalls. Everyone knew where everyone else was from.
People from Xiaohe Village? Don't mess with them. Their village produced a big shot. Why would you pick a fight with them? Are you tired of living?
The benefits were clear.
The village head gathered everyone and gave a stern warning: "This protection is a blessing, yes. But don't you dare use young Fang's name to bully others. If I find out, I'll drive you out of the village."
Who would dare? Outsiders didn't know the truth, but the villagers knew perfectly well: Fang Zichen had no real ties to almost anyone in the village. If they really used his name to cause trouble, and someone investigated and found out the truth, he'd crush them.
Apart from a few households, most villagers now grew chili peppers and garlic. Over the years, they'd made decent money.
Not enough to get rich, but enough to fill their stomachs. Enough to buy a pound of meat now and then. Not like before, when the only meat they saw all year was during the two days of New Year's.
Everyone remembered the kindness.
When Zhou Ger returned, people asked about Zhao Ger. They learned he was pregnant—with twins. Everyone was happy for him. They urged Zhou Ger to stay a few more days so they could prepare some gifts.
Gifts from the villagers were always practical, not fancy things. Bunches of vegetables, some malt sugar or dried fruit, eggs, meat, fabric, or even silver.
Not much silver—they didn't have much to give. And Zhao Ger likely didn't need small amounts anyway. Eggs and meat couldn't be sent all the way to the capital. So they decided to buy fabric and make clothes for the two babies in Zhao Ger's belly.
Uncle Liu (ger) knew that Zhao Ger couldn't sew, so he made extra. He also wanted to make an outfit for Guaizai, but he hadn't seen the boy in years and didn't know how tall he'd grown. In the end, he decided against it.
Earlier, Fang Zichen had shared his tax exemption quota among several poor families in the village. Everyone remembered that kindness. When Zhou Ger mentioned that Fang Zichen quite liked certain foods, they packed up their preserved meats and dried vegetables. They didn't expect Zhou Ger to pay for shipping out of his own pocket—the villagers pooled some silver together.
Zhou Ger had Liuliu write down clearly on the letter who gave what. That way, if Zhao Ger wanted to send return gifts, he'd have a reference. Those who gave generously would receive generously in return.
At the end of the letter, Zhou Ger thought for a moment, then decided to include news about the Ma family.
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