Zhao Ger followed this plan. He hired some from Anping Village and some from the neighboring village. These young women and gers who came to work were in much the same situation as those from Luoshan Village who worked at the cement factory.
Their husbands were gone, they had many children at home, their in-laws were old, and they had little farmland. These young women and gers looked to be in their twenties, but they'd been married for many years. The gers had one or two children each, but the women had three or four. They were desperately poor—though in their twenties, their hands were covered in calluses, their faces full of wrinkles. They were thin and short, nothing but skin and bones, their ragged clothes hanging loose on their frames. They looked weathered and worn, as if in their forties—truly pitiful.
There was no help for it. With no men in the house, they had to do the fieldwork, and when they got home, there was no rest—more household chores, washing clothes, cooking meals. At night, lying in bed, they'd feel their two bony children beside them—one a skeleton on the left, the other on the right—worrying about food, worrying about money, unable to sleep. How could they not age?
Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger never kept things from Guaizai when they discussed business. So naturally, Guaizai knew all about this.
"I saw you working in the fields the other day," Guaizai suddenly said. "The fields next to yours were all full of men. Does that mean you're shameless too?"
This was pure fabrication. The old woman didn't realize that, and she yelped in surprise: "Young Master, I'm old..."
"So because you're old, you're not a woman anymore? Not a person—just a beast?" There was logic in his words, and laughter rippled from the crowd. Guaizai ignored it, still looking up at her. "Since a married woman isn't supposed to show her face in public, why are you out here? Aren't you ashamed? Are you looking for men too?"
"... ..."
The old woman didn't dare talk back—and couldn't, even if she wanted to. She wanted to say she was old, not a young woma , so she didn't need to avoid men. But the young master had just turned her own words against her.
Someone in the crowd chuckled, thinking the young master had a point.
Guaizai was displeased. "You're a woman too. When you were young, did you ever go to town to sell vegetables? Did anyone point at your nose and curse you? You say they're seducing men—did you see it with your own eyes?"
If she had seen it, that would be one thing. But if not, then such slander was truly excessive.
Even if she disapproved and disliked seeing married women come to work, there was no need for this—to hurl the ugliest insults, to attack and belittle, as if that placed her on some high moral ground.
But in this world, there are plenty of things and people one might dislike or disapprove of—and yet others say nothing. If you don't like something, chances are someone doesn't like you either. As long as people do no evil, break no law, and harm no one—if you don't like them, just look away. Don't spit vicious words freely. That's what it means to be decent.
The harsher and uglier your words, the more you "win"—and the more everyone sees exactly what kind of person you really are.
Guaizai's voice was still soft and babyish, but now his chubby little face had turned serious. The old woman and the onlookers didn't dare act rashly—not because he was the prefect's son, but... well, they couldn't quite explain it. Something about him made them hold back, made their hearts uneasy and fearful.
Guaizai had the imperial guard summon the few men in charge of factory management. In front of everyone, he questioned them thoroughly. One of the men oversaw two of the women and ger. When asked by Guaizai, he replied respectfully:
"Seduction? Impossible! I've watched them—they work diligently! They don't even rest when they're supposed to. Their eyes never wander. At lunch, they just chat briefly with women from their own village—they don't even go near the men. How could they be seducing anyone? Who said such a thing? How can people talk nonsense like that?"
Guaizai nodded, then pointed at the several overseers: "Have any of you seen anything like that?"
All the overseers shook their heads: "Young Master, nothing of the sort. These people are very honest. Even the men working in our factory behave properly—there's been no mischief at all."
They were not that kind of scoundrel.
When the village men got together, they did love to talk dirty and gossip about whose wife was doing what. But they also knew the rules—when they were actually in front of the person, they minded their manners, didn't stare, and didn't say much. Even if they did talk, they kept it proper. If they said something crude and the wife went home to complain, and her husband came looking for them—what then? That wasn't even the main thing. The real issue was losing face. People needed face like trees needed bark. The villagers were no different. If a man messed around and flirted with someone's wife improperly, word spread badly enough that he might never find a wife himself. And if he already had one? It was even worse.
Everyone nearby had heard every word clearly.
But the point they cared about wasn't the accusation of seduction. Guaizai seemed to know what they were thinking, and spoke up again:
"Who says only men are allowed to go out and work? Do men need to eat, but women and gers don't? Since everyone needs to eat, everyone needs to work. If men can do it, then women and gers can do it too. These aunties and uncles came to work openly and honestly, earning clean silver with their own hands. What right do you have to shame and insult them like this? My father said it himself—if you don't steal or rob, if you earn clean silver with your own skills, support yourself, and can feed your family, then you're a good, capable person. Top-notch. Granny, Guaizai asks you—if it were your own daughter or ger standing among them, and someone came up like you, slinging insults without knowing the facts, how would you feel?"
How would she feel?
She'd want to tear their mouths out, for sure.
The villagers didn't know what the phrase "put yourself in someone else's shoes" meant, but when Guaizai put it that way, everyone understood the point—and yes, they'd be furious.
Sure, they might favor their sons, but daughters and gers were still flesh and blood from their own bodies. Unless they were stepmothers, they loved and cherished their children too. They'd never let others spread nasty rumors—some words could ruin a child's life, even kill them.
If it were their own daughter or ger coming to work honestly, earning money with their own skills, and somehow other people started saying, "They're restless and seducing men"—would they stand for that? Did anyone see anything improper? If not, then why spread lies? Once word got around, it could ruin a person's life—or even kill them. And what was wrong with coming to work in the first place?
Some women thought: as long as their husbands and in-laws agreed, having a job, earning some silver, buying the kids sweets during the holidays, making them new clothes, buying some meat for the family—so the kids wouldn't have to stare longingly at other families' children, so they'd have shoes in winter and wouldn't have their feet red with cold, suffering from chilblains that itched and ached so badly they couldn't sleep night after night... That would be wonderful. Nothing was more practical than that. So why couldn't they do it?
The men thought: sure, there might be more men than women and gers in the factory, but so what? Leaving aside that there were overseers on site preventing anything improper—even if other men had ideas, what could they really do? An affair? In broad daylight, with that many people around? Could they really sneak around in front of everyone?
As for "showing your face in public"—well, like the young master said, villagers weren't that particular. Which women and gers hadn't gone to town to sell vegetables or eggs to help support the family? So was that seducing people too? What about going to the fields or picking vegetables—if the neighboring plot happened to be worked by men, did that mean they couldn't go? Would they be called sluts for that?
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