Chapter Sixty-Seven: Firmly Rooted

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Planting One’s Heels

To stand by and watch his family’s shop consumed by flames was a wretched feeling—so much so that, even with a hefty sum of silver in his arms, Tie Xinyuan felt a murderous urge boiling within him...

If—if only—the shop had truly been set ablaze by Luoshui, he should by rights be sitting in a burning carriage, howling in agony.

For this reason, as Tie Xinyuan walked the streets clutching his silver, he felt no joy at all. This wasn’t a matter of money—he sensed as much—but he couldn’t articulate what it was he truly desired.

Much crime is born of idleness...

One day, nothing to do, you spy someone’s carelessly fastened coin purse... Another idle moment, you see a child clutching a piece of gold... Or perhaps you notice your neighbor’s cow grazing on your wheat... Or, more mischievously, you catch a glimpse of the neighbor’s lovely daughter bathing... Or, as now, you discover someone has burned down your shop simply out of boredom...

Elsewhere, the Wei Tower was in the midst of a lavish celebration for its beam-raising ceremony—the most significant beam in the entire structure. Once this main beam was in place, the whole framework of the tower would be complete.

Prince Ruyang had many sons, yet he claimed only fourteen, for, in his ambition to become Prince Pu, he considered only fourteen of his children worthy of hope—the rest were but useless wastrels in his eyes.

Today, his sixth son, Zhao Zongyi, presided over the beam-raising ceremony.

Zhao Zongyi was still young, perhaps eleven or twelve, sporting a crown of purple gold and a voluminous robe. His toasting gesture to Heaven and Earth was proper and composed; he stood on the chilly construction site, winds buffeting him, yet showed not a hint of discomfort—indeed, there was something heroic about him.

If his mother witnessed this scene, she would only grieve more deeply: another’s son raising high a grand tower, while her own carried a suspicious sack of silver, looking on at others’ joyous lives like a drowned rat. Such was the pain in her heart.

Tie Xinyuan did not linger there. His mother had gone home—no doubt devastated, likely without having eaten. He ought to hurry home and comfort her.

But when Tie Xinyuan entered the house, he was taken aback.

The courtyard was spotless; six well-fed puppies frolicked under the fox’s watchful eye. From the kitchen wafted the rich aroma of braised pork—no need to guess, his mother had learned the dish after his descriptions, and with each attempt, the flavor grew more sumptuous.

Entering the house, he saw his mother setting a lavish meal on the table—a small bucket of steaming white rice, freshly cooked.

“Mother, are you alright?” Tie Xinyuan asked, eyeing her warily from the doorway.

Wang Rouhua glanced back at her son, pointed to the basin of hot water, and said, “Wash up first, then eat. This afternoon, we must look for a new storefront and meet a few brokers.”

Tie Xinyuan placed the silver on the table and said, “This is from Master Luoshui. He asks that you not grieve, to consider the shop as if he burned it himself—this is compensation.”

Wang Rouhua snorted coldly. “If he’d truly done it, I’d have broken his legs myself!”

Tie Xinyuan hesitated. “So... do we keep the money?”

His mother stroked his round head and smiled. “Of course we do. Why not? Even if he didn’t set the fire, he was an accomplice of sorts.”

Seeing his mother in good spirits, Tie Xinyuan relaxed. He washed his hands and sat down to eat.

The first piece of meat, naturally, was cooled and given to the fox. The fox took it, rolled it around in its mouth, then spat it on the ground, whereupon the puppies swarmed to lick it up. The fox, meanwhile, sat with its mouth open, waiting for another piece.

Seeing the fox about to spit out the meat again, Wang Rouhua smacked it on the head. With a gulp, the fox swallowed its portion.

“The puppies are too young for meat—they just need a taste.”

The fox whined like a dog and led the little ones out to the courtyard. It knew well: once it ate its share, there would be none left. Such was the rule in this household.

After wolfing down two mouthfuls of rice, Tie Xinyuan said to his mother, “Today’s the beam-raising for the Wei Tower. The sixth prince of the Pu royal house was there.”

Wang Rouhua scoffed, “There are no ‘princes’ in our Song dynasty. Even if his father’s a prince, he may not inherit the title. If Zhao Yunrang hadn’t put the country first and welcomed the emperor back with Buddhist ceremony after his birth, that brash boy would have died a dozen times by now.”

After a hearty lunch, Tie Xinyuan took a nap. Half-asleep, he heard his mother arguing with someone, so he tumbled out of bed, slipped on his shoes, and went outside.

His mother stood at the door, face flushed, her chest heaving with anger. Across from her, a middleman in mismatched shoes smiled slyly just outside the imperial precinct, as if he had her at his mercy.

“Lady Tie, your shop’s gone, so the land is worthless. Someone’s offering eighty strings of cash for your plot—a good deal! Why refuse? Wait too long, and if the government requisitions the land, you’ll get nothing.”

Tie Xinyuan grinned, “My mother already sold that plot to the nightsoil men. By Song law, nightsoil plots sell at half price. I hear they’re planning to turn it into a cesspit—once there's enough collected, they’ll sell it out of town to the farmers...”

The middleman sneered, “I’d like to see which foolhardy nightsoil man dares accept your land for such use. Since you two are so ungrateful, I won’t waste any more words. Just wait—soon you’ll get nothing for your land.”

With that, he stormed off.

“Eighty strings of cash means we’ve lost out. I paid two hundred and ten strings for that plot, not counting the shop itself.”

“Luoshui compensated us with sixty-five strings—enough to rebuild, but not enough for furnishings. This fire has cost our family dearly.”

“My son, I would love to fight these scoundrels, but I don’t dare.”

Tie Xinyuan led his mother back inside, smiling. “Of course not! To me, your life is worth ten thousand strings, and so is mine. Our teacher once said, ‘Better to be a broken jade than an intact tile,’ but we’re both precious jades—if we shatter ourselves against rotten tiles, it’s hardly worth it.”

“So, let’s neither refuse nor accept—just wait. Who knows what changes might come.”

Wang Rouhua rested her chin in her hands. “True enough. If we sell for eighty strings, we’ll have no way to get by in the Xishuimen district. Prince Pu is bullying many—if we give in, life will be even harder for our neighbors who refuse to sell. Eighty strings is nothing, best not to take it.”

Mother and son were deep in conversation when a shrill whistle sounded outside.

Wang Rouhua glanced at her son. “The princess is here.”

Tie Xinyuan pointed at the fox, which was carrying puppies into a basket. “She’s here to see the puppies, not me.”

His mother raised her brows in mock anger. “My son is rosy-lipped, white-toothed, handsome and adorable—what’s there not to see?”

Tie Xinyuan scowled. “Rosy lips and white teeth, perhaps, but what has ‘handsome and adorable’ to do with me? Please don’t flatter me so shamelessly.”

Wang Rouhua burst out laughing, wrapped a green kerchief around her head, donned a blue cloak, and went to the stable to hitch the horse and drive the cart to the brokers’ ward. The Tie family’s noodle shop had to reopen soon, or the three old women would go hungry.

“Tie Xinyuan, Tie Xinyuan, there’s a sheep on South Hill. You eat the intestines, I eat the meat...

Tie Xinyuan, Tie Xinyuan, there’s a sheep on South Hill. You eat the intestines, I eat the meat...”

“Alright, alright, the intestines and the meat are all yours.”

The little princess, cradling a puppy, giggled atop the imperial wall, sticking out her tongue at Tie Xinyuan as he stepped outside.

“Not bad—you’ve started studying the Analects already. Remarkable!”

“My Imperial Lady is ever so clever. The teacher has praised her several times.”

“Is learning the Analects so impressive? You know that snot-nosed chubby boy who came looking for me the other day? He’s already begun studying the Book of Songs. As for me, I’ve finished the Songs of Chu—our teacher is now teaching us parallel prose. Soon I’ll be composing poetry myself.”

The princess, hearing Tie Xinyuan’s boasts, hurried to the edge of the wall and asked, “Prime Minister Yan could write poetry at five—can you? The teacher says it’s very difficult.”

Tie Xinyuan was about to reply when Wang Jian’s annoying face appeared above the wall. Leaning over, he eyed Tie Xinyuan in his green coat and said, “Such big talk! Let’s hear what kind of poem this little toad can compose.

If your poem is good, I’ll personally plead with His Majesty to pardon you for the crime of offending the Princess. If not—hmph!—you won’t escape a good thrashing.”

Tie Xinyuan rubbed his face ruefully and looked up. “That’s hardly fair.”

Wang Jian laughed heartily. “Fairness is what I say it is. Since when has the imperial family ever been fair? Hurry up and compose a poem—I’ll help you find a way out. Not to mention, tricking the Princess out of her private savings is a crime in itself!”

The little princess’s jaw dropped; she clung to Wang Jian’s sleeve and protested, “He didn’t trick me—I gave it to him. I wanted his help preparing a birthday gift for Father.”

Wang Jian soothed the princess, “Your Ladyship, this boy is incorrigible. If we don’t knock him down a peg, he’ll become even more insolent.”

Tie Xinyuan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up at the wall, “If a good poem earns a pardon for a crime, what if I compose several?”

Wang Jian patted his ample belly and grinned, “Ours is a country governed by literature. If you can indeed compose several fine poems, His Majesty pardoning a few minor charges would be a tale worth retelling!”

PS: At long last, we’re featured on Sanjiang. Let me recommend a brother’s book—“The Great Beast Tamer of the Three Kingdoms,” chronicling the struggles of Zhou Yu’s elder brother, book number 3474492. Give it a look; it’s quite good.