Old Man Liu tightened his belt.
The copper coins in his bosom knocked against a rib with a dull thud.
The sound was reassuring.
His son-in-law, Zhao Dana, had sent him to visit relatives in Qinghe County. Officially, it was a family visit, but in reality, it was to show off.
Zhao Dana was now a team leader in the Night Soil Department, managing over a dozen privies. He walked with such swagger that even his father-in-law's backbone seemed to have stiffened with pride.
Old Man Liu looked down at his clothes.
Deep blue cotton cloth, tight stitching, with a small embroidered "Xu" character on the cuff.
This was the uniform issued by the Night Soil Department. Although altered to fit, it was made with genuine new cotton, so warm it made one's heart flutter uneasily.
He stepped into the oxcart. The wheels turned, rolling over the smooth, pale gray cement road.
The cart was steady, with hardly a bump.
Old Man Liu leaned against the sideboard and half-closed his eyes.
He couldn't help but sigh with feeling:
The wind in Taoyuan County carried no stench, only a faint earthy smell drifting from the composting grounds outside the city.
It used to seem odd, but now it smelled familiar—the smell of money, the smell that meant crops could survive.
The oxcart swayed along for an hour until it reached the county border.
That smooth feeling vanished.
The wheel clattered into a pothole, and Old Man Liu nearly bit his tongue.
Ahead was Qinghe County's territory.
The road was all yellow mud slurry. It had rained a couple of days prior, leaving a mess of rutted tracks mixed with rotten vegetable leaves, dried animal dung, and a few dead rats rotting in the muck.
Old Man Liu got down, and his shoe sank into the mud with a squelch.
The dirty water hadn't even covered the shoe-top before a chill shot up from the sole of his foot.
He frowned, pulled his foot out, and scraped it vigorously against the cart shaft.
The driver, Old Man Huang, looked back and laughed. "Old Liu, can't handle it already? We all lived like this before."
Old Man Liu didn't laugh.
That was before.
After living in Taoyuan County for so long, he'd grown accustomed to streets being washed down daily, to the rule that spitting on the ground would cost you two copper coins.
Looking at Qinghe County's roads now, all he saw was filth, no different from a pigsty.
"Doesn't anyone manage this place?" Old Man Liu covered his nose as the smell of decay hit him. "Such a stench. If Miss Xu saw this, she'd break the magistrate's legs."
Old Man Huang cracked his whip to shoo flies off the ox's rump. "This is Qinghe County, not under Miss Xu's jurisdiction. Who has spare money to care about the roads us peasants walk on?"
Old Man Liu sighed and hugged the bundle in his arms tighter.
Inside were two bags of fine rice and a jar of black soil.
That was the treasure.
At the village entrance, his brother-in-law Wang Laoshi and family came out to greet him.
The sun was fierce. The pigsty was right by the courtyard gate, without even a shed. The pungent smell of the sty mixed with the odor from the dry latrine, saturating the very air.
Old Man Liu's throat itched. He couldn't hold back a dry heave.
Wang Laoshi's face darkened. "Brother-in-law, do you look down on our poverty? Why put on such airs the moment you arrive?"
Old Man Liu waved his hand, his face pale. "It's not about poverty. It's this smell... Aren't you afraid it'll make you sick? Such hot weather, and you don't even sprinkle some lime to cover it."
Wang Laoshi's wife came out holding a gourd dipper of water, her hands so grimy you couldn't see her fingernails. "We're farming folk. Why so particular? Does lime cost nothing?"
Old Man Liu didn't take the dipper.
He untied his bundle and pulled out two bags of rice and a slab of pork belly.
The fat was dazzlingly white, two fingers thick.
Wang Laoshi's little grandson stared, drool dripping to his chin, wanting to reach out but not daring.
"Cook it," Old Man Liu said, handing over the meat. "Use plenty of salt. Don't be stingy."
Wang Laoshi's wife wiped her hands on her apron again and again before daring to take the meat, looking at it as if it were gold.
Soon.
The dining table held a basin of porridge.
It was so thin you could see the rafters, with more wild greens than rice—a handful of old rice spared only because they had a guest.
The pot of braised pork sat in the middle, glistening with oil, domineeringly occupying the place of honor.
No one in Wang Laoshi's family dared touch their chopsticks, all eyes fixed on Old Man Liu.
Old Man Liu picked up a piece of meat and put it in his mouth. The rich fat burst forth, a fragrance so intoxicating it was dizzying.
"Brother-in-law, have you struck it rich in Taoyuan County?" Wang Laoshi swallowed his saliva, asking cautiously. "In these times, you can still eat meat like this?"
Old Man Liu sighed, put down his chopsticks, and wore an expression of impatience. "Struck it rich? More like suffering."
Wang Laoshi was stunned. "Suffering while eating meat? What kind of talk is that?"
"You don't know the Xu family's rules." Old Man Liu pointed at his clothes. "These clothes, Miss Xu forces us to wear them. Says Night Soil Department workers must be presentable. That's one thing, but we also have to bathe every day."
"Bathe?"
"Yeah. Must wash after work. No wages if you're not clean. And have to use that soap thing, scrubbing until your skin turns red."
Old Man Liu looked pained, as if enduring a great injustice. "What's wrong with a bit of dirt on us farmers? They insist on making us look like old women.
And that's not all. Watching the privies, you have to make sure people pay. One copper short and your wages get docked. Plus, you have to memorize those 'sanitation regulations.' No food if you can't recite them."
Wang Laoshi's wife chimed in, her eyes fixed on the fabric of his clothes. "Then... with all that trouble, how much do they pay?"
Old Man Liu held up three fingers. "Three hundred coppers."
The room fell silent.
Only the buzzing of flies hitting the window paper could be heard.
Wang Laoshi stared at Old Man Liu's fingers, his Adam's apple bobbing. "A... a month?"
"Yep. Two meals included, meat with every meal." Old Man Liu patted his stomach. "Says it's a work injury subsidy, afraid the smell will harm people."
Wang Laoshi looked down at the wild vegetable porridge in his own bowl.
He toiled in the fields all month, at the mercy of the heavens. After taxes, he'd be lucky to have thirty coppers left.
And here this man was, watching a privy, forced to bathe and eat meat, taking home three hundred coppers.
"That's not suffering," Wang Laoshi said, his voice dry, eyes slightly red. "That's living like an ancestor."
Old Man Liu shook his head, genuinely annoyed. "More money, but nowhere to spend it, and you have to watch out for fines. You have no idea, that Miss Xu, she's full of schemes, always finding new ways to make life difficult. See, she even stuffed me with all this stuff before I left, called it 'employee benefits,' and got upset if I didn't take it."
His words sounded infuriating.
But Old Man Liu felt he was telling the truth. That Miss Xu was indeed hard to please.
After the meal, Wang Laoshi headed to the fields.
The land was parched, the soil baked into hard clods. A hoe strike left only a white mark, the shock numbing his palms.
Wang Laoshi swung the hoe, sweat streaming down the groove of his spine, panting heavily. After a long while, he hadn't even turned one furrow.
"The ground's too hard," Wang Laoshi straightened up, rubbing his back. "Looks like another poor harvest this year."
Old Man Liu squatted on the ridge, looking at the wilted, yellowing bean sprouts.
He pulled a small shovel from his waist.
The shovel wasn't big, made of cast iron, dark and heavy, still bearing the marks of the forge hammer. Its edge gleamed with a bluish tint.
"Try this." Old Man Liu tossed the shovel over.
Wang Laoshi caught it, feeling its weight. "Just a shovel? What good will it do?"
"Just try it."
Wang Laoshi didn't think much of it and casually thrust it into the ground.
The shovel blade cut into the earth, meeting no resistance, as if slicing through a soft cake.
He paused, then with a flick of his wrist, put his strength into it.
A large clod of hardened soil was turned over, revealing the damp, dark core beneath.
Several villagers working nearby stopped their tasks, staring intently.
Wang Laoshi, disbelieving, took several more shovelfuls.
The sensation of cutting through bean curd made his scalp tingle. This wasn't work; it was child's play.
"What... what kind of iron is this?" Wang Laoshi ran his fingers along the blade's edge. It wasn't curled, not even a nick. His fingertip stung from a sharp cut.
"Rejects from the Xu family's ironworks," Old Man Liu said, pulling out his pipe from his robe and leisurely packing it with tobacco. "Two hundred coppers apiece. We can't afford the proper ones—those are for the army. This is just for the kids to dig around with."
The villagers gathered around, their eyes gleaming.
Two hundred coppers weren't cheap—enough to feed a family for two months.
But with this efficiency, one shovel did the work of three, and saved effort too. With this, clearing new land wouldn't be a struggle.
This wasn't just a shovel; it was a family heirloom.
Old Man Liu then untied the small cloth bundle and pulled out an oil-paper jar.
When he opened it, a peculiar smell wafted out.
Earthy, warm, with a hint of fermented richness.
"What's this?" Wang Laoshi asked.
"Black soil," Old Man Liu replied. He didn't call it dung; that was Miss Xu's taboo. It had to be called 'mature fertilizer.' "Medicine dregs from Miss Xu's alchemy furnace, refined with plant ash."
He pinched a small, jet-black amount and sprinkled it around the roots of a nearly parched bean seedling, then told Wang Laoshi to pour a ladle of water over it.
As the sun dipped westward, something strange happened.
The bean seedling, whose leaves had been curled, yellowing, and on the brink of death, actually began to unfurl.
The color visibly returned to a vibrant green, and it even straightened up, its vitality starkly different from the half-dead crops around it.
A chorus of sharp intakes of breath surrounded them.
"Miracle medicine!"
"Is this... sacred clay?"
Old Man Liu put the jar away and casually handed it to Wang Laoshi. "Use it sparingly. Back in Taoyuan County, you have to queue up and fight for this stuff. Two coppers for a bucket, and that's only if the Xu family is in a good mood. It's only because I'm a so-called 'outstanding employee's family member' that I got this jar."
Wang Laoshi held the jar, his hands trembling.
This wasn't soil; it was life itself.
Under the shade of a tree not far away stood a man in dark official's attire.
It was Constable Zhang of Qinghe County.
Constable Zhang gripped the hilt of his sword, his palm slick with sweat.
He had seen the shovel. He had seen the jar of soil.
And he had seen the look in Wang Laoshi's and the others' eyes as they regarded Old Man Liu.
It wasn't the look you give a relative.
It was the look you give a deity, a savior, a path to survival.
Constable Zhang swallowed, his throat dry.
After ten years in Qinghe County, he knew all too well what these dirt-poor peasants wanted.
Full bellies, warm clothes, work that didn't break their backs, crops that grew well.
And now, the county next door, Taoyuan, had it all.
Even a cripple guarding a latrine could live that life—new clothes, fatty meat, high wages.
Constable Zhang felt the seat of his position growing uncomfortably hot.
But if this news spread, how many people would be left in Qinghe County?
Who would still be willing to gnaw on wild herbs and break their backs on hard soil here?
He turned and strode away, his steps hurried, nearly tripping.
He had to report this to the Magistrate.
This wasn't Old Man Liu visiting family. This was Taoyuan County coming to dig up Qinghe County's very roots.
The sun set.
Old Man Liu boarded the ox-cart for the return journey.
Wang Laoshi and his family saw him off at the village entrance, reluctant to part, their expressions complex.
Many villagers stood at their courtyard gates, peering out curiously.
Some, with bundles on their backs, whispered in hushed tones by the walls.
"Is Taoyuan County hiring?"
"I heard they'll even take simpletons, as long as they're obedient."
"But what about our land here…"
"To hell with the land! If the land won't give you food, digging night soil over there is better than being a landlord here!"
Old Man Liu didn't hear these words.
He felt the remaining copper coins in his robe, planning to buy a sugar figurine for his grandson back home.
Taoyuan County was good.
Even if Miss Xu had a bit of a temper, even if there were many rules, even if people pointed fingers and called her a treacherous official behind her back.
She truly gave you meat to eat.
The ox-cart rocked and swayed, disappearing down the end of the dirt road.
Behind, in the villages of Qinghe County, hearts and minds had scattered.
No one felt like sleeping.
Everyone was pondering how to get to that place where even the latrines seemed gilded.
The wind picked up, swirling yellow dust, blowing in the direction of Taoyuan County.
Old Man Liu dozed off on the cart.
His dreams were filled with the aroma of braised pork.
When he awoke, the cart was already on the road.
Smooth. Quiet.
The air carried that familiar scent again, tinged with that fermented note.
Old Man Liu took a deep breath.
Home.
This was the smell that put a man's heart at ease.
Old Man Liu got off the cart, paid the fare.
He straightened his back and walked into the night-shrouded town of Taoyuan.
The lantern lights here were much brighter than in Qinghe.
"Miss Xu is a living Bodhisattva."
An old woman was burning incense by the roadside, muttering the words.
Old Man Liu passed by and curled his lip.
No Bodhisattva was this fierce, always threatening fines.
But then...
He felt the thick, sturdy cotton of his clothes.
This fierce Bodhisattva... was alright.
At least she let a man live like a human being.
He headed home, his steps light.
These days, there was hope.
