“They’re both tenant farmers from the estate, aren’t they?” Han Qian asked.
“Ah?” Zhao Kuo was slightly startled and replied: “Old Zhao is a tenant farmer from the estate. It’s his little bastard son who’s been caught several times but never learns. Master Fan said that if we see them poaching in the mountains again, we should send them to the county yamen to deal with them.”
Han Qian sized up the stubbornly defiant youth and asked: “What’s your name?”
The youth kept his head stiff and ignored Han Qian.
“Reporting to the young master, my little bastard son’s humble name is Zhao Wuji!” The older hunter kept kowtowing and begging for mercy. “We will never do it again. I beg the young master to give us a way to live!”
“Zhao Kuo, let me ask you something. In your eyes, does Master Fan have the final say in all estate matters, while my words count for nothing?” Han Qian turned around and stared into Zhao Kuo’s eyes as he asked.
“…”
Zhao Kuo was slightly stunned. After a good while, he stammered:
“Young master, what are you saying? Master Fan is also afraid of disturbing your studies and failing the family head’s trust. Moreover, dealing with estate matters means dealing with these cunning, lowly commoners. Master Fan is also afraid that you lack experience and would be deceived by these lowly people…”
“Enough, no need to say more. As long as my words still carry some weight, that’s fine.”
Han Qian cut off Zhao Kuo’s words and said:
“Since Old Zhao and his son are tenant farmers of the estate, then aside from the mountain closure periods, whatever they hunt or gather from the back mountain in the future, they just need to pay the corresponding portion to the estate according to the field rent ratio. Send them to what county yamen? Making estate matters known to everyone so they all know the Han family is incompetent at managing subordinates—would that be better?”
Not expecting that the usually temperamental young master would not only refrain from pursuing Old Zhao and his son’s mountain poaching, but would also lift the mountain ban for the estate’s tenant farmers, Zhao Kuo narrowed his eyes, sized up the young master Han Qian, and said nothing.
“You can shoot down hawks, which shows your archery is good. But without a fine bow, it’s too much of a waste. This Black Cloud bow is useless in my hands. I’ll give it to you today.” Regardless of what Zhao Kuo might be thinking, Han Qian took the Black Cloud bow from its case and handed it to the youth.
As someone skilled in archery, the youth could naturally see the exceptional quality of the Black Cloud bow. But even if the youth was naive about worldly matters, he felt Han Qian’s sudden gift of a fine bow was too abrupt. He stared at the Black Cloud bow in Han Qian’s hand, hesitating without reaching out to take it.
“How can this be, how can this be?” Old Zhao said anxiously.
“Qiuhu Mountain Villa belongs to the Han family. Besides my father, my word counts here. But I can’t guarantee some disobedient slaves at the estate won’t come to your door looking for trouble. This bow is the proof!” Han Qian said, and without allowing refusal, stuffed the Black Cloud bow into the youth’s hands.
“Thank you, young master.” Seeing he couldn’t refuse, Old Zhao led the youth to kowtow repeatedly in thanks to Han Qian.
Han Qian laughed heartily and said: “This time I won’t be polite either. Let me pick a few pieces of prey to take back to the estate?”
“Young master, please choose,” Old Zhao said, kneeling on the ground.
“Stand up to talk. Don’t kneel at every turn. Isn’t your throat tired from talking like that?”
Han Qian walked over and helped Old Zhao up from the muddy ground, then picked up from the ground two pheasants whose wings had been shot off but were still fluttering, saying:
“Good, I’ll take these two wild chickens as my collection of mountain rent. Take everything else back with you. Whatever good things you hunt in the mountains in the future, remember to pay half to the estate—go tell the other tenant farmers the same. This is the rule I, Han Qian, have set.”
Watching the hunter father and son leave carrying their prey, Han Qian tossed the two pheasants to Zhao Kuo, saying: “I struck you with the whip twice just now. Take these two wild chickens back. Consider it your reward money for accompanying me riding this afternoon.”
Seeing Zhao Kuo silently accept the two pheasants and lead the horse ahead, Han Qian thought to himself: if the person from his dream, Zhai Xinping, were in this situation, he would probably do the same, wouldn’t he?
…
…
Returning to the eastern courtyard, the sky had already darkened.
After Han Qian washed his hands and face and changed into a set of fresh clothes, he walked to the dining hall in the western side courtyard. The meal was still prepared in the same style as lunch, all using ingredients supplied by the estate itself. While not particularly varied, they were absolutely fresh—only the portions of the dishes had been reduced considerably.
Clearly, Fan Xicheng hadn’t taken his words seriously at all and had no intention of having Fan Dahei come over to dine with him.
When Yao Xishui poisoned the wine, wanting to create the illusion of his sudden death from illness, the fact was that Yao Xishui and whoever was behind her didn’t want his death to cause too much commotion. Otherwise that night, they could have just given him a knife stroke, and he would have died more readily than anyone.
Han Qian didn’t know why the poisoned wine ultimately failed to poison him to death. At this point, he perhaps didn’t need to worry about Yao Xishui or other assassins directly breaking in, but he still had to guard against them poisoning him again.
Now with Fan Dahei not coming over, who would help him test whether there was poison in these dishes?
At this moment, he also had no excuse to have Qing Yun sit down and taste every dish first!
He cursed that old bastard Fan Xicheng in his heart. With a dark face, his eyes fixed on Qing Yun and the cook who helped bring the dishes over, strongly suppressing his irritation so he wouldn’t directly flip the table over.
Stay calm, must stay calm.
Flipping over the food and not eating was just a temporary measure and wouldn’t change his circumstances, Han Qian thought to himself. If the person from his dream, Zhai Xinping, were in this situation, what would he do?
Qing Yun and the cook stood to the side, not daring to breathe heavily, afraid the young master would pick up the bowls and dishes on the table and hurl them at them. After a long while, they saw the young master exhale deeply and say:
“Since I have no way to invite people over, I’ll just go there myself.”
Han Qian walked directly toward the northern courtyard.
In the northern courtyard, four or five dozen rooms had been built in a scattered fashion, all quite crude—mud walls with thatched roofs. When the wind and rain were slightly stronger, the rooms would leak continuously.
The northern courtyard housed the household guards and their families, and also served as the kitchen, stables, and storage area. With limited conditions, it naturally couldn’t compare to the eastern courtyard where Han Qian and Han Daoxun lived.
This was mealtime, and Han Qian heard noisy sounds as he passed through narrow alleyways and walked into a cramped courtyard.
An old pomegranate tree was flourishing with branches and leaves. Seeing cooking smoke rising gracefully from the roof to the north, this should be where the kitchen was located.
The western wing consisted of three connected rooms with seven or eight square tables set up, surrounded by fifty or sixty people waiting for the meal to start. This should be the dining hall where household guards and servants ate.
In the northern courtyard’s dining hall, seven or eight square tables were all placed in one room, also divided by status.
Fan Xicheng sat alone at one table by the window, able to see the stream and river outside. The dishes on his table were also one bowl of fish, one bowl of chicken, one plate of cured meat, and one plate of greens.
Next were sixteen household guards divided between two tables, but eight people at each table shared one large bowl of fish and one large bowl of stewed chicken. They had no cured meat, but the greens were loaded in a large bucket, enough for all, floating with just a few scattered drops of oil.
The rest were household guards’ family members serving as slaves and servants, sitting around four large tables. On the tables were only greens and dark pickled vegetables, no white rice, but yellowish millet or corn rice instead.
Han Qian had lived at the estate for over a month, but this was the first time he’d entered the place where servants ate. He hadn’t expected the household guards’ food to be so crude, and the food before the guards’ children and family members serving as servants was worse than dog food.