Chapter 3: Hibitsu Village
A person on the verge of death miraculously recovered, and all the villagers were extremely excited. The chatter never stopped, and even carrying the stretcher couldn’t quell their endless discussions.
Hibitsu Village, this was the place name Yuan Ye had inquired about. He had also successfully achieved his wish. Before he could even ask for lodging, he merely mentioned that his friend had fallen and injured himself. Jubei and the woman who had previously thanked him excitedly invited him to stay in the village for the night.
Yuan Ye didn’t even dare to offer polite refusal and quickly followed these villagers. Dozens of people, holding torches and bamboo spears, carried Jikuro and Meng Ziqi on a stretcher. They descended the mountain and walked for another three to four li, arriving at a riverside.
The river’s name was Odaigawa. The group walked along the river for a while longer, crossed a simple wooden bridge, and arrived at Hibitsu Village. The village was surrounded by a rough wooden fence, offering basic defense. However, the size of the village couldn’t be discerned due to the darkness and the limited range of the torches.
Once they entered the village, the crowd grew. Many women and children came out to watch the spectacle. They were surprised to see Jikuro being carried back again and whispered amongst themselves. However, no one dared to offend Yuan Ye, the “Noble Person” with his ornate clothing. He was the only one who stood out; his jacket was made of waterproof and dustproof material, which gleamed under the torchlight, looking exceptionally expensive.
Yuan Ye silently observed his surroundings, his mood growing heavy once more.
The village before him was filled with drab, thatched huts. Based on his limited knowledge of Japanese history, this was a post-and-beam thatched-roof structure, an ancient dwelling for which there were no surviving examples in modern Japan, only written records. At this point, he could discard his last shred of hope; he had indeed transmigrated through time.
He didn’t know if he could return to the Modern Era. Moreover, his foolish son had been unconscious for nearly a day and still wouldn’t wake up. He suspected his head was truly injured. If there was no modern medical treatment, then…
With a heavy heart, Yuan Ye was led by Jubei and others to a small courtyard with a fence. They invited him into the thatched hut, lit an oil lamp for him, and helped him settle Meng Ziqi. Then, they all withdrew, seemingly hesitant to linger around this distinguished guest, perhaps worried about causing him displeasure.
Yuan Ye was indifferent. He gave his friend a little water. Seeing that he could swallow but not wake up, his headache intensified.
He didn’t know what to do. Now, he could only hope that his good friend merely had a severe concussion and would recover after a long sleep. But if it were something else, like intracranial bleeding pressing on the brain, rendering him a vegetative state, he truly didn’t know what he would do.
With the medical conditions of the Ancient Era, such an illness couldn’t be treated, could it?
He sat with his friend for a while, shook his head, and turned to look at the dwellings of this Japanese Medieval Period.
There was no door. The “doorway” was a thick curtain woven from straw. Lifting the curtain allowed entry. The layout could roughly be divided into two rooms.
The first room upon entering had an earthen floor. Towards the back, there was a hearth made of stones, with a clay pot hanging above it. Adjacent to it was a stove built of mud, connected to it. According to the restoration diagrams of post-and-beam thatched-roof houses he had seen in museums, this was the “earthen floor room” (doma). It served as a kitchen and could also be used to store farm tools, grain, and other sundries. During bad weather, livestock and poultry would also be temporarily kept here.
The other room was the “earthen seat room” (doza), used for receiving guests and sleeping. This was where he was currently sitting.
The ground here was raised with gravel to prevent dampness—stone slabs would have been better, but the poor villagers likely didn’t have the energy or strength to chisel stone, so they had to make do with gravel. Then, a layer of husk and rice bran was spread to prevent feet from getting sore, and on top of that, a mat woven from straw was laid and smoothed.
Yuan Ye reached out and tested it. It felt relatively soft to the touch, a sort of impoverished version of tatami.
The Japanese term “dogeza” likely originated from “doza” and “doma”.
People of high status sat elevated on the earthen seat, while those of lower status had to kneel on the earthen floor of the earthen floor room. It was probably later that the meaning extended to apology and sincere repentance.
After examining the earthen seat room, Yuan Ye turned to look at the “support pillars” present in both the earthen floor room and the earthen seat room.
These dwellings were called “post-and-beam thatched-roof structures” precisely because of these two rows of “support pillars.” One end of the pillar supported the roof beam, and the other end was buried in the ground, hence “post-and-beam.” However, the name was irrelevant; what mattered was the distance between the pillars.
The distance between two pillars was called a “ken” in Japan, a unit of length that varied throughout the ages. Based on the information he saw in museums, this could help him determine the era he was currently in. During the Kamakura Shogunate, one ken was approximately eight shaku. During the Muromachi Shogunate, one ken was approximately seven shaku and two sun. During the Edo Shogunate, one ken was approximately six shaku and six sun.
The “shaku” here referred to the “Goguryeo shaku,” which was approximately 0.269 meters in modern terms, a unit of measurement specific to the Japanese Medieval Period.
Yuan Ye visually estimated the distance between the pillars to be slightly over 1.9 meters, which would be seven shaku and two sun. Therefore… had he transmigrated to the Muromachi period with his foolish son?
It would be great if he could just ask someone directly, but wouldn’t it be a bit foolish to ask these villagers what era it was?
The sudden transmigration put a lot of psychological pressure on Yuan Ye. He had a belly full of questions but didn’t know how to ask them or whom to ask. While his thoughts were in disarray, the straw curtain was lifted. The middle-aged woman who had thanked him earlier, Jikuro’s wife, Aping, entered with a young girl carrying a wooden plate. She bowed respectfully and said, “Excuse me, Lord, thank you for waiting.”
“It’s nothing,” Yuan Ye stood up from the earthen seat to greet her. He slowed his speech, smiled, and politely asked, “Sorry to have troubled you. How is your husband?”
“He’s no longer feverish and is resting in the side room,” Aping tried to decipher his words, bowing repeatedly with very polite and courteous speech. “Thank you so much. Please, have a seat.”
Yuan Ye nodded with a smile and returned to sit on the earthen seat. The little girl also took off her straw sandals and followed barefoot. She brought a lacquered wooden table, resembling a low table, from the side of the earthen seat. Then, she took out a clay jar and a tea bowl from the wooden plate, poured him a cup of hot tea, and said softly, “Lord, please have some tea.”
“Thank you,” Yuan Ye nodded at her, smiling gently. The little girl was stunned for a moment, then returned a shy smile, her expression visibly relaxing a little.
In the earthen floor room, Aping had already started a fire in the hearth and stove. The little girl quickly went down to the earthen floor room and used a long bamboo tube to help fan the flames. Once the fire was burning brightly, Aping went to get rice to cook and skewered the already prepared fish on bamboo branches, roasting them on both sides of the hearth.
It seemed that the time she had disappeared was to prepare dinner ingredients. While she was busy cooking, Jubei’s bald head seemed to have appeared at the door for a moment, as if he felt everything was normal, and then quickly disappeared, not daring to come in for idle chat.
Yuan Ye sat with his friend, with nothing else to do. He looked down at the flat, coarse pottery tea bowl and smelled it, judging it to be brown rice tea. Brown rice was even coarser than modern brown rice, with a white, yellowish-green color. Therefore, brown rice tea was made by dry-roasting this greenish-white or pale yellow brown rice and storing it. When needed, it was brewed with hot water as a substitute for tea leaves. It was still used in Japan in later generations.
However, Yuan Ye didn’t move. Even though he was a little thirsty, he didn’t touch the tea. Most of his attention was still on Aping, Jikuro’s wife. He watched her cook. Aping was very efficient and soon finished preparing the meal, which the little girl brought to him on a wooden plate.
A bowl of brown rice, unlike the small bowls often used for feeding cats in later Japanese eras, was of a normal size now. The cooking method was similar to Chinese “scooped dry rice,” first boiled and then steamed. It smelled good, with a rich rice aroma.
A large bowl of rice soup, which was the first batch of rice soup from cooking the rice. It contained some rice grains, but the color was slightly pale yellow.
A plate of grilled fish. The fish was small, likely a grass carp or a similar type. It wasn’t very appealing in appearance after grilling, but it was good to get fresh fish in winter. The poor cooking skill didn’t matter much.
Finally, there was one vegetable dish and one sauce. The vegetable was kelp boiled with radish, and the sauce was likely bean paste mixed with plum sauce. Beside it was a hard-boiled egg.
In addition, a mushy rice porridge was cooked for Meng Ziqi, the patient, likely a byproduct of the first boiling of the rice.
Seeing that the food was arranged before Yuan Ye, Aping knelt on the earthen floor, bowed her head, and said very politely, “Lord, our humble home is poor and can only offer some simple food and drink. Please forgive us.”
Three dishes and one soup in this era were actually a luxurious feast, prepared with all her effort. The fish, kelp, and plum sauce were borrowed. Yuan Ye looked so noble, in terms of physique, skin color, neat teeth, and presence, he was more distinguished than any rural samurai she had ever seen. She was unsure of the appropriate standard of hospitality and feared his anger, feeling truly anxious.
She waited until Yuan Ye nodded and said “Thank you” with a smile before she slightly relaxed and withdrew from the room, leaving only her daughter to serve. From beginning to end, she didn’t seem like an ordinary farmer’s wife.
Perhaps it was because she was the “village chief’s wife” and had more experience. She wondered what position “servant husband” was, and if it counted as the village chief.
Yuan Ye pondered this as he helped Meng Ziqi sit up, intending to feed him some rice soup first. The little girl, who had been kneeling with her head bowed at the edge of the earthen seat, was alert to the movement. She immediately got up and approached with small, quick steps to help.
Yuan Ye felt that the rice porridge should be fine, so he directly fed his friend a little. Seeing that he could swallow slowly and his complexion seemed to have improved, he felt slightly relieved. After settling his friend back down, he then turned his gaze to the little girl, who was preparing to step aside, and asked gently, “Are there any more bowls and chopsticks?”
The little girl looked up in surprise, not quite understanding what he said. He repeated himself, and only then did she react, quickly fetching a pottery bowl and a pair of bamboo chopsticks to hand to him.
Yuan Ye put some rice, fish, and sauce into the pottery bowl and smiled, saying, “I’m not used to eating alone. Let’s eat together!”
This was the first time the little girl had encountered such a situation. Yuan Ye’s accent was too heavy, and she heard him indistinctly, momentarily confused. When she understood his meaning, she became even more bewildered about what he intended to do. During the autumn harvest or when conscripted for labor and military service, Aragiko Castle would sometimes send vassal samurai. As the only daughter of the family, she usually couldn’t refuse and would act as a maidservant. However, those people were extremely crude and barbaric; if anything displeased them, they would glare and curse, let alone let her eat along.
Frankly, if Yuan Ye had thrown his bowl and cursed about the lack of sake, or complained about not killing a chicken, she would have been more accepting. After all, judging by his clothing and appearance, those rural samurai were far inferior to this distinguished guest before her.
Seeing her flustered, Yuan Ye pushed the bowl towards her again and smiled, “It’s alright, eat quickly!”
“Uh, yes, excuse me… Thank you, Lord.”
The little girl actually wanted to eat. Her daily diet consisted mainly of buckwheat, beans, wild vegetables, radishes, and turnips. Most of the time, she had to mix in rice bran and barnyard grass seeds. She had barely eaten pure rice since she was born, let alone fish and sauce. Her family’s daily meals would never be so extravagant. Seeing Yuan Ye’s insistence, she finally swallowed and softly agreed, took the bowl, and began to eat carefully.
Yuan Ye watched her eat, and only then did he pick up his chopsticks.
He took a bite of the brown rice. It was a bit hard and didn’t have a good texture; in fact, it was quite bad. If he had a choice, he would still prefer white rice, but he guessed they wouldn’t have polished rice here.
The fish was acceptable. The meat was very fresh and quite fatty, but it was a bit overcooked and the flavor was too bland. Not to mention seasoning, they seemed to have been stingy even with salt. The fishy smell was very strong, a waste of such good fish.
The vegetable dish, radish stewed with kelp, was the legendary “Emerald Jade Soup.” This reminded him of his high school days. The unfortunate cafeteria at his high school often served radish stewed with kelp. Theoretically, there should have been some meat in it, but he never got any when he served himself, and he didn’t know where that meat went.
The sauce was somewhat indescribable—sour, astringent, and bitter. It was likely bean paste and plum sauce from last year that had been stored until now. Not only was there little savory flavor, but it also seemed to have gone bad.
Overall, if this were the Modern Era, he would have gone to beat up the chef after a few bites. But now that he was in trouble, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and continue eating to conserve his energy.
He forced himself to eat some, then peeled the hard-boiled egg. He ate the white but put the yolk, which he didn’t like, into the little girl’s bowl. He smiled and asked, “What’s your name?”
The little girl was savoring her food. The meal, which would be considered meager in the Modern Era, brought a look of happiness to her small face. Hearing the question, she quickly put down her chopsticks, bowed her head, clasped her hands, and answered respectfully in a seated position, “Thank you for asking, Lord. My name is Yayoi.”
“A good name. Were you born in March?” Yuan Ye asked politely. Yayoi was an ancient name for March. In the Medieval Period or later Japanese eras, it was a very common name, nothing unusual. You could probably hit one by throwing a stone in the countryside.
Yayoi listened intently with her small ears, trying to decipher his words. This time, she understood quickly, and a shy smile appeared on her face, looking somewhat bashful.
Yuan Ye didn’t pay it much mind. He was new to this foreign land and wanted to chat more to correct his accent and gather information. He immediately asked again, “How old are you this year?”
“Ten years old.”
“Hmm, ten years old?” Yuan Ye feigned thought. “What year were you born in when you were ten?”
He didn’t expect this little girl to answer, as she was so young and lived in an era where the illiteracy rate was definitely over 95%. It was normal for her not to know her birth year, and he completely understood. But to his surprise, Yayoi answered very readily, “Tenmei 10, Lord.”
Tenmei 10?
So, it was likely Tenmei 20 now?
What year was Tenmei 20 in the Gregorian calendar?
Yuan Ye’s mind raced. He felt like he had seen this era name when visiting a museum. Combined with his earlier judgment of the Muromachi period… Was it Tenmei 4 or 5 of the Muromachi period? The great disturbance of the Nichiren Buddhism sect in Kyoto, the first loss of Japan’s most famous ancient tea caddy, the “Tsukumo-nasu”, seemed to be around 1536. So, it was now 1550 or 1551, at the end of the Muromachi period?
The end of the Muromachi period was also known as the Azuchi-Momoyama period, which was the Japanese Warring States period. So, had I transmigrated to these Turbulent Times with my foolish son?
Damn it!
