Chapter 228: A Dream Of Yellow Millet
“Ma Envoy, County Magistrate Wang requests your presence.”
When Scholar Ma received the summons from the County Yamen, he was still only wearing a half-worn blue satin fur jacket, hurrying among a group of disaster victims and refugees, guiding everyone to build Dark Fire Caves.
Last year’s autumn floods, this year’s winter cold—daily reports of people freezing to death.
Although Scholar Ma had no taboos, borrowing the identity of Qianning Envoy to act conveniently, checking accounts and collecting debts, building a guesthouse, providing relief through labor, and rescuing refugees.
But relying solely on his own power, how many people could he save, how many households could he protect?
To shelter all the poor scholars under heaven and make them all smile?
A pipe dream.
And how could Scholar Ma not know that his recent actions had already caused a great uproar among the officials in Wuqing County.
That white silver, now turned into grain in the mouths of disaster victims, clothes on their bodies, and tiles over their heads.
One impeachment memorial after another must have flown like snowflakes to the desks of the County Magistrate, the Prefect, and even the officials in Tongzhou City.
Many accused him of “buying popularity,” “seeking fame and reputation,” and “abusing public office for private gain.”
He let the runner who came to report wait a moment in the house.
Scholar Ma personally transplanted a toon tree no more than four or five feet tall into the cave.
Wuqing’s winter is bitterly cold, summer vegetables hard to grow naturally, relying entirely on artificial smoking and cultivation to eat them, locally called “smoked fresh goods.”
Smoking fresh vegetables requires a cave, dug seven or eight feet deep, covered with a sun-facing slope shed, front pasted with window paper, fire lit inside the shed to raise temperature, simulating summer climate.
Caves are divided into Hidden Fire and Open Fire types.
The Dark Fire Cave has an earthen kang built inside, the kang surface paved with soil divided into square beds, fire channel hidden under the kang, only allowing warm air to flow through the cave, without the drawback of direct open fire scorching.
Building this cave is quite complex; throughout the entire Wuqing County, few know how, some even think the method is lost.
Once the cave is built, seeds are sown in the beds, planting cucumbers, eggplants, beans, and other crops.
Finally harvested and sold in the market at high prices.
“Remember, this toon tree doesn’t need intense heat, doesn’t take up planting space, but sells for a high price when marketed—it’s an extremely profitable smoked fresh variety, just need to nurture the seedlings in advance…”
After carefully instructing a group of disaster victims, Scholar Ma returned to the house, changed into a Confucian robe that was washed white but still neat, and left together with the government runner.
Giving a man a fish is less valuable than teaching him to fish.
Scholar Ma was blessing one area, passing down a method of self-rescue.
As long as this land still grows crops, and the people still need to till the fields for food.
With this skill at hand, there will always be a way to survive.
Minister of Agriculture’s farming benefits a thousand years.
Actually, with Scholar Ma’s Lin Student status, not to mention thriving, as long as slightly managed, opening a guesthouse or teaching in a private school, he could live comfortably and be a person of status in Wuqing County.
Why fall to the previous state of not having enough to eat?
It’s just…
Too stupid, those people are all too stupid!
How can there be so many foolish people in the world? I talk until my mouth is dry, explain every reason, yet they remain ignorant, making Brother Shun An seem like a talented scholar by comparison!
But fortunately, Scholar Ma has finally made it through now.
Qianning Envoy!
On the way, the runner hesitated to speak, finally asking quietly,
“Master Ma, this method of smoking fresh goods has been lost for many years—where did you learn it?”
“Books hold a golden house, books hold beauties like jade… Of course, learned from books.”
“Ah? I also studied for the imperial examinations for a few years—why haven’t I seen it recorded in any book?”
Scholar Ma chuckled upon hearing this, with the pride of a scholar, glanced disdainfully at the man, and said,
“Simple—you read but don’t understand, understand but forget. You dull, vulgar types, reeking of fish and meat, naturally see no profundity.”
The runner opened his mouth, face suddenly flushing red, glared grudgingly at Scholar Ma.
Said nothing.
No wonder so many people dislike Scholar Ma and wish to get rid of him—the main reason must be this mouth of his.
Trouble comes from the mouth!
But some people refuse to be silenced.
“We’re here.”
The runner led Scholar Ma to the County Yamen gate, then stopped leading the way and fled-like turned away.
“Brother Ma.”
Suddenly, a calm voice came.
Scholar Ma looked toward the voice, eyes lighting up, said,
“Brother Shen! Long time no see!”
The newcomer was Scholar Ma’s old classmate and friend Shen Mochuan, now holding the position of Instructor in Wuqing County, overseeing the education of all students in the county.
Shen Mochuan’s expression was complex, he looked deeply at Scholar Ma, and said,
“Brother Ma, hear me out.”
“What’s wrong?” Scholar Ma looked puzzled.
Shen Mochuan said: “Since County Magistrate Wang appreciates you so much, why persist in delusion? Brother Ma, just become an official.”
Scholar Ma smiled, said,
“So that’s it. Becoming a marquis is not my wish, but I wish the seas calm—as long as I can be an official cleanly and purely, I naturally will. Make way, Brother Shen.”
Shen Mochuan stood silently, blocking Scholar Ma’s path.
Scholar Ma’s smile unchanged, just cupped his hands toward Shen Mochuan, then went around him.
“Ma Envoy, our County Magistrate Master requests you, waiting in White Tiger Hall.”
A gatekeeper from the County Yamen ran over through the snow, bowing deeply.
White Tiger Hall?
Good name.
Scholar Ma nodded.
He straightened his clothes and followed the gatekeeper through the snow into the yamen.
Shen Mochuan showed regret, standing long in the wind and snow until the figure disappeared.
……
Inside White Tiger Hall.
Charcoal fire crackling, warm and toasty, like two worlds from the bitter cold outside.
County Magistrate Wang wore a thick Zhang velvet jacket, outer fox fur overcoat, holding a hand warmer. Seeing him enter, he didn’t rise, just nodded with his chin toward the seat below.
“County Magistrate, disaster victims displaced, starving and freezing—Ma Mou this time in relief…”
Scholar Ma sat, speaking calmly.
“Tch!”
County Magistrate Wang interrupted Scholar Ma, shaking his head indifferently,
“You are the Qianning Envoy I recommended—who can control what you do, or dare to! Relief and saving people is a good thing!”
“Then County Magistrate Wang, why summon me today…”
Scholar Ma was somewhat puzzled.
Not for tax silver, not for relief—could it be to match couplets or compose poetry with Ma Mou?!
Outside the window, wind and snow grew fiercer, battering the window frames.
In the hall, charcoal fire emitted waves of warmth.
County Magistrate Wang leisurely sipped hot tea, exhaled turbid qi, then said faintly,
“I summoned you today to ask again: are you willing to study at Yue Shan Daoist Academy and become my staff? I promise you a ninth-rank sinecure, no donation required! How about it?”
Scholar Ma was silent for a moment, refused,
“Thank you County Magistrate Wang for your kindness, but Ma Mou is a stone in the manure pit—stubborn, determined to strive for the provincial examination and imperial examination.”
“Do you want to be a good official?”
Suddenly, County Magistrate Wang’s gaze deepened, smiling lightly.
Scholar Ma sat upright, nodded,
“Naturally. My father placed first in the imperial examinations that year, had no post available, so waited as a provisional County Magistrate under the Governor-General of Liangjiang. Though framed and killed, before death he left a bloody letter, urging me to live cleanly and purely… Ma Mou naturally inherits my father’s last wish: live cleanly and purely, be an official cleanly.”
It was Scholar Ma’s father who was involved in the Longnan False Relief Case back then.
Several years before the devastating Longnan floods, signs had already appeared.
After relief silver was allocated and sent to Longnan, to prevent officials from embezzling it, the Governor-General of Liangjiang sent Ma’s father as a relief inspector to Longnan to check accounts.
Local officials, from top to bottom, colluded in miasma, not only embezzling relief silver but also trying to bribe Ma’s father to cover up crimes.
Ma’s father sternly refused, so local officials plotted to poison him, staging it as suicide by hanging.
Ma’s father perhaps foresaw his death in advance, only managing to leave Ma Liangcai a bloody letter with the words “live cleanly and purely, be an official cleanly,” then abruptly ended.
Although, with the Longnan False Relief Case exposed, the truth came out and was announced publicly.
Those officials from back then were beheaded, exiled, or transferred as appropriate; Ma’s father was cleared of injustice.
Everything seemed as if it never happened.
But no one could predict that after so many years, one person endured from the prime of youth to age sixty, always adhering to that bloody letter from back then.
County Magistrate Wang, noncommittal upon hearing this, just pushed a cup of sweet water toward him,
“This is rock tea brewed with sweet water from the ‘Lower Dragon’ well tied to the earth veins outside Anding Gate—taste it.”
“Thank you Lord Wang.”
Scholar Ma had never drunk such fine tea, immediately took the tea bowl with both hands.
Tea fragrance wafting, with a strange aroma.
He just lightly sipped, suddenly felt drowsy, leaned on the incense table and fell deeply asleep.
He seemed to have a long dream.
In the dream, he was in the prime of youth, the list of successful imperial examination candidates hung high—he surprisingly placed first, and after the palace exam was selected as a Hanlin Academy junior compiler.
Suddenly, classmates from the same year gathered, his examiners favored him, fine clothes and angry horse, immensely glamorous.
Within a few years, due to his overly brilliant degree, outer appointment to a real post without donation, he was assigned as County Magistrate in wealthy southern Jiangsu.
Assigned to the post at the same time was his former classmate, Hanlin origin Shen Mochuan.
Officialdom like a dye vat: superiors’ ice and charcoal respects, colleagues’ festival and birthday gifts, subordinates’ “three festivals two birthdays” filial offerings, surging like tides.
He stood firm, treating them as breeze brushing past.
While his classmate Shen Mochuan half-pushed half-accepted, gradually taking them openly.
The two gradually drifted apart.
Until one day, a fabricated charge pinned on him out of nowhere.
Former brothers-in-arms colleagues, students he benefited, either avoided him or turned against him.
Wife and children exiled, family property confiscated, sentenced to immediate beheading.
“Ma Liangcai, you think yourself lofty, but know that officialdom is a market—those not going with the flow have only the path of death!”
The executioner stood on the supervision platform, sneering repeatedly.
He glared furiously, curses unfinished, blade fell, hot blood splashed on the snowfield, staining the dry grass red.
Shen Mochuan appeared only once at his beheading execution ground, collecting his remains.
