Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Countryside

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To establish a legacy in writing—how much easier said than done! In an era when even paper was a rarity, spreading one’s teachings was nearly impossible.

Since his arrival in this time, Chen Shen relied on the unique perspective of a time traveler from the future, gaining profound insights into the Seven Classics. Even Song Zhong praised his scholarship.

Yet such knowledge mattered only to himself. Without public recognition, it was meaningless. Ultimately, it all boiled down to insufficient reputation.

Therefore, he had to study deeply and understand the society of the time with clarity, so as to make targeted improvements.

Such research could not be done in isolation; he needed to venture out often, understand the hardships of the common folk, grasp the methods of the ruling elite, and be fully aware of the prevailing public opinion and social environment.

In the days that followed, after Zhuge Liang had rested, Chen Shen accompanied him frequently, wandering the surrounding villages and townships of Xiangyang to learn about the people’s grievances and desires.

From Xuzhou to Jingzhou, Chen Shen had seen so much. Coming himself from the common people and rooted in the grassroots, he knew exactly what they wanted: simply enough food to eat each day and a relatively just society.

They wished, for instance, that local rulers would not oppress them, would not arbitrarily levy taxes on fabricated grounds, and that no one would lose their head for merely glancing at a powerful noble.

Still, Chen Shen felt his understanding of the world was incomplete, and so he chose to pursue what he deemed meaningful.

Though the people of Jingzhou fared better than those in Xuzhou—they at least managed to scrape by, enjoyed a measure of public order, and were not constantly terrorized by warlords or massacred by soldiers.

Over several days, they traversed the nearby countryside much like county officials conducting grassroots investigations. Sometimes the villages were peaceful and nothing happened.

But occasionally, unexpected incidents arose. Today, Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang rode in a carriage and arrived at Hanyin Ju.

Located south of the Han River, just a little north of what would later be known as Wolong Town, about ten kilometers from Zhuge Liang’s residence in Longzhong, Hanyin Ju belonged to Deng County. It was a vast plain with a dense population.

To the people of the time, individuals like Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang, who aimlessly roamed from village to village chatting with farmers, were seen as madmen.

Men who neither worked at home nor engaged in production but wandered the countryside were called ruffians.

The most famous ruffian of the Han dynasty was Liu Bang.

Today, the two wandered further to Hanyang Ju. After passing several villages, they dismounted. At sixteen, Zhuge Liang stood nearly seven feet eight inches tall—close to 1.8 meters—with a strong build and a sword at his waist.

Chen Shen, twelve years old, was about seven feet four inches tall, roughly 1.7 meters. Their daily routine involved reading classics in the morning, wandering about at noon, and practicing martial arts in the afternoon, which explained their sturdy physiques.

The two strolled along the country road, flanked by lush fields. It was already April, and the winter-planted wheat was nearing maturity. Farmers were busy everywhere.

As the saying goes, “The farmer has little leisure in May; people are twice as busy.”

Before the introduction of Champa rice in the Song dynasty, the North was the economic center, as it could achieve double cropping through millet from June to September and wheat from October to May, greatly boosting grain output.

The South could only grow one crop of rice annually, so its yield was far less, causing slow population growth and economic development in regions like southern Jingzhou and the middle and lower Yangtze.

Although Jingzhou was in the South, Nanyang and Nanjun north of the Yangtze mainly practiced alternating wheat and millet planting, while Jiangxia was mostly Yunmeng Marsh with few county towns.

Among the four southern prefectures, only Changsha was somewhat prosperous. Thus, in a way, the most developed parts of Jingzhou were Nanyang and Nanjun—one reason Liu Biao was reluctant to relinquish Nanyang.

As Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang entered Hanyang Ju, a few men from a distant village approached, the leader about thirty years old, calling out, “Young masters.”

Recognizing them as local farmers they had spoken with recently, the two stopped. Chen Shen asked, “Brother Zhao, what brings you here?”

The man named Zhao Hua replied bluntly, “Young Master Shen, I lost a pig yesterday, and I heard you had a pig on your carriage when you left, so I came to ask.”

“Is that so?” Chen Shen responded, “Please wait a moment.”

He looked back toward the riverbank where Shen Qi and Deng Pi stood guarding the carriage and motioned them over.

Shen Qi and Deng Pi escorted Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang to the villages, then waited nearby. When called, they hurried over.

Shen Qi asked, “Young Master, what do you need?”

Chen Shen inquired, “Where did the pig you bought yesterday come from?”

Shen Qi answered, “As I told you before, we were waiting by the river with nothing to do when some villagers were herding pigs to the market in the eastern township. We bought one to take back for a feast.”

They had mentioned this the day before. Shen Qi and Deng Pi were Chen Shen’s guards, not servants, so they had some autonomy.

Seeing pigs going to market, they bought one to enjoy, and even promised to save the best leg for Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang.

Chen Shen explained the situation and asked, “Are you sure you bought it?”

They replied indignantly, “Yes, we bought it.”

“Can you find the seller?”

“No idea who it was; probably not.”

“Alright then,” Chen Shen nodded. “I trust you. But you should bring the pig over first.”

“Young Master...”

“No matter. Just a trip to see if Brother Zhao can recognize if it’s his pig.”

Reluctantly, they returned to drive the carriage back toward Longzhong. The round trip would take at least an hour.

Chen Shen said to Zhao Hua, “It will take some time for them to return. Why don’t you wait here? We’ll visit the village.”

Zhao Hua asked curiously, “Lately you often stroll through the countryside asking about livestock and planting wheat. What’s the reason?”

Chen Shen smiled, “I came from Xuzhou, so I know how they plant wheat there, but I’m unfamiliar with Jingzhou’s methods. The climate differs north and south, and so does the planting schedule. I’m gathering information for future plans.”

“For what purpose?”

Zhao Hua was puzzled, “Are you planning to farm here?”

Chen Shen shook his head, “No, I’m looking for the farming off-season to recruit students, teach them literacy, and share some basic knowledge.”

“Recruit students?”

The villagers were astonished.

News of events in the countryside quickly drew crowds. It was near the village entrance, and after morning work, people were returning home for lunch, so many gathered upon sensing some dispute.

Within moments, more than twenty people, men and women, young and old, had assembled, resembling a village intelligence hub of later eras.

Hearing Chen Shen’s intention to recruit students, they murmured in surprise.

One said, “Young Master probably hasn’t even learned well himself, how can he teach others?”

Another asked, “I wonder if he really has talent?”

“Whether or not, he dresses well—he must be from a noble family. Teaching our children to read is surely a good thing.”

“That’s true.”

“Too bad, though. Studying is for the aristocrats. We peasants work from a young age to earn food. In the off-season, we hunt birds, catch rabbits, or tend cattle and gather wild vegetables. There’s no time for books.”

The villagers debated.

Though having someone teach children to read was good, in ancient times children as young as four or five were family laborers with no leisure.

Chen Shen knew this well. When he stayed in Huangmen Township, children from nearby villages were the same, and his own childhood had been like this.

Sending a child to school meant losing a laborer and adding another mouth to feed—a heavy burden on the family.

So Chen Shen smiled gently, “I know. That’s why I walk through the villages—to understand your hardships and find any students whose families might be better off and willing to send them to learn.”

“I see.”

“But finding students won’t be easy. There are no wealthy families nearby.”

“East in Fengtian, there are big households with sons named Xu, Shi, Cui, and Meng. They moved here some years ago and seem to be noble children.”

“Noble children don’t need others to teach them to read.”

The villagers chattered.

Hearing this, Chen Shen realized they referred to Xu Shu, Cui Jun, Meng Jian, and Shi Tao—the famed Four Friends of Zhuge.

Since Zhuge Liang’s uncle passed, he had lived a secluded life farming in Longzhong and often sought advice from Lord Pang in Yuliangzhou.

Xu Shu had close ties with Lord Pang, and Zhuge Liang’s sister married Lord Pang’s son. They had thus become friends.

These four lived west of Xiangyang city, just four or five kilometers from Longzhong, so they often hung out together.

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Though that was after Zhuge Xuan’s death; for now, Zhuge Liang was not yet close with them.

As they spoke, about an hour later the sound of a carriage approached.

Chen Shen looked back and saw Shen Qi and Deng Pi swiftly driving the carriage. Feeling wronged, they hurried to prove their innocence.

The carriage stopped at the village edge. Deng Pi untied the tired horses and led them to the river to drink. Shen Qi took the tied pig from the carriage and placed it before Zhao Hua, saying, “Is this your pig?”

The pig was small, around a hundred jin (approximately 50 kilograms). Many believed pigs should be fat, weighing two or three hundred jin, but those were later breeds. Ancient pigs rarely grew that large; a hundred jin was normal, and pigs over two hundred jin were rare.

Zhao Hua frowned as he looked at the pig.

His companions said, “Looks just like your pig.”

“Should be.”

“You stole our pig!”

They glared angrily at Shen Qi.

Shen Qi retorted, “Nonsense! We paid 527 qian for it.”

“But this pig looks exactly like yours!”

Someone said.

Chen Shen’s expression turned serious as he looked silently at Zhao Hua. “Brother Zhao, please confirm if this is your pig.”

Zhao Hua, an honest man, hesitated, “It’s about eighty or ninety percent alike, but…”

“But what?”

“My pig had a small white spot on its ear. This one doesn’t.”

He pointed at the pig’s ear.

Ancient Chinese pigs were black; white pigs did not exist. For pigs of the same weight, appearances were similar. Zhao Hua’s pig’s white ear spot made him uncertain.

“I understand,” Chen Shen nodded. “Here’s what we’ll do: you take this pig home. Maybe someone stole your pig and sold it to my guards, or this isn’t your pig at all. If your pig returns someday, or if you confirm this isn’t yours, please return this one, agreed?”

Shen Qi was nearly furious, “Young Master, this is the pig we bought. How can you give it to someone else?”

Chen Shen smiled, “I’m not giving it away—just temporarily leaving it with Brother Zhao. Regarding the pig, I also want to clear your name. If we didn’t do this, and the villagers accused you of theft, what then?”

Shen Qi was silent; he understood that if the villagers called them pig thieves, they’d be powerless to defend themselves.

Zhao Hua replied, “Young Master, I only came to ask. If it’s not my pig, I won’t take it or falsely accuse you.”

Chen Shen shook his head, “I’m not saying you’re accusing us, just avoiding misunderstandings. If my guards bought stolen pigs unknowingly, we must return them to the rightful owner.”

“You’re truly a man of virtue.”

“So reasonable—clearly a well-read young gentleman. A pity my children have no time to study; otherwise, I’d send them to you.”

The villagers admired Chen Shen’s fairness.

Others might have seized upon the ear spot to deny the pig’s identity and thus dismiss Zhao Hua’s claim, but Chen Shen’s gesture to place the pig with Zhao Hua to prove innocence won their respect.

Zhao Hua sighed, “Young Master is wise. I’m unsure if this is my pig—maybe the white spot was painted over—but I am certain you would never steal. If I find my pig or washing this one reveals no spot, I and my brothers will carry it to your door ourselves.”

Chen Shen laughed, “Brother Zhao is also honorable. I trust your word. I only want to protect my guards from theft accusations. Please take the pig.”

“Thank you, Young Master.”

As Zhao Hua prepared to carry the pig home, an elderly man with three sons emerged from the fields, his face full of sorrow. Seeing the situation, he approached and called out, “Young Master Shen?”

“Oh?” Chen Shen smiled, “Old Master Du, what’s the matter?”

The old man had spoken to him before.

The crowd began to disperse but paused upon seeing the new development.

The old farmer asked gravely, “Did you come here yesterday?”

“Yes,” Chen Shen nodded, pointing eastward. “We passed through Hanyang Ju, visited Fengtian to the east, and rested at the village entrance on the way back.”

Hanyang Ju was just below Fengtian. North beyond the Han River was Deng County. East along the Han River lay Fengtian, and further east, about ten li, was Xiangyang where Xu Shu and others lived.

The old farmer continued, “Is your horse kept grazing by the river?”

Chen Shen was puzzled, “Why?”

The farmer pointed to nearby wheat fields by the river. “My wheat was damaged by animals; there are several horse hoof prints.”

Chen Shen and Zhuge Liang exchanged looks and walked over, followed by the crowd.

They saw the southwest corner of the wheat fields had indeed been eaten, not only one field but several acres, half the crops lost, amounting to four or five shi of wheat.

Chen Shen asked Shen Qi, “Did you let the horses graze by the river yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Chen Shen looked toward the wheat fields near the river, “Did the horses eat the wheat?”

“Absolutely not!” Shen Qi said quickly. “The horses only grazed grass by the river; we watched them all the time.”

The ground was messy with footprints. A light rain had fallen last night, making the mud soft. The old farmer, anxious about the wheat, had rushed here early with his sons, disturbing the scene.

Still, careful observation revealed some unusual footprints. Chen Shen memorized them and said to the old farmer, “Sir, look at these prints.”

The farmer reluctantly glanced.

Chen Shen continued, “I will compensate you for the damaged wheat. If we find the real culprit later, please tell everyone it wasn’t my horses.”

The farmer was pleased, “Naturally.”

“Shen Qi, give the farmer 200 qian.”

Shen Qi was puzzled.

“Just do it.”

Grudgingly, Shen Qi took out the money.

Chen Shen told the lazy villager, “I know you’re falsely accusing me, but it doesn’t matter. I gave 200 qian to the village elder to buy you and your brother new pants. Starting tomorrow, I want to see you both working in the fields. Otherwise, I will report you for falsely accusing me of damaging your pants, and you’ll be sent to jail. Will you all help supervise?”

“Agreed!”

The villagers disliked the lazy man’s idleness and cheered.

The lazy man’s face darkened, “I was mistaken. You didn’t tear my pants. I don’t need your money.”

Chen Shen’s expression hardened, “Everyone saw your false accusation. If I report you, will you testify?”

“Yes!” Zhao Hua shouted first.

Usually, villagers would side with their own, but Chen Shen’s fairness won support, and Zhao Hua’s stature swayed the crowd.

The lazy man paled, regretting wandering out in torn pants while his brothers worked.

With the matter settled, Chen Shen felt no regret over the expense.

Afterward, he and Zhuge Liang continued wandering north among the villages for two hours, returning near dusk.

On the way back, Shen Qi and Deng Pi still looked sour.

Deng Pi said, “Young Master, why waste money on these villagers?”

Chen Shen smiled, “It’s not a waste. You might not understand, but for me, it’s like planting a tree: sowing now to harvest fruit later.”

Zhuge Liang asked, “Brother, are you planning to first build a reputation here, then recruit students to start teaching?”

“Something like that,” Chen Shen nodded and smiled. “I heard many in Xiangyang want to teach me a lesson.”

Zhuge Liang said, “Your remarks at the academy spread. People say you defy the court, attacking the emperor’s troops sent against Xiliang forces. They’re looking for you everywhere.”

“No matter. Let them come,” Chen Shen shrugged. “I want to make a name stepping on their heads. In debating, I fear no one.”

Zhuge Liang thought a moment and said, “For now, no one has come for you at Longzhong. But if word spreads that you’re opening a school and recruiting students, many will come calling.”

“Then I’ll count on you.”

Chen Shen smiled at Zhuge Liang. Though Zhuge Xuan had passed, he still had two formidable brothers-in-law.

Zhuge Liang sighed, “You really are something.”

His little brother, only twelve, fearless as ever.

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Shen Changqing walked along the road, exchanging greetings or nods with acquaintances.

Yet no one showed extra emotion; all faces were indifferent.

This was normal for him.

This was the Demon Suppression Bureau, an institution maintaining stability in the Qin state by slaying demons and monsters, with some other side duties.

Everyone here bore blood on their hands.

Familiar with life and death, they had grown indifferent to many things.

At first, Shen Changqing struggled to adapt, but over time, he became accustomed.

The Bureau was vast.

Those who remained were powerful experts or had the potential to be.

Shen Changqing belonged to the latter.

The Bureau had two roles: Guardians and Demon Slayers.

Everyone started as the lowest rank, a trainee Demon Slayer, then advanced step by step, hoping to become a Guardian.

Shen Changqing’s previous self was a trainee Demon Slayer—the lowest type.

With memories of his past, he knew the Bureau’s environment well.

He soon stopped before a pavilion.

Unlike the other grim, blood-soaked places in the Bureau, this pavilion stood out like a crane among chickens, presenting a different tranquility.

The pavilion’s door was open, with people occasionally entering and exiting.

After a brief hesitation, Shen Changqing stepped inside.

Upon entering, the atmosphere shifted.

The scent of ink mingled faintly with blood—a scent that made his brow furrow instinctively, then relax quickly.

The blood smell on everyone here was almost impossible to wash away.