Chapter Forty-Three: "Huang Shiren" Bears the Surname Zhang

Chapter Forty-three: "Huang Shiren" Is Named Zhang

“No—” She never imagined that the target being dragged would shift from the ox to herself. Even more unexpected, in her mother’s eyes, she mattered less than a beast. The farm girl screamed, clutching her mother’s legs, begging desperately, “I won’t go, I won’t go. Mother, don’t let them take me away! Don’t let them take me! I can work, I can go to the fields, I’ll pull the plow!”

“You silly girl, you just don’t know what’s good for you. My master is famed for his kindness, serving him is a fortune no one can hope for, like a magpie flying to the highest branch!” The steward’s voice rang out again from the crowd, hissing like a venomous snake. “Wang Tianshi, offering your daughter to settle your debt was your own idea, not something I forced upon you!”

“Mother, mother, I can work, I can go to the fields, I’m strong, I’ll pull the plow!” The girl’s cries tore through the air.

But the mother showed not a shred of remorse, “I said it. Steward, take Erya away, leave the ox behind!”

Around them, neighbors shook their heads, uncertain whether they mourned the Wang family’s misfortune or lamented Wang Tianshi’s heartlessness toward her child.

“Make way, make way!” Zhang Qian, outside the crowd, pushed forward with difficulty, hampered by the low ground, his straw hat and bamboo basket impeding his progress as he struggled to reach the core of the commotion.

“Mother, mother, I beg you, please don’t let them take me! I can work, I can weave, I weave fast—five days for a bolt of cloth—” The girl’s desperate and piercing voice carried through the crowd from the center.

“Move it, move it, stop your whining! It’ll be night soon, and the men have things to do!” The cruel servants barked like dogs.

“Mother—” The scream was heart-wrenching.

“Zhang Ren, Zhang Fu, why are you standing there? Go drag her over! If she won’t go, teach her the master’s rules!” The steward’s impatience was obvious, as if letting the farm girl plead a moment longer would delay his own rise to fortune.

“Mother—” The girl’s cries grew more desperate, mingling with the servants’ roars. “Move it, move it, don’t push your luck! If you won’t go, we’ll tie you up with rope—”

“Stop!” Zhang Qian, standing just below the heart of the scene, blocked by three or four farmers who sighed loudly but did nothing to prevent the tragedy, strained his voice in protest. “Dragging people away to settle debts in broad daylight—is there no law anymore?”

The farmers, startled, turned to look at the speaker, but seeing he was alone, carrying a large medicine basket, their brief hope faded into resignation.

The scene of a bully forcing repayment and a young master coming to the rescue happened only in shadow plays. In reality, the rich never bothered with villages off the main road.

The stranger interfering today, though tall and neatly dressed, clearly wasn’t a young master. If he were, he wouldn’t be without horse or attendants, nor would he carry a bamboo basket himself.

“Hey, whose belt is loose, letting such a thing out?” The landlord’s servants, even more superficial than the farmers, were startled by the outcry, but seeing only a “herbalist,” their anger surged. “A life for a life, a debt for a debt—it’s the natural order. Who are you, meddling in my master’s affairs?”

“Are you blind? We didn’t force her; her mother traded her for an ox!” Another servant strode forward, reaching to push Zhang Qian’s shoulder.

“How much does her family owe you? I’ll pay it!” Zhang Qian shook off the servant’s hand and stepped forward, holding his medicine hoe to shield the girl, her mother, and the ox behind him. In that moment, he seemed possessed by the spirit of those legendary knights of the Qin and Han, famed for their righteousness and generosity.

He wasn't acting out of mere impulse. A single servant girl cost only five strings of cash, and Zhang Qian still had more than nine thousand strings from the Ren family’s advance, with nowhere to spend them. With a full purse, he had confidence.

Nor was he simply meddling. As someone from the twenty-first century, the tragedy before him clashed fundamentally with his education and moral standards.

Moreover, he had just spent the journey discussing Confucian benevolence and Mohist universal love with his idols, He Zhizhang and Zhang Ruoxu. To ignore injustice now would be hypocritical.

Of course, if the medicine hoe in his hand were a sword, he could strike a heroic pose for He Zhizhang, Zhang Ruoxu, and the tearful Zijuan racing behind, letting them witness his style as a disciple of the Mohist school. He could even deliver a few stirring lines to deepen their impression of him.

But alas, the hoe was not a sword, and the steward and servants gave him no chance.

Just as the farmers around closed their eyes, expecting the meddlesome herbalist to be thoroughly beaten, the steward—who had just been terrorizing the mother and daughter—suddenly bent low, as if his waist were made of noodles. “Master, how come you’re here? To trouble you over such a small matter—your servant deserves punishment!”

“Master?” Zhang Ren and Zhang Fu, about to swing their sticks at the herbalist, froze in shock, dropping their weapons and staring.

They had long known that the master had changed, becoming the savior of the former owner. Their surnames had habitually shifted from Ren to Zhang. Yet this new master was obsessed with “miscellaneous studies,” leaving all affairs to Ren Cong and never showing his face. As mere servants, they had never been allowed into the manor to meet him, nor seen what he looked like.

Today, at last, they saw him. One of them had even just insulted him!

‘The creditor is me? I sent them to collect the debt?’

‘I ordered them to take the debtor’s ox and daughter?’

‘Damn it, how could that be? When did I ever order debt collection? When did I become Huang Shiren?!’

…

Right now, Zhang Qian’s feelings defied description. His hands trembled, raising and lowering the medicine hoe, unsure whom to strike.

He could deny knowledge of the affair.

But he could not deny that the steward was from his own manor. Just before he began experimenting with perfume, he had met the man, guided by Ren Quan, and entrusted him with all manor affairs.

As for the two servants, he hadn’t needed to meet every laborer—Ren Quan had advised him that a manor lord need only know his chief officers, unless he wanted to curry favor.

“Uncle, what’s happening? Whose young man is he, and how did he become our land master?”

“Didn’t you see the steward, bowing so low? He must be the real master!”

“It’s the new master—so this is what he looks like!”

“He’s handsome, but his heart is black!”

Page Two

“What kind of performance is this? Let the steward collect debts, then come himself to play the good guy and win hearts?”

“Hush, keep it down. Hypocrites hate being exposed face to face…”

…

Murmurs rose all around. The neighbors and tenants finally realized that the righteous “herbalist” was the master himself. Some felt it was absurd, others regarded him with open disdain.

Though the voices were low, to Zhang Qian they pierced like poisonous needles.

He wanted to shout, “I’m innocent!” But his mouth opened and closed, and he never managed it. Finally, he could only roar in anger, “Release both the ox and the girl, go home! This family’s rent is wiped clean!”

“Yes, Master!” The steward, seeing Zhang Qian’s expression, knew he’d made a grave mistake and answered without hesitation.

Zhang Qian could no longer face the stares around him. He turned and fled, the crowd parting for him, their faces showing confusion, astonishment, and even envy as they glanced at the dazed Wang Tianshi and her daughter.

“It’s over, disperse, everyone go home! Master, mind your step!”

“Master, let me carry your basket and help you! Watch out for dog mess!”

Zhang Ren and Zhang Fu, terrified of later punishment, hurried after him, clearing the way for their new master.

“Get lost, haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” Zhang Qian, his anger boiling over, swung his hoe to knock away their hands, scolding fiercely.

The servants shrank back, not daring to persist. Zhang Qian’s fury remained undiminished. Just as he wished he could sprout wings and fly away in shame, He Zhizhang, Zhang Ruoxu, and Zijuan arrived, breathless.

“Don’t be afraid, young friend, I’m here! Who dares bully others in broad daylight?”

“Don’t worry, young friend, I’m here! Today I’ll stand with you against any bully. Even if they’re noblemen, I won’t permit such misdeeds!”

“Young master, don’t argue with them now. Let’s go back to the manor and gather our people, then return to reason with them!”

Three voices of concern fell like slaps, leaving Zhang Qian’s face pale and dizzy with shame.