Chapter 2

"Everyone else who crosses over is to break off an engagement, but I am here to drop out of school."

Wu Dilun didn’t linger after finishing his business; he nimbly mounted the small yellow stallion that served as his mount—nameless, as no proper person would name their mount.

The South Gate was right next to the official school. After leaving the city gate and turning his head, he could still see the three characters “Changping County” inscribed in the center of the two-zhang-high wall.

When Wu Dilun first arrived, he thought it was the Changping of the Qin-Zhao Battle of Changping, but later discovered it was not.

This county belonged to one of the Three Auxiliaries of the Former Han, the Left Fengyi, and was formerly called Changling County. It was renamed Changping three years ago, located roughly to the east of modern-day Xianyang City in Shaanxi Province.

Thus, the wall was ancient, but the characters were brand new, just as Wang Mang hoped—treating the empire like a house renovation, he repainted and refurbished to erase all traces of the old Han.

Wang Mang changed the entire system of government and place names, such as renaming the prefectural governor to Da Yin, the county magistrate to Xian Zai, and the Three Auxiliaries to the Six Wei.

Wu Dilun had already figured out Wang Mang’s naming pattern: everything was the opposite. Since “Ling” means high, it was changed to “Ping” for a level world.

In the Yangzhou Inspectorate, there was a place called Wuxi, which Wang Mang, disliking the character “wu” (no), renamed to “Youxi” (has).

But after inquiring from merchants from Guandong, Wu Dilun was disappointed to find that Changshan was still Changshan, not renamed to Shijiazhuang!

Lanling was only renamed to “Lan Dong,” not Zaozhuang.

“Wasn’t Wang Mang supposed to be a predecessor from another world? If so, he would surely have left some hidden messages in the place names.”

Wu Dilun stopped his wild thoughts and rode south, leaving the county town.

In his previous life, he felt powerless at thirty, but now, with a 17-year-old body, he felt great, especially without his severe myopia, the world was clear again.

After leaving the city, Wu Dilun looked east and saw a large, pyramid-shaped mountain standing three li away, with lush pines and cypresses at its base and temple buildings circling the mountain.

That was actually not a mountain but Changling, the mausoleum of Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang. Although Wang Mang changed all the old names, he did not dig up the Liu family’s ancestral tomb. Instead, he played a trick: he had people present him with a golden decree and a bronze token, claiming that the Red Emperor had appeared and passed the Han Empire to him.

So, this abdication was actually from Emperor Gaozu himself to Wang Mang?

It was said that Wang Mang accepted the golden decree in front of Emperor Gaozu’s spirit. To Wu Dilun, this was like dancing on a grave; if Liu Bang knew, he would probably rise from his coffin in anger.

Afterward, Wang Mang made Changling and the Gao Temple the “Wenzu Temple” of the Xin Dynasty, maintaining the sacrifices.

After passing Changling, he followed the dusty dirt road south, entering the “Linqi Township” where the Wu family lived.

...

The Chengguo Canal, spanning hundreds of miles across the Wei North Plain, irrigated tens of thousands of acres of land. The best fields in Changling were concentrated along the canal, though they were not as valuable as the land around the capital, they were still very precious.

Along the continuous Chengguo Canal from east to west, there were eight neighborhoods in the township, named simply: First Neighborhood, Second Neighborhood, Third Neighborhood... up to Eighth Neighborhood. These were inhabited by various clans that had migrated from Qi two hundred years ago.

During the Qin and Han dynasties, most neighborhoods consisted of five to eight small farming families, but there were exceptions. The immigrants from Guandong, who initially had language barriers with the Qin people, had to band together to survive in the unfamiliar land. A hundred families gathered, forming a clan, somewhat like the Hakka people in later southern China, with strong clan consciousness.

Passing by the First Neighborhood, one could see the tall ancestral hall built by the First Clan from a distance. He encountered two young men from the First Clan riding to the county town. Wu Dilun stopped his horse and bowed, but they only nodded casually, their attitude extremely arrogant, as if it was natural for Wu Dilun to bow to them.

This made Wu Dilun’s attendant and servant, Wu Fu, spit at their backs and curse, “These First Clan people still think they’re the main clan! They don’t even return the bow!”

Wu Dilun only frowned and stopped his servant, “Wu Fu, curse them when we get home.”

He called his servant Wu Fu because of his round, cheerful face, which looked like the Five Blessings doll, and he was sturdy and strong.

To help him remember, Wu Dilun labeled his distant relatives. The First Clan was undoubtedly the most arrogant. As descendants of the legitimate son of King Tian Guang of Qi, they ranked first in the migration, with the largest population and land. During the reign of Emperor Wu, they bought official positions and produced two county magistrates. Although their official positions have become smaller, the head of the First Clan is still the village elder, and they have always looked down on the other clans.

Riding west, the other clans each had their own characteristics.

The Second Clan was the shortest—during Emperor Wu’s crackdown on powerful families, the Second Clan, due to their association with the famous swordsman Guo Jie, was targeted as a typical example of a black gang and was relocated to Fangling in Hanzhong, cutting off ties with their relatives. This led to the Second Clan being absent from the common knowledge of the eight clans.

The Third Clan was the smallest—no one knew why, but they were almost single descendants, with only ten households and a hundred people, dependent on the First Clan.

The Fourth Clan was the most shrewd—this clan chose to engage in commerce, and how could merchants not be shrewd?

The Fifth Clan was the most fierce—the Wu family was known for their strength because Wu Dilun’s grandfather was a military man who had fought in the Western Regions with Chen Tang, learning some battle tactics. In water disputes during the farming season, no one in the township could match them.

The Sixth Clan was the most honest—this clan lived next to the Wu family, focusing on farming and managing their fields, rarely participating in disputes.

The Seventh Clan was the most vicious—the Seventh Clan was known as a notorious gang, with many members being swordsmen, bullying the weak. It was said they had connections with the famous swordsman Yuan She from Maoling and engaged in illegal activities.

The Eighth Clan was the most scholarly—this clan was the last to migrate, with the best land already taken by their relatives. With a smaller population, they couldn’t compete with the Wu and Seventh Clans in fighting, and their business was overshadowed by the Fourth Clan. So, their ancestors went to Chang’an to study classics, benefiting from the study of Confucian texts. During the reign of Emperor Yuan, they produced a doctoral student, a rare achievement at the time.

Therefore, the Eighth Clan placed the greatest emphasis on education, passing down a single classic. However, they have recently declined, and it has been a long time since they produced a doctoral student. This year, the Eighth Jiao’s spot was taken by Wu Dilun, causing tension between the two families.

In summary, though nominally relatives, the clans were fragmented, even feuding and fighting for their own interests.

“The situation is like this now, but it might change in a few years.”

Wu Dilun thought this as he left the main road and took the small path to the Fifth Neighborhood.

On both sides of the path were clearly divided fields, probably totaling over a hundred acres, with their family occupying half, the rest belonging to dozens of households. Small ditches diverted water from the Chengguo Canal for irrigation. The millet had already been harvested, and winter wheat had not yet been planted, so they were preparing for the plowing.

Several men were leaning on their farming tools, drinking water from gourds by the fields. Their wives and daughters, dressed in simple clothes, brought them food. Seeing Wu Dilun riding by, they all stood up and bowed.

“Greetings, young master!”

Wu Dilun smiled in response. These men had to work in the heat, wearing short pants, their backs and faces tanned by the sun, with marks from the plow ropes on their shoulders, as not every family could afford oxen.

Most of the people in the neighborhood were self-cultivating farmers, but many had their land taken over by the Wu family. Some outsiders, to avoid government labor and taxes, also joined the powerful families, becoming tenant farmers or slaves.

As he approached the neighborhood, the slopes unsuitable for farming were planted with mulberry trees and hemp, with people working among them.

If the fields provided food, these economic crops ensured clothing. Wu Dilun’s fine clothes and daily rich meals were the result of the labor of tenant farmers and slaves, which made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

However, class was determined by birth, but where one’s heart lies depends on one’s actions.

At this moment, Wu Dilun heard a painful cry from the orchard.

A villager picking pears had fallen from a tree and was holding his leg, wailing. Wu Dilun pushed through the crowd and saw a wooden splinter deeply embedded in the man’s bare foot, which was bleeding profusely.

Looking at the man’s contorted face, Wu Dilun recognized him, though he was in his thirties, he was a distant nephew in terms of seniority. Wu Dilun called for help to remove the splinter and bandage the wound. Seeing that the man had no shoes and would struggle to walk back to his home two li away, he instructed Wu Fu to take him on the horse.

“Young master, if I take him on the horse, what about you?”

Wu Fu’s round face was filled with reluctance. In the neighborhood, people were divided by their closeness to the clan head. Wu Fu’s family was close to the main clan, within the fifth generation, and he had grown up with Wu Dilun, serving as his attendant and companion, and would later manage the estate without working.

Wu Fu was unhappy about helping a distant relative of lower status, and the injured man also refused, saying he didn’t dare.

Wu Dilun patted his back, “The horse is hurting my back, I want to walk.”

He helped the injured man onto the horse and sent Wu Fu away, then walked toward the neighborhood gate. The men and women working in the orchard and mulberry fields looked at each other, “In the past half month, the young master has been much more gentle.”

“Yes, he used to walk with his head held high, but now he stops to bow and often smiles.”

This was unimaginable in the previous generations of clan heads.

The neighborhood was located on a slightly elevated plateau, surrounded by a yellow earth wall with only two gates, north and south, guarded by gatekeepers. The gates were opened at dawn to let the clan members and servants go to work and closed at night to prevent thieves.

Here, no credentials or tokens were needed; entry was based on facial recognition.

Strangers and those with foreign accents were treated like thieves, even tax collectors from the government could not enter without the clan head’s approval.

It was said that in the previous dynasty, the imperial power could reach the countryside, but after Emperor Yuan and Cheng, the Han emperors ruled by virtue, and control gradually loosened, leading to land consolidation and the poor having no place to stand. After the Xin Dynasty was established, the “Wangtian Private Ownership Decree” was issued, declaring land nationalized and prohibiting the sale of slaves, but secret transactions continued.

After entering the neighborhood gate, Wu Dilun received more frequent greetings. Everyone recognized the young master and was secretly pleased by his sudden gentleness in the past half month. A considerate and kind clan head meant a better life for the clan members for the next ten or even fifty years.

What they didn’t know was that Wu Dilun was also grateful for having such a large clan.

Wu Dilun had seen the household register of the neighborhood—kept by his grandfather, with real data, not the fake accounts shown to the tax collectors.

There were fifty-seven households in the neighborhood, with a total of 469 people, including 197 adult males, most of whom were surnamed Wu.

If trained and armed, they could form a formidable force.

Wu Dilun’s kindness to the villagers, besides his guilt as an exploiter, also stemmed from his clear understanding of the future:

“Winter is coming, lone wolves die, pack wolves survive.”

...

The dirt road in the neighborhood was uneven and muddy after the rain, with sewage flowing from the ditches on the side. Proud black-headed pigs and chickens and ducks defecated everywhere, making the smell unpleasant, and the running children spread the filth everywhere.

The winding paths led to various households, the houses built irregularly. If one didn’t walk around three or four times, they would surely get lost.

Only one path was paved with pebbles, starting from the north gate, passing a large banyan tree, and leading to the main compound of the clan head.

The main compound was a separate building on the south side of the neighborhood, occupying the highest point on the plateau. The walls were sturdy and high, the gate imposing, with a row of iron-gray tiles visible from a distance.

Roughly made spears were placed by the gate, and four gatekeepers were chatting. Seeing Wu Dilun, they immediately stopped and welcomed him in.

“The old clan head instructed that you should see him as soon as you return.”

Wu Dilun had been riding back from the county town, and he guessed that the news of his dropping out of school hadn’t reached his grandfather yet.

“Good, there can still be a moment of peace at home.”

Inside the gate, the compound was divided into three sections: the front, middle, and back. The front section was where the private slaves lived, in simple mud houses. On both sides were stables and carriage houses, but the stables, though spacious, had only a few old red horses eating poor-quality hay.

The middle section was a two-story main building, with the clan head’s living quarters and a hall for guests, but Wu Dilun couldn’t find his grandfather after searching.

“Where is Grandfather?”

“He’s in the back, the orchard has sent new chestnuts.”

From the main building, a side door led to the back, where there were pigsties, workshops, and kitchens. Beyond the wall was a garden with neatly arranged vegetable beds, winter amaranth and leeks growing well, with a well and ditches for irrigation, providing the family’s daily vegetables.

Wu Dilun’s grandfather was in the kitchen, enjoying chestnuts. The old man liked chestnuts and was standing by the stove, waiting for them to roast.

Wu Dilun walked quietly, still a bit afraid of his grandfather, and bowed behind him, “Grandfather.”

The old man turned around, his usually stern face breaking into a smile, full of wrinkles.

“Lun, you’re back.”

The old man’s name was Wu Ba, the ninth-generation clan head after the Wu family’s westward migration.

Looking at his appearance, one would never guess that Wu Ba was seventy-one. If Wu Dilun got up early, he could see his grandfather taking a cold shower in the yard and practicing with a long sword for fifteen minutes, maintaining his strength even in his seventies.

Other landlords were hunched and slow, but Wu Ba rode a horse with a sword, intimidating thieves for miles around.

His hands were calloused from years of sword practice, like iron. He used tongs to pull a hot chestnut from the ashes, blew on it, and split it in half, offering the kernel to Wu Dilun.

Wu Dilun took it and ate it in small bites, finding it too hot. Wu Ba, with his strong teeth, put two in his mouth and chewed loudly.

The chestnuts of this era were not as sweet as in later times, and Wu Dilun thought about getting some syrup to make sweet chestnuts for his grandfather to try.

Wu Ba handed him a handful of peeled chestnuts, “What do you think? As the county magistrate said, the central government sent a doctor to inspect and test, but it was just a formality.”

“Indeed.”

Wu Dilun nodded, eating the chestnuts. When asked about the doctor, he answered honestly.

Wu Ba, unaware of Wu Dilun’s actions in the county town, was in a good mood, stroking his white beard, “In October, you will go to the Imperial Academy, a cause for celebration! The wine from last year is ready, I’ll have the cook prepare a chicken and some meat, and you can join me for a few drinks.”

It was mid-afternoon, and the women were already washing rice and cooking. The cook was busy, and the smell of meat from the clay pot was faintly detectable. However, Wu Dilun thought, “The main dish tonight will probably be bamboo board-roasted meat.”

Wu Ba pointed to the westernmost neighborhood, “The old Eighth has always been proud of his family’s tradition of passing down a single classic and producing a doctoral student, looking down on our family. Now his young son, Eighth Jiao, has been outdone by you, how delightful. It’s worth all the favors I’ve given the county magistrate.”

Wu Dilun smiled but said nothing, until they finished the chestnuts and sat on the kitchen threshold.

He personally handed his grandfather a cup of water, making sure he drank it without choking, then calmly said, “Grandfather, actually...”

Wu Ba looked up, listening.

“I gave up the Imperial Academy spot...”

Wu Ba nodded, smiling.

“To Eighth Jiao!”

“What did you say, say it again!”

Wu Dilun took two steps back, ready to run, and raised his voice, “I gave up the opportunity to go to the Imperial Academy and gave the spot to the Eighth family.”

Thud, the clay cup in Wu Ba’s hand shattered, and his kind smile turned into uncontrollable anger.

“Rebellion, rebellion!”