Fan Changyu had already been digging earth and stones in the camp for three days, because when excavating earth and stones there were also soldiers strictly guarding them, they could not run about at will, and the terrain they could investigate was only the stretch from the barracks where they were detained to the mountain.

For every ten people there was one soldier specifically watching, and they also adopted a collective responsibility system: if one person in the squad escaped, the remaining nine people, whether they knew or did not know, as long as they did not report it, would all be punished. So not only were there soldiers watching, the migrants working together also watched one another; wanting to escape really was not an easy thing.

Aside from that, the discipline of those soldiers was rather strict — they did not skimp on the food given to them, nor did they harass the women in the barracks.

Instead, some of the bachelors among the migrants often looked at the women among the migrants with lecherous eyes and whistled obscene remarks.

Fortunately the male and female barracks were separated; the times the two barracks’ people could meet each day were only when they assembled early to go up the mountain to excavate earth and stones and when meals were served.

Among those women, if a husband or father or brother was also among the migrants, almost no ruffian would trouble them. Those who were alone here — whether young girls or married women — all became targets of those ruffians’ obscene heckling.

There were even ruffians who lured those solitary women to team up for excavating earth and stones — nothing more than that they could dig together, suffer less, and still eat full meals, but they inevitably would be groped by those ruffians.

Fan Changyu was pretty in appearance; she was eyed by people as soon as she arrived, though she herself did not know a bit of it.

At that time no one wanted to team up with her — the ruffians were calculating, wanting to make her suffer for half a day; after they knew that to eat one had to work hard excavating earth and stones, they would then extend an olive branch, and Fan Changyu would obediently listen to them.

Who would have thought Fan Changyu was a weirdo: not only did she not do as they wished, relying on them to eat, she became the one who fought hardest with them over food.

For the first two days Fan Changyu had just obediently excavated earth and stones, unwaveringly slacking a little so she could collect two extra steamed buns at each meal; until she saw that one big fellow who dug with them actually received a chicken leg, Fan Changyu suddenly felt the steamed buns in her hand with plain congee were a little bland, and she could not help but inquire why that big fellow could get a chicken leg.

The woman whose bed was beside Fan Changyu’s said: “That man is very strong. Every day besides excavating earth and stones, he also carries and transports the earth and stones he excavated. It seems someone above — a military commander — favors him and wants him to join the army, but that man still has a wife and children here; in order to let his wife and children all eat full meals, he has continued to excavate earth and stones here.”

Fan Changyu bit on a steamed bun and asked: “Not only excavating earth and stones but also carrying the earth and stones — do more work, then you can eat meat, right?”

The woman nodded, and added: “You saw how big that basket is; when it’s filled full of earth and stones it’s almost three hundred jin, those soldiers need two people to lift it to move it. Among us, only that man can move it by himself.”

When Fan Changyu carried her congee bowl and shuffled back to the old man after he had finished telling a new chapter of the Analects, she suddenly said: “How about we eat meat tomorrow?”

The old man’s face did not look good; he snorted through his nose: “I am telling you the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, and your whole mind is on those bits of appetite?”

Fan Changyu scratched her head, a little embarrassed, and said: “I listened. You said, ‘If one practices strictness toward oneself and lightness in blaming others, then resentment will be far away,’ didn’t you?” 

After speaking, she could not help asking another sentence: “You don’t want to eat meat at all?”

The old man swallowed with difficulty and, closing his eyes, scolded: “Vulgar.”

Fan Changyu was not angry at being lectured; that afternoon she worked with great vigor while excavating earth and stones. Previously she had based her labor on her appetite and had been slacking so she could collect two extra steamed buns; now, in order to eat meat, she excavated fifteen baskets in one afternoon and even told the soldiers she would carry them herself.

The soldier responsible for guarding them thought she was crazy, and pointed at the basket full of stones: “Do you know how many jin that is? If that basket crushes down on you it could break your legs!”

Only then did the old man realize what Fan Changyu’s noon question about wanting to eat meat meant; worried that something might happen to a young girl, he pulled a long face, came over and scolded her: “Nonsense! Two steamed buns and a bowl of porridge aren’t not enough for you to eat? If it’s not enough, I’ll give you my share.”

Fan Changyu did not take the old man’s words; she only asked the soldier, “If I carry these fifteen baskets down the mountain, will I get a chicken leg tonight?”

The commotion drew the attention of the head of the soldiers who were overseeing all the migrants. After Fan Changyu asked that, he obviously thought she was a fool dreaming: “Don’t say fifteen baskets — you carry this one basket down to the foot of the mountain, and I’ll reward you a whole chicken!”

Fan Changyu was clearly taken aback for a moment — is there such a windfall?

With such a prospect, the migrants who had been bent over digging stone stopped their work and looked over, leaning on their hoes and discussing it.

The woman who had spoken with Fan Changyu at noon looked worried; she probably had not expected Fan Changyu to actually mean it, and feared she had caused her harm.

The old man’s wrinkled brows almost twisted into a knot as he glared at Fan Changyu: “Girl, don’t act the fool!”

The soldier-chief originally did not believe Fan Changyu would truly carry it; seeing her stand there without speaking, he thought she was frightened and mocked verbally: “Are you going to carry it or not?”

Fan Changyu said to the old man, “Don’t worry about me, old sir.”

She put down her hoe, walked over to the soldier-chief and said: “I’ll carry it. Sir, you just keep your word.”

Lifting three hundred jin with one hand was still somewhat difficult for her, but carrying it on her back was really not impossible.

Everyone either furrowed their brows or watched as if it were a show. They saw that tall yet slender girl plant her two feet firmly on the level muddy ground, sling the basket’s shoulder straps over both shoulders, grasp the straps with both hands, the shoe uppers sinking a bit into the earth, and then she hoisted up that basket of nearly three hundred jin of earth and stone.

A chorus of sharp inhalations rose on the spot. The ruffians propping their chins on their hoes looked as if they had seen a ghost, and were thankful that on this girl’s first day she hadn’t said much — otherwise they feared she would have been beaten into a pig’s head.

The soldier-chief was also dumbfounded. He had heard from the lower foremen that one woman worked diligently at digging and could get two extra steamed buns each meal.

But digging requires technique and endurance — anyone could do it; to shoulder such a heavy basket and carry it, throughout the whole camp only a few of the officers could do that.

Fan Changyu hardly used her stick for support, only clutching the basket straps on her shoulders with both hands, and walked steadily step by step toward the foot of the mountain. It didn’t look easy, but it did not appear especially strenuous either.

Only after Fan Changyu had gone far did the whole quarry return to utter silence.

The old man watched Fan Changyu’s back and seemed thoughtful, twirling the few white goat-whiskers on his chin with his hand, murmuring softly: “With such bone and constitution, if he were a son, he would surely become a great man…”

When the soldiers distributed the evening meal, Fan Changyu did indeed receive a whole roasted chicken. She took her porridge bowl, found a quiet spot to squat with the old man, tore off a big drumstick and held it out to him. 

The old man did not take it; instead he looked at her with a complicated expression and asked, “How did the route scouting go?”

Fan Changyu raised her head to look at the old man: “How did you know I went to scout the route?”

The old man, his drooping, deeply creased eyelids, his eyes old but clear, said: “These past days every time you went up the mountain to dig stone, you were quietly sizing up the terrain and troop deployments around here; whenever you saw people you’d ask this and that, asking a whole bunch of things. A couple days ago you watched others eat meat, and today you couldn’t help but want to make a show? No more than that — you already have a sense of the nearby terrain and defenses in your heart, and wanted to see the troop deployments in other places as well.”

Their voices were kept very low, and there were few people nearby. Seeing that the old man had seen through her plan, Fan Changyu said, “You needn’t worry, old sir. I won’t run off and bring trouble on you. Carrying the stones to the dam over there is also to see how the dam repairs are going — how much longer we’ll be trapped here. That dam looks nearly finished; we should be released soon.”

If they were to be kept here for a year or even half a year, she knew she couldn’t endure it that long.

The old man snorted and said, “No need to use such a foolish way to check the dam’s progress. I’ll tell you this: before the first heavy rain of spring arrives, that dam must be finished.”

Fan Changyu asked in puzzlement, “Why?”

The old man shot her a sidelong look. “First, you didn’t give me the shuxiu; second, you didn’t kowtow and offer tea to formally accept me as your master. It’s one thing to pull out rigid stuff from the Four Books and ask me about it, but why should I teach you these things?”

Fan Changyu went “oh” and, genuinely, didn’t ask further. She bit into the greasy chicken leg the old man had refused.

Seeing this, the old man glared in anger and said, “You silly pig of a child, you’ve only got this little wit!”

Fan Changyu felt baffled at being scolded, and it would be improper to argue with a white-haired, gaunt, ill-tempered old man. She pursed her lips, stepped aside, and continued gnawing the chicken leg, ignoring him — silently showing she minded his scolding.

The old man grew angrier, his chest heaving, and barked, “Without offering tea, you don’t even kowtow anymore?”

Only then did Fan Changyu realize he had been asking her to become his disciple.

She knew her own measure. After hesitating a moment, she politely declined: “I’m actually not cut out for studying, but my mother used to say more reading is never wrong, so I can half-understand those books. I’d feel bad having you teach me for nothing. There was silver in the parcel the soldiers took from me — if when they release us they return our things, I’ll make up the shuxiu for you.”

Mainly, if she apprenticed she would have to look after the old man forever. Having listened to him scold his student so long, she guessed he had once expected that student to provide for him in old age, but the student proved ungrateful, so the old man wanted to find another to care for him.

But she still had to find her sister and couldn’t be delayed here too long, so she naturally couldn’t promise to take care of the old man permanently.

Hearing his offer rebuffed, the old man glanced at Fan Changyu, his stubborn temper flaring, and snorted, “Do you know how many people have thrown fortunes to beg me to accept them as disciples, and I still refused?”

Fan Changyu had finished the drumstick; pinching the bone in surprise, she said, “Is being a master that profitable?”

“……” the old man was speechless.

His deeply wrinkled face flushed red with anger; closing his eyes he said fiercely, “Enough, enough — truly rotten wood cannot be carved!”

Thinking of the equally lonely Zhao couple and realizing the old man’s great anger stemmed merely from her refusal to be his disciple, Fan Changyu felt a little sorry for the ill-tempered old man: with his bad temper and no children, finding someone to care for him in his old age would indeed be hard.