Chapter 25: The Thatched Cottage Where Zhuge Liang Tilled the Fields

The eastern horizon was already growing lighter as Ye Chang climbed out of bed. The little maid Xiang’er, who slept in the outer room, was gently grinding her teeth. Not wanting to wake her, Ye Chang quietly dressed and put on his shoes, then tiptoed into the outer room.

In the faint pre-dawn glow, Xiang’er lay sprawled, arms and legs akimbo, her clothes disheveled and half her chest exposed—though at only nine years old, the girl had neither chest nor hips, so the sight was merely endearing, never indecent. Ye Chang watched her for a moment at her bedside; the little maid was likely having a pleasant dream, her long eyelashes fluttering briefly before a sweet smile blossomed on her lips.

When she smiled, a small dimple appeared on her right cheek.

Ye Chang felt the softest part of his heart stirred once more: she was, indeed, exactly like his daughter from that other life.

Suppressing the urge to kiss her cheek, Ye Chang moved slowly to the door, unlatched it as silently as possible, and eased it open.

A rush of “fresh air” mingled with the scents of chicken droppings and pig manure made him abandon any idea of taking a deep breath.

This was the medieval era, after all, and in rural households, hygiene was little valued—people and livestock mingled, refuse was thrown everywhere, leaving the village in chaos and filth. Ye Chang found it hard to endure such conditions; for example, whenever he wore the long robes of the Tang people outside, the hems would inevitably pick up all sorts of strange matter, hard to tell whether it was mud or manure.

On tiptoe, Ye Chang carefully skirted around the traces left by the early-rising chickens, exchanging greetings with the elders collecting dung, and jogged out of the village.

Until now, Ye Chang had been busy establishing himself in this era, entangled in schemes with a group of mediocrities, with no leisure to follow his own plans. Now, with everything finally settled, he could begin as he had intended—like running every morning. Ye Chang knew how important good health was; in this time, there were no antibiotics or miracle drugs. Even a minor infection could be fatal!

His runs had drawn the villagers’ attention—they watched him with a kind of awe, but no one dared to question him. Too many unusual things had happened to Ye Chang recently; the villagers, once familiar with him, no longer found anything surprising.

Ye Chang was in decent shape from his frequent trips into the mountains for herbs. Running from the village to the valley where he planned to settle, and back, took him about half an hour. By the time he returned, the sky was brightening, and both a sulky Xiang’er and a drowsy Chunming were awake.

He had come home late the night before, and had simply settled Chunming in without mentioning the affair with the Bodhisattva’s judgment. Thus, both Xiang’er and Chunming looked at Ye Chang strangely, clearly unsettled by his summoning of the Bodhisattva. He didn’t explain, only smiled and said that to welcome Chunming, they would slaughter a chicken and make a delicious meal for lunch. Instantly, Xiang’er’s attention turned to thoughts of food, and when the aroma of cooking reached Chunming’s nose, any divine matters were forgotten.

When Chunming picked up his bowl and saw the heap of meat and vegetables, he soon had tears in his eyes. Xiang’er was about to say something, but Ye Chang stopped her with a cough.

Ye Chang knew there was a reason for Chunming’s sale into servitude at such a young age. In the years since, the boy must have suffered much, so the kindness he now received moved him deeply.

The human heart is made of flesh; if you treat others kindly, save for a few lost souls, they will repay in kind. In the future, when given tasks, Chunming would certainly do his utmost.

This recent episode had freed Ye Chang, at least for now, from the troubles of the First Branch of the Ye family. He could finally focus on building his “cottage” in the valley and devote himself to teaching Xiang’er and Chunming. Neither child was dull; with proper guidance, they would surely become his right and left hands.

Now, the residents of Wuze Slope treated Ye Chang with even more respect—everyone greeted him, and if there were any matters at home, they would come to him for advice or judgment. Yet they were all careful not to mention the Bodhisattva’s judgment, and Ye Chang was happy to play ignorant. Soon, the villagers’ attention shifted to another matter.

The First Branch of the Ye family had collapsed!

Ye Lian had been stripped of all property, which was handed over to Lady Liu. She took her own children and returned to her family, while Ye Lian, left with two concubines and a few children, remained forlornly in Wuze Slope.

Lady Liu was ruthless: she forbade Ye Lian even from staying in the main house, forcing him to build a shack in the village. Ten people, old and young, huddled together, wailing in misery.

Having lost all dignity, Ye Lian sent his concubines and young children to beg from house to house, while he himself sat on Ye Dan’s threshold, pestering him. He even built his shack beside the ancestral hall, threatening to move in if his grievances were not addressed—or to hang his whole family if forced. Ye Dan, at his wit’s end, allotted him a small unused courtyard from the clan’s properties and gave him fifteen mu of ancestral land.

For now, the matter was settled, but Ye Chang knew that storms still brewed beneath the surface. Lady Liu could take the loose assets and household servants back to her family, but the land and houses could not be moved. Between Wuze Slope and Xiao Liu Village, between the Ye family and the Liu family, disputes over land and property would inevitably arise.

After lunch, Ye Dan arrived at Ye Chang’s door with several younger men. “Eleventh Brother, while we’re free, shall we go to the valley and mark out the foundation?”

“Certainly!”

Ye Chang had not expected Ye Dan to be so eager. Yesterday’s events had made Ye Dan realize that the family’s future might depend on Ye Chang, so he was wholeheartedly supportive. Seeing Ye Chang emerge, Ye Dan said with a smile, “I’ve checked the almanac; today is an auspicious day and hour for breaking ground. Eleventh Brother, I asked around, and every household is willing to help. How do you wish to organize the labor?”

In the past, Ye Dan would have taken charge, but now he recognized that he was no match for Ye Chang.

“An army marches on its stomach. The first priority is provisions. My household stores are insufficient, Uncle, so please take this money, send two shrewd bargainers to town to buy grain, and if a butcher has slaughtered a pig, buy half. Also, though it’s just a cottage, we’ll need beams and rafters. Uncle, I’ll leave that to you.”

“Of course, of course!” Ye Dan was overjoyed to be entrusted with the finances; this was not just trust, but a sign that Ye Chang saw him as family.

Had it been another clan’s project, he would have lined his own pockets, but now, accepting the purse from Ye Chang, Ye Dan resolved not only to avoid embezzlement but to contribute his own funds if need be.

This was the Ye family’s rising star, with boundless prospects. Even if only for the sake of his mediocre descendants, he must support him wholeheartedly.

“Next, we’ll need the blacksmith—Uncle Zu must be invited, along with some skilled brothers and uncles. Whether for felling trees or digging, iron tools are essential—hoes, picks, shovels, and hatchets.”

“I’ll see to it myself,” Ye Dan promised.

“Then I’ll take the carpenter and mason to survey where to cut timber and dig clay.”

With plans set, Ye Chang went to the carpenter’s house. Carpenter Ye Zhi, a clansman who had helped with the recent irrigation project, put down his work to join them. The mason, Fan Kaishan, was one of the twenty-odd households who’d benefited from the irrigation, and he too came along. The three men, with Chunming in tow, climbed the ridge behind the valley to survey the land.

The valley was surrounded on the north, east, and west by mountains, with a narrow southern entrance no more than thirty feet wide once the brush was cleared, and a stream flowing out. Ye Chang planned to build a fence and a gate here. The stream, coming from the west, was not large but ran swiftly.

Pointing to a bend, Ye Chang said to Ye Zhi, “Uncle Fifteen, I plan to build a water mill here, so the villagers can grind grain.”

“Ah, but I’m not skilled enough for a mill,” Ye Zhi admitted. He could build houses well enough, but a water mill’s structure was complex.

“No hurry. I’ll draw up a plan, and Uncle Fifteen can try following it. If it’s too difficult, I’ll hire a master craftsman, and you can learn from him.”

Ye Zhi chuckled but was skeptical. After all, Ye Chang had only ever gathered herbs—what did he know of such things?

Ye Chang spread out a sheet of paper, sketched the valley’s layout, marked the chosen spot, and wrote “Water Mill.” Watching him, Ye Zhi realized Ye Chang was planning like a true builder and silently took note.

“Now, Brother Fan, the mill must be far from the living quarters so the noise doesn’t disturb my reading. We’ll need a road to the house. You’ve built many homes; where do you think is best? For now, three or four cottages will suffice, but in the future, we may expand to a full courtyard.”

Fan Kaishan pointed without hesitation to a hollow between two hills in the northeast. “Naturally here. The north mountain shelters it from winter winds. There’s only about a third of an acre of flat land, but the surrounding slopes are gentle—if you level and fill, you can expand to over an acre, enough for several courtyards.”

“And if we want to build even more?”

“That’s fine too. About fifty yards west, beyond a boulder, there’s another clearing, half an acre when leveled. Further south is the main valley—narrow, but…”

Fan Kaishan explained in detail, clearly knowledgeable about construction. Ye Chang nodded repeatedly; though Fan Kaishan relied on experience, Ye Chang recognized the makings of a true planner in him.

The valley, in the shape of a “Y,” had longer arms to the east and west, with a short southern branch. Fan suggested the northeast as the residential area; the northwest, with the stream, could only host the mill, as Ye Chang had planned. The narrow south was better for vegetable gardens, and the gentle slopes could be planted with fruit trees.

“Well said, Brother Fan. What do you think of this?” As Fan spoke, Ye Chang sketched. When Fan finished, Ye Chang handed over the plan.

Fan Kaishan smiled awkwardly. “Eleventh Brother, you forget—I can’t read.”

Ye Chang slapped his head, realizing his oversight.

“Brother Fan, you should learn to read and do sums—you have real talent. If you could also calculate and read, one day you could build great mansions beyond imagination!”

Fan Kaishan laughed. “I’m set in my ways. But you, Eleventh Brother, will surely rise to high office. When you do, don’t forget Wuze Slope and us villagers.”

A trace of bitterness colored his words. He knew well that literacy would open new worlds, but as a man of humble birth, he could not afford such learning. Even his craft was learned as a laborer, apprenticed for six years until his master, seeing his talent, let him go.

Ye Chang paused, then smiled. “If you like, I’ll be teaching Xiang’er and Chunming to read and do sums. You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

Fan Kaishan was stunned.

Then he bowed deeply. “Your learning comes from the immortals, Eleventh Brother. How could a lowly man like me aspire to it?”

“Come as you wish. Unless you don’t want to learn, I have no objection,” Ye Chang replied.

Fan Kaishan hesitated but said nothing.

With their plans laid out from the hilltop, the three men led Chunming down into the valley. The valley was nearly two miles long; just building the road would take considerable labor. But there were ways—land could be cleared with fire, as was customary, burning away the brush and undergrowth.

“The road must be wide,” Ye Chang added. “Someday horses and carts will come. Even if we can’t build it now, we should leave space.”

“Of course,” Ye Zhi agreed. “In future, many dignitaries will come to visit you, Eleventh Brother. Without a proper road, it would be most inconvenient.”

“But to finish everything will take time—perhaps a whole year,” said Fan Kaishan.

Ye Chang smiled. “No need for that long. The Dragon Boat Festival is in four days; with my plan, we’ll have the basics in a month, and in two months it’ll be nearly complete—just in time for the autumn harvest!”

“Impossible!” Fan Kaishan and Ye Zhi exclaimed in unison.