Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Yin He did the calculation in her head with astonishing speed. “One shi is one hundred and twenty jin, so one hundred thousand shi would be twelve million jin. The reported number of disaster victims is fifty thousand. At two jin per person per day, it could sustain them for roughly four months.”

Father’s gaze fell on my face.

After a brief pause, I shook my head. “I’m afraid it won’t last that long.”

“One hundred thousand shi of grain must be taken from the granaries, transported, and then distributed in the disaster area. At every step, it passes through layer after layer of hands, each taking their cut. If sixty percent of it ultimately reaches the victims, that would already count as remarkably clean governance.”

“Given the current state of affairs, it would not be strange if only thirty percent remains, mixed with wheat bran.”

Father stroked his beard and signaled for me to continue.

I paused, then said, “Even at thirty percent, it would last two months at most.”

A faint shift passed through Father’s eyes. “Ah He calculated according to the regulations. You calculated according to the ways of men. Both are correct, and both are incorrect.”

“If those who govern know only regulations, they are like men carving a mark on a boat to find a lost sword. In the end, decrees hang uselessly in the air, while the people’s livelihood withers.”

“But if they think only of schemes and human nature, they will easily sink into corruption, convincing themselves that since the world has always been this way, they might as well join the filth.”

He rose and walked to the map behind him, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

“What the children of the Yin family must learn is how to find the viable path between the two. You must know what the laws and statutes require, and also how to work them into the tangled twists and turns of human affairs.”

Ah He and I held our breath. We only felt that Father’s words weighed heavier than all the classical doctrines and policy essays we had studied before.

A flicker of shame crossed Ah He’s face. “Your daughter was shallow in her thinking.”

Father waved a hand. “It is not that your thinking is shallow. You simply have not reached the age, nor had enough experience.”

“That you can think this far today is already no small feat. In the future, your considerations can go deeper still. For instance, if the grain is insufficient for two months’ needs, how should more be procured afterward?”

Ah He said, “Petition the court for an additional allocation.”

I said, “If time is pressing, the authorities could step forward and have the local gentry raise donations.”

“And if the court coffers are empty and the gentry refuse? After the disaster, how should reconstruction be carried out through relief work, so that the people’s livelihood may recover while gatherings that could lead to unrest are prevented?”

Father returned to his seat behind the desk, once again assuming his usual posture for examining our studies.

“These are matters you must all consider carefully.”

The days slipped by quietly under the weight of our demanding lessons.

When I was seven, Mother finally gave birth to a legitimate son.

Father made offerings to the ancestors in the ancestral hall and personally entered my one-year-old full younger brother into the family register, naming him Yin Lan.

By then, Ah He and I were already able to help Mother handle some of the miscellaneous affairs of the inner household.

Beyond the wall, the crabapple blossoms bloomed and withered again.

When I was eleven, the winds of the times began to carry a faint unease.

Father’s hours of returning home grew increasingly irregular.

As for news from court, he no longer broke it apart and analyzed every detail for us.

Only when testing our lessons would he leave openings in the topics, asking us to write them into policy essays and present them for his review.

Mother once taught us that the social dealings of women from great families were like weaving a net.

Banquets, flower viewings, opera performances-all were warp and weft, carrying news of the rise and fall of court affairs through cups of wine, smiles, and idle conversation.

But now, the estate had not hosted a banquet in three months.

The main gate still stood open, yet the carriages and horses before the entrance grew scarcer by the day.

The storms beyond the walls had likely already pressed close to our vermilion gates.