◎Daddy Look, We Found a Dead Person!◎
Magistrate Sun’s hand trembled, spilling hot tea down his beard and onto his clothes. Shaking the hot water from his hand as he stood up, his eyes widened: “What did you say?”
“A corpse, uh… strictly speaking it’s skeletal remains, dead man’s bones,” the old servant said.
Magistrate Sun drew a sharp breath and looked at Chen Yan.
When real trouble emerged, Chen Yan instead sat more steadily, since it wasn’t his head the sky would fall on anyway.
“How are the children?” Magistrate Sun asked anxiously, fearing they might be terrified.
“They’re all quite excited,” the old servant replied.
“…”
Magistrate Sun said: “Lead the way.”
Chen Yan followed Magistrate Sun out through the County Yamen Ceremonial Gate. Beyond the Ceremonial Gate was the Lixie. To the east stood a Side Gate, beside which was a small Tile-roofed House. Behind the Tile-roofed House lay a small patch of Zhuangtian. Originally, family members of several clerks liked to grow vegetables here, but after the small Tile-roofed House was converted into a Lianfang for storing corpses, no one was willing to go near. The Zhuangtian thus fell into disuse, overgrown with weeds reaching over half a person’s height.
The two exited through the Side Gate. The servants had cut down the weeds, clearing a narrow path. In the distance, they had indeed dug a large pit. Seven boys dressed in various colors like a rainbow were squatting in a circle around the pit, frowning intently as they stared into the hole.
Seeing Magistrate Sun arrive, they hurriedly stood up and bowed: “Father, Uncle, Uncle Chen.”
Noticing their strange attire, Magistrate Sun couldn’t help asking: “Why are you wearing gourds on your heads?”
Da Wa said: “Ping’an gave them to us.”
Only then did Magistrate Sun realize Ping’an was missing: “Where is Ping’an?”
Er Wa pointed at the pit: “In the hole.”
Chen Yan walked over and was immediately shocked—the destructive power of eight children should indeed not be underestimated. This pit was easily over a person’s height.
“Why did you leave him alone in the pit?” Magistrate Sun scolded.
San Wa said: “He was originally up here the whole time. After we all came up, he jumped back down.”
Ping’an was currently squatting intently at the bottom of the pit, holding a small brush and gently brushing soil off the surface of the white bones.
Chen Yan took a deep breath. He wasn’t seeing things—his son was playing with a corpse.
“Chen Ping’an.” Chen Yan called out with a frown.
“Wah!” Startled unexpectedly, Ping’an fell hard on his bottom.
A tall servant jumped down, hoisted him onto his shoulder, and slowly rose while supporting himself against the pit wall, lifting Ping’an out of the pit.
Chen Yan pulled him out as if plucking a chick.
Ping’an was indeed very excited: “Daddy look, we found a dead person!”
Chen Yan looked at the little child covered in dust and grime, still wearing a “praise me” triumphant smile, and felt his teeth itch with irritation. He brushed off the dust with considerable force.
So dirty. This child might be beyond saving.
Ping’an wobbled unsteadily from the vigorous brushing, yet still smiled adorably.
Never mind. He could still be kept after a good wash.
Magistrate Sun stood gravely by the pit’s edge, watching as the servants collected the skeletal remains. They spread a coarse cloth on the ground and assembled the skull, spine, limbs… piecing together a complete skeleton—that of a male corpse.
Under the pale white sun, Magistrate Sun paced around the skeleton with his hands behind his back—this was truly absurdity’s mother opening the door for absurdity. Someone actually dared to bury a body right outside the County Yamen’s Side Gate? Did they have no respect for his dignity?
He immediately ordered: “Summon the Coroner to examine the corpse.”
The skeleton lay exposed in broad daylight amidst the barren fields. Ping’an wanted to get closer for a better look, but Chen Yan pulled him back sharply: “Be careful you don’t have nightmares tonight.”
Ping’an whispered quietly to Chen Yan: “Father, this person has an injury on his head, and there’s a red string tied around his wrist with a large peach pit strung on it.”
Just then, Coroner Zhao Dawu reported: “One male corpse, height five chi three cun. The occipital bone is fractured by a blunt instrument. No personal belongings found. A knotted cord on the wrist…”
Chen Yan stared at his son in astonishment.
Ping’an said proudly: “Wasn’t I right?”
The children were excited, chattering among themselves as they described how they discovered the skeleton. Song Shiye, worried the children would interfere with the investigation, quickly led them to San Tang to rest.
…
County Magistrate Sun held the peach pit strung on the red cord, examining it carefully. It turned out to be a carved peach pit with an image of Zhong Kui, with two lines of fine text on the back: “Zhu Xie Tui Bi, Bai Wu Jin Ji.”
Song Shiye slapped his forehead: “I’ve seen this thing before! Two years ago, Liu Gui – the Clerk of the Penal Affairs Office who was dismissed by the Prefectural Governor – always carried something like this with him, saying it was to ward off evil spirits and avoid misfortune.”
“Liu Gui?” said the Clerk of the Penal Affairs Office. “Didn’t he go to another town? We even issued him a travel permit. How could he…”
“Coroner Zhao,” said County Magistrate Sun. “Examine his leg bones.”
Coroner Zhao immediately fetched a red oil-paper umbrella to shade the corpse while examining the bones, and indeed found several fine red fracture lines.
“Reporting to the County Magistrate, there are cracks in the left femur that haven’t completely healed yet.”
“That’s it, that’s it.” County Magistrate Sun said quietly to Chen Yan: “You must remember – Prefect Guo reprimanded him for shouting in the court, ordered him beaten twenty strokes, and expelled him from court before dismissing him. I later sent a physician to his home to treat him. His leg bone was injured and needed rest to heal. I haven’t seen him since.”
Chen Yan had been present at the time and remembered it clearly. Based on years of experience handling cases, Liu Gui had argued that the time of death was later than Meng’s disappearance. However, the two coroners present claimed it was because the temperature at the bottom of the well was lower than ground temperature, slowing the rate of decomposition. Liu Gui argued his case forcefully but was severely punished by Prefect Guo.
“Did this man have no family? He’s been dead for so long, yet no one reported him missing at the County Yamen?” Chen Yan asked.
County Magistrate Sun turned to look at the Clerk of the Penal Affairs Office.
“This man had no parents – he was an orphan. He never married and was somewhat eccentric in temperament. Neither neighbors nor relatives wanted to associate with him. He usually lived in the Lixie and rarely went home throughout the year. After being dismissed, when his wounds had mostly healed, he came to the County Yamen to get a travel permit, saying he wanted to go to another town to rely on relatives.”
County Magistrate Sun sighed slightly and ordered the remains to be temporarily collected, dispatching fast-duty constables to immediately investigate Liu Gui’s home to see if they could find any clues.
Returning to the inner residence, both Chen Yan and County Magistrate Sun looked grim. Yao Shi was scolding the children, and Lin Yuebai also looked displeased.
Ping’an stood with his small hands behind his back, secretly glancing toward the doorway, where his eyes met Chen Yan’s.
Unexpectedly, County Magistrate Sun – who had solid theoretical foundations – stepped onto the threshold only to retreat and begin pacing in the courtyard. Chen Yan had no choice but to stand with him in the yard.
The two men waited until Yao Shi finished scolding the children before reentering.
No one discussed matters from the outer yamen during the meal. The children were no longer as excited, with only Ping’an looking deeply preoccupied.
“Records of Traitors” was, after all, an unofficial history. He had once questioned the credibility of that old man Yang Guan, often suspecting that he had deliberately slandered Old Dad due to some personal grudge. Compared to the cold, lifeless words in the book, he would rather believe the living person standing before him.
But today, Liu Gui’s corpse resurfaced, extinguishing the glimmer of hope in his heart.
The book only recorded that the body was buried in the wasteland outside the side gate. Ping’an led the Calabash Brothers to check, and indeed, there was a patch of weeds growing unusually lush.
Yang Guan had not lied—there really was a corpse beneath.
The minor official had been found; next was Meng Wan.
…
Returning home, when Zhao Shi heard about Ping’an’s ordeal, she was so terrified that she nearly lost her wits.
“A corpse hidden outside the County Yamen? Who could be so deranged?” Zhao Shi asked.
Chen Yan replied, “It’s suspected to be a scribe from the County Yamen, silenced by murder.”
Zhao Shi grew even more horrified: “Amitabha, may the wronged find their debtor and the debtor their due—let them not mistake the wrong person.”
With that, she ordered someone to fetch pomelo leaves, boil them in water, and toss the stark-naked Ping’an into the bath to wash away the bad luck.
The room was filled with mist, accompanied by the fresh scent of pomelo leaves. Ping’an floated up and down alone in the large wooden tub, spinning and splashing water.
He had long forbidden Cao Mama from bathing him; at most, she would come in to add hot water. Old Dad would scrub his back when he had time; otherwise, Ping’an did it himself.
While Cao Mama went out to fetch a bath robe, Chen Yan entered with a loofah sponge for scrubbing. The room was silent, not a sound audible through the screen.
“Ping’an,” he called.
No response.
“Ping’an?!” Chen Yan threw down what he was holding and hurried around the screen.
With a splash, a snow-white child sprang up from the water, drenching Chen Yan and laughing triumphantly at his successful prank.
Chen Yan sighed with belated fear, his heart pounding in his throat, water dripping from his forehead and chin.
Heaven knows how jumpy someone who had seen a pile of bones during the day could be by night.
“You’re utterly unruly.” Chen Yan was tempted to haul him out and spank him. He grabbed a towel to wipe his face, then fetched the loofah sponge from outside, wet it, and helped scrub Ping’an’s back.
The more tired and sleepy a child gets, the more excitable they become. Seizing the moment when Old Dad was off guard, Ping’an splashed water violently, drenching him again and laughing uncontrollably.
Chen Yan frowned and dodged, too annoyed to let it slide, and scooped water to splash back at him.
Ping’an shrieked and dodged, slapping the water surface hard. Father and son went back and forth, neither giving in.
When Lin Yuebai entered, Ping’an was wrapped in a bath robe, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his bangs curled and stuck to his forehead. Chen Yan, half-soaked, was changing clothes. The two had made a mess of water on the floor, with Cao Mama cleaning up and A Man helping.
“Such a grown man, still having water fights with his son.” Lin Yuebai held a stack of account books, her face full of resentment, her eyes devoid of light.
“Does Mother have homework too?” Ping’an asked.
Chen Yan nudged him with an elbow—say less if you don’t want to sleep in the study.
After Cao Mama cleared the pooled water on the floor, worried that it might be slippery and cause falls, she carefully wiped it dry with a cloth. Approaching Lin Yuebai, she said, “Eldest Mistress, I’ve thought it over—to separate from them, establish a female-headed household, and live separately with A Man and Xiao Fulu.”
Lin Yuebai asked, “Have you made up your mind?”
“I’ve thought it through,” said Cao Mama. “I’ve made some inquiries too. For a widow with no male heirs in the family, if she doesn’t plan to remarry, the only way out is to register as a female-headed household. At least I have Xiao Fulu. After enduring for over a decade, when he comes of age, we’ll be like any other civilian household.”
But Lin Yuebai said, “I think A Man is so capable, she’ll surely have a promising future too.”
A Man, who was doing a puzzle with Ping’an, looked up at these words and said, “Yes, Mother, I can also help you support the household.”
Cao Mama smiled in agreement, “Yes, yes, A Man is a good child too.”
It wasn’t that she thought poorly of A Man, but this world simply didn’t leave many paths open for women, unless they married into a good family—but what kind of family could be considered good? Truly wealthy and respectable families were beyond their reach, and marrying someone like her late husband—a poor, ill-tempered short-lived devil—she’d rather keep A Man by her side for life.
During this time at the Chen residence, A Man had been eating well and sleeping soundly. Though she often helped her mother with chores, they were all manageable tasks. She had visibly grown fairer and plumper. Her features were plain, her skin somewhat rough, but her pair of striking, straight eyebrows were distinctive, giving her a spirited look.
Lin Yuebai liked her very much. When teaching Ping’an to read and write, she always waited until A Man arrived to begin. Hearing that A Man had recently been pestering Jiu Huan to learn martial arts, Lin Yuebai tacitly approved.
“Ping’an, don’t you like waking up early? From now on, get up at mao hour and learn some martial arts with A Man. It’ll serve both for self-defense and physical fitness.”
Ping’an: ??
How did this fire land on him?
“Mother, I’m still growing and need more sleep,” Ping’an said.
“Go to bed earlier from now on, and you’ll still get enough sleep,” Lin Yuebai stated unequivocally. “It’s settled.”
Ping’an turned to Chen Yan and whispered, “What did you do to upset my mother again?”
Chen Yan looked up at the roof beam. “There’s a cobweb over there. Remember to clean it tomorrow.”
…
The next day, with no need to go out, Chen Yan rose as usual in the darkness. Jiu Huan brought a candle to assist him with washing up and casually patted the soft lump under the quilt on the bed twice.
“An Ge’er, time to get up. Come practice martial arts with me.”
The lump wriggled in place.
Chen Yan found it amusing and went to pat his back too.
Ping’an slowly woke up, rubbing his eyes and sitting up cross-legged. Seeing that it wasn’t even dawn yet, he was about to throw a tantrum when he remembered his mother’s instruction last night about learning martial arts. His resentment grew even stronger. As the weather turned colder, anyone who made him leave his warm bed would face his wrath. He waved away Jiu Huan’s hand reaching to help him dress, lay back down on the bed, and returned to the arms of the Duke of Zhou.
Jiu Huan muttered, “Usually wakes up early without fail, but when there’s something to do, he can’t be dragged out of bed.”
After two more unsuccessful attempts, he gave up and went to teach A Man instead.
By mid-morning, Ping’an had slept his fill and was full of energy. After washing up, he saw his mother sitting at his father’s desk in the outer room, guarding a mountain-like pile of account books, moving the abacus beads at a sloth’s pace.
Not daring to make a sound for fear of provoking his mother’s displeasure, Ping’an gestured to A Ji and tiptoed to the main courtyard.
…
Seeing his listless appearance, Chen Laoye again suggested that he spend more time “getting closer” with his cousins, since from what his parents said, they really didn’t seem planning to give him any younger siblings.
But whenever Ping’an had free time, he would rather bathe Aji, brush his teeth, and trim his nails than bother with his granduncle’s male cousins. As for the female cousins, they found him too noisy and didn’t want to play with him either.
Zhao Shi disapprovingly said, “What’s there to play? What future is there in imitating their parrot-teasing and dog-playing?”
Old Master Chen glanced at the parrot under the corridor, while Ping’an looked down at Aji at his feet.
“…”
These two were certainly idle enough.
Zhao Shi conceived the idea of teaching Ping’an to read—if she could cultivate her son into a Jie Yuan, how far behind could her grandson be?
Zhao Shi took out a copy of the Three Character Classic, drew Ping’an close, and pointed to the first line: “Grandmother taught you to recognize these characters yesterday. Do you still remember?”
Ping’an still remembered Old Dad’s instructions and glanced distractedly: “Ren zhi dao…”
Old Master Chen, who had been admiring a censer from the previous dynasty, shook with laughter upon hearing this.
“Who taught you to read it like that?” Zhao Shi asked sternly.
Ping’an showed no loyalty: “Grandfather said, if you read only half of a character, you won’t be far off from the sky.”
Zhao Shi shot her husband an angry glare, while he raised his magnifying glass and looked up at a forty-five-degree angle.
She had no choice but to start from the beginning. After teaching a passage from the Three Character Classic, she earnestly instructed him: “You’re still young and don’t understand that ‘all trades are beneath hardship, only studying elevates one.'”
Ping’an swayed his head and echoed his grandmother: “Beneath hardship, beneath hardship.”
He maintained an utterly unyielding attitude.
Zhao Shi was extremely frustrated. Just then, Feicui entered the room and reported to her: “Madam, Mrs. Liu from the Liu family sent over five catties of Western sugar.”
Ping’an looked up, his eyes sparkling: “Western sugar?”
Western sugar was what later generations called white sugar.
Due to the imperial maritime ban, Western sugar was exorbitantly priced. However, Western white sugar was whiter and had a more delicate texture than ordinary white sugar, making it highly sought after by the wealthy.
Ping’an gazed at the exquisitely crafted fine white porcelain jar in Feicui’s hands. He wasn’t particularly fond of sweets, but he knew Old Dad loved them and rarely saw him eat any.
So he clung to his grandmother’s arm and wheedled: “Grandmother, give me two catties of white sugar! My dad loves white sugar su lao!”
Zhao Shi shot Feicui a reproachful look and said, “It’s not that Grandmother is unwilling to give it to you, but eating too much sugar affects studying.”
Ping’an looked puzzled and turned to his grandfather.
“I don’t know where your grandmother heard it, but she always says eating sugar makes you stupid…” Old Master Chen said. “Haven’t you noticed? There’s never any sugar dishes or honey on the dining table at home.”
Ping’an looked at his grandmother, quite astonished. So even in this era, parents were fanatical about pushing their children.
“Divine Doctor Xie from Guang Ji Tang said it,” Zhao Shi asserted.
“That was debunked long ago,” Old Master Chen murmured softly.
Zhao Shi glared at him again, so he had no choice but to pick up his magnifying glass and return to examining his censer.
“How pitiful,” Ping’an sighed. For someone who loved sweets to grow up without sugar—what a cruel thing.
“Who are you calling pitiful?” Zhao Shi retorted.
“No one,” Ping’an shook his head and dropped the subject of Western sugar.
Zhao Shi continued, “An Ge’er, look at your father—he was known as a child prodigy since he was young. He read the Four Books at six, could compose poetry at eight, and became a Student at eighteen. If his teacher hadn’t said that achieving success too young breeds arrogance and held him back for a few years, he would have been a Presented Scholar by now…”
Ping’an swayed his head along. He had practically memorized his father’s achievements by heart. In his grandmother’s eyes, his father was prime minister material—and indeed, that was exactly how it turned out.
“He’s so intelligent precisely because he’s never eaten sweets since childhood.” To substantiate her point, Zhao Shi added evidence: “Why else would this be? Look at the Southern Chen Family men across generations—not a single one has passed the imperial examinations…”
Old Master Chen shot her a glance: “Speak if you must, but don’t implicate the innocent.”
As Grandmother’s incessant nagging continued like a tightening curse, Ping’an could only focus on self-preservation, having no leisure to sympathize with Old Dad. He hastily took his Black General and Aji to play in the courtyard.
“This child’s temperament doesn’t resemble his father’s, nor his mother’s,” remarked Zhao Shi.
“Then whose does it resemble?” asked Old Master Chen.
Zhao Shi ignored him, picking up the account books to tally figures herself, the abacus clacking sharply.
“Whose does it resemble?” Old Master Chen pressed.
Before Zhao Shi could respond, Ping’an’s shouts came from outside the courtyard.
“Ahhhh—Aji! Spit! Spit it out!”
Old Master Chen leaned out to look and saw Ping’an prying open the dog’s mouth while screaming. He hurried into the courtyard to help, fishing out the thoroughly drenched “Black General” from Aji’s jaws.
The startled cricket leaped away at a touch, disappearing into the flower bushes…
Grandfather and grandson searched all over the yard, joined by A Man and Xiao Fulu in the effort. After nearly half a day, Black General remained missing. When Chen Yan returned from outside, he tied up his wide sleeves with sleeve loops and joined the cricket search team.
By dinnertime, Black General still hadn’t been found. Ping’an was too upset to eat. Lin Yuebai comforted him: “Don’t be sad. Let your uncle find you another one, even bigger than Black General.”
Ping’an forced a smile—another cricket wouldn’t be the original Black General.
As night fell, Old Master Chen sent for Ping’an to come to the front courtyard. “I’ve thought of a brilliant plan,” he told the boy. “First get some sugar from the kitchen, sprinkle it in the flower beds, and cover it with paper. We’ll find Black General first thing tomorrow morning.”
Ping’an nodded blankly and followed Old Master Chen to the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets for brown sugar.
“Grandfather,” Ping’an whispered, “this is our own home. Why are we stealing? Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask Granny Liu to find it?”
Old Master Chen whispered back, “What do you know? This makes it more fun.”
Ping’an: …
In the pitch darkness, Ping’an only managed to find one fine porcelain jar.
“This is Western sugar,” said Old Master Chen. “Worth its weight in gold.”
Ping’an opened the lid, dipped his index finger in and put it in his mouth—sweet.
Then he carefully returned it to its place.
“We don’t need too much anyway,” Old Master Chen added, “just a small pinch will do.”
Ping’an took down the sugar jar again.
Old Master Chen tore off a piece of oiled paper, wrapped up a small pinch, and put the jar back.
“Grandfather, I also want to make sugar pastry for my dad,” said Ping’an.
Hearing this demonstration of filial piety, Old Master Chen took down the jar again, wrapped another small pinch, and returned it.
“And white sugar cake.”
“Could you say everything at once?” Old Master Chen complained, reaching for the jar again.
Suddenly, several mournful wails came from outside—stray cats fighting—startling Old Master Chen into jerking his hand. The sugar jar tipped over and fell straight into the water vat, gurgling as it sank.
“Ah!” Ping’an exclaimed.
“Shh—” Old Master Chen covered the boy’s mouth, rolled up his sleeves and reached into the vat to retrieve the jar. All he pulled out was a dripping sugar jar—the entire container of premium Western sugar had dissolved into the water.
“Well, we’ve really done it now,” Old Master Chen said. “Your grandmother is going to scold us again.”
Ping’an had a sudden inspiration: “If we move this jar of water into the sun tomorrow, we can turn the sugar back.”
“You’re too clever,” said Chen Laoye. “But wouldn’t that be telling the whole family that we not only stole sugar but also knocked over the sugar jar? We’d still get scolded.”
Ping’an declared righteously: “Grandfather, my mother said when you make a mistake, you should face it bravely.”Chen Laoye was taken aback by these words, tears of relief nearly falling from his eyes—truly their ancestral graves were emitting green smoke, to have such a good child born into the Chen family.”
Just as he was about to praise him, he saw Ping’an climb onto the stove again, take down the soup ladle, open the salt container, scoop out two large spoonfuls of salt, and put them into the sugar jar.
Old Master Chen’s lips twitched—had someone tampered with the ancestral graves?
Ping’an pointed at the sugar jar: “This is just a temporary substitute. Tomorrow we’ll buy more from the market and secretly put it back, then grandmother won’t scold us.”
Old Master Chen: …
Another day of financial loss.
Holding the last two small packets of white sugar, the grandfather and grandson slipped into the flower garden. After identifying the general direction where Black General had gone missing, they sprinkled the white sugar among the flowers and covered it with a piece of scrap paper.
Early the next morning, when everyone lifted the damp scrap paper, they found Black General, full and content, sleeping soundly underneath.
Ping’an silently cheered, stretched out his small hands and pounced forward, carefully capturing it into the cage.
With Black General found, they now had to deal with the sugar situation. The grandfather and grandson searched through all the Southern Goods Shops, trading companies, and even pawnshops in the entire county, but couldn’t purchase any Western Sugar.
“High price but no market—it’s truly a scarce commodity,” Old Master Chen remarked. “Drying sugar water seems more reliable.”
“Agreed,” Ping’an said.
When they returned to the kitchen, they discovered the vat of water was nearly empty. The kitchen servants were refilling it, pouring bucket after bucket of clear well water into the urn, breaking both their hearts.
“Why was this water used up so quickly?” Old Master Chen asked.
“Reporting to the master, this water is for washing pots.”
“…”
Ping’an tugged at his sleeve, pulling him into the courtyard away from others, and whispered: “Grandfather, I had a dream last night. There was an old man in my dream making white sugar.”
“Oh?” Old Master Chen asked curiously. “Was he a strange grandfather with white skin, green eyes, and yellow curly hair?”
After all, it was Western Sugar.
“No, he was an ordinary grandfather with yellow skin and black eyes. He said making Western Sugar is very simple—only requiring brown sugar, yellow clay, and a large funnel,” Ping’an explained.
Western Sugar was expensive, but from what he knew, the production method was actually quite simple.
The orphanage had a library filled with books donated from all sectors of society.
Being donated items, the collection was quite eclectic—containing unofficial histories, novels and plays, guides on selecting and fighting crickets, even postpartum care for sows… He never discriminated and read everything. 《Records of Traitors》 was one such book.
In his previous life, Ping’an wasn’t stupid—in fact, he was quite clever. Lacking sufficient care and guidance, all his motivation for learning stemmed from the desire to escape impoverished living conditions. Moreover, he had strong memory retention, recalling many contents from books vividly.
Regarding white sugar, he had seen a decolorization process in an ancient text that used yellow clay’s absorbency to remove color from brown sugar, transforming it into pure white sugar frosting with a more refined and mellow taste—this was early white sugar, also called Western Sugar.
This method for making white sugar was simple with cheap materials, yet this era clearly hadn’t developed such techniques. Western Sugar relied entirely on smuggling, remaining an unattainable “luxury” even for the wealthy class.
This represented a highly valuable information gap.
After hearing Ping’an’s description, Old Master Chen pondered: “You’re saying we can make white sugar using just a funnel-shaped container, yellow clay, and brown sugar? That sounds too far-fetched.”
Ping’an spread his hands: “I think it’s unbelievable too.”
“Something this unbelievable—we must test whether it’s true or not!” Old Master Chen declared.
Ping’an: “…”
Old Master Chen was a man of swift action when it came to tinkering with new projects. He immediately sent someone to the sugar workshop to fetch thirty catties of brown sugar, and dispatched others to Porcelain Workshop Street to have them fire a “large funnel” as described by Ping’an—wide at the top, tapered at the bottom, with a small hole at the tip.
They commandeered a vacant courtyard and its stove to begin their sugar-making experiments.
Following the method described in the book step by step, they repeated the process several times, but only managed to produce dark, unappealing sugar paste and murky, muddy water.
After many days of futile efforts, Ping’an grew deeply discouraged. If he couldn’t even accomplish such a simple task, how could he ever hold his head high among the ranks of time travelers?
“Grandfather, we should just tell Grandmother the truth,” Ping’an said.
“Let’s wait a little longer,” Old Master Chen replied, his eyes fixed intently on the large funnel. “I believe our approach is sound. There must be some detail we’re overlooking.”
As a technically-inclined individual, Old Master Chen was passionate about studying things most people dismissed as “frivolous crafts.” He had now become completely absorbed in this pursuit.
The Chen family owned a sizable sugar workshop, but Sheng’an’s sugar industry was highly developed. During prolonged periods of peace, sugar workshops of all sizes had sprung up like bamboo shoots after rain, creating fierce competition. Business was no longer as prosperous as it once had been.
Just as Ping’an had long feared, the Chen household—though outwardly flourishing—was riddled with problems. Family members preferred leisure to work, the household was large with substantial expenses, and business was declining. This was precisely why, after Chen Yan rose to prominence, the family would engage in rampant annexation and wealth accumulation to sustain their extravagant lifestyle.
If they could successfully produce white sugar, it would undoubtedly become a highly profitable venture.
Yet looking at the yellowish muddy water before him, Ping’an felt ready to abandon the endeavor.
What he had initially assumed would be simple turned out to be merely simple in the author’s description. The actual technical core—such as measurement ratios, boiling duration, and even what type of clay constituted “yellow mud”—remained unrecorded.
“Don’t be disheartened,” Old Master Chen encouraged as he lifted the pottery funnel coated with black sugar paste from the jar. “Even if we fail a hundred times, we might succeed on the hundred-and-first attempt. If your grandmother asks, just play ignorant. I’ll take this to the sugar workshop and have the masters study it together. I refuse to believe we can’t produce sugar as white as snow.”
…
With the grandfather and grandson keeping quiet about their activities, the entire residence fell into unusual stillness.
The vacant kitchen emitted smoke daily, permeating the air with the scent of caramel. Aji kept watch outside the small courtyard’s kitchen every day.
Lin Yuebai summoned A Man, who had been helping her mother iron clothes, and asked, “What has An Ge’er been busy with these past few days?”
A Man shook her head. “I don’t know, Madam.”
“A Man, you must tell Madam the truth,” Cao Mama urged.
A Man’s gaze remained clear and sincere. “I truly don’t know. He told me to stay away from him these past few days so I wouldn’t get involved.”
Lin Yuebai’s sense of foreboding grew stronger. She tactfully suggested to her mother-in-law that she keep an eye on her father-in-law, reasoning that few good things ever happened when the grandfather and grandson teamed up.
After discussing the matter, the two women devised a thorough plan to catch them red-handed. But when they moved to execute their “close the door to catch the thief” strategy, they found the vacant western annex empty—with all traces of activity completely erased.
The white sugar research was funded entirely through Old Master Chen’s private accounts. When his pocket money ran out, Ping’an had to contribute his own funds to keep the project going. The development work proceeded vigorously, though there was no need for a young child like Ping’an to remain at the sugar workshop.
Yet even when he returned home, he scurried around like a little mouse avoiding his grandmother, which made Zhao Shi restless. She once again ordered inspections of all important property deeds, land contracts, household registration documents, anti-theft measures, and fire safety hazards throughout the residence.
After several days of thorough searching inside and out, no issues were found. She concluded he was probably just afraid she would force him to study and let the matter drop.
During this quiet period, the biggest beneficiary was Chen Yan. After returning from the provincial Deer Cry Banquet, he threw himself entirely into preparing for the Huishi examination, waiting only for year’s end to journey to the capital for the tests.
…
The continuous autumn rain made clothes cold and damp, and Ping’an began lingering in bed.
Cao Mama would warm his clothes, shoes, and socks by the stove every day. Only when they were warm to the touch would he reluctantly leave his cozy quilt.
Zhao Shi remarked, “Each autumn rain brings more cold; after ten such rains, it’s time for cotton padding.”
Not only did she have the younger generation add layers, she also sent someone immediately to the sugar workshop to deliver two lined jackets to Chen Laoye, who was occupied with some unknown endeavor.
Lin Yuebai realized she hadn’t seen her father-in-law for quite some time.
Curious, she asked her mother-in-law what her father-in-law was doing spending all day at the sugar workshop instead of watering plants or walking birds at home.
Zhao Shi said, “Your father claims the sugar business declines yearly, and he needs to reorganize things. Your father has finally grown up and learned to attend to proper business.”
“…”
Zhao Shi was four years older than Chen Laoye. Since their youthful marriage days, she had treated him like a child to be directed. But as a daughter-in-law, no matter how informal her in-laws acted, Lin Yuebai dared not comment on this, only offering an awkward smile.
As mother-in-law and daughter-in-law conversed, the maid sent to deliver the clothes returned and reported to Zhao Shi, “Madam, the master has returned.”
Zhao Shi looked toward the entrance.
“I encountered him just after going out. The master, the young master, and the Third Master of the Northern Chen Family were accompanying several officials along the riverbank.”
Within half the time it takes to drink tea, Chen Laoye lifted the door curtain and entered, bringing with him a damp, chilly air.
Ping’an shivered. Zhao Shi pulled him closer to the stove fire and asked her husband, “Why are you back?”
Chen Laoye remained cheerful as ever: “With my son representing us, why should I stand outside drinking wind?”
Zhao Shi asked what the matter was.
Chen Laoye explained: “They say this section of the river is silted up and needs to conscript laborers for dredging. They want both Chen families to cooperate with the county by providing workers and provisions.”
“They want our family to provide food?” Zhao Shi asked.
Chen Laoye laughed: “Our esteemed magistrate is different from others. Laborers doing corvée work usually bring their own meals, but Sun Zhixian is different – he wants the wealthy families to provide the meals.”
“Watch your language in front of the child.” Zhao Shi was quite angry – she’d never heard anyone call themselves wealthy curs before.
Chen Laoye said: “I meant ‘virtuous families will have abundant blessings’.”
Hearing that the river section before their home would indeed be dredged, Ping’an’s little heart beat wildly in his chest. Sun Zhixian hadn’t disappointed him after all – though he appeared passive, he would actually work for the people’s benefit.
…
Those still standing by the river “drinking wind” included not only the Third Master of the Northern Chen Family and Chen Yan, but also the County Yamen’s Record Keeper, the Works Office director, and several clerks measuring water depth and level.
“Sheng River carries much silt, and this tributary flows slowly, allowing gradual sedimentation and blockage,” said Clerk Zeng, drawing river lines on the ground with a short stick. “When rainy season comes, it floods everywhere. This affects not just Chen Family Alley, but all areas along this river course.”
Chen Yan also picked up a twig and pointed at the lines on the ground: “This tributary runs through Sheng’an County. The northern bank is elevated and not prone to flooding, while the southern bank is low-lying. Combined with silt accumulation in the river channel, backflow easily occurs. Why not reinforce the southern bank while dredging? We can use the silt from the river as material instead of transporting soil from afar. This would save both labor and expenses, while also reducing the risk of flooding before the spring surge arrives.”
The head of the Public Works Office, however, remarked, “But this only addresses the symptoms, not the root cause. If we have to dredge every couple of years, the costs will still be high.”
Chen Yan replied, “Silt accumulates because the water flow is too slow. We could build a small embankment in the low-lying section of the river to channel the water, creating a rapid flow. This would certainly slow down the siltation.”
“What a brilliant idea! The First Scholar is so well-versed in water management,” Clerk Zeng said. “I will draft a detailed proposal and convey it to the County Magistrate for his approval.”
…
The County Yamen began intense preparations. Once materials were in place and laborers assembled, Sun Zhixian gave the order, and work commenced in full swing.
The Southern Chen Family set up sheds and stoves by the river, contributing both manpower and provisions to provide meals for the laborers. Ping’an wanted to help but was kept at home by his grandmother and mother.
On the southern bank, everyone was bustling with activity when an old man suddenly cried out in alarm: “Bones! Human bones!”
Those few words were enough to stir fear and suspense. The laborers immediately set down their picks and crowded around the old man.
Common folks love a spectacle—not only do they watch, but they also spread the news far and wide. The old man had dug up a set of human bones, but as the story spread, it transformed into an unidentified female corpse floating in the river…
Men, women, and children from Chen Family Alley came to see the commotion. Even idlers from the streets, hearing the rumors, squeezed into the alley, surrounding the spot where the bones were found in tight, impenetrable circles. Everyone eagerly exchanged theories about what had happened, yet no one could provide a clear account.
Ping’an, perched on his grandfather’s shoulders, craned his neck to see.
Chen Laoye asked urgently, “Good grandson, what do you see?”
“It’s too crowded—I can’t see clearly,” Ping’an replied.
“Make way, make way!” A team of constables pushed through the crowd, asking as they went, “Who’s in charge here?”
Ping’an slid down and tugged his grandfather’s hand, announcing to the constables, “He is!”
“Eh? You, child…” Chen Laoye tried to shrink back—he had only come to watch the excitement.
Detective Liu from the Rapid Action Unit recognized him. “You’re Chen Jie Yuan’s father.”
“Indeed,” Chen Laoye admitted.
“Please come with us, sir,” Detective Liu said.
Upon hearing this, the clansmen instinctively stepped back, clearing a path.
Chen Laoye quickly whispered to someone beside him, “Hurry and fetch my son.”
A skull and a leg bone lay on the ground. The old man who had discovered them reported the incident to the constables in a trembling voice.
The constables dug through the piled silt, searching for more remains. After about two hours, they finally pieced together a complete skeleton, which they laid on a straw mat in a clearing by the riverbank.
The onlookers grew even more excited, speculating wildly about the mystery behind the skeleton.
“Maybe it was some beggar or wanderer who fell into the river and drowned?”
“It can’t be that simple. Did you see the thick rope tied around the lumbar vertebrae?”
“What does that mean?”
“The other end was weighed down with a stone, probably to prevent it from floating up and being discovered. Clearly, this was a body dump.”
“Ah!”
Ping’an let go of his grandfather’s hand and circled the skeleton three times.
Chen Laoye turned his face away, unable to look directly, and asked the clansman who had spoken earlier: “Why hasn’t my son arrived yet?”
“The family said A-Yan went to a Literary Gathering and hasn’t returned yet.”
Chen Laoye’s face showed bitterness.
“Grandfather, grandfather.” Ping’an tugged at his hand: “Look, her ribs are fractured, and she has six toes on her right foot.”
“Oh, my dear grandson!” Chen Laoye pulled Ping’an back: “Stay away from it, it’s eerie…”
Ping’an looked disappointed: “How can you be afraid of the dead? You’re my grandfather.”
But Chen Laoye said: “You’re my ancestor.”
The coroner arrived with his toolkit to examine the body.
Detective Liu asked Chen Laoye: “Old Master, has there been any missing person in Chen Family Alley recently?”
“None,” Chen Laoye replied with certainty.
Coroner Zhao reported to Detective Liu: “One female corpse, height four feet eight inches, fractured ribs caused by a sharp weapon, six toes on the right foot…”
“Also six toes…” Detective Liu seemed to recall something, fell silent for a moment, then ordered the body to be taken back to the County Yamen. He requested that someone from the Chen family accompany them to explain the situation to the magistrate.
Chen Laoye dreaded dealing with yamen officials and was just thinking of an excuse to avoid going.
“A-Yan is here,” someone said.
Chen Laoye felt as if he had seen a savior.
Chen Yan, dressed in a moon-white lined robe and wearing a square scholar’s hat, made his way through the crowd and said to Detective Liu: “I will go in my father’s place.”