Chapter Fourteen: An Unfamiliar Dynasty

When they returned home, it was already past noon. Mrs. Luo hurried into the kitchen to cook for her three children, calling out as she walked, “Quickly go inside and change your shoes, don’t let your feet get frozen.”

They had left Anyou Nian’s house so angry that they forgot to put on straw shoes, and their cotton shoes had soaked through with melting snow. After changing shoes, An Jian couldn’t wait any longer and finally voiced the question that had weighed on him all the way home. “Big brother, what exactly did they say that made mother so furious?”

An Kang took a deep breath, steadied his emotions, and replied calmly, “They said Aunt Ximei is going to be engaged, but there’s no money for the betrothal gifts. And they need money to buy seeds, so next year, they’ll only give us three hundred pounds of grain; the other two hundred pounds will be exchanged for silver.”

“What?” An Jian exploded with anger. “How could they be so…”

“Keep your voice down, don’t let mother hear,” An Kang said quietly.

An Jian clenched his fists, unable to vent his anger, and thumped his own chest a couple of times. He lowered his voice and said, “Last year Uncle Man was getting married and claimed there wasn’t enough space, so he took over our house. Now Aunt Ximei’s engagement means they’ll cut our food. When she actually marries, will they stop giving us grain altogether? They’re trying to push us to the brink so they can seize all the fields.”

Standing by the door, An Yi frowned deeply. The Anyou Nian family was shameless—someone needed to teach them a lesson.

At the mention of death, An Kang’s face darkened. He shot An Jian a glare. “It’s the New Year, don’t say such things.”

“I’m not just talking nonsense. What they’re doing is clearly leaving us no way to survive. Father isn’t home, so they’re always scheming how to bully us.” An Jian’s eyes flashed with rage, his face fierce. “I’ll set their house on fire tomorrow.”

“Brute force won’t solve anything. Even if you teach them a lesson, it won’t end well for you. That’s not clever.” An Kang patted his brother’s head, soothing him. “Don’t worry, I have my own plans. They won’t be able to take our land.”

“Big brother, what will you do?” An Jian asked.

An Kang stroked his chin where no beard existed and grinned, swaying his head. “A man of the mountains always has a cunning plan.”

Seeing that his brother wouldn’t explain, An Jian knew there was no point pressing further and dropped the matter. An Yi felt skeptical; she couldn’t quite believe that someone as young as An Kang would have a good solution. But seeing his confident demeanor, she decided to wait and see.

After lunch, Mrs. Luo went next door.

An Kang grabbed An Jian again for a couplet contest, making the challenges harder each time. An Jian couldn’t match them and, wearing a bitter expression, pleaded, “Big brother, it’s New Year’s Day—can’t you let me rest for just one day?”

“No,” An Kang replied sternly, fixing his gaze on him. “‘Skill is honed by diligence, wasted by play; conduct is shaped by reflection, ruined by whim.’ A scholar must never let his books leave his hands. How can you slack off? No more whining, start thinking up couplets.”

An Jian wailed, clutching his head as he squatted in the corner.

An Yi’s eyes flickered. “Big brother, can I quiz you with a few questions?”

“You want to quiz me?” An Kang asked with amusement.

“Why not?” An Yi raised her brows.

“Of course, of course.” An Kang set aside his book, smiling broadly at An Yi. A little girl who had only learned to read a few days ago wanted to challenge him as her teacher—it was delightful. “Go ahead, sister, ask your questions.”

Seeing his expression, An Yi immediately knew what he was thinking, but she had never intended to stump him with anything difficult. “Big brother, listen carefully: ‘Take one bite and swallow a cow’s tail.’”

“A riddle?” An Kang was surprised.

An Yi nodded.

An Kang thought for a moment. “‘Gao’—the character for ‘inform.’”

“Eighteen inches.”

“‘Village’—the character for ‘village.’”

“It’s a boat but not called a boat, only missing half.”

“‘Zhou’—the character for ‘boat.’”

An Yi pouted. “I won’t give character riddles anymore. Let’s try something else: What is born wearing a crown and dressed in a red brocade robe?”

An Kang pressed his lips in a smile. “A rooster.”

“What is born with a big belly, limbs indistinguishable, lying on its back?”

“I know, I know, that’s a pig!” An Jian rushed over to interject.

An Kang shot him a glare. “Go think about your couplets.”

An Jian pursed his lips and slunk back to the corner, brooding.

“What dynasty and era is it now?” An Yi couldn’t think of more questions and didn’t want to keep circling around, afraid that asking too much might arouse An Kang’s suspicion, so she returned to the main subject.

“Sister, such a simple question? This year is the fifth year of Prosperity under the Xu Dynasty.”

An Yi was stunned. Her old mentor, who taught her traditional medicine, loved to recite dynastic mnemonics. Through constant exposure, she remembered the progression of Chinese dynasties well: The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, Yao, Shun, and Yu passed the throne. Xia, Shang, and Western Zhou, Eastern Zhou split in two. Spring and Autumn and Warring States, unified under Qin and Han. Three kingdoms split into Wei, Shu, and Wu, two Jin dynasties followed. Northern and Southern dynasties coexisted, then Sui, Tang, Five Dynasties. Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing, and after that, the imperial era ends. But this Xu Dynasty—she had never heard of it.

Was this a dynasty absent from the history books, or a parallel world altogether?

“Sister, any more questions for me?” An Kang asked.

An Yi looked at him and smiled gently. “Big brother, you’re amazing. I gave you so many questions and none could stump you.”

“If you learn more characters, you can read more books. Then you’ll be just as clever one day.” An Kang smiled.

An Yi nodded in agreement, handing him the book. “Big brother, read your book. I won’t disturb you anymore.”

An Kang took the book and resumed reading.

An Yi lay across the table, pondering the dynastic question. If this was a parallel world, it couldn’t possibly have a ‘Thousand Character Classic’ with not a single word different. Then, it must be a dynasty unrecorded by history—a forgotten period. But why was it left out? Why forgotten? Who founded the Xu Dynasty? What dynasty came before it?

No one could answer these questions for her. After wrestling with them for a while, An Yi found no solution. She massaged her temples, glanced at An Kang engrossed in his book and An Jian lost in thought, and suddenly felt at peace. She smiled, letting go of her worries. What did it matter if the dynasty wasn’t in the history books? As long as she had her mother and brothers, she could live quietly in contentment.

The next day, the second day of the new year, was the day married daughters returned home to pay respects. Mrs. Luo’s parents had already passed away, so she would visit her uncle Luo Fugui’s house.

The Luo home was about five hundred meters from the An family. Because it was so close, that was why the Luo family had arrived so quickly when Zhou Da Geng came to make trouble last time.

Luo Fugui’s three sons had all gone with their wives and children to their in-laws’ homes, leaving only the old couple at home. As soon as they entered the inner room, Mrs. Luo led her three children to kneel and bow to the two elders in New Year’s greeting.

“All right, all right, get up, the floor is cold,” Mrs. Yang said, smiling. She came forward to help Mrs. Luo up, then pulled out three red envelopes from her bosom and handed them to the siblings. “Come, good children, one each.”

“Thank you, Grandfather. Thank you, Grandmother,” An Kang and An Jian chorused their thanks, while An Yi was a beat slower.

“Alright, come sit by the fire, Grandma will make you sweet wine with eggs.” Mrs. Yang said as she walked out.

Mrs. Luo stopped her. “Aunt, they just had breakfast. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

“Sweet wine with eggs won’t fill their stomachs. They can drink it like water,” Mrs. Yang said, brushing off Mrs. Luo’s hand and hurrying away.

As Mrs. Luo started to follow, Luo Fugui interjected, “Qiu Mei, sweet wine mash isn’t anything precious. It was a gift from your aunt’s brother on the morning of the thirtieth. The children braved the wind to come, let them have some wine soup to warm their stomachs and invigorate their blood. Don’t try to stop her.”

Mrs. Luo smiled helplessly. “Alright, I won’t stop her. I’ll go help Aunt in the kitchen.”

Saying this, she hurried out.

—Extra Notes—
In ancient times, farming was dependent on the weather. In good years, one acre could yield about two hundred pounds of grain. In this chapter, it’s set at two hundred and twenty pounds per acre. The An Qinghe family had seven acres in Shangtang Village, totaling one thousand five hundred and forty pounds.

The Xu Dynasty had light taxes. Land tax was paid twice a year—in summer with money: seven acres, eighty-four pounds; in autumn with grain: one dou per acre, about twelve pounds. Also, ancient acres differed from modern ones. During the Han, an acre was defined as two hundred and forty paces. All subsequent Chinese dynasties followed the Han standard. Please don’t use modern acreage to calculate. In ancient times, there were only slight differences.