Chapter 27 Li Zicheng Becomes the Village Head

This topic was far too heavy, and Li Yi did not wish to dwell on it.
“Brother, do you know where I can have a spear made?”
The last time Li Yi hunted the wild boar demon, his spear had been completely destroyed. He’d long wanted to get a new one.
Li Zijing thought for a moment after hearing this and replied, “Your second brother knows a blacksmith in the county. He once forged a fine blade for him. I’ll go with you to ask.”
The two returned home and, after inquiring with Lady Wang, discovered that Li Zicheng had left early in the morning.
There was no need to guess; he had certainly gone to borrow money.
To compensate for three lost post horses was no small sum. At this point, only the Ai family could help Li Zijing.
Sure enough, just as dusk fell, Li Zicheng returned carrying a bundle.
He entered, the cold wind swirling around him, and, seeing both Li Yi and Li Zijing at home, greeted them with a hearty, glowing face.
Li Zijing hurriedly asked, “Second Brother, did you really go to the Ai family?”
Li Zicheng warmed his hands by the brazier and said with a smile, “If I hadn’t gone to the Ai family, how could I have borrowed so much silver?”
He tossed the heavy bundle onto the table, revealing a considerable amount of silver within.
Li Zijing’s face filled with worry. “Ai family’s silver is not so easily borrowed. Interest piles on interest—how will you ever repay it?”
Li Zicheng waved his hand carelessly and answered in a hearty tone, “I’ve already thought it through. Zhang, the postmaster, will never tolerate me again. The villagers have wanted me to become the village head, and today Master Ai also mentioned it. I plan to lead the villagers in planting another season’s crops. When we profit, I’ll repay the Ai family. Master Ai has even agreed to lend me seeds.”
Though the position of village head was a lowly rural official, it was still a government post, wielding authority granted by the court.
One of his duties was collecting taxes and levies—responsible for urging the collection of taxes from the villagers. If anyone defaulted, the county would send officers to arrest them.
As for the post itself, it could be a blessing or a curse.
A ruthless man could amass a fortune from a single summer tax; a soft-hearted one might botch the job and even lose everything.
Each village was assigned a fixed quota—if the tax couldn’t be collected, the village head had to make up the difference out of his own pocket.
Li Zijing said anxiously, “But if next year’s harvest is poor, what will we do?”
Li Zicheng, however, showed no concern. He laughed, “Last year was a drought, but now the auspicious snow heralds a bountiful year. Next year’s harvest will surely be good.”
With the compensation for the post horses pressing, Li Zijing knew there was no better solution.
He could only hope for a truly abundant harvest next year.
Only Li Yi knew that not just next year, but for the next seventeen or eighteen years, disasters would be unending.
Li Zicheng, however, was resilient and open-hearted. He did not worry excessively, but instead patted Li Yi’s shoulder.

“Yi, Master Ai said that his son was in the wrong first; he only asks that you get along peacefully from now on. You can rest easy.”
Li Yi was, in truth, unable to fathom Ai Yingjia’s intentions.
Was it possible he truly did not intend to seek revenge?
Li Zicheng, however, was full of confidence. “Don’t worry. Your brother still has some standing in Mizhi County—Ai’s family will give me that much face.”
Hearing this, Li Yi felt somewhat reassured.
He had to focus on organizing the farmers’ association and building up his strength; he truly did not want to guard against the Ai family’s revenge day in and day out.
At this moment, Li Yi asked about the blacksmith Li Zicheng knew.
Li Zicheng laughed, “You must mean Liu Zongmin. His craftsmanship is indeed superb—the horseshoes for the Silver River Post are all made by him. Why are you looking for him?”
Liu Zongmin?
Li Yi was slightly taken aback.
He hadn’t expected that Li Zicheng’s future top general was, for now, just a blacksmith.
“The militia lacks weapons. I want to ask him to forge a batch for us, and also to make me a fine spear.”
Li Yi laid out his plan.
Li Zicheng nodded. “As it happens, I need him to make some farm tools as well. Tomorrow, come with me to Mizhi County and I’ll speak with him.”
Li Yi certainly would not miss the chance to meet Liu Zongmin.
After the two agreed, Li Yi asked Li Zijing to train the formations with Honest Gao the next day.
Luckily, they had already practiced the maneuvers a few times today; following the same routine tomorrow should suffice.
Early the next morning,
Li Yi rose as usual, practiced a round of boxing, and then instructed Li Guo and the others in martial arts.
“Yi, let’s go.”
Li Zicheng had prepared the mule cart and called out for Li Yi to set off.
Li Yi instructed Li Guo to continue practicing with the youths, then returned to his room to shoulder two baskets of copper coins and climbed onto the cart.
The terrain in northern Shaanxi was complex, with endless mountains and ravines.
The two traveled east along the hills, resting twice along the way, until they reached the Wuding River and joined the official road.
By this time, the mules and horses were already snorting white breath, so Li Yi got down to walk.
There were far more people on the official road now—mule carts, peasant families, and government officers all mingled together.
But the largest groups were the bands of refugees heading south.

These refugees moved in groups of three or five, clad in filthy, colorless rags, whole families trudging southward.
Whenever they spotted a mule cart caravan, they hurried over, holding up broken bowls to beg.
The caravan hands dared not give out food; if one received something, a whole crowd would swarm in.
Some of the fiercer hands would even brandish clubs, beating the refugees to drive them off.
The refugees would wail and clutch their heads, sprawled on the ground gasping for breath; only once the caravan had gone far would they resume their zombie-like march southward.
“Yi, be careful,” Li Zicheng cautioned, his eyes fiercely scanning the refugees around them.
He flung open his cotton coat, cracked his whip with a sharp report in the air, and the nearby refugees did not dare approach.
Li Yi pitied these people, but there was nothing he could do.
When the two reached a checkpoint, they were stopped by a dozen archers wielding spears and short bows.
One of them, wearing a white felt cap and a long blue robe over iron armor, approached.
In the Ming dynasty, inspection offices were set up along main roads to check for bandits and keep order—but they would also often set up unofficial checkpoints to collect extra taxes.
“Inspector Xu, I’m Li Zicheng from the Silver River Post,” Li Zicheng greeted.
Inspector Xu gave Li Zicheng a once-over and said mildly, “So it’s Brother Li. Didn’t you go home?”
Li Zicheng smiled, “The villagers have made me village head, and the Ai family agreed. I’m headed to the yamen to take care of the paperwork.”
With that, Inspector Xu became a bit more enthusiastic. “Congratulations, then.”
Li Zicheng waved a hand, “I can’t compare to Inspector Xu’s carefree life.”
Before he’d finished, another caravan came up the road.
A few archers approached to search it, and the foreman hurriedly handed over a pouch of broken silver, at least three or four taels by the look of it.
The silver was accepted, and the archers waved the caravan through.
Inspector Xu said nothing more, only, “Brother Li, go about your business. Let’s have a drink together sometime.”
Li Zicheng agreed at once and led Li Yi away.
As they left, Li Yi cast a long, thoughtful glance at the group of inspection archers.