Chapter 66: Betrothal Gifts and Dowry
Ai Yingjia left the Hong residence with a calm expression.
The powerful are like iron, but officials come and go like running water.
No matter how formidable Hong Chengchou was, he too would one day be transferred elsewhere.
But Li Yi, a local, the sworn enemy of the Ai family, had to die.
He would never allow him to rise into a towering tree, standing on the bones of the Ai family.
Soon, with Hong Chengchou’s deliberate protection and the Ai family’s maneuverings, the case was taken up with much fanfare, only to be put down quietly.
Ai Wanhua, who had clearly abused peasants and bullied women, was reported merely as having had a dispute, and the Ai family was ordered to pay ten taels of silver in compensation.
As for the incident where the Ai family’s armed retainers attacked the magistrate’s constabulary, it was dismissed as a misunderstanding, and with the Ai family’s donation of fifty thousand shi of grain and fodder, the matter was left unsettled.
Thus the case was concluded, and a crisis was averted by the Ai family’s power, influence, and wealth.
Yet the greatest beneficiary was Hong Chengchou, who managed to establish a foothold with the Ai family.
With Ai Yingjia’s assistance, he collected a total of one hundred thousand shi of grain and fodder from the prominent officials and gentry of northern Shaanxi, greatly alleviating the army’s logistical difficulties at the front.
Furthermore, with the joint recommendation of Wu Zhiwang, Governor-General of Shaanxi, and Liu Guangsheng, Left Censor-in-Chief of Shaanxi, Hong Chengchou’s merit was reported to the throne. The Chongzhen Emperor was overjoyed, praised Hong Chengchou’s skill in administration and service to the country and the people, and rewarded him with a Qilin Robe.
In the Ming dynasty, the conferral of official robes followed strict standards. The most prestigious was the Python Robe, worn only by first- or second-rank cabinet ministers. The second grade was the Douniu Robe, slightly inferior, awarded to high-ranking court officials. The third and perhaps most familiar was the Flying Fish Robe, worn by the imperial guards and often given to military officers. The Qilin Robe was ranked below these, usually bestowed upon marquises, imperial sons-in-law, or third- and fourth-rank officials.
To receive such a robe was not only the highest honor but also a sign of imperial favor and boundless prospects.
Because the case was suppressed, Li Yi did not receive any merit or promotion. He was unbothered, but Gao Jie was indignant.
“We fought all night for Assistant Minister Hong, nearly lost our lives, yet in the end there’s no reward at all.”
Li Yi picked up a musket from the ground and said with a smile, “Aren’t these weapons and armor more real than any official commendation?”
Gao Jie protested, “Inspector, are these things really comparable to rank and office? Don’t you want to become a greater official?”
Li Yi looked at Gao Jie and shook his head. “That’s where you’re mistaken.”
Inside the temporary constabulary of Suijin Town, Li Yi addressed his archers with heartfelt earnestness.
“These days, factional strife and bad governance plague the court; local authorities levy harsh taxes, and the gentry hoard and profiteer. Government troops are timid in battle and only know how to oppress the people. The world is on the verge of chaos—nothing is more important than arms. What we must do is train hard in martial skills, stick together, and do what we can for our fellow villagers. That is enough.”
In the past, his men would not have understood these words. But after learning to read and witnessing much alongside Li Yi, they could truly sense the turmoil of the times.
Gao Jie left, still brooding.
What did it matter if the world was in chaos? So long as one became an official, enjoyed prestige and brought honor to one’s ancestors, wasn’t that better than anything else?
Li Yi watched Gao Jie’s retreating figure and shook his head with a sigh.
He had, in truth, gained no promotion for helping Hong Chengchou this time.
Yet his bold feat of arresting Ai Wanhua and killing several Ai family retainers had greatly enhanced his reputation in Mizhi County.
Hong Chengchou reciprocated: he agreed to let Li Yi nominate archers for the constabulary’s expansion, and promised to arrange it.
He also handed over the seized Ai family arms and armor to Li Yi.
From this, it was clear that Hong Chengchou was somewhat calculating and saw Li Yi merely as a tool against the Ai family.
But Li Yi did not mind.
His purpose was to accumulate strength; Hong Chengchou was using him, but was he not also using Hong Chengchou?
Seizing this opportunity to expand the constabulary, he could now bring the Ganquan militia into the open.
After the constabulary office was burned, the authorities requisitioned vacant houses in Suijin Town for a temporary office.
Li Yi assigned Gao Jie to guard the constabulary, while he returned to Lijiazhuang.
His wedding day was approaching, and he had yet to return.
The wedding was set for the sixth day of the new year; with New Year’s Eve only two days away, Li Yi had to make preparations.
Upon his return to Lijiazhuang, he was greeted by the congratulations of the villagers.
News of his official appointment had spread throughout Ganquanli.
After finally extricating himself from well-wishers, Li Yi entered his home and saw Yun Niang standing in the courtyard, washing clothes.
When she saw Li Yi enter, her eyes were soft as water. She took his bundle with gentle care and asked in a tender voice, “Have you eaten yet?”
Li Yi smiled, “Not yet.”
Yun Niang turned to prepare a meal.
But unexpectedly, her small hand was caught in his.
Feeling the softness in his palm, Li Yi took a small wooden box from his robe and handed it to Yun Niang.
She opened it and exclaimed with delight, “It’s a hairpin.”
She picked it up, admiring the magnolia blossom on it, her face blossoming with a sweet smile.
It seemed no woman could resist jewelry.
“I bought it several days ago, but haven’t had a chance to give it to you.”
As he spoke, he gently slid the hairpin into Yun Niang’s hair.
The magnolia flower sparkled in the sunlight, and paired with Yun Niang’s lovely face, it left Li Yi momentarily entranced.
Yun Niang blushed deeply, her heart full of sweet happiness.
“Master, Mistress, what are you doing?”
Li Guo came running over with a group of children, shouting boisterously.
Yun Niang swiftly pulled her hand away and hurried to the kitchen.
Li Yi shot Li Guo an exasperated look and rebuked, “Always so reckless. How are your studies lately?”
At the mention of lessons, Li Guo shrank his head with guilt.
They had learned more than eight hundred characters in this time, but he always managed to get a few wrong, earning several slaps on the hand.
“Master, Great-Grandfather is looking for you,” Li Guo quickly changed the subject.
“All of you listen well: if anyone falls behind in their studies, don’t blame me for being harsh.”
After admonishing them, Li Yi went to the ancestral hall to see his great-grandfather.
His great-grandfather, along with several elders, awaited Li Yi to discuss the wedding.
The Ming Code stipulated that men must be sixteen and women fourteen to marry, including monks and priests.
The process involved proposal, calculation of auspicious dates, betrothal, presentation of bride price, and then the wedding itself.
In recent days, Wang Sanniang had served as matchmaker and completed the first three steps, obtaining the marriage contract.
But the question of the bride price remained for Li Yi to decide.
By custom, the groom offered the bride price, and the bride brought a dowry of equivalent or greater value, at least 80% of the bride price.
The high cost of dowries often bankrupted poor families, so it was not uncommon for female infants to be drowned.
Yet Yun Niang had neither kin nor property—so how should the bride price and dowry be arranged?
After some thought, Li Yi said, “Yun Niang has shared hardship with me, and I would feel ashamed if the bride price were too modest. Over the years, she has worked hard weaving and mending; I ask that Wang Sanniang and others help purchase fabric and jewelry worth one hundred taels, as her dowry. I will provide a matching bride price.”
“One hundred taels?”
At such a sum, all present looked astonished.
Even the wealthiest families in Ganquanli rarely offered so much for a wedding; ordinary villagers struggled to gather five taels.
But in this way, the wedding could be celebrated in grand style and give everyone cause for festivity.