Chapter Sixteen: Unsolicited Kindness

Yesterday had been bright and clear, but today endless autumn rain fell, pattering without pause. Early in the morning, Zhou Zhi first went to the stable to check on the black mare, who seemed in excellent spirits. He prepared the feed, watched the horse eat her fill, and drink water, before finally leaving the stable.

After breakfast, it was clear that the weather would not allow for any work today. Zhou Zhi paced around the house, and after a moment’s thought, stepped out the door.

Rainy days are fit for reading, but he had no books at hand. Having crossed over to the Ming dynasty, Zhou Zhi had long since decided to pursue his studies and the imperial examinations. But at present, he could not attend the village school. Still, he could not let these days go to waste, so he thought of borrowing books to read.

There were not many households in Baiyue Village where the sons studied, and those were all clustered on the southern end of the main street. The southern district was home to the wealthy, who generally looked down on the poor. If Zhou Zhi sought to borrow books from them, he would surely find their doors closed in his face, and might even be ridiculed.

Instead, Zhou Zhi thought of Master Wang Ding, the village schoolteacher.

Though he and Master Wang had never had much interaction, Zhou Zhi’s impression of him was a good one. Master Wang treated both rich and poor alike, and Zhou Zhi also recalled that day in the fields when he’d made a bet with Chen Wenju—Master Wang had seemed to look at him with some approval.

If he went to borrow books from Master Wang, even if he was refused, he would not be mocked. Moreover, as the village school’s teacher, Master Wang surely had a substantial collection of books, and borrowing from him would be much easier.

Zhou Zhi had considered bringing a gift when borrowing books, but after much thought, his family truly had nothing to spare. He considered taking a few eggs, but knew his parents would be displeased, as the eggs were meant to be sold for essentials like oil and salt. Besides, his parents didn’t support his studies. In the end, he decided to go empty-handed.

Wearing a pair of worn, open-topped shoes, Zhou Zhi walked through the rain. By the time he reached Master Wang’s house, his shoes and patched coarse trousers were already splattered with mud.

In Baiyue Village, the wealthy lived on the south side of the road, the poor on the north. Master Wang, however, lived alone in a separate house outside the village. The very location of his dwelling made his stance clear: he sided with neither rich nor poor.

The house consisted of three blue-brick rooms with two wings, the roof tiles weathered to gray by years of rain. Inside the sparse wooden fence grew cabbages, radishes, and scallions. The occasional clucking of chickens and ducks mingled with the steady drip of rain, forming a kind of rhythm.

The village school held classes for three days and rested on the fourth; Zhou Zhi knew today was a rest day, so Master Wang should be at home.

Though the village school in Baiyue was officially a county establishment, its operation was not strictly regulated. The students came from Baiyue and neighboring villages, all sons of farming families. Master Wang’s tuition fees were modest, but even so, few farming families could afford them.

The students only attended during the slack farming season; once the busy season began, the school would be empty. Few farming families harbored hopes of their sons passing the imperial examinations—they only wanted them to learn to read and do some sums.

Master Wang had only one son, who had long since married and now lived in Qingdu County. For reasons unknown, Master Wang had not let his son pursue studies, but had him work as a laborer at a local carriage business, and life was not easy for them. The modest tuition Master Wang collected barely sufficed, and he still had to help support his son, so life at home was not comfortable.

Of course, compared to the wealthy families of Baiyue, Master Wang’s circumstances could not be called good, but he was still far better off than the truly poor.

Outside the yard, Zhou Zhi shook the rain from his clothes, straightened himself as best he could, and strode through the gate.

No sooner had he entered than the door swung open, and an elderly woman appeared. Her hair was gray, her face deeply lined, and she wore a homespun skirt, a wooden bucket in hand. The rain had made the yard slippery, so she walked with care. She was heading toward the well.

In the Ming dynasty, the groundwater in the north was still plentiful, and recent years had been wet, so clean water could be had with just a few fathoms of digging. In Baiyue Village, nearly every household had a well; some were in the front yard, others in the back. At Zhou Zhi’s house, the well was in the back.

This woman was surely Master Wang’s wife, Madam Zhang. In the Ming dynasty, scholars held a high status, and most enjoyed comfortable lives; it was common for a scholar to have several wives. But Master Wang had taken only one wife his whole life, much like the current Emperor Hongzhi.

That she had to fetch water herself on a rainy day made Zhou Zhi wonder at Master Wang’s lack of consideration for his wife.

Seeing her walking with difficulty, Zhou Zhi hurried over and said, “Auntie, the yard is slippery—let me do it.”

Without waiting for her agreement, Zhou Zhi took the bucket from her and went to the well.

Madam Zhang looked at him in surprise, then seemed to recall he was the elder son of the Zhou family. “Thank you, young man—be careful,” she said.

“I will, Auntie,” he replied brightly.

Zhou Zhi drew up a bucket of clear water with the windlass, then carried it into the house. Madam Zhang followed, explaining, “I noticed first thing this morning the water jar was empty. I thought to wait until the rain stopped, but it just won’t let up. I couldn’t even wash the vegetables, so here I am.”

In the north, though most homes had wells, they also kept a water jar, allowing the well water to settle for cleaner use.

Zhou Zhi smiled as he poured the water into the jar. It was a large vessel, and one bucket barely filled a seventh. He fetched the bucket and returned to the well.

After eight buckets, the jar was finally full.

Fortunately, Zhou Zhi was strong; this little job was nothing to him.

Setting down the full bucket, he asked, “Auntie, is there any other heavy work? I can help you with it.”

“No, no, that’s all—thank you so much, young man,” she replied, delighted.

Zhou Zhi grinned and said warmly, “No need for thanks, Auntie. We’re neighbors—this is nothing at all.”

Before he finished speaking, a soft cough came from within, followed by Master Wang’s cool voice: “So, young Zhou, you offer your help so eagerly—surely you’re up to something. Come in and tell me, what is it you want from me?”