Chapter 103: Li Zicheng, the Loyal Patriot

Li Yi smiled and said, “If it can spare the villagers some hardship, no amount of silver is too much. Besides, human labor is limited, but this water power is endless.”

The craftsmen around him nodded in agreement.

If they relied solely on manpower, ten households farming a hundred acres might take ten days to irrigate, but with the large waterwheel, it could be done in a day.

Water power is inexhaustible—that is the strength of us craftsmen.

Li Yi’s words stirred the craftsmen’s spirits.

The land is the foundation of farming; irrigation determines the lower and upper limits of production and enhances disaster resilience.

By building this irrigation system, Li Yi hoped that when this year’s natural disasters struck, the people’s harvests would be a bit more abundant.

Afterward, Li Yi went to inspect the wasteland where the displaced were settled.

The barren land in the valleys and ravines had poor soil fertility; even if rented out, it would yield little grain.

But since it was wasteland and these people were refugees, under Li Yi’s protection, they were exempt from heavy taxes and could barely survive.

They lived in crude shacks, unkempt and gaunt.

Without iron plows or oxen, they stripped off their tattered clothes and plowed the fields with wooden plows, bare-bodied.

Beads of sweat the size of beans fell to the soil as these refugees gritted their teeth, their ribbed chests heaving violently, breathing heavily like old oxen.

Despite such hardship, their eyes still shone with yearning for a better life.

As long as they could farm, as long as there was a harvest, as long as they could eat a meal and not starve, they were content.

Yet such a simple life seemed like a mirage, forever out of reach.

Li Yi’s heart grew heavy. After the inspection, he said to Li Zicheng, “I’ll pay for farming tools. You get some iron plows and oxen from the farmers’ association for them. After all, they are human; they shouldn’t live like ghosts.”

Li Zicheng sighed deeply.

When people are starved to the extreme and despair reaches its peak, they are little different from ghosts.

Having surveyed the situation, Li Yi had a rough understanding of Ganquanli.

Clearly, with the farmers’ association established, Ganquanli now had some organizational strength to clear silt, make farming tools, rent oxen, and build waterwheels.

Compared to before, they had greater power to resist natural disasters and exploitation.

But this power was still fragile, and whether it could endure the coming turmoil, disasters, and wars, Li Yi was not confident.

Everything still depended on imperial policies and government actions.

Just then, Buyan and Liu Zongmin returned, carrying hoes and iron shovels.

Seeing their dust-covered faces, Li Yi smiled, “Is the work done?”

Liu Zongmin smiled back, “It’s all repaired.”

“Go back and pack up. Tomorrow morning, we’re heading to Suijin Town.”

Li Yi said this, mounted his horse, and headed back to Lijiazhuang.

Yun Niang was washing clothes in the courtyard, her disheveled hair clinging to her ears, her expression somewhat downcast.

Seeing Li Yi enter, she softly asked, “Brother Yi, why have you returned?”

Li Yi held up the incense and paper money, “Since our marriage, we haven’t yet paid respects to our parents. We leave tomorrow, so today is the right day to make the offering.”

Yun Niang was a little surprised.

Bringing some offerings, Li Yi hitched up a donkey cart and took Yun Niang with him, the two leisurely making their way toward the graveyard in the back mountain.

They followed the narrow dirt path out of the village, climbing a small hill, then continuing on foot.

This was the grave of Li Yi’s parents, buried alongside the ancestors of the Li family.

Although he was not the original owner of this body, he still felt the bond of filial gratitude.

Li Yi presented the offerings, burned the paper money, then led Yun Niang away.

“Let’s go.”

Amid the curling smoke, Yun Niang glanced back at the burning paper and then at Li Yi, hesitating to speak.

Li Yi seemed not to notice, pulling her down the slope and onto the donkey cart.

Yun Niang’s heart ached; her eyes reddened as she wiped away tears silently.

Suddenly, she noticed Li Yi was not heading home but continued along the dirt road further until they stopped in a barren patch of land.

She asked with some puzzlement, “Brother Yi, why are we stopping here?”

Li Yi smiled as he packed up the paper money and offerings, “You’ve got a big memory lapse, forgetting this place too.”

Yun Niang looked around, feeling a sense of familiarity but unable to recall immediately.

Li Yi guided her along the path to a simple earthen mound, where a newly carved tombstone stood.

Yun Niang suddenly understood, her heart heavy with mixed emotions as tears streamed down uncontrollably.

She hurried a few steps forward, dropping to her knees before the tombstone, crying, “Father, your daughter has come to see you.”

Li Yi quietly offered the ritual items and lit the paper money, not disturbing her grief.

Like flowers withering and birds returning, a lonely girl at the frontier.

So many feelings with nowhere to voice them—only at her parents’ graves during Qingming, amidst falling petals and drifting fluff, could she weep freely.

Under the warm sun and bird calls, Yun Niang poured out her heart to her late father.

Only when the sun began to dip westward did she reluctantly rise, wiping away tears after kneeling and bowing.

She looked at Li Yi somewhat embarrassed.

Li Yi smiled faintly and brushed off the dust from her clothes.

They exchanged no words, but their bond was clear.

On the way back, Yun Niang swayed on the cart and whispered, “Brother Yi, weren’t you working in the fields? Why…”

“My good father-in-law gave me such a fine wife. With Qingming approaching, as a son-in-law, I must come pay respects.”

His teasing words flushed Yun Niang’s cheeks.

She shyly turned away, half-scolding, “You’re teasing me again.”

Li Yi laughed, “I’m telling the truth.”

“By the way, this grave has been tidied up. From now on, on every festival, there will always be paper money and offerings, so you don’t have to keep worrying about it.”

“How did you know I was worried about this?” Yun Niang asked, surprised.

Li Yi chuckled, “You’re my wife; how could I not know what’s on your mind?”

“Oh, so you were deliberately teasing me this morning.”

Yun Niang looked annoyed, but then secretly smiled as she watched Li Yi’s retreating back.

Back home, Yun Niang and Wang Sanniang cooked together.

Having returned for a rare visit, Li Yi planned to invite Li Zicheng and Li Zijing over for dinner.

Since it was still early, he picked up a bow and went to find Buyan.

A while ago, during the capture of the stockade wall, Buyan’s skillful volley of arrows had deeply impressed Li Yi.

He had long wanted to practice mounted archery, but Li Zicheng was not proficient and no good teacher was available.

Now, having recruited such a formidable archer as Buyan, it would be a waste not to learn from him.

“Inspector wants to practice mounted archery? Then let’s find an open field,” Buyan said generously, not keeping his skills secret, leading Li Yi to the training ground.

They rode horses to the valley clearing, and Li Yi took a bow from his leather bag.

Buyan’s eyes brightened. He stepped forward, took the bow, and pulled it back halfway.

“This is Batu Taiji’s golden bow, also called the Altan bow. It belonged to the great Altan Khan. He rode tall steeds and shot arrows with this divine bow. Wherever his arrows fell, courageous Mongol warriors would trample the land into submission.”

“Altan Khan?” Li Yi asked, puzzled.

Buyan smiled, “That’s the man your Ming people call Anda. Altan is his Khan title, meaning ‘gold’ in Mongolian.”

Li Yi finally understood that this bow belonged to Anda Khan.

“Batu is a descendant of Anda Khan. He inherited this golden bow and often boasted of being a great descendant of Anda Khan. I never imagined this bow would end up in your hands, Inspector.”

Buyan handed the bow back to Li Yi, smiling, “It’s a fine bow, but its draw weight exceeds three shi; Batu Taiji never managed to pull it fully.”

In the Ming dynasty, bow draw weight was measured in shi and dou.

A common hunting bow had a draw weight of four or five dou; official bows used by soldiers were about eight dou. The elite generals might draw bows around one shi (ten dou), and only the fiercest warriors could handle bows with two shi.

Li Yi smiled faintly, opened the golden bow, and slowly drew the string. The stiff bow that Buyan couldn’t pull fully was drawn back into a perfect crescent.

Buyan stared in astonishment, whispering, “Inspector, you have divine strength. No wonder in the battle at Suijin Town you fought like a hundred men, leaving no enemy standing.”

Li Yi chuckled as he slowly released the string. “Buyan, your flattery is quite in tune with local customs. What next?”

Buyan handed him an arrow, smiling, “Try shooting an arrow first.”

Li Yi aimed at a tree a hundred steps away, nocked the arrow, and released.

With a sharp “whoosh,” the arrow pierced the tree trunk with a sharp thud; the fletching trembled.

Li Yi smiled awkwardly, “I wasn’t exactly aiming at this tree.”

Buyan didn’t laugh; he understood Li Yi had no formal archery training, and at such a distance, a hit was unlikely.

“Mounted archery usually involves shooting from about fifty steps; a hundred steps is a bit much for you.”

Buyan offered encouragement and advice: “Archery requires steadiness, accuracy, and decisiveness. First, your body must be stable to control the bow; accuracy needs hand-eye coordination and lots of practice. You have divine strength and steady posture; all that’s missing is long-term training.”

Li Yi smiled bitterly, “That’s all I can do.”

“Watch how I shoot,” Buyan said, mounting his horse and urging it into a gallop. From the bouncing saddle, he drew and released arrows like lightning, striking the tree trunk a hundred steps away, dead center.

“Excellent archery,” Li Yi cheered.

Buyan returned, smiling, “That comes from years of practice. Now, I’ll teach you the proper stance.”

After half an hour, Li Yi mastered the basics of drawing the bow.

Though holding the golden bow, after much practice, he still drew it smoothly into a crescent, never showing fatigue or losing form.

Buyan was amazed; he needed to rest after a dozen draws, but Li Yi had nearly thirty without tiring.

What a terrifying physique!

Recalling Li Yi wielding bow and arrows amid chaotic battlefields, Buyan was shocked and taught him with great care.

Soon, Li Yi could shoot arrows to accurately strike the tree trunk at fifty paces.

Buyan said with reverence, “Inspector, your learning speed is remarkable. For most, mastering the bow stance takes a month.”

Li Yi smiled, “There’s still time. I’ll finish shooting the remaining fifty arrows first.”

Fifty arrows?

Buyan felt this was beyond his comprehension.

As night fell, Li Yi and Buyan rode back.

Upon returning, the meal was nearly ready.

Li Yi stretched his arms and entered the courtyard.

Yun Niang smiled, “Tired?”

“Not much, just a little soreness. If it weren’t late, I’d shoot thirty more arrows.”

Hearing this, Buyan, trailing behind, stopped, staring at Li Yi as if he were a monster.

The dishes laid out, Li Zicheng and Li Zijing arrived as well.

The group sat together, eating, drinking strong wine, and enjoying lively conversation.

After several rounds of wine, Li Yi couldn’t help but remind, “Second Brother, the climate has been strange these past years. It’s good you’re leading the villagers to cultivate, but be wary of drought.”

Li Zicheng frowned, “Brother Yi, didn’t I tell you? The Dragon King foretold a bountiful year. Where would drought come from?”

The great drought in Shaanxi had left the land barren and people starving.

Of course, Li Yi did not mention that these were records from history books.

“Just keep an eye out, Second Brother.”

“Brother Yi, don’t worry about me. You’ve just climbed onto Hong Chengchou’s backing; why would you anger him? It’s a hard-won official position; caution is best,” Li Zicheng advised.

Li Yi smiled wryly. In Hong Chengchou’s eyes, he was a knife; caution meant little.

Li Zicheng seriously said, “Brother Yi, after this autumn harvest, with the money left from selling the official seal, I plan to buy an official post. What do you think?”

Li Yi looked at him in surprise.

Second Brother, you are destined to be the greatest rebel against the Ming, yet now you want to become an official?

Thinking of him dedicating himself loyally to Emperor Chongzhen in the future, Li Yi felt a pang of irony.

You have become the loyal patriot Li Zicheng—so what happened to the rebel king Li Zicheng who would overthrow the Ming?