ITIEQ C28

Chapter 28 – Research Report

Pierced by the young man in fur robes, Yao Guang’s ears flushed red once more. He nodded stiffly, “Yes, I’m sturdy—northwestern men are all like this. If you train and temper yourself, you too could have a body like mine.”

Ah, so he really didn’t understand human speech.

Shen Qinghe found him exasperating, but also let out a soft breath. At worst, the fellow just said unpleasant things, but it wasn’t malice—and if he was simply slow-witted instead of scheming, then there was no need to carry resentment. Shen Qinghe could be generous.

“Lord Inspector Yao has worked hard escorting me along the road, and even mended my broken roof. If you’ve no further business, best go back and rest. Oh, yes—I brought some tea cakes from the capital, not rare, but surely a rarity here in the northwest. Does the Lord Inspector enjoy tea?”

The youth’s bright voice carried over; Yao Guang barely caught his words, his fist raised to cover his mouth. “No—umph, yes. Yes, I drink.”

Shen Qinghe clapped and laughed. “Excellent! Then I’ll gift you a cake. Let you taste the flavor of beyond the northwest.”

“Yao Guang.”

“What’s that?” Shen Qinghe asked.

“Don’t call me ‘my lord.’ Just Yao Guang is fine.”

“Very well, very well.” Shen Qinghe agreed easily.

So with exchanges like these, relations grew closer. In the unsafe northwest, to be on good terms with the Inspector meant security. Nothing but advantage.

After they talked, Yao Guang still loitered awkwardly in the courtyard. Shen Qinghe could only retreat into his own quarters.

Lü Song, though glad to keep his master homebound, found it strange. Nan Hong, always more perceptive, whispered: “On the road that day, this Inspector seemed hot-tempered. Seems appearances deceive—privately, he’s quite delicate.”

Then Nan Hong closed the door and said firmly, “Whether he’s temperate or not matters little, so long as he doesn’t harm our young lord. Go boil the water again. The wells here aren’t as clean as in the capital. Master Gao said the sick must only be wiped with clean water.”

Lü Song nodded, trotting off to the kitchen.

—

Shen Qinghe lay two days in bed, skimming selections from the system library, especially case studies of rural poverty alleviation.

The officials of Qiuquan lived clustered together, scarcely a hundred meters apart. As soon as word spread that Shen’s health had returned, an invitation came—a welcoming banquet that evening. He agreed; they would be seeing one another daily regardless.

Food here in the northwest was coarse. At noon, he ate two steamed flat-cakes of unleavened flour, so dry he downed a whole pot of tea to wash them down. His stomach ached; so he walked outside to digest.

First, he browsed the local market. Its stalls offered little beyond produce, crude handicrafts, pottery—occasionally raw silk, but few came to buy. This was meant to be the county’s central market, but it utterly lacked bustle. Jugglers, street performers—none to be found.

Venturing further to the fields, Shen Qinghe recalled the sardine-tin crowds of his past city life, how even the suburban outskirts of the capital felt wild. By comparison, Qiuquan showed him what “beyond the wild” truly meant.

Forest and scrub sprawled. The few cultivated parcels were cracked with sand-drift. Crops grew crooked, twisted. To get a healthy sprout here took a miracle.

After long trudging, he found another plot. Its weeds had been thoroughly cleared, but barren earth revealed no seedlings yet. Shen was bending closer when he heard a sudden thump behind—a man kneeling.

“My lord!”

Shen spun, surprised to see a robust farmer bowing.

He hurried to lift him. “Why call me lord? How do you even know I am one?”

He wore no robes, only plain hemp cloth.

The man—Ma Laosan—answered confidently: “Your hands and feet are long and fine, your body tall and straight. Of course you are a lord.”

Shen Qinghe fell silent, glancing at his slender limbs, then at the hunched, calloused peasant not even reaching his shoulder.

Yes—nail on the head. Noble-born sons were raised soft, rarely marked by hardship. After generations, aristocrats and peasants looked like different species. Just by appearance one could tell noble from common. The phrase “between scholar and commoner lies heaven’s divide”—not exaggerated at all.

Ma Laosan continued: “Lord, I want to offer you my field. Would you take it?”

He pointed to the land Shen had just inspected.

“What do you mean—give me your land?” Shen asked.

The man, anxious, babbled: “Mine’s the cleanest field for miles. My father and I dug out roots for years. Now the soil’s soft and rich. Harvests always the best! Please, take it. Only—rent it back to me to work. That’s all I ask…”

Shen, baffled: “If your fields are so fine, why give them up, only to rent them back?”

The old farmer’s eyes watered. This land, inherited from his father, was his very child. Giving it away broke his heart.

“Each year the taxes rise higher. Last year my neighbor Huang lost his entire harvest in taxes—and still short. He handed his land to an official, who let him pay only rent after. Else, he’d have starved. My field was enough before, but this year even I cannot hold out. I must find an official to offer it to…”

Head down, ashamed.

Shen narrowed his eyes. “Whose idea was this?” Likely the peasant didn’t know. So he asked instead: “How many have done this ‘land offering’?”

“Most of my neighbors long ago. Some with poor fields can’t even find an official to take them. I’m among the last to offer.”

Shen crouched, scooped soil in his palm, crushed it thoughtfully.

He stood. “I will accept—not your fields, but you.”

The farmer gaped. “Accept… me?”

Shen Qinghe already turned away. His voice drifted back: “Wait at home. I’ll come find you.”

—

After three days, the students returned from their fieldwork.

Nan Hong arranged a side-room, with mat cushions on the floor. Shen Qinghe sat above at a single desk. Humble compared to Qingbei Academy, yet the study atmosphere was lively.

The oldest, Shan Bowen, reported first. None objected.

“My topic was: ‘Survey of Livelihood by Age in Qiuquan County.’ I knocked on ten doors. Only three opened. The others, cobwebbed, water jars dry—empty for long.”

“So I changed my subject: ‘Survey of Migration.’”

Shen nodded approvingly. “Good—adapting topic to reality shows practical thinking.”

Listening closely, he grew newly sober about Qiuquan’s plight.

“The farther from center, the worse. In some villages, truly nine in ten houses deserted. I asked around:

“First, taxes. Beyond the land tax, there are head levies and countless extra imposts.

“Second, corvée labor. With no titles to shield them, peasants are taken often. Labor is heavy—by the time they return home, their health ruined. Some die within a month. Many prefer to flee and beg than serve.

“Third, environment. This region is barren. Crop yield poor. So they flee south, where the lands are richer.”

“…Thus, the root causes of migration.”

As he spoke, his tone sank more grave. The others too sat heavy with dismay—dreading that their own findings were no brighter.

Shen Qinghe shut his eyes, nodding. “Well written. But duties of tax and labor we cannot alter. Our entry must be through the land itself. And in land improvement, you, Bowen, stand foremost. Draft me a concrete plan for reform in a week. Can you?”

Excited; praised by his strict tutor, Shan Bowen straightened like an arrow.

“Yes, Teacher!”

At Qingbei they had studied such reforms in secret like treasure now revealed—his spirit rose like fire, remembering farmers bent beneath hardship, and he vowed to change it.

“Next—Xu Lesheng, your turn.”

Footnotes:

1. “Ten rooms, nine empty” (十室九空) – An idiom describing villages where most households have fled or perished, indicating extreme depopulation. 
2. Corvée (徭役) – Unpaid forced labor service levied by the state in imperial China; heavy burdens could ruin commoners’ health. 
3. “Offer fields to officials” – A historical practice where peasants unable to pay taxes ceded their land titles to wealthy or powerful patrons, then rented them back at lighter dues. It highlighted the corruption of taxation and survival desperation.