Chapter 5: Utterly Annoyed

Inside the ancestral hall of the Song family, the young mistress, Pei Xueyan, seemed lost in thought, her mind wandering far from the present. Steward Song Tongshan had gone to fetch some cloth, while Headman Xu, eager to show his authority, busily directed eight porters as they hoisted a stone statue.

The eight men, burdened by a load weighing thousands of pounds, were gasping for breath, too exhausted to pay heed to anything else.

At the threshold of the ancestral hall, under Xu's signal, the men cautiously bent their knees and slowly set down the statue from their aching shoulders.

Just as Liu Shen had expected, the moment the load left their backs, one among them began to groan with misery. Among the eight, Wei Dafu, slightly weaker in build, was the first to speak up. "Headman Xu, this statue must weigh at least three thousand catties. If we have to carry it all the way out of the city without setting it down, it will kill us."

"That's right, Headman Xu," added Hu Dahai, wiping sweat from his face, his tone equally bitter. "If it were only a thousand or two, the eight of us would carry it out without complaint. But this… this is just too much."

"This, what this?" Xu glared menacingly at the two, seeing that others were also wavering. In a harsh voice, he barked, "Didn't I tell you all before we came? Now you want to quit? If you can't handle this, why did you rush for the job? You think my silver is free for the taking, is that it?"

Wei Dafu and Hu Dahai, though inwardly wishing to protest, were cowed into silence by Xu's fierce demeanor.

The others, who had also been on the verge of speaking up, shrank back and dared not utter a word.

"No need to worry," Xu said, switching instantly from menace to a reassuring smile. "You all managed to carry the statue here, didn't you? It's not that you can't do it—it's just a bit tiring, that's all."

He continued, "Tell you what—after this job is done, you can take a few more days off, and not only will I not dock your pay, I'll double your wages for this month. How about that?"

The porters exchanged glances. Though some still wanted to refuse, seeing the others remain silent, none dared to speak up alone. After all, a body worn out can recover, but if one fell on Xu's bad side, there would be no peace in the days to come...

Liu Shen took in the helplessness of those around him, sighing inwardly: This is class, this is the plight of the common people.

"Alright, that's enough," Xu clapped his hands. "Since no one objects, let's get to it. It's only a mile or so."

"In just a few months, it'll be the New Year. Earn a bit more silver and you can enjoy a peaceful holiday at home..."

"Dafu, didn't your wife just give you a strapping baby boy? I already gave you a red envelope—shouldn't you be earning a bit more to go home and see your son?"

"Come on, come on, put your backs into it—let's get to work!"

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One..."

"Lift!"

The statue of the Bodhisattva, shrouded in a white cloth, slowly rose from the ground, borne by eight men gritting their teeth for the sake of their livelihoods.

"Out of the ancestral hall!" Xu shouted, and the eight porters shuffled forward, step by step, bearing the statue through the doorway.

Xu, with a fawning grin, turned to pay his respects to the young mistress of the Song family. "Young Mistress, these dock porters are rough men who know nothing of manners. Please forgive us for making a spectacle."

"It's nothing," Pei Xueyan replied with a wave of her hand, unconcerned.

"Very well," Xu said, swallowing nervously at her languid demeanor, "These fellows only move when the whip is at their backs. I'd better go along to keep an eye on them, lest they break the rules set by Master Song."

"As it should be," Pei Xueyan nodded lightly, then instructed, "Steward Song, go and have a look as well. When you return, let Father know so he can rest easy."

"You are thoughtful, Young Mistress," replied Song Tongshan, who followed Xu out the door.

Pei Xueyan watched their retreating figures, her almond-shaped eyes half-lidded, her legs drawn together as if in contemplation. After a long moment, her musings ended in a sigh.

She straightened, intending to return to her room to rest, but as she reached the doorway, she recalled the peculiar actions of that young man and, piqued by curiosity, doubled back to a corner of the ancestral hall.

As she expected, she found rows of faint white marks scratched into the flagstones.

"Is this... arithmetic?"

Pei Xueyan, the daughter of a merchant, had been versed in numbers since childhood. Quick-witted as she was, she could tell that the lines and figures on the floor were some sort of calculation.

But she was puzzled: why would a dock porter know arithmetic?

She crouched down for a closer look, trying to discern what the calculations were for.

But as she studied the marks, her delicate brows drew together in a frown.

She could recognize the numbers and basic operations, but when they were combined with those strange symbols, it all became incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible?

Pei Xueyan prided herself on her proficiency with numbers, managing the Song family’s business with exemplary skill. To be confronted with arithmetic from a mere porter that she could not decipher was hard to accept.

Her gaze shifted to the result of the calculation, and she pondered over the figure "three thousand two hundred and thirty-five."

Three thousand two hundred and thirty-five?

She paused, recalling how the young man had measured the statue with a hemp rope, and remembered her father-in-law, Master Song, estimating the Bodhisattva statue at roughly three thousand four hundred catties.

Could it be... this calculation was to determine the statue's weight?

The young man had used no ruler, no scale—just a length of rope—yet had managed, in such a short time, to estimate the weight to within a hundred catties of the actual figure?

This...

Pei Xueyan caught her breath, the image of the lean young man, bare-chested and muscled as he hefted the wooden pole, flashing through her mind.

She called for her maid to fetch brush and ink, and carefully copied the calculations from the floor before retiring to her room.

Lying on her bed, she gazed at the page of copied numbers. For some reason, every time she looked at the calculations, the image of that vigorous youth would reappear in her mind—sometimes crouched over the ground, using a stone as a pen, sometimes gritting his teeth, sweat streaming down his body.

His pleasingly regular features, the powerful build of his back and waist, the muscles swelling as he lifted the pole, the beads of sweat rolling down his skin...

On the bed, Pei Xueyan seemed trapped in a waking dream, her almond eyes misted, unconsciously crushing the paper in her hand into a ball...

Suddenly, her maid's voice came from outside the door. "Young Mistress, I am on night duty tonight. If you need anything, just call."

Startled, Pei Xueyan snapped back to herself, flustered and a little annoyed. "Understood!"

"Then I will take my leave."

Silence returned outside. Pei Xueyan, her mood now broken, glanced at the crumpled paper in her hand, feeling her ears flush with heat.

Coming to her senses, she flung the paper away as if it were a viper.

How vexing!