Chapter Eight: Utterly Embarrassing

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Speaking as he walked out of the blacksmith’s shop, Zhang Chen strolled through the streets and alleys of Zhang Village, familiarizing himself with the terrain. Having come from the peaceful 21st century, Zhang Chen was more death-averse than most people of the Ming dynasty.

Bandits and pirates could raid Zhang Village at any time during the night. Strategically, he looked down on the enemy; tactically, he took them seriously. Not considering victory first, he feared defeat instead. Zhang Chen needed to carefully observe escape routes.

At the blacksmith’s shop, after dropping two hundred taels of silver, Zhang Chen left. Zheng Dayou picked up the silver note. “Inventing a flintlock musket without a matchlock, Father, Zhang Chen won’t stay here. He’s certainly smarter than most.”

In 1547, the Frenchman Marin le Bourgeoys invented the flintlock musket, but the Europeans’ flintlock muskets had not yet been introduced to the Ming.

Historically, in the eighth year of Emperor Chongzhen’s reign, the Ming firearms expert Bi Maokang crafted a flintlock musket. Unfortunately, the government did not give it serious attention.

Previously, the Zheng ironworkers—father and two sons—had never heard of or seen a flintlock musket.

“Fools can’t pass the county-level student exam, but Zhang Chen ranked first in both the county and prefecture exams. He’s definitely smarter than me,” Zheng Eryou muttered, noticing Qi Guoshu approaching.

“Student Zhang Chen can kick down a paulownia tree as thick as an adult’s calf. He’s skilled both in literature and martial arts. The key is, Zhang Chen is only sixteen. His reputation precedes him, but meeting him confirms he’s no fool,” Qi Guoshu retorted harshly. “Who the hell said that the eldest young master of the Zhang estate, Zhang Chen, is a bookworm who couldn’t even kick out a fart?”

Yesterday morning, Feiniu had gathered several early-rising villagers to carry the paulownia tree that Zhang Chen had kicked down to the main street in front of the gate. He spread the word that Zhang Chen was as strong as an ox, able to break a paulownia tree with a single kick, making Zhang Chen widely known.

“Old Zheng, I’m planning to hand over command of the Zhang Village militia to Zhang Chen. After all, Zhang Chen is our village’s only landlord and gentry; it’s only natural for him to manage Zhang Village,” said Qi Guoshu. He owned a restaurant and a general store in Zhang Village and served as the village head.

“You just gave me a two-hundred-tael silver deposit and promised me two thousand taels for making the flintlock musket. Zhang Chen asked me to make a musket without a matchlock. He’s very clever,” Zheng the Blacksmith said, taking a long drag of his dry tobacco.

“A flintlock musket is a deadly weapon. Hand it over. Let’s entrust Zhang Village to Zhang Chen. He’ll probably equip the militia with flintlock muskets in the future.”

...

After lunch, Qi Guoshu came to Zhang Chen’s house on the back street to officially transfer command of the militia: “Young Master Zhang, you’re the only gentry in Zhang Village. The village should naturally be under your control. The taxes from the dozen or so shops on the street, both past and future, will be managed by you.”

Imperial authority did not extend to the countryside; most rural areas in the Ming were governed by local landlords or gentry. There was no question that Zhang Chen, the only landlord in Zhang Village, should oversee the village. He smiled faintly:

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“The situation is severe, and there’s no time for bickering. I won’t be modest. Uncle Qi, bandits and pirates could raid Zhang Village at any time. The world is growing more chaotic. In troubled times, strict laws are needed. We must revise the village regulations.”

“First, take control of the village warehouse,” Qi Guoshu invited Zhang Chen to the village school.

After the founding of the Ming dynasty, most larger villages built public schools to teach children literacy and the Four Books and Five Classics.

Unfortunately, this good policy didn’t last long; most schools soon closed. Zhang Village had produced several minor officials who settled in the city after retirement and donated funds, allowing the village school to persist until about a decade ago.

In other words, the village school had lain abandoned for over ten years, with most buildings collapsed.

In recent years, with bandits and pirates increasing, the government encouraged villages to form militias for self-defense.

Zhang Village repaired a few schoolrooms to serve as the militia’s warehouse and duty room. The village night watchman also lived there.

Inside the warehouse were nearly a thousand steel knives, dozens of pounds of black powder, and a stockpile of sulfur and saltpeter.

“Not bad,” Zhang Chen said, tossing a steel knife lightly. “Storing them here wastes resources. Uncle Qi, distribute these knives to the able-bodied men in the village. When bandits or pirates attack, regardless of militia membership, the village’s young men must fight.”

In the Ming, the legal marriage age for men was sixteen, so sixteen marked manhood.

The average life expectancy hovered around forty years, and many were already in poor health by thirty-five.

Of course, those well-fed generally lived into their sixties or seventies.

The Zhang Village militia numbered only 375. Excluding militia members, the village’s permanent population of over two thousand included more than 400 able-bodied men aged sixteen to thirty-five.

In a major battle, all these men must fight.

Refusal to fight meant that after the battle, the individual and their immediate family could no longer reside in Zhang Village.

Village regulations clearly stipulated that militia members who refused to fight or fled at the last moment would be executed and their immediate family barred from living in the village.

At the third quarter of the hour of the pig (around 3 p.m.), Zhang Chen, the new head of Zhang Village, posted his personally drafted village regulations on the village notice boards, plastering them throughout the village.

Soon, whether literate or not, all villagers knew Zhang Chen’s new rules.

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Zhang Chen’s regulations were strict; many cursed him, and some ignored the rules altogether.

Wang Laowu, a notorious village bully in his twenties, shouted at Zhang Chen, “I won’t join the militia. If bandits come, I’m not fighting. After the battle, I’m staying in Zhang Village. Zhang Chen, you little son-in-law, what can you do to me?”

Aware that many resented him, Zhang Chen smiled inwardly, hoping bandits or pirates would wait three months before raiding Zhang Village again. By then, his personal guards would be well trained. Yes, may heaven protect Zhang Village from ever being attacked!

“Young Master, many people curse you. Let’s hire a few more personal guards. When bandits or pirates come, we’ll escape under their protection and leave the villagers to fend for themselves.”

Xia Hua had just washed her hair. Her forehead was dripping with water, and her short bangs stuck to her forehead. In the setting sun, the young woman looked radiant in the glowing light.

“More good people live in Zhang Village than bad. For now, Zhang Village is our refuge. We can’t lose it.”

Zhang Chen gently patted Xia Hua’s head. “Don’t be afraid when bandits or pirates attack. Follow me and Feiniu to that big courtyard on the main street. Hide in the secret room. Hmm, these days I’ll borrow ten thousand taels from the prefectural city. We’ll move into that courtyard.”

As chaos grew and bandits and pirates increased, wealthy families mostly built secret rooms.

Before his death, Zhang Yuanyi was the richest man in Fushan County. The big courtyard on the main street also had a secret room.

When bandits or pirates raided villages at night, their time for looting was limited; they rarely searched for secret rooms thoroughly.

Generally, hiding in a secret room was safe.

Plans often fail to keep up with changes. Zhang Chen couldn’t quickly swindle a large sum of silver, so he decided to borrow ten thousand taels from Zhou Yichao, a famous wealthy heir in Dengzhou City.

Zhou Yichao’s father, Zhou Cheng’en, was the largest sea merchant in Dengzhou Prefecture, owning over a hundred ships. They were among the wealthiest in the prefecture.

At the first quarter of the hour of the pig (around 9 p.m.), Xia Hua climbed into bed with Zhang Chen. She lay beside him, whispering, “Young Master, look at this nightgown—it shows too much skin, it’s so embarrassing...”