Chapter 11: Seeking to Remove the Firewood from Beneath the Cauldron

At first, with sheer enthusiasm, things naturally progressed quickly, but as time wore on, everyone would inevitably grow weary, and then complaints would surely arise... The higher one climbs, the harder one falls. Do not be deceived by his current moment of glory; soon enough, he will incite the wrath of the masses.

Hearing of the swift progress—hundreds of acres of field ditches cleared in just a morning—Ye Ling thus comforted Madam Liu. Yet, while he spoke so, Ye Ling was inwardly astonished: Ye Chang actually possessed such ability!

To assign manpower, organize work, and even implement rewards and punishments—these seemed simple enough, but Ye Ling knew well that the foundation of it all was leadership. And Ye Chang, until now, had never shown any sign of leadership. To put it bluntly, even the little maid Xiang’er would be beyond his control if not for her tender age; who knows whom she might have followed.

Just as he thought, Ye Dan too showed no particular approval of Ye Chang’s achievements that first morning.

The mountain road stretched over two miles, and merely the water channels on the slopes consumed half a day’s effort. The rest of the waterways could not possibly be completed in less than a month. But after a month, if the rains did not come, the crops would perish from drought. And not even a month—after only three days, the fervor of the people would wane; who would persist then?

When that time came, Ye Chang would be left in disgrace! The more revered he was now, the more hated he would be then!

“I thought he might truly possess some talent... but perhaps this is for the best,” Ye Dan mused inwardly.

Nonetheless, neither Ye Dan nor Ye Ling relaxed their scrutiny of Ye Chang.

At noon, everyone ate some dry provisions, then left the slopes and headed toward the spring. But to Ye Dan and Ye Ling’s surprise, Ye Chang left behind a group at intervals, marking boundaries with prepared lime. Each group’s task was to dig a pond or ditch at the marked spots—three sites per group, exactly half a day’s workload.

The two groups of elderly, weak, and women did not act until late afternoon. No one knew when Ye Chang had given the order, but they dragged thick bamboo stalks to the scene.

“Using bamboo to channel water?”

Seeing the bamboo arrive, people began to discuss.

“If water travels two miles, without bamboo to guide it, it will be absorbed by the earth midway,” Ye Chang explained with a smile. “Besides, digging ditches involves too much work; bamboo makes it much simpler.”

The crowd remained skeptical, except for Liu Gui, who gritted his teeth—he had found the bamboo seller, an itinerant from Qinyang. Ye Chang had instructed people to bore through the bamboo nodes, inserting the tip of one stalk into the base of another, sealing the joints with torn hemp and rags. In a short time, they assembled water pipes tens of meters long.

These pipes traversed difficult terrain, places where it would have taken days or weeks to break through rock. Instead, the bamboo conduit was quickly laid overhead, supported by tree-branch scaffolds and atop rocks, forming a skyward channel that carried water over the ridge—waterways built in places impossible to dig!

This sight brought joy to everyone. After such a long drought, for the first time, hope of water appeared. And once this water was brought in, it would irrigate not just the hundreds of acres on the slope, but the method could be extended further—with more bamboo, more water, and the whole of Wu Ze’s dry fields could be watered.

For a moment, the mountain was filled with thunderous cheers.

“Eleventh Young Master, truly guided by immortals!”

“Indeed, why did none of us think of it, and only Eleventh Young Master did?”

“Haha, Wu Ze finally has a hero!”

All around, people praised Ye Chang. Though only half the project was done, hope was at hand. Another day or two and water would flow!

As they cheered, Ye Ling appeared at the scene, his face ashen.

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The one least willing to see Ye Chang succeed was Ye Ling. The third branch of the Ye family had flourished for years, his children numerous, and in sheer numbers, his line rivaled even the main branch. Seeing the second and third branches sparsely populated, some even at risk of dying out, Ye Ling longed to unite the three branches.

“You celebrate too soon; wait until the water reaches the fields before rejoicing.” Hearing the others praise Ye Chang, Ye Ling couldn’t help but interject.

“Ye Fourth, that’s odd—here we outsiders rejoice for Eleventh Young Master, yet you, his kin and uncle, sulk and dampen spirits. Are you jealous of your own nephew?” Some older villagers rebuked him; they honored Ye Dan as the head of Wu Ze’s leading family, and Ye Chang as the one ‘enlightened by immortals,’ who could bring them water. As for Ye Ling, no one cared, so he was immediately criticized.

Ye Ling flushed with rage, but knew he could not contend with these outsiders; he could only bark, “Eleventh, you see me and don’t salute—do you think yourself so grown that you can ignore elders?”

Ye Chang responded with a gracious bow, smiling, “Forgive me, respected elder; I was busy and did not see you. These matters are urgent—if they fail, we’ll have no food for the coming months. No time for formalities... Everyone, let’s focus on our work, and strive to bring in water tomorrow!”

The crowd responded in unison and returned to their tasks, ignoring Ye Ling completely. Ye Ling, furious, wanted to assert his authority, but seeing many young men eyeing him warily, clearly ready to defend Ye Chang, he had to swallow his pride.

“A little patience prevents great chaos... A little patience prevents great chaos!”

He repeated this mantra to himself, pretending not to notice the villagers’ contemptuous glances and mocking words, and strolled toward the spring. He had visited the previous evening, when the spring was just a shallow pool; now it had become a small pond, with enough flow to irrigate hundreds of acres. Ye Ling’s anger grew; he wished he could move a mountain to block the spring. He followed the water downstream, along the newly dug channels and bamboo pipes, the spring drawing ever closer to the slope fields—now less than a mile away.

“Impossible, that brat cannot bring the water through; he must hit some obstacle...”

The more he saw, the more alarmed Ye Ling became. He muttered to himself, unable to fathom when Ye Chang acquired such skills. What he thought would take a month or more, Ye Chang achieved in a day, using bamboo to break through the hardest spots, and channels through easier ground—half the project done in a single day!

He didn’t realize that, compared to the common folk of this era, Ye Chang was a master of mathematics, especially plane geometry—perhaps the finest of his time. Where craftsmen needed experience and trial to plan routes, Ye Chang simply drew diagrams with branches on the ground and calculated, finding the optimal way. And his system of group assignments and clear rewards and punishments, though crude, worked perfectly on these honest, simple farmers. Combined, the effect was extraordinary.

“This boy, this boy... When did he learn such skills?”

Ye Ling grew increasingly anxious, but when he reached the ridge, he suddenly stopped, his panic turning to wild joy.

“Haha... The boy made a mistake! Here, it’s impossible to bring water through—though he planned the channel through the lowest point between the two mountains, the inlet is lower than the outlet; water cannot flow uphill! He’ll have to detour, but the detour is all rock, and he’ll need more bamboo than he has... I’ll just buy up all the bamboo, so he can’t get any more!”

With this scheme in mind, Ye Ling hurried back to Wu Ze. In his rush, he stumbled and nearly fell face-first into the dirt.

He returned home to find Madam Liu pacing anxiously. Seeing him, she scolded, “Will you just let that brat succeed?”

“Nonsense.”

“I’ve heard it all—the brat, guided by immortals, is already about to bring water in. If he succeeds, his reputation will soar; how will we harm him, or have your concubine’s son inherit the third branch?”

“Woman, stop your wild talk. Eleventh Young Master may be disappointing, but he is the third son’s heir, and the second’s own child. We would never harm him,” Ye Ling retorted. “He’s simply gone astray. Though I’m not truly brothers with the third, we share a grandfather—I cannot bear to see the third’s legacy ruined by Eleventh... What are you doing?”

As he spoke, Madam Liu grabbed a broom and began to beat him furiously. “I’ll thrash you, old fool—talking to me with such shameless pretense!” She pounded him mercilessly, “If you hadn’t kept your lust alive, sneaking thieves and harlots into the family, would I need to scheme for that branch’s scraps? My dowry alone is enough...”

She berated him as she beat him, forcing Ye Ling to flee around the courtyard. Though he acted righteous before Ye Chang, he had little authority at home; Madam Liu had married down, and when truly angry, Ye Ling dared not confront her.

“Don’t hit me, don’t hit me! Why are you angry—this brat will never succeed!”

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Dodging around the courtyard, Ye Ling was thoroughly humiliated, finally finding a chance to shout.

“Hmm?” Madam Liu, panting, paused. “What do you mean? I heard he’s already halfway done!”

“He is, but I foresee trouble ahead.” Ye Ling explained his discovery.

Madam Liu’s anger turned to delight. “Good, good, serves him right to toil for nothing.”

But in a blink, her expression soured again. “Liu Gui is truly foolish—he was asked to find a bamboo seller, and instead of brushing it off, he actually found a major supplier. If that brat buys more, with hundreds or thousands of stalks, he’ll surely bypass the mountain... Won’t that just help him succeed?”

“True, so I have a plan to cut the root.” Ye Ling grinned. “I went and saw—the brat’s current bamboo is insufficient, he’ll need to buy more. Liu Gui said there’s a Qinyang man, Qin Qingshou, selling bamboo here—he brought over five hundred stalks, and sold a hundred and twenty to the brat. If we buy the rest, where will the brat find more bamboo?”

Madam Liu slapped her thigh in approval. “Good, good—you’re not quite as stupid as you seem. Let’s buy them up!”

Her hatred for Ye Chang was now at its peak, not considering what use the bamboo might have. Ye Ling, however, thought ahead; Qin Qingshou had brought the bamboo to sell to basket weavers and carpenters—after the matter was settled, Ye Ling could resell the bamboo to them.

The two agreed. Their branch was populous and wealthier than Ye Chang’s, but Ye Ling’s ready cash was limited, so he had to ask Madam Liu for some of her own savings. No time to delay; Ye Ling saw the sky was not yet dark and hurried to Xiuwu County Town.

But though he arrived, it was already closing time. Ye Ling, with a loyal servant, found a place to stay, waiting for the market to open in the morning to meet Qin Qingshou.

That night, Ye Ling dreamed both of seizing the third branch’s estate and of his own ruin. He woke early, but his spirit was low, thoughts fixed on the bamboo. Breakfast tasted bland. According to custom, the market did not open in the morning; Ye Ling sent his servant to watch the gate, waiting for word, but as the sun climbed, impatience grew—the market remained shut.

Someone suggested bribing the keeper to slip inside, but Ye Ling resented the expense and delayed.

He was considering a nap when his servant rushed in, anxious: “Master, Eleventh Young Master has arrived—he’s in town!”

Ye Ling’s drowsiness vanished.

“That brat—he thought of this too?” Ye Ling cursed. “Hmph, coming now—too late, too late...”

He paused, feeling a twinge in his teeth.

He’d come last night precisely to be early for Qin Qingshou, but still hadn’t seen him. Now Ye Chang had arrived—and since Ye Chang had already traded with Qin Qingshou once, by the rules of merchants, regular customers had priority.

“No, I must get inside... Come, follow me!” Ye Ling sprang to his feet.

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