Chapter 119 Amnesty Granted: The Light Boat Has Already Passed Ten Thousand Mountains

As dawn broke, Du Fu went to Songyang County for his duties.

Yang squatted by the newly cultivated vegetable patch behind the house. Her rough fingers gently parted the soft soil and carefully placed three yellowish-brown tubers into the ground. These strange things, which her husband called potatoes, he said were divine seeds.

“Each piece should be cut into three or four pieces, and each piece must have a bud eye…” Yang murmured, repeating what Du Fu had told her, the kitchen knife in her hand gleaming coldly.

She hesitated for a moment, then finally made up her mind and placed the first potato on the wooden board.

The moment the knife sliced ​​into the potato, Yang couldn't help but hold her breath. The pale yellow interior was revealed, glistening with a little transparent juice. This strange texture reminded her of the wild kudzu root she had dug up last winter when she was starving, but this one was much plumper.

"Mother, what are these?" Zongwu rubbed his eyes and stood behind her, looking at the strange tubers with curiosity.

Yang glanced back at her son, then looked into the room. Du Fu had already left, and Zongwen was still asleep.

"Shh, keep your voice down." Madam Yang lowered her voice. "These are seeds your father brought back from...from the fairyland."

"Can we eat it?" Zongwu's eyes lit up.

Yang's heart tightened. The memory of last year's famine was still fresh in her mind; back then, they had to dig for wild vegetables and peel tree bark to fill their stomachs. Her youngest daughter had died then... She shook her head, trying to shake off these painful memories.

“Magistrate Jiang said that if these are planted, one mu of land can yield twenty shi (a unit of dry measure).” Madam Yang said, stating a number she herself didn’t quite believe, “enough for our whole family to eat for a very long time.”

"Twenty shi!" Zongwu exclaimed, then covered his mouth. "That's much more than wheat!"

Yang nodded and continued cutting the remaining potatoes. With each slice, she worried about damaging these precious seeds. Du Fu had said they were very valuable; these were the only ones in the entire Tang Dynasty.

The chopped potato chunks were arranged in a row on the wooden board, each with one or two small dents. Magistrate Jiang explained that these were called "buds," the places where new shoots would grow. Madam Yang picked up a piece and examined it closely, finding it hard to imagine what could possibly grow from such an ugly thing.

She couldn't even imagine how to eat this.

"Mother, let me help you!" Zongwu excitedly picked up a piece of soil and was about to put it in the ground.

"Wait!" Madam Yang hurriedly stopped him, "The cut needs to be dried first."

Following Du Fu's instructions, she placed the chopped potato pieces in a cool, shady place to dry. During this time, she continued to tidy up the vegetable patch, breaking up the clods of soil and mixing in some wood ash.

This land was newly acquired by them, and the soil was barren; nothing could grow well. Yang secretly prayed that this divine seed could adapt to such soil.

By noon, the cuts had dried and scabbed over. Yang and Zongwu began the formal planting. Each potato was carefully buried in the soil, with the eyes facing upwards, and covered with about two fingers' thickness of loose soil.

"Keep them this far apart." Madam Yang gestured with her hands, instructing Zongwu to distribute the potato pieces evenly in the vegetable patch. Although there were only a dozen or so pieces, according to Magistrate Jiang, many new potatoes would grow under each plant at harvest time.

After planting, Yang scooped up some water and gently watered the plants. The water seeped into the soil and quickly disappeared. She looked at the newly planted vegetable patch, her heart filled with a mixture of anticipation and worry.

"Mother, when will they grow?" Zongwu squatted down beside her, staring intently at the ground, as if he could see the changes underground.

“Magistrate Jiang said the seedlings should sprout in about ten days.” Madam Yang patted her son’s head. “Go and ask your brother to help build a fence so the chickens and ducks don’t ruin it.”

Zongwu skipped away. Yang stood alone by the vegetable patch, her heart filled with mixed emotions. It wasn't that she didn't trust her husband, but rather that she had experienced too much disappointment over the years.

From Chang'an to Fengxiang, from Qinzhou to Tonggu, each time they thought there would be a turning point, but they always fell into a deeper predicament.

Can these strange potatoes really solve their hunger problem as Magistrate Jiang claims? More importantly, if they are indeed to be presented to the imperial court as Du Fu suggested, will they, like the poems and essays of the past, disappear without a trace?

Yang shook her head, temporarily suppressing these doubts. In any case, the first priority was to ensure their successful planting.

Evening arrived quickly.

The setting sun cast long shadows of the two small figures waiting in front of the house.

Zongwen and Zongwu, like two little sparrows smelling honey, fluttered into their father's arms, causing Du Fu to stagger back half a step. His wide sleeves were now being tugged at by the four little hands, making a rustling sound.

"Dad, is there any brittle candy this time?" Zongwu stood on tiptoe, his nose almost touching the gap in his sleeve. The child still had rice stuck to the corner of his mouth from the morning, but his eyes were surprisingly bright.

My father is wonderful. After being recruited by the immortals, he has many new and exotic foods. It's great that he no longer has to go hungry.

Zongwen, being two years older, refrained from reaching out, but still managed to wrinkle his younger brother's clothes. Du Fu noticed his eldest son's Adam's apple bob a few times; even a child of that age would crave a taste of sweetness.

"Don't rush..." Du Fu untied the knot and pulled out a small coarse cloth bag. Oil stains had already seeped into the fabric, giving it a suspicious sheen in the setting sun.

This was given to me this morning by Magistrate Jiang. He said it was some kind of jianbing guozi (Chinese crepe), which sounded very novel. Du Fu couldn't bear to eat it, so he brought it back with him.

The two children suddenly fell silent. Zongwu's fingertips had just touched the crispy edge of the jianbing guozi when he withdrew as if burned, wiping them repeatedly on his clothes. Zongwen suddenly straightened his posture and even bowed in a proper manner: "Grandpa, please go first."

Du Fu felt a sudden pang of sadness in his nose.

"Try them all." He broke the jianbing guozi into three pieces, and handed the largest piece to Zongwu.

Zongwen suddenly held up half a piece: "Grandpa, give this to Mom. She's been working in the fields all day..." Before he finished speaking, Zongwu had already broken off a piece of his own, his oily little hand held high.

When Du Fu arrived at the vegetable garden, Yang had already finished planting the potatoes, and they were almost exactly as he had described. They were neat and orderly.

"My lord, it's time for dinner."

Yang did not delay preparing dinner. Previously, the family had a shortage of food, but now that they finally had rice and oil, they had no worries about food.

Yang was naturally in the mood to cook.

Suddenly, the village erupted in commotion. The sound of a gong grew louder as it approached, and the village headman's hoarse shouts echoed through every corner:

"The Sage Grants a General Amnesty—The New Emperor Ascends the Throne, and a General Amnesty is Granted—"

The sound of gongs pierced the damp, chilly morning mist of Kuizhou, echoing back and forth along the rugged cliffs of the Qutang Gorge. Fishing boats floating on the river turned sharply, and boatmen punted towards the shore with bamboo poles, startling a flock of egrets that were foraging in the shallows.

At this moment, the Yangtze River, carrying fallen flowers from Sichuan and Chongqing, swirls in its eddies as it flows eastward.

The boat carrying Li Bai, a symbol of his exile, was moored at the dock below Baidi City. This weathered official boat had been sailing for three months; thick moss covered the deck, and the tattered sail hanging from the mast drooped listlessly in the drizzle.

"Brother-in-law! Brother-in-law!" A young man in his early thirties suddenly emerged from the cabin, clutching half a hardened steamed bun in his hand. This was Zong Jing, Li Bai's brother-in-law, who had been accompanying and taking care of Li Bai ever since Li Bai was demoted to Yelang.

"There seems to be some movement on the shore!"

Li Bai slowly propped himself up from the side of the boat, his cloudy eyes piercing through the rain. He saw dust billowing on the mountain path, and a chestnut-red courier horse galloping towards him, its rider carrying a yellow silk document, the copper bells at his waist jingling, startling a flock of cuckoos from the roadside into flight.

Zong Jing excitedly grabbed Li Bai's sleeve: "Could it be..." Before he could finish speaking, the constables on the shore had already shouted:

"The Sage Grants a General Amnesty—The New Emperor Ascends the Throne, and a General Amnesty is Granted—"

Li Bai's fingers dug sharply into the boat plank, a three-inch-long splinter piercing his palm without him noticing. A pardon! His three years, four months, and eighteen days of exile had finally come to an end!

"Brother-in-law! We're free!" Zong Jing cried tears of joy. This young man, who had silently taken care of the poet all the way, was finally relieved of his heavy burden. He remembered his sister's instructions before he left, the scenes of warming wine for Li Bai on the bow of the boat under the moonlight, and the days when he argued with people in the post station to protect Li Bai from being bullied.

Li Bai staggered to his feet, his tattered robes fluttering in the river wind. The pent-up emotions that had been building up in his chest for three years finally burst forth in a long howl:

"Departing from Baidi City amidst colorful clouds at dawn—"

The long howl startled the old fisherman, causing his net to fall into the river with a "plop." Zong Jing quickly steadied the swaying Li Bai, only to see the poet's trembling hand grab the chipped, rough earthenware wine jug, tilt his head back, and drink deeply. The cheap, murky wine flowed down his gray beard, wetting his robes, but his heroic spirit remained unchanged.

"Returning to Jiangling in a single day, a thousand miles away—"

As the second line was uttered, even the fishing lights on the river seemed to tremble. Zong Jing suddenly recalled the scene of their farewell three years ago: his sister, fighting back tears, tidying Li Bai's belongings; his young nephew clinging to his father's leg, refusing to let go. Now, finally, he could go home! He secretly wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, only to find Li Bai already lying on the bow of the boat:

"The cries of monkeys on both banks could not be stopped—"

Zong Jing knew that his brother-in-law was composing a poem. He quickly took out the Xuan paper he had treasured for a long time from his bag, but Li Bai waved him off.

"The light boat has already passed ten thousand mountains!!!"

The long, drawn-out cry pierced the clouds and split the rocks, startling a flock of egrets from the river's heart into the sky. Li Bai slumped to his feet, then collapsed again, tears streaming down his face. Zong Jing knelt beside him, gently patting the poet's back, just as he had done each time Li Bai had been drunk along the way. But this time, he clearly felt his brother-in-law's shoulders trembling violently—the "mountain of ten thousand burdens" that had weighed on his heart for three years had finally crumbled at this moment.

“Zong Jing…” Li Bai suddenly grabbed the young man’s hand, “You’ve suffered so much these past years.”

Zong Jing shook his head, recalling the hardships of the journey: "Brother-in-law, you flatter me. It is my blessing to be able to serve you."

On a distant mountain path, several woodcutters carrying bundles of firewood stopped to listen to the long, mournful sound coming from the river. These men, who spent their days with axes and hatchets, could not have known that these four lines of impromptu poetry would become an eternal masterpiece; nor could they have known the surging emotions within the heart of the poet who wrote them.

As dusk deepened, Li Bai finally calmed down. He straightened his tattered clothes and bowed deeply to the river. Zong Jing stood behind him, looking at the once spirited poet, now with graying temples, and felt a pang of sorrow. When night completely enveloped the river, the city of Baidi lit up with scattered lights. Zong Jing took out a clean robe and draped it over Li Bai's shoulders: "Brother-in-law, it's late and the dew is heavy. Let's go into the cabin and rest."

Li Bai pulled him to sit at the bow of the boat: "Look at this river, flowing eastward day and night without ceasing. Life is but a fleeting moment." He pointed to the distant, indistinct mountain silhouettes, "I remember when I first met your sister, it was also on a spring night like this..."

Zong Jing listened quietly; this was the first time in three years that Li Bai had brought up family matters. The two, unusually free of their worries, sat leisurely in the cabin chatting about family matters.

"Zong Jing, pack your things." Li Bai's voice suddenly became clear. "Tomorrow morning, we will set off to return east."

"Are we going straight back to Yuzhang? My sister and the children must be..."

Li Bai shook his head and said, "No, let's go find Du Er first."

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A note from the author:

When Du Fu opened his door, he found Li Bai had traveled thousands of miles to find him: Brother Taibai [starry eyes][starry eyes][starry eyes] Did you come here specifically to find me?

Li Bai: "Zhuge Liang's great name will be remembered throughout the universe... Alas, Du Er, why are you crying?"

Du Fu: "They didn't come specifically to find me [bursts into tears]"