Chapter 23 Chapter 23 “Each of you has your own wisdom, you really…
"Everyone has their own wisdom. You are really amazing."
Song Fuxue praised.
Zhao Jufang was about to laugh, but when she thought about having to pay so much tax, she couldn't help but sigh. Her family's life, which had been better, became tight again.
This is still the capital of the country, and I am half a Beijinger. I have always been richer than others. I dare not imagine how difficult life is in those remote areas.
Song Mian watched them transporting beans out in sacks. It turned out that the five liters were five liters of rice, not five liters of beans.
A difference of one word can lead to a huge mistake.
Then they have to pay half more beans, which is really too much!
There was a severe drought in midsummer, and the grain production was reduced by half. After paying taxes, the remaining grain was not enough for the family to eat.
"How can I live like this?" Zhao Jufang said with a worried look on her face after she finished calculating.
As she spoke, she couldn't help but look at Song Mian with gratitude, and whispered, "Thanks to you for teaching Erya how to sell pan-fried dumplings. Otherwise, I really don't know how my family would have survived."
There are many people, so they eat a lot.
There is really nothing we can do when we encounter a disaster year.
Song Mian smiled gently, "It's all thanks to Erya's hard work. You two are cooperating, and as a family, we're all working together."
Otherwise, he has a large family, and if someone holds him back, this business will be even more difficult.
Speaking of this, Zhao Jufang raised her head proudly and said cheerfully, "Of course not. Speaking of this, my family is full of good kids."
After she finished laughing, she put on a bitter face and started counting the sacks.
"Oh, what a sin! We have to pay so much tax, and then we have to wait until the wheat harvest in June next year to get more food."
Song Fuxue also fell silent.
His persistence was now crumbling.
That question echoed in my heart again.
"Are you loyal to the people who were born and raised on this land, or to the emperor who sits on the throne?"
He thought about it in his heart and closed his eyes slightly.
His father... is loyal to this land and the people born from this land.
Song Fuxue smiled bitterly, after all, her father was right.
He was wrong.
Human nature... is the lack of humanity.
Song Fuxue had a gloomy face as he pushed a cart piled with sacks and gathered in the grain delivery convoy, listening to everyone's heavy breathing.
Those dark, bent backs and the yellow, torn linen towels draped over their shoulders all showed an air of awkwardness, but the sacks that were delivered were brand new.
He looked melancholy.
We soon arrived at the town. Along the way, we met many food delivery teams. Everyone was in mourning and no one could smile.
Song Fuxue pursed her lips and looked at Song Zhiwen bending over, the wrinkles on his face piled up with smiles, and greeted the leading yamen runner, fearing that the villagers would be embarrassed.
It is very easy to make things difficult for the villagers. They can say that your beans are not dry enough and ask you to go home and dry them, or they can say that your beans are not up to standard and ask you to hand over new rice. Not to mention the hassle, how can you get new rice from your home?
Furthermore, even if you fill the bucket completely, if you kick it a few more times, the gaps will loosen, and you will have to fill the extra space with food.
"Master, look at our grain. I've watched it dry in the sun. It's so dry and thriving."
The yamen runner knew him. When the Song family was at its peak, the people in Songjia Village were the easiest to talk to. They would pay when asked to and no one would shirk their responsibility.
He also admired Prime Minister Song, who did not make things difficult for them even when he saw them in dire straits.
When it was Song Fuxue's turn to deliver grain, without waiting for everyone to introduce him, just by looking at his temperament, one could tell that he was of extraordinary status.
"Mr. Song?" The bailiff bowed politely.
Song Fuxue was a little surprised. He had never seen these yamen runners before and didn't expect that they knew him.
"Take this bag back, that's enough."
The yamen runner was very polite.
Song Fuxue quickly bowed and thanked me: "Please come to my humble home for tea when you have time."
The bailiff nodded: "Mr. Song, you are too polite."
Pushing a bag of grain back, Song Fuxue smiled and pushed her own sack of soybeans back home.
No matter how those in high positions act like idlers, there are always many kind-hearted people in peaceful life.
Song Fuxue was in a good mood all the way.
After returning home, he saw Song Mian practicing calligraphy, so he smiled and said, "Today I went to hand in the grain, but they guessed my identity and didn't charge me an extra liter."
He has always been reserved, but now he smiled so hard that his eyes narrowed.
Seeing him happy, Song Mian also smiled. She lowered her voice and said, "That's great! It shows that Grandfather is very popular. Everything he did was right. Even if Emperor Shunde forgets Grandfather's merits, the history books will record them, and future generations will remember them."
This is true.
Throughout history, Prime Minister Song Zhun has been highly praised.
Everyone remembers his achievements.
Song Fuxue didn't know the future, and all the anxieties in his heart needed to be soothed by real-life experiences.
“Well, people will remember it later.”
"Life is too long. In the next thousand or two thousand years, many things will surely develop that don't exist now, just like when we look at the history of the Qin Dynasty."
Song Fuxue gently stroked the manuscript in a gentle voice.
"Zhu Yu is right." He had a complicated expression.
Song Mian looked at him curiously: "What did Uncle Xie say?"
"He... said, 'Are kings, princes, generals, and ministers of different races?'"
Song Mian:?
Even after systematic education, Confucianism has not been deeply ingrained in his bones. In addition, his family is a military family with soldiers under his command. If he is really forced into a desperate situation, he might really rebel.
But the new emperor’s surname is not Xie.
She scratched her head.
She confirmed that she had learned history quite well, and she must have rebelled, but failed and was intercepted by others. This is a common occurrence in the history of rebellion.
For example, when the Red Turban Rebellion broke out, Taizu of the Liang Dynasty married someone else's daughter and took over their power, which made him rich.
"Then we should..." Song Mian's face was full of mystery. He used his hand as a knife and gestured at his neck.
Song went to the black line of snow.
He let go of her hand somewhat weakly and whispered, "It hasn't come to that yet."
Song Mian tilted his head: "Oh."
That's quite frustrating.
She still hoped to rise up in rebellion and get rid of him, but in order to prevent civil officials from rebelling after being demoted, the court had prevented them from having any access to military power. So they only had good words and wanted to rebel, but they were not given any conditions.
After thinking of Xie Zhuyu, she thought about how nice he was and instantly understood what their concerns were.
The Xie family is innocent. They are heroes defending their country and should not be involved in power struggles.
If a country can produce a talented general, it can stabilize the country. If something goes wrong, the Xie family will be gone and there will be no second talented general to be chosen, and the people will be in danger.
"So, a person who is too conscientious cannot be an emperor."
Just enough heart.
Song Fuxue nodded in agreement.
He used to be dismissive, but now he wishes it would be unforgettable.
The two chatted briefly, looked around to see that there was no one around, and then they felt relieved.
"How do you feel about running a school?" Song Mian asked curiously.
Speaking of this, Song Fuxue couldn't help but sigh: "This is the most rotten class I have ever led."
Song Mian: ...
She was familiar with this.
I have heard teachers' catchphrases from elementary school to college, and they appear more frequently than on their test papers.
"They are all village children. They have never heard a single word of elegant language before. It is natural that they feel confused and lost when they suddenly come into contact with books. You teach them slowly." Song Mian looked up at the sky.
Being a teacher is bound to be crazy. Her former classmates became teachers after graduation, and the class atmosphere was really visible to the naked eye.
There is no happiness, only pain.
Song Fuxue couldn't help sighing.
"I used to teach you and your brother, and they all understood everything. It never bothered me."
He sighed endlessly.
Song Mian laughed heartily, feeling somewhat gloating. No matter what he did, once he started working, things didn't seem so wonderful anymore.
For example, she sells pies.
When she was working on projects in the past, she would stay up until the early morning without any idea what to do. She wanted to just ignore everything and set up a small stall, just move her hands and talk, and she didn't know how happy she was.
Now: Whoever wants this happiness can take it.
There is no end to kneading dough and baking pancakes.
She felt like she was about to turn into a burnt pie.
Song Fuxue took out the large characters that the boy had practiced, and her face was completely broken. She sighed, "I scattered some rice on the ground, and the chickens pecked at it better than them."
Song Mian complained: "If they can write well, why would they pay you to teach them?"
Song Fuxue pinched her brows and said, "You come and correct it."
Song Mian was full of confidence and criticized whatever she wanted. She had a very tolerant personality.
But with the homework in hand, she found that she was not so tolerant.
Her father was right!
She didn't even recognize some of the words.
But as a child, she hesitated between expressing her understanding and wondering what he was doing. Finally, she sighed sadly, "Dad, I'm not worried about the pain in my back anymore."
Song Fuxue sneered: "It's good that you know."
He was writing calligraphy. Since the children had a poor foundation, he had to spend more time on the basics. He wrote the beginning of each character first and asked the students to follow suit.
This is more intuitive. Otherwise, when you write it later, the description will not look like the real thing.
Song Mian was used to the modern way of praising, and she wrote simple words of praise after each one.
Song Fuxue was amazed by what she saw.
It wasn't until I saw Lu Jinshu's homework that I realized he was an adult and had stronger control over the pen. Even though the words he wrote weren't very good, he managed to imitate him to some extent.
"The Book of Jin is quite talented." Song Mian looked at it carefully and kept praising it.
Song Mian nodded.
After all, he is old and has never been to school, so it is really great that he can write like this.
After they finished grading the homework, Song Zhenge finally came back. He smiled and said, "I just went to fetch some water, and many villagers came to greet us."
This is how people get along with each other.
If he thinks you can use it, he will be more affectionate to you. If he thinks you can't use it, he will be less enthusiastic.
Song Mian couldn't help but chuckle when he heard this.
Song Zhenge usually likes to be lively and bustling, and his time in Songjia Village has really been hard for him.
"Take these homeworks later and burn them for your grandfather to see, so that he can have a headache too." Song Fuxue said happily.
Song Mian: ...
What a filial son!
After Song Fuxue finished speaking, he stood up with a stack of homework and went to the ancestral grave to offer sacrifices.
Song Mian:?
Are you going now?
Song Fuxue went as soon as she said she would, carrying a bag of burning paper.
The ancestral tomb is actually on the back mountain, a place with beautiful mountains and rivers. Not long after going up the mountain, you can see the sacred road, with tomb-guarding beasts with animal heads and human bodies, leading directly to the tomb on the mountain.
The sacred road is paved with 58 stone slabs, implying that Song Zhun lived to be 58 years old.
When the sacred road reaches the end, there is a mausoleum.
"Tomb of Song Wenzhong, the Grand Tutor of Daliang"
Song Mian looked at him with a complicated expression, knelt down in front of the cushion and kowtowed several times.
When the inscription was written, the words were full of praise, and the subsequent falling out seemed unexpected.
She read carefully, as if she was having a conversation with her grandfather through the inscription.
It's a very strange feeling.
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