Chapter 15 A Single Letter in Autumn: "I can barely take care of myself, let alone others..."
15 A Letter in Autumn
When Ji Ming woke up, he was leaning against the bedside fully clothed.
The setting sun cast its rays on the courtyard, dappling the room with light and shadow, creating a dim, yellowish hue.
A tingling sensation spread from my neck, my heart pounded like a drum, and my mind buzzed like flies.
He strained to open his eyes, exhaled heavily, and his curled fingers trembled silently as he struggled to breathe.
After panting heavily for a long time, his inner clothes were soaked with cold sweat, and the huge rock on his chest was finally moved a little.
He subconsciously turned his head to look around; the room was deathly silent, and he was all alone.
He swallowed with difficulty, his Adam's apple bobbing, his fingertips gripping the fabric beneath him silently, trying to regain the real feeling of being there.
Memories flood in like a tide.
At noon, she painstakingly prepared a soup, but he could only take a few sips before he couldn't swallow it.
Then, feeling drowsy, he leaned against the headboard reading a book, while she said she was going out.
My gaze shifted downwards, and sure enough, the curled-up book lay on the ground, covered in dust.
He tried to move, but still felt dizzy and lightheaded, so he stopped moving.
Until the sun completely set, the room was plunged into complete darkness.
Outside, children chased and bickered, their banter turning into friendly conversations between young and old amidst the barking of dogs and crowing of roosters.
Da da da—
A rapid knocking came at the door.
Ning Lu didn't have the habit of knocking. Every time, she would barge in like she was robbing someone, and then storm out.
He held his breath and remained silent, waiting for the person to leave on their own.
Bang bang bang—
The knocking only grew more urgent.
"Ji Ming, are you there?"
It was Ning Lu's voice.
Receiving no response, Ning Lu turned to push the door open.
"When did you become so polite?"
The wooden door creaked and trembled as it slowly opened, revealing Ji Ming, who appeared behind it wearing an outer robe.
His voice was hoarse and listless, filled with a deep weariness.
His gaze swept coldly over the crowd behind Ning Lu, the lazy mockery on his face vanishing instantly. The ripples in his eyes instantly turned into a still pool, and he lowered his eyes to gaze at her.
The latter was intimidated by this inexplicable sense of oppression, and nervously rubbed the corner of his clothes, but did not forget his mission.
"The village has run into some trouble, and the village chief and the others... would like to ask you for a favor."
Da Cheng's backyard wasn't spacious; the village chiefs and elders from the three surrounding villages squeezed in and took up most of the space, while many farmers who had heard the news stood outside the fence.
Ji Ming seemed oblivious, not even raising his eyebrows, only staring at Ning Lu: "Me?"
"I can barely take care of myself, let alone others."
His voice was steady, each word as cold as ice, and he turned and flicked his sleeve.
The crowd behind him gasped, and some elderly men even clasped their hands in a gesture of respect and knelt down.
Seeing this, Ning Lu took two steps forward and reached out to grasp his wrist.
His wrists and eyes were equally cold and terrifying, and she timidly withdrew her hand. However, the old man and the farmer she had brought behind her were staring intently at her, and Ning Lu inexplicably felt a sense of mission.
She gritted her teeth and sat down beside him, forcing herself to speak: "Ji Amin, the people want you to help them write a letter. The government is collecting grain from everyone. Although this year is a bumper year, there is too much grain to pay. The surplus grain from the three villages combined is not enough to pay."
"You seem to have forgotten our situation."
He didn't care about any of this. He turned to the side and tried to pull his hand back, but she held on tightly.
Ning Lu's hands were separated from his wrists by only a layer of fabric, and a few drops of warmth seeped into his skin.
There were no lights in the room, and Ji Ming stared at her intently through the dim light.
Those blurry features were furrowed together, their lips pressed tightly together, resolute and stubborn, causing his breathing to quicken for no reason.
"Miss Ning."
He spoke in a deep voice, gritting his teeth.
Anyone who heard it would get goosebumps.
Having known each other for so long, Ning Lu naturally knew that he was cold-hearted and didn't like to meddle in other people's business.
It was her; she couldn't bear to see the elderly and children in tears and helplessness. She had only come to collect the letter, but seeing everyone with teary eyes and sighing, she acted on her own initiative.
"Ji Amin. Please." She shook him gently, trying to coax him: "It's my fault, I didn't ask you. But they said that the literate people in the village either went to take the exam or went to the city, and no one can help them. It's really pitiful."
Pitiful?
Her voice trailed off very low, even softer than usual.
Ji Ming chuckled, slightly raising his eyelashes as he glanced once more at the group of rough-skinned, dark-skinned villagers outside the door, his gaze finally settling on Da Cheng and Yu Niang.
"them?"
Ning Lu turned around following his gaze, her heart skipped a beat, and she loosened her grip on his sleeve.
Seeing her waver, he withdrew his hand with satisfaction, leaned down and whispered in her ear, his words full of seduction and mockery.
“Writing takes a toll on my energy and can worsen my injuries.” He paused. “What if I deplete my vital energy and need more medicine…?”
As soon as he finished speaking, as if to prove his weakness, he leaned against the table and coughed softly, covering his mouth.
Almost simultaneously, Ning Lu answered without hesitation, "You don't need to worry about that. I'm here, I'll take care of you until you're fully recovered."
My heartbeat became louder and faster.
“But if you can’t help because of health reasons, then… I can talk to them about it.”
In the dim light, Ji Mingfeng narrowed his eyes, his shadow close to Ning Lu's eyebrows and eyes, his eyelashes trembling gently as her lips opened and closed.
"say what?"
A ghostly, light breath came, and Ning Lu shamelessly held her breath and swallowed silently.
“Um… I can vaguely recognize a few characters, I…”
A short, sharp breath of air, accompanied by a barely audible chuckle, brushed across her cheek.
The bitter scent of medicine wafted to her nose, and she realized how close they were, instantly blushing.
Seeing her unease, the man's expression softened, and he leaned back, changing the subject: "Why me?"
"None of the scholars in the village are here... Nobody knows how to write those kinds of documents."
She tried to help, but it turned out that the original owner's muscle memory was all in physical strength, and she couldn't do calligraphy at all.
And then there's that convoluted, formulaic writing style...
Ji Ming's fingertips landed on the table with a 'tap,' cutting off her high-sounding reason.
Ning Lu fell silent, then revealed the most fundamental reason: "I believe you can save them."
Although he was mean-spirited, childish, spoiled, and cunning, she still inexplicably felt that he was a good person.
Another extremely soft, cold laugh rang out, accompanied by the rustling of clothes, and the kerosene lamp on the table suddenly lit up.
Ning Lu then saw the undisguised cold mockery on his face.
Regardless, light is hope, and she didn't want to give up, so she shook his sleeve again.
"You're willing, aren't you?"
Hearing no arrogant refusal, Ning Lu smiled sweetly and rushed out like the wind, helping the village chief and the others inside. Finally, she didn't forget to arrange for the others to fetch writing materials.
The small area illuminated by the oil lamp was surrounded by people in layers.
Ji Ming sat in the middle of the crowd, dressed in coarse linen clothes with a dark blue robe draped over his shoulders, exuding an air of refined elegance and aloofness.
The village elder sat directly opposite Ji Ming, hesitated for a long time, and then slowly spoke.
“Young Master Ji, our villages are truly desperate. We have come to ask for your calligraphy for help in order to find a way to survive.”
"Although our villages had a good harvest this year, the repeated demands for grain delivery have left us with very little food."
"Yes, in previous years we could sell grain to exchange for salt, but now every household can't even afford salt," the middle-aged man sitting on the right replied in a rough voice.
"If we can't even get salt, it's good enough if we can save our lives. But this month, the grain requisition has doubled. If we can't pay it, we'll have to drag the men in our families out to work as laborers."
"Changzhou is a remote and difficult place, and it's hard labor. Who knows when we'll be able to return?"
It was unclear which woman spoke first, but the women around her echoed her words.
The room was filled with sighs and groans, descending into chaos, and Ji Ming's complexion worsened.
Ning Lu, carrying the inkstone and Xuan paper given to her by her neighbor, squeezed into the crowd and stood next to him.
“We know that the grain that is due must be paid, and we are not asking for any leniency. We just want a one-month grace period so that everyone has time to think of a solution.” The village elder took out a frayed handkerchief to wipe away his sweat and looked tremblingly at Ji Ming.
The person listened quietly without reacting.
When the other person mentioned Kuanjung, my eyelids twitched.
He glanced at Ning Lu very quickly, then twisted the Xuan paper in front of him with his fingertips.
Where should the letter be sent?
When Ji Ming spoke, everyone looked at each other, seemingly having never considered this question before.
The long-bearded old man sitting to Ji Ming's left, who hadn't said a word the entire time, shook his head and sighed: "Pingcheng doesn't care, saying it's an order from Changzhou. Our relatives from Changzhou say it's an order from above..."
"The imperial court levies are all based on fixed quotas. What are the additional levies under?"
Ji Ming remained silent for a while before asking another question.
They remained speechless, and the room erupted in uproar.
Ji Ming's expression changed slightly as he looked at Ning Lu, who looked completely innocent and bewildered.
"They say it's a rule set by Changzhou itself."
The man sitting on the threshold with his hands in his pockets spoke up, and Ning Lu tugged at Ji Ming's sleeve: "It's the gossip he brought back from Changzhou."
"What rules?"
"How would we know? Everyone says the emperor is kind and generous, but who knows if he's really kind or just pretending? Since he ascended the throne, the taxes we have to pay have been increasing."
"And that high-ranking official surnamed Xie said he was going to Changzhou for inspection. The governor of Changzhou had already started conscripting able-bodied men to repair the place and put on a show."
Ji Ming was surprised by this answer, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.
After a moment of contemplation, he smoothed out the Xuan paper, raised his hand, and dipped the brush in ink.
The pen tip hovered in mid-air. He tilted his head to look at the empty inkstone, then at Ning Lu, who was standing to the side lost in thought.
She then realized what was happening and hurriedly poured water and ground ink.
Seeing her fall into chaos again, Ji Ming's cold expression cracked, and he raised an eyebrow to look back at the village chief and inquire about the details.
This place is Pingcheng County under the jurisdiction of Changzhou. The three villages of Zhujia'ao, Liujia'ao, and Baishui are located around Siyun Mountain.
According to the people, the emperor was far away, and many petitions were sent from Changzhou for approval, then relayed to Pingcheng, creating a chain of layers of bureaucracy. By the time the imperial edicts reached this remote region, they had completely changed their meaning.
Once the inkstone was filled with ink, Ji Ming's expression was already solemn as he began to twirl the brush.
After inquiring about the village chief's and the villagers' wishes, he picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote: "Petition for a Reduction in Grain Tax."
Ning Lu slowly pushed the millstone with the narrow ink stick, leaning closer. She originally intended to read it word by word, but was so amazed by the beautiful handwriting that she was speechless.
The black ink on white paper flows smoothly and naturally, with each word and phrase appearing at first glance as restrained and polite, but upon closer inspection, one can discern the sharpness and strength in the strokes.
His gaze was fixed upwards, and in the flickering candlelight, he held his pen steadily, his demeanor composed, as if he were approving an official document rather than submitting a petition.
The document, consisting of a hundred characters, flows smoothly like clouds and water.
As he finished writing, the man's breathing quickened and sweat beaded on his temples.
"Cough cough..."
After coughing, Ji Ming pushed the Xuan paper under the lamp, revealing the writing on it to everyone. He then turned to look at Ning Lu.
The latter immediately concealed the worry in his eyes, picked up the paper, and read it aloud word by word.
With just a few words, he vividly depicted the plight of the people amidst a bountiful harvest, with the old and young crying out in hunger. His pen strokes were abrupt and deliberate, yet it also revealed the helplessness of the people who dared not neglect their duties and made their humble pleas.
Upon reading to the very end of the document, he wrote a letter expressing his gratitude to Heaven.
The "speech" radical in the character "谢" (xiè, meaning thank you) was abruptly cut off, jarring and striking. It was quite different from other characters that concealed their sharpness. Ning Lu couldn't help but take a few more glances before putting it back on the table.
Several village chiefs, their hands trembling, accepted the document, and everyone gathered around in amazement. They were illiterate, and the most common documents they had seen were notices posted by government offices. Looking at it this way, they exclaimed that the handwriting was neat and beautiful, even better than that of the officials in Pingcheng.
The room was full of farmers, all of them dark-skinned, burly, and rough men, who held the document as if cradling a newborn baby.
One by one, they exclaimed in amazement and expressed their gratitude, as if they had seen a way out, thanking them repeatedly.
It was a woman from one of the families who noticed Ji Ming's fatigue and suggested that they take their leave. One by one, the others bowed and said goodbye.
The people inside the house gradually dispersed, leaving only a few village chiefs.
"We will never forget your great kindness, young master."
Ji Ming's fingertips, hidden in his sleeves, trembled slightly, and his eyes dimmed.
"Since ancient times, the common people have not sued the officials. If this letter is submitted, do you know the consequences?"
His voice was low and his words were slow, like cold water being poured over their heads. The three village chiefs looked at each other, their cloudy eyes filled with mixed emotions.
It was the village elder who spoke first: "To be honest, young master, this petition is the last hope for our villages. We have to try anything to survive."
At this point, the village chiefs, not content with simply bowing and clasping their hands, helped each other to kneel and bend over.
Standing next to Ji Ming, Ning Lu had never seen such a scene before and instinctively reached out to help him.
With three people and six hands, she was at a loss and turned to look for Ji Ming's help, only to see him sitting calmly with an expression full of indifference and weariness.
He silently cursed the remnants of feudalism in his heart, then quickly knelt down and helped the old people up one by one.
After everyone left, the room returned to silence.
Ji Ming closed his eyes wearily, pressed his brow, and before he could exhale, he leaned down against the table.
As I took my breath, the scenery before my eyes became increasingly blurry.
The incessant clamor and complaints from just now still lingered in his ears. Those voices and appearances he had never heard or seen before flashed by in a revolving lantern, intertwining and overlapping with the political discussions in the court.
My heart pounded restlessly in my chest, triggering another violent cough.
His shoulders slumped, and the shaky outer robe was pulled back onto his body.
I opened my eyes to smell the medicine and saw a bowl of heated herbal soup placed beside me.
"You must be exhausted."
When Ning Lu returned from seeing off the guests, she saw that he looked tired and heavy, and noticed that the medicine bowl by the bed had not been touched. Ning Lu felt even more guilty.
"Would you like something to eat? I'll go buy it for you. Or, shall I help you to bed for a while?"
Ji Ming did not answer her question, but instead asked about something else.
"Was writing the petition your idea?"
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