The mountain nights were chilly, and with her monthly courses not yet finished, Minglan slept curled up in a ball. Gu Tingye enveloped her like a great mountain, warming her cold hands and feet all night long. Her chilled body pressed against his furnace-like form, and she soon felt much more comfortable.
That night, the man slept exceedingly well. Recalling how Minglan had flushed crimson under his questioning before bed—like a plump little boiled octopus curling up, yet stubbornly clenching her small white teeth—until she could endure no more and nearly scrambled out the window in embarrassment, he chuckled even in his dreams. Minglan would then smack his chest in annoyance.
Before dawn the next day, Gu Tingye led Xie Ang and a troop of personal guards on horseback to the Western Suburbs Camp.
"If you're busy, don't rush back at night," Minglan mumbled drowsily. "With so many guards here, you needn't worry."
"Understood. Handle any matters as you see fit." Gu Tingye kissed her warm cheek before leaving the estate.
Minglan's expectations proved accurate. With Tu Long's fearsome face on display and two rows of burly, fierce guards and servants flanking him, the managers and stewards of Heishan Village were thoroughly cowed. Minglan sat far behind a screen, issuing instructions directly.
Senior stewards like Ba Laofu, who managed the estate, knew what to say and do when the master came to inspect. He had arrived early with a group of subordinate managers and stewards to pay respects to Minglan, wearing an ingratiating smile and prepared with a wealth of information to report. Yet Minglan asked nothing, only engaging Ba Laofu in casual, meandering conversation.
Ba Laofu and the others were baffled but had to answer each query.
"Madam, they have all arrived," the Wife of Quan Zhu reported meekly, entering with bowed head.
From behind the screen, Minglan's clear voice was genial: "Have them enter in the order listed in the register."
Danju then picked up the roster Ba Laofu had submitted earlier from the table and began reading it slowly. The managers were still confused when Gongsun Meng directed several servants to carry in a half-person-high large basket.
With a clang of metal, it was set heavily on the floor of the hall. Everyone turned to look and nearly jumped in fright—it was filled to the brim with copper coins. In the morning light, the heaps of coins strung on thick red ropes gleamed with an enticing grayish-blue hue, dazzling all who saw them.
Minglan said lightly, "They've worked hard all year. Now that this estate bears the Gu name, and as this is my first visit, I'll give a small reward to make everyone happy."
"Madam, this..." Ba Laofu sensed something amiss.
Before the managers could react, the Wife of Quan Zhu began loudly calling out names. Each tenant farmer who entered received a string of a thousand coins. They were then asked if they had family members over sixty—for each such elder, an additional three hundred coins were given. After the distribution, Danju checked off a sum and a name. The farmers, clutching the heavy strings of coins, left the hall in a daze, their steps unsteady.
The first few tenants entered listlessly or trembling with fear, but after five or six had received their rewards, those waiting outside heard the news. Learning that the master was giving away money for free, the front courtyard erupted like salt in hot oil, buzzing with excitement. The tenants entered beaming and left jubilant, showering blessings and thanks.The estate managers and supervisors exchanged bewildered glances, unable to comprehend Minglan's intentions. Some wore expressions of indignation, while others loudly flattered her charitable act. Yet Ba Laofu’s forehead gradually beaded with sweat. With so many wide-eyed estate managers watching closely, Minglan had no fear that the tenant farmers would dare lie about their elderly family members.
Heishan Estate had sixty-two qing of registered farmland and thirty-three households of tenant farmers on record. Including the elderly from each family, Minglan distributed nearly six to seven thousand coins that morning, emptying almost an entire basket.
A minor incident occurred midway: upon hearing about the distribution, several additional tenant families arrived, claiming to also farm at Heishan Estate—yet their names were absent from the records. Instantly, bean-sized sweat drops rolled down Ba Laofu’s face. Minglan showed no anger, instead smiling as she gave coins to these unregistered families as well. Before Ba Laofu could devise an explanation, she had already ordered Cui Ping and Cui An to take several estate managers and a team of guards to survey the land.
Only then did Ba Laofu grasp Minglan’s true purpose, and his face turned ashen with terror. As he struggled to offer excuses, Minglan languidly waved her hand, dismissing the crowd to rest.
Once inside her chambers, Xiaozhu couldn’t hold back: "So this is why Madam instructed the accountants to prepare so much loose change the other day." She dared not say more, but her face clearly showed regret and distress, her eyes pleadingly conveying her feelings to Minglan.
Xiaotao, however, remained completely unfazed—she always believed Minglan could do no wrong. Danju poured tea and helped Minglan remove her outer robe, softly asking, "Madam, why haven’t you questioned the estate affairs? You haven’t asked the managers anything these past few days."
Minglan replied listlessly, "What they wish to tell me may not be what I want to know. What I want to know, they may not be willing to truthfully disclose."
"How dare they deceive you, Madam!" Danju frowned, her chest heaving with anger, then lowered her voice: "Whatever you wish to know, we can investigate ourselves later."
Minglan took a sip of warm tea, admiring the exquisite famille-rose porcelain cup from the official kiln: "It’s nothing much. I merely wish to know exactly how much land this estate truly has, and exactly how many tenant farmers there are."
Beyond these two matters, other issues—such as falsified accounts and embezzled rent—could be dealt with behind closed doors. Moreover, all contracts for everyone from supervisors to estate managers were in Minglan’s possession, and with no longstanding seniority among them, she could handle them as she saw fit.
Minglan’s coins were not spent in vain.
When the Cui brothers went to survey the land, tenant farmers who had previously hesitated out of fear of the estate managers now became exceptionally cooperative. Some particularly sharp-witted individuals sensed the underlying situation and eagerly guided the survey, divulging both appropriate and inappropriate information. The supervisors and estate managers grew frantic, but under the menacing glares of the Tu family brothers, they could only retreat helplessly.
In just two short days, Cui Ping and Cui An completed the survey of the vast farmland and meticulously recorded soil quality variations. Meanwhile, Gongsun Meng dragged along a literate supervisor to visit every unregistered tenant household.
The faces of the estate managers grew increasingly grim.In recent days, Gu Tingye had only returned for two nights, as the military inspections seemed to be growing busier. Many camps had issues with soldiers drawing pay without serving, and the inspection of the armory department was also problematic. Each time he returned to the estate, he would ask Minglan if she had encountered any difficulties. Not wishing to disturb him, Minglan replied that everything was fine. Exhausted from his relentless hustle day and night, Gu Tingye would basically fall asleep as soon as he lay down.
By the third day, the inventory was completed. The Cui brothers and Ameng submitted their reports, making the situation clear: Heishan Estate had an additional 690 acres of fertile land, along with four or five tenant families. Moreover, "some well-meaning individuals" had reported that several stewards, including Ba Laofu, had acquired their own farmland outside, though registered under relatives' names.
Ba Laofu and the other stewards knelt sweating profusely at Minglan's door, not daring to wipe their brows even once.
Sitting inside, Minglan slowly flipped through the reports and said calmly, "You were originally servants of a disgraced official's household. When the Duke's residence was confiscated, others like you were sold off, but you were bestowed along with the estate. Now that the Duke's residence has been thoroughly seized, you've managed to hide away so much property. Truly, you are loyal servants."
Her tone was mild, but the implication was sharp. Everyone kowtowed repeatedly, pleading earnestly. Ba Laofu, his forehead bruised from kowtowing, looked up and said, "We were blinded by greed, we admit our mistake. We only beg for your ladyship's mercy. We'll immediately sell the outside farms and turn over the money to the estate..."
"Nonsense! Do you think her ladyship covets your paltry sums?!" Danju scolded loudly.
The stewards continued kowtowing. After watching them for a while, Minglan softened her tone: "Enough. You are old retainers of the former Duke's household, and after years of hard work, accumulating some savings isn't entirely unreasonable—"
Hearing her tone ease, some below couldn't help but relax their expressions. However, Minglan's words took a turn: "But concealing estate land and privately hoarding tenants—this violates household rules. If we let it slide, everyone would follow suit, and the Gu family would fall into chaos. This is truly difficult to handle..."
The estate managers stewards waited anxiously for Minglan's decision. Seeing their faces pale and tense, she felt it was enough and said gently, "Let's wait until the master finishes his official duties before discussing this further."
With that, she took all the account books and registers, leaving two stewards brought from the main residence to audit the accounts and several guards to keep watch. Minglan then left Heishan Estate. That evening, the couple reunited at Guyuan Estate. Seeing Gu Tingye still had some energy left, Minglan briefly recounted the events.
"Should we return the extra land to the Emperor?" Minglan's expression was earnest—since childhood, she had always turned in any money she found.
The man's furrowed brow unconsciously relaxed, and he chuckled, "Did the Emperor specify how much land came with the estate when he bestowed it?"
Minglan shook her head.
"We uncovered deceitful servants ourselves—it's not like we seized commoners' farmland. What are you worried about?"
Minglan thought that made sense and focused on drying Gu Tingye's damp hair. Noticing her relaxed demeanor, Gu Tingye looked slightly puzzled: "They deceived you like this, yet you're not very angry?"
"...Indeed, not very angry." Minglan looked up thoughtfully. "Although they embezzled some money and land, they showed restraint and didn't push the tenants to desperation."Over the past few days of thorough investigation, Minglan discovered that most tenant farmers on the estate were living decent lives—no children had been sold, and no one had starved to death. The impression she got from the Black Hill Estate crew was that they weren’t particularly bold but collectively fond of petty theft.
However, precisely because of this, the estate’s servants hadn’t gained a notorious reputation and thus weren’t sold off but were directly transferred to meritorious officials.
Of course, at its core, this was because Minglan didn’t agree with the efficiency of ancient servant systems.
Servants bound by contracts to their masters fared relatively well in domestic service roles, receiving fixed monthly wages and occasional rewards if they earned their masters’ favor. But assigning these servants to manage farmland was a different matter altogether. The failure of collective farming systems proved one thing: humans are driven by self-interest. To achieve long-term, stable productivity, incentive-based rewards and punishments are essential.
Stewards handling large estates and substantial funds could, through hard work, make the lands thrive. Yet, as servants without personal freedom, they couldn’t own property—a clear violation of economic principles and human nature.
The key issue was how much Ba Laofu and his crew had embezzled. If it was within a certain range, it might be forgivable, especially since Black Hill Estate seemed reasonably well-managed these days. Besides...
Minglan sighed. "We’re short on trustworthy people around us. Why not consider if the Marquis Household has any loyal old retainers? If they’re reliable, it wouldn’t hurt to..." She refused to believe the Grand Old Madam could have rooted out everyone—what about those generations-old servants of the Ningyuan Marquis Household? After all, Gu Tingye was the legitimate master.
Gu Tingye remained silent for a long while before nodding slightly and changing the subject. "Black Hill Estate’s reputation is passable. If there are any issues, decide how to handle them and have Hao Dacheng take care of it after we return." He paused, then pointed to the ground. "This estate is different. I’ll leave a squad of guards with you tomorrow."
Minglan paused her movements, tilting her head with a smile. "No need, I have enough hands already."
She was quite satisfied with the deterrent effect the Tu brothers currently provided.
Gu Tingye raised a handsome brow, smiling without reply. She was sharp and perceptive but still lacked some experience.
He pulled Minglan into his arms, flipping her onto the bed and planting a firm kiss on her crimson lips. Through her thin robes, he could feel her smooth, jade-like skin, stirring something within him. His voice grew husky. "Are you fully recovered?" As he spoke, his hand slipped inside her collar.
Minglan melted under his touch, her face flushing red. "...N-Not... not y-yet..."
His roaming grew bolder, flustering her. "You... you change horses three times a day! You’ll be busy tomorrow, so you should... rest properly instead of... you know."
"Little stutterer, why so nervous?" Gu Tingye chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling her into his embrace. "I was just asking. Did your thoughts wander somewhere else?" His dark, teasing eyes feigned innocence.
Minglan: "..."
—She really wanted to scratch him to death!
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[Author’s Note]
I’ve been researching ancient aristocratic estates lately, hence this explanation.First of all, ancient times were an agrarian society (stating the obvious), where working people labored in family units to obtain their means of subsistence. Therefore, tenant farmers' record books would not list everyone's names but only the name of the most important man in the household, while the elderly, women, and children were considered part of the family.
As families expanded upward, they formed clans. This is why we often see villages named after families in ancient times, such as Wang Family Village or Li Family Village, meaning almost the entire village consisted of one clan. Ancient sayings like "no marriage within the same village" or "outsider brides and sons-in-law" originally stemmed from the need to prevent overly close blood ties.
How did ancient villages form? (You can ask Baidu—again, stating the obvious.)
I’ve summarized it as follows: Generally, ancient people had limited manpower, and individual households struggled to withstand the forces of nature, such as digging wells, reclaiming wasteland, hunting, or guarding against bandits.
Thus, groups of people gathered to live together, gradually forming villages. Since mutual trust and reliance were essential, it was natural for them to be as closely related as possible, which is why ancient villages were predominantly composed of relatives.
In ancient China, 70–80% of the land consisted of villages governed through systems like village heads, neighborhood chiefs, or other local institutions. Typically, the county magistrate stayed in the city, assisted by constables and deputies for urban affairs. For other matters, elders, clan leaders, or village heads would relay instructions to the common people.
Therefore, the gentry in the Ming and Qing dynasties wielded significant power. Downward, they owned land and the tenant farmers on it; upward, their families often had members who entered officialdom, giving them a voice in the imperial court.
This semi-autonomous village model was praised by many ancient scholars as an admirable tradition.
However, things weren’t so ideal. Land annexation occurred in almost every dynasty over thousands of years in China, seemingly unavoidable. Whenever a dynasty lasted two to three hundred years, land annexation would reach a critical point, leading to uprisings, rebellions—successful or not—and eventually dynastic change.
This topic is too vast. If I were to elaborate, I could write a thesis titled "On the Evolution of Ancient Land Annexation and the Gradual Progression of Peasant Uprisings, and Their Various Impacts on the Rise and Fall of Dynasties."
Back to the main topic: let’s talk about the manors of wealthy families.
Ancient prominent families, such as those with titles (like the Marquis of Ningyuan) or generations of officials (like the Hai family), possessed vast landholdings. So, how did they manage them?
Especially for wealthy families in the capital, their manors were often located some distance from their homes, making daily inspections impossible. In such cases, they needed assistants—essentially, roles akin to general managers—to manage the manors on their behalf.
In reality, while most servants in ancient times served their masters within the household, there was a portion who enjoyed the deep trust of their masters. They managed the tenant farmers (landless peasants) on the estates, oversaw crop harvesting and rent collection, and then organized and submitted the proceeds to their masters.
(For details, refer to the scene in Dream of the Red Chamber where "Old Cut-Head" presents the annual tribute to Jia Zhen.)There are generally two methods for managing farmland estates. One is when the estate managers are highly capable and loyal, diligently overseeing the crops, purchasing seeds themselves, acquiring farming tools and oxen, deciding which varieties to plant, and then hiring laborers to work the fields. The other method involves dividing the land into plots and leasing them to tenant farmers, only collecting rent at the appropriate times while leaving everything else to the tenants.
The first method only requires paying wages to the laborers, with all harvests collected by the estate. The latter resembles the relationship between Huang Shiren and Xier’s father. The latter situation is more common, while the former serves as a supplementary approach.
Tenant farmers merely rent the land to cultivate and are not servants of the estate, so they are not required to kneel before Minglan. However, this is an idealized notion.
For instance, due to natural disasters or family illnesses, a tenant farmer might suddenly be unable to pay the rent for the year or fall behind on payments. In such cases, the estate manager would have them write an IOU, and as debts accumulate, it’s natural to wonder whether these tenant farmers would fear the manager.
Especially when the estates are owned by powerful families, tenant farmers dare not resist. Over time, although they retain personal freedom, they become half-servants in practice. Many tenant farmers, struggling to survive, are even willing to be taken in as servants by the estate owners.
Because once they become servants of the estate, they are at least guaranteed a meal and shelter, avoiding starvation and exposure to the cold.
Estate owners and managers vary in character—some are good, some are bad. Here, we focus on the latter scenario.
When estate owners neglect management over the long term (such as when the family members are all wastrels, unwilling to study or handle affairs), the estate managers may engage in underhanded practices, such as concealing some land or hiding tenant farmers.
In this way, although the land ostensibly belongs to the XX family, it is actually cultivated for the managers’ own benefit, and the tenant farmers become the private tenants of these managers.
Of course, after years of service, some long-serving servants of wealthy families accumulate savings and secretly acquire property outside the estate. According to ancient laws and customs, this was strictly forbidden, and any discovered property could be confiscated (a lucrative transaction for the estate).
Thus, few servants actually dared to acquire external property unless they had highly reliable relatives outside the estate. Otherwise, they preferred to hoard silver.
For those servants managing the estates, as long as they attained a managerial position, life could be quite comfortable. Although their daily lives might lack the refinement of those in the main residence, they enjoyed the owners’ trust and, in the remote estates far from oversight, could live with considerable freedom.
However, if a servant was not a manager but merely assisted on the estate (chopping wood, cooking, fetching water, or occasionally farming), life was harsh and difficult.
Some maids who committed offenses in the inner courtyard were punished by being sent to the estates. Without the protection of parents or siblings, this was akin to forced labor—a drastic fall from the status of a "deputy young lady" to a farmhand, a truly miserable punishment.
If unlucky enough to have neglectful parents, they might even be hastily married off for profit (like the unfortunate Qingwen).
...
In summary, the lives of tenant farmers were far from pleasant. As one historian once remarked, peasant uprisings over thousands of years were all fought for a piece of land!
The greatest aspiration of ancient farmers was to own their own land—the more, the better. (With everyone thinking this way, how could land consolidation be avoided?)
Well, that concludes the discussion on farmland estates. Below, I will outline the purchasing power of copper coins as set in this text.One tael of gold = ten taels of silver
One tael of silver = one thousand copper coins (one guan, one diao)
One string of coins = ten copper coins
One dan of rice = ten dou of rice
One dou = one hu
During the early Northern Song Dynasty, the price of rice ranged from about 300 to 600 coins per dan. In the mid-period (during Emperor Renzong's reign), it was between 600 and 700 coins, while in the early Southern Song Dynasty, the price was around two guan.
Based on calculations, one dan of rice in ancient times was approximately 59,200 grams, or 59.2 kilograms.
If this is still unclear, let me give a simple example.
Granny Liu said that a single crab feast in the Grand View Garden was equivalent to a year's expenses for her family.
A crab feast cost twenty taels of silver. Granny Liu's family was considered a middle-class household in the village, with their own farmland. Thus, poor farmers had even less, and tenant farmers had even less than that.
The copper coins Minglan bestowed roughly amounted to half or one-third of a tenant farmer's annual income.
Don’t tell me that money couldn’t buy much rice.
Do you really think ancient peasants ate rice every day and all had access to fine wheat flour?! Stop dreaming!
Those were foods reserved for the New Year. On ordinary days, coarse grains were mixed in, and impoverished families facing bad harvests often resorted to digging for wild vegetables or stripping tree bark!
Ancient peasants led harsh lives, enjoying decent conditions only during brief periods of peace and prosperity. By the end of a dynasty, amid war and chaos, it was always the common farmers who suffered the most!
(As a side note, while researching, I came across Ming dynasty story collections like "Three Words and Two Fears" and compared the lives of common people in the Qing dynasty. I’m inclined to say that Ming dynasty folks seemed to have it easier. Well, better go back to checking more sources.)
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