The year was 1627. The seventh year of the reign of the Tianqi Emperor.
In Chengcheng County, within Shaanxi Province, the earth had already forgotten what green looked like.
Inside the county yamen, Magistrate Zhang Yaocai sat in the main hall, flipping through account books with a face sour enough to curdle milk. The ledgers had been handed to him by San Shier, and every page he turned made his brows knit tighter.
"The grain taxes from the villages," Zhang Yaocai said coldly, "still not collected? The superiors are pressing hard."
San Shier immediately plastered on a fawning smile.
"Your Excellency, the Magistrate," he said, bowing repeatedly, "Shaanxi is in the grip of a severe drought. A thousand li of barren land. The common people can barely keep themselves alive. They truly have no grain left. No matter how we press, there is nothing to collect. This, it is called… utter helplessness."
He exaggerated the idiom so dramatically that he almost looked like a street performer delivering a punchline.
Zhang Yaocai did not even blink.
San Shier always liked to tack some strange summarizing idiom onto the end of his sentences. The magistrate had long since grown numb to it.
"No grain?" Zhang Yaocai snorted. "Those wretches are hoarding it. They've hidden it away and pretend poverty so they can evade taxes."
San Shier's smile stiffened. "But… the drought…"
"It was a drought the year before last," Zhang Yaocai snapped. "And last year too. Yet we collected grain both years. Why is it that this year, suddenly, we cannot collect anything?"
San Shier swallowed and forced himself to answer.
"The first year of drought, they still had reserves. The second year, they smashed pots, sold iron, pawned heirlooms, scraped together enough to survive and pay. But the third consecutive year… that is when people begin to die. Where would they find money or grain now? This, it is called… never more than three strikes."
Zhang Yaocai's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What is this? You're speaking up for them now? How much silver have they given you to whisper this nonsense?"
San Shier nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Reporting to Your Excellency, I have taken no bribes! They are barely alive. Where would they find money to bribe me? I only… I only felt compelled to speak for them. This, it is called… a pang of conscience."
Zhang Yaocai snorted in disgust and ignored him entirely.
He turned toward the bailiffs standing nearby.
"You lot. Organize teams and go press for taxes. Let me see… Gao Family Village, Wangjia Village, Zhengjia Village. These villages paid the least this year. Split into squads and visit each one."
His tone turned icy.
"These wretches love to feign poverty. They hide grain but refuse to pay. If you encounter such people, be ruthless. Beat them until they learn."
The bailiffs roared in unison.
San Shier, horrified, threw himself at Zhang Yaocai's legs.
"Your Excellency, you must not! The common folk are already suffering. If you press them further, I fear you will force loyal citizens into rebellion. This, it is called… oppression breeds rebellion!"
"Get out!"
Zhang Yaocai kicked him hard in the crotch.
San Shier crumpled to the floor, clutching himself, curling like a shrimp.
This was no fictional villain. Zhang Yaocai truly existed. During the Tianqi era, Shaanxi suffered devastating drought. Historical records would later remember him for brutal tax collection that pushed suffering people closer to the edge.
And now, his bailiffs were on the move.
The sun sank. The world turned the color of dust.
Gao Yiye dragged her exhausted body back toward Gao Family Village. Her bamboo basket held the pitiful harvest of the day: bark, roots, and a few wild greens.
Combined with the leftover boiled egg from Tianzun's blessing, tomorrow she would not go hungry.
That thought alone made her steps slightly lighter.
Other villagers returned as well, each carrying baskets of similar misery. When they saw Gao Yiye, they waved, calling out thanks for the great egg she had shared earlier.
She smiled and responded one by one.
Then she reached her house and slid back the bolt.
The door swung open.
A muffled crash erupted.
A mountain of gleaming white Divine Rice poured out like a waterfall.
Gao Yiye barely managed half a step backward before she was knocked flat and buried beneath it, leaving only her head sticking out.
She blinked.
Divine Rice.
Grains as large as eggs.
Thirty or forty grains would weigh a full catty.
Her mind froze.
Then, faintly, she saw it.
In the sky above her, the face of Tianzun appeared, smiling.
In the next instant, he vanished into the clouds.
Understanding dawned.
Tianzun had played a small trick on her. He had filled her house with rice and waited for her to open the door, just to see her startled.
For a moment, she lay buried in unimaginable abundance.
Years of drought.
Years of hunger.
Dreams of white rice that never came.
Now she was submerged in it.
She began to laugh.
Even the grief of her mother's passing seemed, for that brief moment, pushed aside.
But rice pressed against her from every direction. She could not move.
"Grandpa Village Chief!" she shouted. "Brother Chuwu! Neighbors! Please come help me!"
The villagers rushed over.
Gasps rose in waves.
"Divine Rice!"
"Such enormous grains!"
Gao Chuwu, strong and quick, leapt forward. He dug frantically through the rice and pulled Gao Yiye free.
The Village Chief arrived soon after. Before long, all forty-two villagers stood outside her house again.
They stared at the egg-sized rice.
No one spoke.
Finally, the Village Chief cleared his throat.
"This… must also be a blessing from Tianzun, wouldn't you say?"
Gao Yiye nodded. "He played a little joke on me. He filled my house and waited for me to be buried when I opened the door."
The Village Chief sighed deeply. "If only he would play such jokes every day."
Gao Chuwu scratched his head, chuckling foolishly. He picked up two grains and rolled them between his fingers.
"How should we divide it? Fifty grains per family?"
"Stop!"
The Village Chief's voice cracked like a whip.
"Put them back. We do not know if this rice is meant only for Yiye or for all of us. If it is solely hers, and you anger Tianzun by taking it, do you wish to end like those bandits? Flattened into bloody paste?"
Gao Chuwu froze. The grains slipped from his fingers.
The Village Chief turned gently to Gao Yiye.
"You are a good child. Since Tianzun appears only before you, we can only ask you to speak with him. Please ask him whether… we may also share in this Divine Rice."
He had not finished speaking when a harsh voice rang from the village entrance.
"You lowlifes of Gao Family Village! Come out! Stop hiding like corpses! When will you pay the taxes you owe the imperial court?"
Every face went pale.
Even the children clamped their hands over their mouths.
Gao Chuwu whispered, "This is bad. The county bailiffs."
The Village Chief reacted instantly.
"Yiye. Chuwu. All you young ones. Quickly. Move the Divine Rice back into her house. Close the door tightly."
His voice dropped low and urgent.
"I will go meet the bailiffs. Remember. Under no circumstances must they see the Divine Rice."
Because in a drought-stricken land, white rice was not merely food.
It was evidence.
And evidence could get you beaten.