Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 208: The Aroma of Wine and Meat Behind Vermilion Gates
There wasn’t much to pack, so Zhu Ping’an quickly finished. Since it was still early, he sat at his desk to practice calligraphy while continuing to write The Heaven Sword and Serpent Slayer. The more he had written, the easier it would be to borrow books once he returned home.
Zhu Ping’an treated the writing as calligraphy practice and continued until noon before putting down his brush. Looking outside the window, he saw that it had started snowing again—a vast expanse of pure white drifting through the air.
Perhaps the falling snow stirred his interest, or perhaps passing the provincial examination had finally given him a little leisure. Zhu Ping’an put away his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, donned his rabbit-fur coat, and went downstairs to stroll through snowy Yingtian and find something for lunch.
In the main hall, many scholars were gathered around the newly successful examinee, Zhu Shiming. Two tables were filled with large plates of fish and meat, and beside them, two warming stoves held pots of fragrant wine that exuded an intoxicating aroma.
“Brother Zhu, come and drink with us!” Zhu Shiming, upon seeing Zhu Ping’an descending the stairs, stood up and invited him from afar.
“Two juren at one table—this will make a fine story in the future!” The others also stood and invited him, their attitude toward Zhu Ping’an completely changed after the events of that morning.
After all, a person favored by high-ranking officials was not someone to be taken lightly.
Zhu Ping’an clasped his hands in thanks but politely declined, saying he had other matters to attend to. Then he left the inn and wandered through Yingtian. He had been so focused on preparing for the examinations that he had never properly explored this prosperous city, steeped in the grandeur of the Six Dynasties. With time on his hands today, he decided to take a good look around.
Outside, the streets were blanketed in a layer of silver-white snow. In this snow-laden capital, the restaurants and tea houses lining the streets were packed with customers. The rich aromas of food and wine filled the air, and wealthy patrons could be seen feasting at tables, their laughter echoing through the cold streets. In the more upscale establishments, even dancing courtesans could be spotted performing for the guests.
After strolling along the banks of the Qinhuai River for a while, Zhu Ping’an changed direction and walked down a street he had never explored before.
This street was just as bustling as the areas along the Qinhuai River, if not more so. Compared to the politically sensitive areas near the Confucius Temple, this street had looser regulations, allowing merchants and vendors to conduct business more freely. The atmosphere was livelier, with street hawkers actively engaging with customers and children running around, playing and chasing one another—filling the air with a sense of everyday life.
The lively food stalls were particularly inviting, and Zhu Ping’an decided to buy a serving of guotie (pan-fried dumplings), wrapped in thick paper. He ate as he walked, taking in the snowy scenery of Yingtian.
The dumplings were crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, and full of rich aroma.
Eating hot, freshly fried dumplings in the midst of a snowy day was an especially satisfying experience.
Just as Zhu Ping’an was leisurely strolling and enjoying his food, a loud gulping sound suddenly caught his attention.
He stopped in his tracks and turned toward the sound. At the entrance of a nearby alley, two children—no more than five or six years old—were huddled against the wall, looking at him with timid yet yearning eyes. They wore tattered shoes, too large for their feet, with their toes exposed to the bitter cold. Their clothes were wrinkled and patched with crude stitches.
It was difficult to tell their genders. They were both thin, but their eyes were large and bright, staring intently at the dumplings in Zhu Ping’an’s hands.
The sight stunned Zhu Ping’an.
Since arriving in the Ming Dynasty, he had lived in a poor mountain village, yet most families there could still scrape by. He had spent so much of his time studying for the examinations that he had nearly forgotten such suffering existed.
“Here, take these. Big brother will treat you,” Zhu Ping’an said, squatting down and offering the dumplings to the children.
The two children exchanged nervous glances, hesitant to move.
“I’m not a bad person. Go on, take them,” Zhu Ping’an said gently, smiling reassuringly as he extended the dumplings toward the older-looking child.
In the end, the two children couldn’t resist the temptation of the steaming hot dumplings. The older child cautiously reached out and took them. Realizing that Zhu Ping’an was genuinely giving them food, their big eyes lit up with joy.
“Let’s give them to mother.”
The two children took the potstickers that Zhu Ping’an gave them. After swallowing their saliva a couple more times, they excitedly determined the ownership of the potstickers without any dispute.
“Big brother, come to my house for some water!”
Because of a portion of potstickers, the two children completely categorized Zhu Ping’an as a good person. Overjoyed, they eagerly invited him to their home for water. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if afraid he would refuse.
Following the two children into an alley, Zhu Ping’an found himself in a deep and winding passage, as if it connected two different worlds.
The alley twisted and turned until the children led Zhu Ping’an to another lane. At its entrance hung a weathered sign bearing the three characters “Yangjiyuan”—the Relief Home. Beyond it stood a large cluster of crude, low, narrow dwellings that barely kept out the wind and snow, with filthy, chaotic paths between them.
The children led Zhu Ping’an into a cramped and narrow courtyard. Inside, a thin and sickly woman was washing clothes, her body covered in wind and snow. Her fingers were cracked and swollen from the cold.
“You two are back. Cough, cough… Wait until I finish washing these clothes, then I’ll boil some water for you. When your father comes back tonight, we’ll have something to eat.”
The woman’s voice was weak, clearly suffering from illness.
“Mother, eat this.” The older child eagerly presented the wrapped potstickers like a treasure, holding one up to his mother’s mouth.
“Did you steal this from someone?! Cough, cough, cough…” Instead of being pleased, the woman became furious and began coughing violently.
“No, Mother, this big brother gave it to us,” the child said, feeling wronged.
Only then did the woman notice Zhu Ping’an standing in the courtyard. Warily, she pulled the two children into her arms, took the potstickers from the older child, set them on a wooden board, and hurried the children inside.
“Young master, please take your things and leave. My husband is not home. We do not sell our children, we sell nothing…”
The woman’s weak, sickly voice came from inside the room.
“Mother, big brother is not a bad person,” the two children protested, only to be silenced by their mother.
Zhu Ping’an glanced at himself and suddenly understood—the divide between men and women…
Looking at the tightly shut door, Zhu Ping’an knew it was best to leave. Any more words would be unnecessary, and staying any longer would only make things worse.
After a moment of thought, he took out all the silver coins he carried, placed them beside the potstickers, gave a slight bow, and spoke a single phrase before departing.
“Sorry for the disturbance.”
With that, Zhu Ping’an left the courtyard and continued walking deeper into the alley.
Here, in this alley, Zhu Ping’an personally witnessed the gaping wounds beneath the dazzling exterior of the Ming Empire…
“Behind vermilion gates drifts the aroma of wine and meat; by the roadside lie the bones of those frozen to death.”
For some, the heavy snowfall in Yingtian was not a beautiful sight but a disaster. While wealthy families and officials—himself included—enjoyed feasts and admired the snow, the poor were dying of hunger and cold on the streets. Some couldn’t even afford medical treatment. The contrast was chilling.
As he spoke with an elderly man with graying hair at the alley entrance, Zhu Ping’an came to understand why these people had fallen into such dire straits, despite the Ming Dynasty’s supposedly low taxes. They had no land. Why? Because of land annexation and the burden of forced labor. While agricultural taxes were low, corvée labor was heavy.
For various reasons, these people had lost their land. And for a farmer, no land meant no income. Yet, even without income, one still had to eat. So they began selling off their possessions. Eventually, they became vagrants. When even eating tree bark and leaves could no longer stave off hunger, they were left with no choice but to sell their wives and children…
This winter was particularly harsh for them. They lacked food, warm clothing, and money for medical care…
The young scholar of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Ping’an, walked through the alley with heavy footsteps. He saw the starving refugees barely clinging to life, struggling to survive in these desolate streets. He saw their desperate and helpless eyes.
By the Qinhuai River, the rich drank wine and admired the snow, while in the alleys, the poor froze and starved.
A certain young man walked out of the alley with heavy steps—his gaze resolute.