Killing Monks

Thirty mu of land is not enough for two households to cultivate.

The old monk at the small Buddhist temple offered to give away thirty acres of land and two households, which sounded nice, but it was actually a veiled threat.

Either Guangyuan has to pay for the land himself, or he has to find a way to lower the rent, otherwise these two families will starve to death sooner or later.

That old monk was putting a difficult problem on him.

Guangyuan wasn't angry; he simply nodded and continued asking.

This question revealed even more information.

Wu Laosan's ancestors were monks of the small Buddhist temple, and they had farmed the temple's fields for generations. This continued into his generation.

He spoke of it in a calm tone, as if it were something perfectly natural.

Ma Youcai, however, is different.

He used to own land.

Although it was just a few acres of meager land passed down from his ancestors, it was still his own. Later, he donated the land to a small Buddhist temple, and that's how he became a monk's household.

"Why is that?" Guangyuan asked.

He really didn't understand.

Where would someone not be a free person but instead become a tenant farmer?

Upon hearing this, Ma Youcai gave a wry smile.

"Your Excellency is unaware of this," he explained, "it's because of... the constables."

"A constable?"

"Yes." Ma Youcai nodded. "Our Northern Zhou's corvée labor is divided into several types. The lightest are the odd jobs like repairing city walls and roads, but even those are quite a lot to bear."

"After working for a few months, the family's savings are all gone. Selling children happens every year."

He was more knowledgeable than Wu Laosan and said:

"Even more ruthless than the menial laborers are those who relentlessly demand taxes and grain."

"It looks like a good job, but if the taxes can't be collected, you have to pay them out of your own pocket. If you can't pay them, the officials will come and take you away."

"But none of that matters. What's truly deadly is the yamen runner."

"Yaqian means working in the county government, but don't be fooled by the fact that it's a county government job. In reality, it's all high-risk work like escorting official goods and managing warehouses."

"If something goes wrong on the way, and the things in the warehouse are lost or damaged, we will have to go bankrupt to pay for it."

He continued, "In my village, a few years ago someone was assigned the job of escorting government goods."

"The cargo was a boatload of timber, destined for the prefectural city. But a strong wind caught them on the way, the boat capsized, and the entire load of timber sank."

"How can we possibly compensate for that shipload of official goods?"

"That family sold everything they owned—their house, the land, even their daughter—but it still wasn't enough. In the end, the man hanged himself in his house with a rope."

"There aren't many people left in the village. I was afraid that one day it would be my family's turn, so... I donated the land to the small Buddhist temple."

"Although the rent is a bit higher, I don't live in fear that one day I'll be caught in the crossfire and my family will be ruined."

Guangyuan remained silent for a long time.

He recalled a saying he had read in his previous life: "Tyrannical government is more ferocious than a tiger."

Now he has seen it with his own eyes.

These people don't lack the desire to peacefully cultivate their land. They dream of it.

But they can't.

Just as Guangyuan was about to speak, Wu Laosan suddenly took a step forward.

He glanced at Ma Youcai, then at Guangyuan, and rubbed his hands together, saying, "Buddha... if Prajna Temple doesn't have that kind of land, we won't be picky."

He paused, carefully considering his words.

"If there are other businesses in the temple, we can do them too, and we will certainly not make things difficult for the Buddha."

Ma Youcai quickly nodded in agreement.

Guangyuan looked at them.

Although the two said they weren't picky, they couldn't hide the unease in their eyes.

They were afraid that the abbot would think they were useless because they were numerous and would kick them out.

"What kind of business?" Guangyuan asked.

When Wu Laosan saw Guangyuan respond, his eyes lit up, and he quickly said:

"Does the temple of the Buddha have businesses such as sesame oil production, weaving, dyeing, honey production, and fried dough twists?"

What he described are common "side jobs" in temples.

I met Guangyuan on the road.

Some temples set up stone mills in their backyards to press their own oil. Some temples keep bees and make honey. Still others have weaving workshops to dye cloth.

These items are not openly sold. They are given as "return gifts" to the most important worshippers and benefactors.

But everyone knows that this "return gift" must be reciprocated.

If you give him a bottle of oil, he'll have to donate more money for incense next time he comes.

In the end, they made more money than selling openly.

During the off-season, the tenant farmers would go to the temple to help with these tasks: pressing oil, weaving cloth, beekeeping, frying fruit—they did everything.

These jobs, though unpaid, can be considered a form of "service".

Guangyuan looked at them and sensed the panic in their words. They were afraid he wouldn't take them in, afraid he would dislike their large numbers and drive them out of the temple, and afraid they wouldn't have enough land to cultivate and would go hungry.

He smiled slightly.

"You don't need to worry."

"I don't need 50% rent here. I only need..."

He paused.

He had meant to say "I don't want to rent it," but he swallowed the words back.

These two people have been through half their lives, seen too much, and suffered too many losses.

If he said he didn't want the rent, they wouldn't be grateful; instead, they would become suspicious. How could there be such a good thing? Did this Buddha have some other scheme?

This has caused me unnecessary worry.

So he said, "...half a percent."

There's only so much food in the field. If he takes less, they can take more.

It's that simple.

"What?"

Wu Laosan was stunned.

Ma Youcai was also stunned.

The two looked at each other, their expressions as if they had misheard something.

Half a percent?

Where in the world is there a temple that only charges half a percent of the rent?

Wu Laosan stammered, "Then... what would you like to eat, Master?"

Ma Youcai also snapped out of his daze and quickly nodded in agreement, "Yes, yes, what are you going to eat? You can't just starve, can you?"

Looking at their shocked, frightened, and incredulous expressions, Guangyuan suddenly felt a pang of unease.

He said, "I have my own way. I won't starve."

He paused, then added, "These thirty acres of land will each be divided into fifteen acres between your two families. From now on, it will be yours, and you must not dispute it."

Wu Laosan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't get the words out.

Ma Youcai suddenly spoke up.

"But..." He rubbed his hands, a strange conflict on his face, "But the monk at the small Buddhist temple said that what we cultivate is Buddhist land."

"Buddha fields are offerings to the Three Jewels (Buddha, Sangha, and Dharma). Planting them accumulates merit and can bring blessings in the next life."

Old Wu quickly chimed in, "The abbot of the small Buddhist temple also said that if you don't pay rent, you'll owe a debt to the Buddha. Not only will you suffer in this life, but you'll also have to be reborn as a cow or a horse to repay it in the next life. It's not worth it!"

He then said, "Buddha, have we offended you? You ask us to cultivate good karma but don't charge us rent. Doesn't that mean we owe the Buddha a debt? What will happen to us in the next life?"

Guangyuan looked at them.

Looking at their serious faces, and seeing the genuine fear and worry in their eyes.

Suddenly, he smiled.

People can actually laugh when they're really angry.

He waived their rent, but they kept demanding payment.