A Mortal’s Immortal Gourd
Chapter 29: Taxes and Corvée

On Shekou Mountain, over a dozen large geese led more than twenty goslings as they eagerly pecked at vegetable leaves on the ground.

These large geese were twice the size of normal ones and had monstrous appetites.

Perhaps because they’d been fed spirit-infused fodder for so long, their tastes had been spoiled — they wouldn’t touch any ordinary food that lacked spiritual energy.

Ergouzi himself wasn’t this picky. If not for cultivation, he could eat just about anything to fill his belly.

He only pampered the geese because they guarded the home, their meat was edible, and their feathers could be used for clothing and bedding.

He fed them more fodder and poured water into their troughs.

Then he watered all the crops growing on the mountain.

Though he hadn’t opened much new land in the past half year, he’d still cleared some patches between cultivation sessions to plant ginseng.

Now, Shekou Mountain had ten mu of ginseng, three of polygonatum, two of desert cistanche, and one mu of Yaoji Legs.

The first batch of ginseng, polygonatum, and desert cistanche had already been growing for over ten years.

These herbs increased in value with age, so Ergouzi was reluctant to harvest them.

He only used herbs aged four to five years for the enhanced Strength Pills.

As for that one mu of Yaoji Legs — after some cultivation, it turned out to be high-yielding.

Both leaves and roots were edible, especially the thick root, which could grow thicker than an arm and reach over a foot long.

Raw or cooked, it tasted great. Except for a small portion used in pill-making, most of it was fed to the geese.

Besides these 16 mu, in some less suitable areas for farming, he’d planted persimmon and jujube trees back in the first lunar month.

Now, under his care, they had grown dense with leaves and had started bearing fruit for the first time.

After finishing the watering, he looked up — the sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon.

Time to head down the mountain.

It was that time of year again — when tenant farmers paid rent and landlords submitted taxes.

But this year, Ergouzi had become a landlord himself.

The 50 mu of land at the foot of Shekou Mountain was all leased to A’Gui’s family to farm.

In a good year, those 50 mu could yield around 200 shi of grain. With a 50% rent rate, he could collect 100 shi.

However, those 50 mu still required 60 shi in taxes to the authorities, while Shekou Mountain — registered as wasteland — only required 20 shi.

Altogether, he owed 80 shi in taxes.

If he could pass the Martial Xiucai exam, he could be exempt from paying tax on up to 100 mu of farmland. Untouched wasteland didn’t require tax at all.

This was the court’s reward to those with titles, to encourage service to the empire.

“Master, everything’s ready!”

Ergouzi arrived at A’Gui’s home. His family had five or six able-bodied men who had already packed the 100 shi of grain onto wheelbarrows.

They’d also hired over ten strong tenants to help push the carts.

Following Huang Laocai’s example, Ergouzi hosted everyone at A’Gui’s house with a hearty meal — even tossed in a few slices of pork.

The tenants, full and satisfied, pushed the carts with great energy.

A’Gui had been an old tenant under Huang Laocai, so he was experienced in such affairs and handled everything smoothly. Ergouzi didn’t need to worry.

“Master, up ahead is Boss Zhao’s territory. We’d better prepare some silver to grease the wheels.”

Seeing Ergouzi’s youthful face, A’Gui couldn’t help but feel a little emotional.

Just last year, both of them were tenants under Huang Laocai, joking shoulder to shoulder along the way.

Now, Ergouzi had become his landlord.

When Ergouzi heard Boss Zhao’s name, his spirits lifted. He tucked his sword under his clothes and blended into the group of tenants with his head down.

Boss Zhao had gotten smart lately — the moment he saw Ergouzi, he would vanish into the mountains.

“Master, as long as you bring silver, he won’t hurt anyone. He’s more reliable than the officials.”

A’Gui thought Ergouzi was scared and tried to reassure him.

“I know. I’m just afraid he won’t show up.”

A’Gui didn’t understand and assumed he was making excuses.

Not long after, the sound of gongs rang out ahead, and sure enough, Boss Zhao appeared.

“This road was opened by me, this tree was planted by me…”

Before the pork-faced bandit finished his lines, he saw Ergouzi grinning at him with a door-panel-sized sword on his shoulder.

“Boss Zhao, let’s fight!”

“Ow! My stomach! I think I ate something bad…”

Boss Zhao clutched his belly and dashed into the woods. His gang vanished in seconds.

“Don’t run! I promise, I’ll go easy this time!”

Ergouzi stood on the road, sword in hand, waiting.

But Boss Zhao was determined. No matter what sweet words Ergouzi used, he wouldn’t come out for another beating.

That guy was like a wild ox — all brute strength. Every sword clash left him numb from head to toe.

After a few exchanges, he’d be completely drained — sore, aching, and needing help to walk.

If he fought Ergouzi, the whole day would be ruined — no energy left for robbing.

He had so many mouths to feed. Life was hard enough already — no time to wrestle bulls.

From the woods, Boss Zhao watched Ergouzi and his group leave.

To avoid a sneak attack, he waited another half hour before “reopening” for business.

This time, he stopped a much larger convoy. After finishing his speech, he was determined to make up for lost income.

“A Xiucai’s convoy — are you still going to stop us?”

A tenant stepped forward, proudly invoking his master's status.

“Pfft!”

One bandit spat disdainfully.

“What’s a Xiucai worth?”

“Our Boss Zhao was once a Martial Xiucai himself. He just got sick of dealing with those f***ing officials…”

“Cough, cough!”

Boss Zhao quickly coughed to shut him up.

“Anyway, everyone pays to pass this road.”

Seeing the armed bandits refusing to budge, Zhang Youliang had no choice but to come forward and hand over a piece of broken silver.

Although a Martial Xiucai was exempt from tax on 100 mu, he owned far more.

If he were alone, he might fight through, but he had so much grain and so many tenants with him — there was no choice but to pay.

Boss Zhao weighed the silver and shook his head.

“You’ve got this many carts and give me just this? You think I’m a beggar?”

“Don’t push it!”

Zhang Youliang gripped his sword hilt angrily. He was still a Martial Xiucai, yet these bandits showed no respect.

“Listen — Boss Zhao is in a bad mood today. Be smart and pay up.”

In the end, Zhang Youliang reluctantly handed over another piece of silver.

He vowed silently — one day, he’d wipe these bandits off the map. Too arrogant!

Meanwhile, Ergouzi had no idea his presence had caused Zhang Youliang to pay double.

He and the tenants had camped on an empty lot in the county.

The night passed uneventfully. The next day, they were lucky enough to get in line to submit grain.

This time, he was prepared — every dou he filled for the county yamen was heaping.

Even so, he still got whipped.

The bailiff lashed him and everyone he brought.

Then the man kicked the grain container, spilling the contents, then refilled it and kicked it again — three times total.

Only when the full 100 shi of grain had been dumped, with not a grain left, did the bailiff end it with a string of curses.

He should’ve only owed 80 shi, but he had to pay all 100, and still got called a troublemaker.

He wondered, what kind of person counted as a “model citizen” in the eyes of these officials?

After paying taxes, he had to get a receipt from the county office.

In broad daylight, the clerk was dozing at his desk. Ergouzi had to bribe him with a piece of silver to get the stamped document.

Along with the receipt was a corvée draft notice.

Based on his land holdings, he had to send one person for labor service this winter.

The destination: the southwest border — bring your own food and build defensive fortifications — for a full year.

Just paid taxes, and now corvée.

The government drafted people every year. It could be anything — from building dams or marching as laborers during war, to even constructing officials’ homes or digging toilets.

Most of these jobs offered no food — you had to bring your own.

Forget disrupted farming — some jobs had a high death rate. Many didn’t come back, not even their bodies.

Anchan County wasn’t far from the southwest frontier, rumored to be filled with monsters and ghosts. Danger lurked everywhere.

Of every ten people sent there, maybe three came back alive.

Even the survivors were half-dead.

Ergouzi didn’t want to go himself. He’d have to hire someone to take his place.

Many landlords did that — as long as you found someone, the officials didn’t care.

But such dangerous labor cost a fortune — basically the price of a life.

This winter, human prices were bound to skyrocket again.

After the taxes were paid, Ergouzi treated the tenants to a feast.

Thirty people, two dishes — one of pickled veggies, the other of fatty pork stir-fried with dried radish.

All-you-can-eat rice. Some folks scarfed down seven bowls.

The tenants patted their bellies and praised their generous landlord while cursing Zhang Youliang as a stingy jerk who starved his tenants.

After the meal, Ergouzi showed A’Gui the corvée draft notice.

“A’Gui, can you help me find someone to take my place?”

“Southwest corvée, eh? Hard to survive. What price is Master offering?”

“As long as the price is good enough, someone will take the risk — even if it means death.”

A’Gui didn’t seem troubled. He just asked the price.

Ergouzi wasn’t sure what was reasonable, so he asked,

“How much is a life worth nowadays?”

“Depends on age. A healthy young man costs about 20 shi of top-grade rice. Someone over fifty — just 2 shi.

For women, it depends on age and looks — the most expensive don’t exceed 20 shi. The cheap ones — a few dou of grain is enough.

In a famine year, prices drop even more.”

Many tenants had sold their children before. A’Gui knew the market inside and out.

“Alright, I’ll pay 20 shi. Help me find someone.”

For once, Ergouzi was generous, offering the top price.

“You’re really offering 20 shi, Master?”

A’Gui double-checked. Normally, 10 shi was enough to have people fighting over the spot.

“Yes, 20 shi!”

Ergouzi, usually stingy, didn’t try to bargain this time.

“In that case, Master doesn’t need to look further — let me go.”

A’Gui looked at Ergouzi with hopeful eyes, waiting for his answer.

“A’Gui, it’s hard labor — you might die. No need to risk it, right?

Besides, the harvest was good this year. After rent, you should still have 100 shi left.”

Ergouzi looked at A’Gui — they knew each other well. It felt unnecessary for him to take this risk.

“Yeah, but that’s because this year had good weather.

We still owe 8 shi in household tax, 12 in head tax, 10 for firewood permits, and the sunlight tax...

Spring planting next year will need five or six shi for seed.

In the end, with ten-plus mouths to feed, we’ll only have 50 shi left — and the kids eat a lot.

I’m over 40 already. My life’s only worth 10 shi now. Not many years left.

This is a golden chance to sell it for 20 shi. Only a fool would say no.

If I make it back alive, that’s 20 shi for free — haha!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, thinking he’d gotten a great deal.

Ergouzi thought for a moment — if this had been two years ago, he would’ve taken the same gamble.

“Alright.”

“Try your best to come back alive.”