Year 1627 AD. Tianqi Era, Year 7.
Chengcheng County, Shaanxi Province.
Inside the County Yamen, Magistrate Zhang Yaocai sat behind his massive desk, flipping through ledgers with a scowl that could curdle milk.
The pages were thin, but the debt recorded on them was heavy.
"The unpaid grain taxes from the villages," Zhang Yaocai muttered, tossing a ledger aside. "Still nothing? The prefecture is pressing hard for the tribute grain. They want results, not excuses."
His Private Advisor, Shan Shi'er, stepped forward with a practiced, obsequious smile. He adjusted his sleeves, preparing for his signature move.
"Your Excellency," Shan Shi'er began, bowing low, his voice dripping with theatrical concern, "Shaanxi suffers a catastrophic drought. A thousand miles of scorched earth. The people are starving. They literally have no grain to give. No matter how hard we press, there is nothing to extract. This situation is truly... helpless against fate."
He emphasized the four characters slowly, gesturing grandly as if unveiling a tragic masterpiece.
Zhang Yaocai did not even look up. He knew this quirk well enough to ignore it. "No grain? Do not lie to me. Those peasants always have hidden stashes. They are just refusing to pay out of greed."
"But Your Excellency... the drought..." Shan Shi'er ventured cautiously, wringing his hands.
"Drought two years ago? We collected. Drought last year? We collected. Why is it suddenly impossible this year?" Zhang Yaocai slammed his hand on the desk.
Shan Shi'er swallowed nervously, then launched into his explanation with renewed vigor. "In the first year of drought, families had reserves. In the second, they sold pots and pans, pawned heirlooms, scraping together enough silver to buy tribute grain. But in the third consecutive year... people begin to die. Where is the money? Where is the grain? To continue pressing them now would be... three strikes and you are out."
"Are you defending these wretches? How much silver did they slip into your sleeve to spout such crooked nonsense in front of me?"
Shan Shi'er jumped back, terrified, clutching his chest. "Reporting to Your Excellency! I took no bribes! They are too poor to bribe anyone! I simply felt compelled by conscience to speak the truth. This is what they call... a conscience awakening."
"Hmph." Zhang Yaocai dismissed him with a wave of his hand, rolling his eyes. He turned to the group of officers standing rigidly nearby.
"You. Assemble squads. Go to Gaojia Village, Wangjia Village, Zhengjia Village. These places paid the least this quarter. Split up and visit each one."
His voice dropped to a cold, lethal register.
"These wretches love to cry poverty. They hoard grain at home like rats, yet stubbornly refuse to pay what they owe. When you encounter such scum, be ruthless. Beat them until they cough up the coin or grain, or beat them half to death."
The officers roared in unison, "YES SIR!"
Shan Shi'er, horrified, threw himself at Zhang Yaocai's legs, grabbing onto his robe. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up with desperate sincerity. "Your Excellency! You must not! The people are already broken! If you push them further, you will turn loyal subjects into rebels! This is what they call... officials forcing the people to rebel!"
"FUCK YOU, GET OFF ME!"
Zhang Yaocai kicked Shan Shi'er squarely in the groin.
Zhang Yaocai kicked Shan Shi'er squarely in the groin.
The advisor collapsed to the floor, curling into a fetal position, clutching himself and wheezing in agony.
Yet, even in pain, his mind drifted to the appropriate idiom. "Ah... heart-piercing pain..."
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in shades of ochre and dust.
Gao Yiye dragged her exhausted body back toward Gaojia Village. Her bamboo basket contained the day's meager harvest: strips of tree bark, bitter roots, and a few wilted wild greens.
Combined with the leftover boiled egg from yesterday's divine intervention, she calculated that tomorrow, she might actually survive without fainting.
The thought made her steps slightly lighter.
Other villagers were returning too, baskets swinging emptily at their sides. Seeing Yiye, several waved, shouting words of gratitude for the giant egg she had shared. She smiled weakly, acknowledging them one by one.
She reached her humble hut and slid the wooden bolt back.
The door swung open.
And then the world collapsed.
It was not a trickle. It was an avalanche of geological proportions.
A mountain of gleaming, translucent white pillars crashed outward, burying the doorway instantly. Gao Yiye barely had time to react.
She stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet, as the tide of white overwhelmed her. She sank waist-deep into the pile before coming to a halt, pinned against the earthen wall of her courtyard.
She blinked, dazed.
Rice.
But not normal rice.
Each grain was a monolithic cylinder, nearly half a meter long and thick as a human torso. One single grain weighed close to fifty kilograms. To her, it looked like a quarry of polished marble blocks spilled from the heavens. Moving one required the strength of ten men. Being buried under hundreds was a death sentence.
Above her, through the gaps in the clouds, she saw a face. A young man's face, smiling mischievously.
Then he vanished.
Understanding hit her like a thunderbolt.
Tianzun had played a prank on her. He had filled her house with these divine grains, waiting for her to open the door so he could watch her get buried.
For a moment, lying amidst the abundance, laughter bubbled up from her chest. Years of hunger. Years of dreaming about the smell of steamed rice. Now she was literally swimming in it. Even the grief for her mother seemed distant, drowned out by the sheer surreal joy of survival.
But the joy was short-lived. The pressure was immense. She could not move her arms. She could not breathe easily under the weight of the shifting grains.
"HELP!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "HELP ME! Grandpa! Brother Chuwu! Neighbors! Help me!"
Voices erupted from the village lanes.
"What the hell!"
"This is Divine Rice!"
"My god, look at the size of those grains!" Gao Chuwu, strong and agile, sprinted over.
He dug frantically, pushing aside the massive cylinders, which moved sluggishly due to their weight, to free Yiye's trapped limbs.
Moments later, the Village Chief arrived, followed by all forty-two residents of Gaojia Village.
They stood frozen for half a heartbeat. Then the village exploded.
"HEAVEN'S BLOOD!"
"RICE?! THAT'S RICE!"
"What the hell is..."
"Don't touch it! Don't touch it!"
An old woman collapsed to her knees, kowtowing frantically toward the sky. A child burst into wails. A young man stumbled backward into someone, nearly knocking them both over.
"That thing is bigger than my leg," someone whispered, voice cracking. "One grain. Just one."
Nobody dared step closer. Forty-two starving souls stood before enough food to last them months, and not a single one knew what to do.
Finally, the Village Chief cleared his throat. His hands would not stop shaking.
"This... Yiye, this is from Tianzun too, isn't it?"
Yiye nodded, still trying to brush dust off her clothes. Her hands were trembling as well, but a small, incredulous smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"You're right, Grandpa. This is from Tianzun. He filled my whole house. Just to watch me get buried when I opened the door."
The Chief stared at her for a moment. Then he let out a long, weary breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
"If only He would play jokes like this on us every single day."
Gao Chuwu, still running on adrenaline, reached down and grabbed the nearest grain without thinking.
"Hey, Grandpa, how are we splitting this? Ten each? That's enough for..."
"STOP!"
The Chief's voice cracked like a whip. He lunged forward and slapped Chuwu's hand away so hard it stung.
"Put it down, Chuwu! Right now!"
The Chief's face had gone pale.
"Are you insane? We don't even know if this is meant for Yiye or for all of us. If it's hers, and you take it..." He swallowed hard. "You saw what happened to those bandits. You want to end up like that? Smacked flat?"
Chuwu went rigid. His hand hovered over the grain for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled it back, his palms slick with sweat.
The Chief turned to Yiye, lowering his voice to a respectful whisper. "Yiye, child. Since Tianzun speaks only to you, we beg you. Ask Him... may we share in this grace? Just a little?"
Before Yiye could answer, a harsh voice echoed from the village entrance.
"Gaojia Village! You peasant scum! Get out here! All of you! You think hiding in your holes will make the taxes go away? Get out, or we drag you out ourselves!"
The mood shattered.
Villagers froze mid-step. Mothers yanked their children behind them. Someone stifled a cry. An old man's knees gave out and he sank to the ground.
Gao Chuwu's face went white. "Bailiffs," he breathed. "The county bailiffs."
The Village Chief moved before anyone else could react.
"Yiye! Chuwu! You and the young ones, grab the rice! Get it inside! Now!"
He was already striding toward the gate, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he passed them.
"Not a grain. Not one grain visible. If they see this, they'll say we've been hoarding. They'll burn the village down with us inside it. Move!"
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Historical note: Zhang Yaocai was a real historical figure. Records state that during the Tianqi era, Shaanxi suffered great drought, and Chengcheng Magistrate Zhang Yaocai pressed tax collection with extreme cruelty, causing the people to suffer unbearably.