Chapter Three: Gao City

When the work in the wheat fields was nearly finished, Ma Jianguo finally found a moment of leisure.

That day, before dawn broke, Ma Jianguo set off with Ma Yuan.

Huixiang was over twenty li from Gaocheng—not exactly close, but not too far either. The road was rough, riddled with potholes and mud patches, resembling freshly harvested wheat fields.

Usually, when Ma Jianguo went to Gaocheng on official business, the round trip took half a day—provided there were no delays along the way.

Throughout the journey, Ma Jianguo remained silent, puffing on his slightly darkened tobacco. The smoke trailed behind them like a white ribbon dancing in the air.

Had he been traveling alone, Ma Jianguo would have long since cursed the bumpy road, which forced his donkey to consume extra rations—truly an ill-fated path.

Seated at the back of the donkey cart, Ma Yuan sat back to back with his father. On the cart lay some dry straw and quilts, prepared in case the night brought heavy frost.

Ma Yuan gazed at the gradually receding Huixiang. As the village disappeared behind tall trees, only faint wisps of smoke drifted into the morning sun’s glow.

A hollow feeling stirred within Ma Yuan’s heart. For some reason, his feet felt chilly despite the thick cotton shoes he wore.

“Ma Yuan, do you want to study in the county town?” Ma Jianguo, driving the cart, didn’t turn his head. The tobacco smoke brushed his face before drifting toward Ma Yuan’s nose sitting behind him.

“What? What did you say?” Ma Yuan shifted his body to the side, trying to let the smoke pass behind him. His father’s words had been too soft and fast to catch.

“I asked if you want to go study in the county town?” Ma Jianguo turned slightly and repeated the question toward the back.

This time Ma Yuan heard clearly, but he had never considered such a thing before. Faced with his father’s sudden inquiry, he hesitated, unsure how to answer.

“What’s the matter? Why so quiet?” Ma Jianguo tilted his head and glanced backward. Suddenly, he really wanted to know what was on his son’s mind.

For a long time, Ma Jianguo had made most of the family’s decisions. Though he enjoyed the feeling, somewhat like an emperor of old, with age came a subtle sadness.

Late at night, Ma Jianguo often felt uneasy, as if he were ill, though he couldn’t say why.

“I want to,” Ma Yuan whispered softly.

Ma Jianguo listened intently, afraid of missing his son’s answer. Upon hearing those words, a smile unexpectedly lit his weathered face, nearly dropping the tobacco from his hand.

Previously, Ma Yuan had mentioned wanting to venture out like Huo Dashan. Back then, Ma Jianguo had been frustrated, thinking his son was only fit for carpentry and nothing else.

But now, his heart was made up—he would send his son to study in the county school.

As the sun just crested the horizon, father and son finally glimpsed Gaocheng’s towering city gate, two large verdant characters standing proud and grand.

The name Gaocheng bore historical weight. The ancient text Chronicles of Spring and Autumn recorded a story: once, a certain official, plain in appearance, married a beautiful wife who neither spoke nor smiled for three years. He then shot a pheasant at a place called Rugao, winning her smile at last.

Later generations took one character from that story to name the city Gaocheng, meaning a place beside the water, rich in talent and blessed land.

Even the characters on the gate had a tale. A long time ago, an emperor touring his realm chanced upon Gaocheng, then a modest earthen town with few inhabitants.

Yet the emperor saw the terrain’s promise and composed a poem: “Leaning on the railing, gazing afar as spring rises; the sights of Gaocheng lie beyond the eye’s reach.”

Inspired, local officials adopted “Gaocheng” as the city’s name, a royal gift.

Ma Yuan, seeing the majestic gate for the first time, was awestruck. He instinctively moved closer, eager to study the historical engravings.

Ma Jianguo pulled him back with a chuckle. “Look at you, acting like you’ve never seen the world. You don’t look like my son at all.”

Ma Yuan smiled quietly—it truly was his first time witnessing such grandeur.

The Ma family was renowned not only in Huixiang but also esteemed in Gaocheng. Though the city bustled with merchants, the ancestral lands passed down were cherished and never willingly parted with.

During busy farming seasons, many city folk hired threshing machines, counting heads and workers alike, to save themselves trouble.

Ma Jianguo had rented a place in the city’s tube-shaped residential block. Whenever he needed to rent a threshing machine, he would rest there. Naturally, today was no exception.

They arrived early; the streets were still quiet, with only a few breakfast stalls open and few customers.

“Hungry?” Ma Jianguo asked, pointing to a nearby bun shop. They hadn’t eaten since leaving Huixiang.

“No, I can wait,” Ma Yuan replied. Since childhood, he never dared ask his father for much, so he claimed not to be hungry.

“Don’t hold back. If you want something, just say it. You’ll be living here for a while once you start school, so you’d better get used to it. Don’t be a weakling.”

Ma Jianguo knew his son well.

“Really?” Ma Yuan’s heart lifted at his father’s reassurance.

Ma Jianguo, still facing forward, steered the donkey cart toward the breakfast stall he often visited.

“This is no joke,” Ma Jianguo said. “This trip to the city is to find you a school, to learn new skills and bring honor to our Ma family.”

“And listen well: if you can’t handle the studies, you’ll come back and focus on carpentry. Years from now, when I’m gone, having a craft like that will keep you from starving.”

Ma Yuan had long stopped hearing his father’s warnings, eagerly nodding in agreement.

By then, the donkey cart had reached a breakfast shop named Chen San’s. Ma Jianguo dismounted, hitched the donkey, dusted off his clothes, and motioned for Ma Yuan to eat.