Chapter 168: The Rice Riot

One day in early August of 1633, outside the city walls of Lin’an County, Hangzhou Prefecture, a desolate and lifeless scene stretched everywhere. There was no sound of livestock or poultry, no laughter or cheerful voices. During the day, the villages were lifeless and empty. Occasionally, one could see some old people and children, all with pale faces and listless expressions. The men and women, after a day of hard labor under the scorching sun, were exhausted. They still had to take their baskets to pick wild vegetables to fill their stomachs. But the wild vegetables were becoming scarcer and scarcer, almost all picked clean.

The summer grain was about to be harvested, but the granaries of every household were already empty. The price of grain rose day by day. The farmers who had barely survived last year’s drought were once again struggling for their livelihood.

The relief grain distributed by the government had been eaten up. The sharp drop in the price of raw silk and cocoons in the spring had completely destroyed the hopes of some sericulturists to catch their breath. It seemed that before the summer grain was even harvested, people were about to starve to death. They had painfully sold their green shoots, and now they had to sell their land, houses, and even their children… They had done everything a poor person could do to survive. Although this year seemed to have favorable weather, the shadow of famine was pressing down on them more and more heavily. In fact, many families had already run out of food. The number of tenant farmers abandoning their land and fleeing, and those flowing into the city to live on gruel from the soup kitchens, had begun to increase again. The number of people found dead on the roadside had also increased.

In front of the rice shop in Dongguan Town outside the county seat, a crowd of villagers in tattered clothes was gathered. On the doorframe of the rice shop hung a water board, on which the price of rice and various miscellaneous grains had been changed many times. From the beginning of spring, a dou of rice was sold for three mace. It had fallen for a while, but after entering the summer, it had risen for more than ten consecutive days and was already three mace and eight fen.

The teahouses and taverns were still full. The sharp rise in the price of grain was a bolt from the blue for the common people, but it had no effect on the rich. Many of them had more or less benefited from this catastrophe. Some had acquired land and houses through usury, while others had bought cheap servants. The sound of fists being thrown in drinking games, the sound of smug and lewd laughter, drifted from the shop windows to the street, mixing with the begging cries of the hungry people outside and the heart-wrenching cries of those selling themselves into slavery, separated from their flesh and blood.

The villagers gathered at the entrance of the rice shop, each carrying a small bag. Their faces, pale from eating too many wild vegetables, were full of sorrow. The granaries, filled to the brim with rice and miscellaneous grains, gave their long-empty stomachs a sharp, burning sensation.

Although they longed to eat a meal of rice day and night, they had to take out the last bit of coarse rice from their homes to exchange for miscellaneous grains.

“There’s really no way to live,” a person hesitated for a long time and handed in a bag of rice. The people inside rolled their eyes impatiently and said, “You old thing, do you think we’re beggars? What do we want with your one sheng of rice?”

“Please, have mercy!” The person who brought the rice in bowed and pleaded. It took a lot of effort to get the other party to take the rice and exchange it for a bag of miscellaneous grains.

“This is too little in exchange…” someone muttered.

“If you think it’s too little, then don’t exchange it,” the clerk glared with bull-like eyes, his face full of disdain. “Our shopkeeper is being charitable by exchanging your rice. Take it or leave it, don’t block the doorway and hinder our business.”

The crowd outside muttered for a while. Although the exchange rate for miscellaneous grains in this shop was indeed a bit harsh, it was the only shop nearby that was willing to accept their one and a half dou of coarse rice. If it were any other shop, they wouldn’t even bother to look at the little rice they brought.

With no other choice, the people who came had to accept the “charity” one by one. As they took the bags of miscellaneous grains, they couldn’t help but curse the shopkeeper’s greed in their hearts.

The last one in line was a middle-aged woman in ragged clothes. If you got closer, you could see that she was not old, but long-term malnutrition and overwork had made her skin gray and slack.

In her hand, like a beggar, she held a wooden stick. From the way she had to gasp for breath every few steps, she probably couldn’t have walked here without it.

Because she had no strength, she was the last to reach the counter. She tremblingly took out a small, tattered cloth bag from her bosom and handed it over.

This little bit of rice was probably only half a he. The clerk was unwilling to even take it. He curled his lips and said to the crowd with a smile, “Look at this, this little bit of rice, not even one he, and she wants to exchange it for miscellaneous grains. Although our shop is doing a good deed, we can’t do it like this. Big sister! You should take this little bit of rice back to feed your chickens.”

“Please, shopkeeper, have mercy,” the woman pleaded, saying that her land and house had just been taken by a creditor, and her whole family was living in a dilapidated temple without even a pot. Her husband was dead, and she only had old people and children, all of whom were too hungry to get up. This was the only rice she had to exchange for miscellaneous grains…

The clerk just refused. The woman cried and begged, and finally knelt down to plead. Seeing that the crowd of onlookers was growing, the clerk got angry and swept the bag of rice off the counter.

It was said to be a bag of rice, but it was actually just a piece of tattered cloth wrapped around the rice. It immediately fell apart when it hit the ground, and the white rice scattered all over the floor.

The woman let out a piercing scream and stumbled over to pick up the rice. But there was very little rice to begin with, and it had scattered everywhere when it was thrown. The woman cried as she stuffed the rice grains into her bosom, her tears and the dirt mixing together, making her look like a madwoman. The onlookers couldn’t bear to watch.

“This is too much bullying…”

Someone finally couldn’t stand it anymore and muttered.

“Bullying? Who said that? If you have the guts, stand up. Don’t hide in the back like a turtle!” the clerk shouted, his eyes wide.

The owner of this rice shop was a local tyrant. Besides him, no one in the town dared to open a rice shop. The clerks in the shop were all used to being arrogant. When he glared, none of the onlookers dared to say another word.

An old man came out to mediate, “Shopkeeper Liu, please have mercy. For the sake of her being a widow with orphans, just exchange some miscellaneous grains for her. It’s not like you’re giving it away for free…”

The owner, who had been sneering and picking his teeth on the side, probably felt that the commotion in front of his shop was too unsightly. He got up impatiently and took out a few bran cakes from under the counter and threw them out.

“Bran cakes…” A murmur of dissatisfaction rose from the crowd.

“What’s wrong with bran cakes?” the shopkeeper’s eyes widened. “I suppose you are all rich and noble, eating white rice and flour every day, and looking down on these bran cakes?”

The woman quickly picked up the bran cakes one by one and put them in her basket.

The shopkeeper smiled, “Look, you despise the bran cakes, but she doesn’t. This is how a beggar should be. If it weren’t for the sake of being fellow villagers, I would have kept these few bran cakes to feed my own pigs.”

“What fellow villagers, you’re lying to a ghost!” a low voice rang out from the crowd. “You’re just a bastard who eats people without spitting out the bones!”

The shopkeeper’s whole body trembled, and his mouth opened in surprise. For so many years, he had been a tyrant in the town, monopolizing the rice shop business, lending at high interest, and bullying men and women. He had done all sorts of bad things, but no one had ever dared to say a word. The people from the county, except for the gentry and masters he couldn’t afford to offend, even the yamen runners and bailiffs from the county were polite to him, let alone daring to curse him to his face.

“What are you, get out here and let me see you!” the shopkeeper roared.

The crowd retreated, but one person stood out. He was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, tall, with pale skin, a slightly stooped figure, and bow legs—like a silk weaver who sat in front of a loom. His appearance was plain, his face calm, and he looked very steady.

“Who are you, how dare you be so presumptuous to Master Liu!” the clerks in the shop also reacted from their surprise and shouted.

“Hao Yuan,” the man said calmly, without any intention of causing trouble.

A clerk suddenly jumped out from behind the counter. On his fleshy face, a deep scar ran diagonally from the right corner of his forehead to his left cheek. This was a mark left from when he had helped Shopkeeper Liu “establish his territory” here. He was said to be a clerk, but he was actually Shopkeeper Liu’s thug.

He looked the other man up and down, as if sizing up his opponent’s weight. He said nothing and punched Hao Yuan in the chest. The other man immediately fell back ten steps and crashed into a table at the teahouse opposite.

The clerks in the rice shop immediately burst into a roar of laughter, “Well hit! Let him see how much he weighs!”

The clerk stood proudly in the shop with his arms crossed, a smile on his twisted face, admiring the effect of his punch.

Just then, Hao Yuan staggered up from the ground. His face was cut by the fragments of the teaware, and a trickle of blood flowed out. The surrounding people immediately fell silent. In the silence, the sound of a firecracker suddenly exploded. a strange atmosphere suddenly enveloped the scene, and many people had the same feeling—this was not over.

The sound of footsteps on the street grew more and more urgent. It seemed that many people were rushing here. In a short while, the entrance of the rice shop was completely surrounded.

Hao Yuan turned and stepped onto a bench in front of the teahouse. He shouted to the crowd gathered below, “Everyone has seen it! We poor people have no way to live. Even a bastard who sells rice wants us to die! Those who don’t want to see their families starve, follow me!” He waved his arm:

“Those who don’t want to die, let’s loot the rice!”

Hao Yuan’s shout was like a thunderclap from a clear sky, waking up the people who were in a daze! They were all people from the lower class. The disaster year had made their already difficult lives even worse. They could only survive by selling everything they had, bit by bit. Now they had fallen to the point where they could not even get a little so-called charity by begging.

Now someone had suddenly awakened them: since they couldn’t get it by kneeling, they would take it with their fists!

A few men who looked like weavers shouted together:

The crowd immediately became agitated, “Those who don’t want to die, let’s loot the rice!” one sentence became ten, ten became a hundred. Everyone roared like they were possessed.