Shepherd of the Tang Dynasty

Northwest China, in the coldest season of the year, the twelfth lunar month. The north wind howled like ten thousand galloping horses, coming and going with a furious rush. The chill was sharp as a knife.

Liu Yitiao leaned against the roof of his own house, gazing up at the gray, shrouded sky of this era, letting the biting wind cut through him.

“Father, my brother has been like this for over an hour. Do you think something might have happened?” Liu Ertiao looked anxiously at his elder brother, who sat motionless on the rooftop.

“Sigh, maybe he’s having trouble letting it go. Let him think it through. We can’t afford to cross the Wang family from West Village.” Liu Laoshi sighed deeply, feeling no comfort in his heart seeing his eldest son in such a state. Yet Wang Shuai was truly not someone ordinary folk like them could afford to provoke. His father, Wang Du, served as a bailiff in the county, always gathering cronies about him, wielding considerable influence in the region. Liu Laoshi had no wish to escalate matters.

“But it really was Wang Shuai’s fault. He’s the one who took our white cabbage!” Liu Ertiao’s face was full of indignation. “If Uncle Yang hadn’t stepped in that day, my brother would have been beaten to death by them.”

“Your brother’s all right now, isn’t he? And didn’t Wang Shuai pay a string of silver coins afterward? Let’s let it end here. Don’t mention it again, especially not in front of your brother. After such humiliation, it’s no wonder he’s troubled. But who can he blame for being born into a poor family like ours…