The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 8: Where’s the Rainbow?

That evening, after feeding the chickens, the little girl put on her straw hat and waited by the chicken coop, hoping they’d lay a bunch of eggs. But when morning came, those heartless chickens hadn’t laid a single egg. “Da Bang tricked me,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. Her mother, Mrs. Zheng, felt deeply sorry for Erya. She came over early in the morning to comfort Erya and asked her why she was so upset. Upon hearing that the eggs would multiply, Mrs. Zheng was deeply distressed. She stroked the little girl’s head and said, “The young master has always been full of ideas and imagination. Though he occasionally does surprising things, he’s still just a child after all. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world. If it were that simple, with so many capable officials in our Great Song Dynasty, they would have filled every household with eggs long ago. Erya, you mustn’t take these words too seriously. But since the young master has asked—and he’s willing to play with you—just go along with him.” But the little girl was still very disappointed. When the old grandmother passed by, she covered her face and hurried away. For if she stayed, she’d have to confront the issue—and the only conclusion would be that Wang Bang was wrong, having wasted rice and acquired some useless trinkets. But the old grandmother stubbornly believed that Wang Bang was a genius, even more outstanding than Wang Anshi in his youth, and therefore he simply couldn’t be wrong. With the old lady having fled, the bookkeeper Geng Tianji and the steward Xu Langshan were even less inclined to get involved in such a messy situation. What a disaster—Young Master Wang had changed ever since that donkey kicked him in the head. Yet even if he wasted grain, they had to let him act on a whim; after all, what mischievous child doesn’t get into trouble? As a result, no one wanted to deal with Wang Bang’s antics. At most, they’d wait until he’d driven all the chickens to their deaths, and then Old Wang would come back and give him a good thrashing—and that would be the end of it. After all, though Wang Anshi wasn’t wealthy, he could certainly afford to lose this much. When Wang Bang got up, he found that everyone was avoiding “Da Bang.” Hmph, it seems people have been underestimating me. Erya came hopping over, tugging at Wang Bang’s pant leg and saying, “Da Bang, I didn’t see any eggs come out.” Wang Bang chuckled, “Do you think it’s that easy to see a rainbow? If it were that simple, how could I demonstrate my brilliance and might?” “But you’ve been talking about a rainbow for ages—where is it?” the little girl continued, her eyes brimming with tears. Wang Bang crouched down, pulled her toward him, hugged her, and gave her a big, heartfelt kiss before letting her go. “Speaking of which, do you get an egg every single day?” Wang Xiaoya bit her finger and shook her head. Wang Bang said, “See? That’s exactly the point. Why do you want me to be a god who forces the chickens to lay eggs when they don’t want to?” “Which chicken doesn’t want to lay an egg? Which one’s leading the rebellion?” Wang Xiaoya turned her head to look at the flock, starting to search. “Not a single one wants to lay an egg—it depends on their mood. Hehe, that’s just how chickens are in our Great Song Dynasty,” Wang Bang said. “Can I trick them into laying eggs, just like you tricked me?” the little girl asked curiously. “Well, it’s possible, but you can’t force things—what’s gained through deception isn’t real. Take our dad, for example—when he takes power, he’ll be the type to force things. He’s a ‘can’t-help-but-force-it’ kind of guy; the more he forces it, the more people will resent him,” Wang Bang said pointedly. “But I’m different. I like to lead; I like to inspire. I want them to lay eggs of their own free will.” “Are there really such legendary divine chickens?” Wang Xiaoya asked excitedly. “Yes, there are. An old man told me the secret recipe in a dream. I thought you knew about this,” Wang Bang said. “Since you’ve got ‘Dreaming into Shenji’ backing you up, you’d better hurry up and get them to lay eggs. Otherwise, you won’t have any eggs to eat today,” the little girl said. Wang Bang said, “Talk less, do more. Keep feeding the chickens according to the frequency and quantity I specified. Also, today, reduce their roaming area by a bit; tomorrow, reduce it a bit more. Take it slow—like boiling a frog in gradually heating water—with the ultimate goal of confining them to the chicken coop and limiting their movement.” “Is there a reason for doing this?” a gentle voice asked from behind. It was Anshi’s father, who had returned from a business trip. “No, Father,” Wang Bang replied, spreading his hands. Wang Anshi frowned. “You must have a purpose when you do things. If you have no purpose but still lock the chickens up and restrict their freedom to eat insects, do you think that makes sense?” “I’m afraid I’ll have to criticize you this time, Father,” Wang Bang chuckled. Wang Anshi twirled his mustache, looking somewhat exasperated, but patiently nodded. “I’ll listen to your explanation. If you can give a reasonable explanation, I won’t interfere—I’ll even let you take care of the chickens. But if you can’t explain it clearly, I’ll consider it disrespect toward your father, and you’ll face the appropriate punishment.” Wang Bang said, “Letting the chickens roam freely is meant to reduce labor and feed costs by having them forage for insects on their own. However, that only applies to the three chickens. There are plenty of chickens in our yard—where would there be enough insects for all of them? And we can’t let them all out. So their freedom loses its meaning; aside from making it harder for Erya to feed them, the exercise also depletes a significant amount of the chickens’ nutrients. My son is, of course, doing this to recoup that lost energy.” Wang Anshi found his reasoning quite novel. After pondering for a moment, he turned to Old Liao and asked, “Do you think what he said makes sense?” “I’m just a man of arms and don’t understand such things, but I really like the young master these days,” Old Liao said. So Wang Anshi stopped caring about the matter, turned, and left. After paying his respects to his mother, he was in a hurry to go about his business—he certainly didn’t have time to hang around with a bunch of chickens that weren’t laying eggs properly. Old Wang had a soft spot for that donkey; after all, it was Xiaobao’s mother who had carried Old Wang to the capital to take the imperial exams all those years ago. As for the chickens, he felt absolutely nothing toward them… Chickens in the Song Dynasty were very primitive and hadn’t undergone systematic domestication. They were essentially semi-wild fowl. Creatures with a strong wild instinct love to move about, running here and there—even when there are no insects to chase. While this is good for their health, it hinders the accumulation of nutrients. Furthermore, when highly wild species are suddenly confined, they struggle to adapt; many will fight among themselves and die as a result. This is an extreme reaction—much like the drastic reforms that the Chancellor’s father would later implement once he took office, which the officials couldn’t accept. As for the little girl’s chickens, all you need to do is feed them the feed they love and guide them gradually—narrowing their range of activity a little today, and a little more tomorrow. After ten days or half a month, once they’ve developed the habit of “eating happily without having to search for bugs,” they’ll adapt to staying in the coop and be content with their situation. Of course, there will still be a small handful that act up—the ones who, when they get agitated, go looking for other chickens to fight with and incite the rest to cause trouble. But that’s easy to handle—just catch the most mischievous one, boil it into chicken soup, and give it to Mom to keep her looking young. And just like that, the Wang family’s flock was basically settled. Darwin, with his IQ of 300, explained this phenomenon as evolution. The implication is this: the most unruly chicken has a strong wild streak and carries that gene, so once it’s removed from the flock, the “troublemaking gene” in the other chickens will gradually weaken. By observing and culling in this way, after a few generations, these wild chickens would transform into domesticated ones—that’s what species evolution is all about. While he was lost in these thoughts, the little girl had completed the first major step of shrinking the chicken pen. Then, covered in sweat, she ran over and asked, “Will these chickens lay eggs tomorrow?” “I’m not a chicken—how would I know?” Wang Bang said, spreading his hands. The little girl was stunned; she found this answer, coming from the mouth of the seemingly wise Da Bang, utterly shocking…