Not Bound by Trifles
Gongsun Yan had a full-grown adult inside him. It meant he was too mature to fly off the handle or nitpick over careless words from clueless kids, stirring up needless drama. So, he pulled out the modern art of "positive consideration" on the Yun clan boy who'd contradicted him and the other idle Ho clan brats. He even threw in some corporate-style haggling: the toilets were already under construction, so why not see them through?
That didn't mean he was unflappable inside, though.
"Yeon-ah, you okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"Yeon-ah's mad."
"Why would I be mad?"
He prided himself on keeping a straight face, and the Ho clan kids, dazzled by his talk of positive consideration, bought it hook, line, and sinker—drunk on delusions like "My frank words swayed the young master; I can control him!" A closer look would have shown Gongsun Yan looking a bit down.
So Seona, who had zero interest in politics or grand ambitions yet stuck to him like glue, noticed right away. Not that Gongsun Yan loved that part.
"Besides, if anyone's gotta get mad, it's you. Doesn't it piss you off when they call you a barbarian to your face?"
"Barbarian? Dunno. What's that?"
Gongsun Yan figured Seona's Chinese was just clumsy, not that she was dim. Now he wondered if he needed to revise that assessment. Or maybe she was so pure she couldn't fathom people trash-talking her right in front of her face.
Frustrated, he let out a deep sigh and decided to tune her out. He already treated her constant chatter like white noise while doing his own thing, so it was nothing new.
Right now, the other kids were obliviously tamping earth, plastering walls, and burying jars, unaware of the minor spat between Gongsun Yan and the young masters. But did they really think this was pointless? Were they just following orders without grasping it? Maybe they dreamed of Gongsun Yan as a hero conquering the world, content to sip from his coattails.
"Yeon-ah! Yeon-ah, you're not listening!"
"I am."
"Nuh-uh. Yeon-ah ignores Seona. Look here!"
Today's Seona was extra clingy, trying to cheer him up, but it wasn't helping much. She was shoving in his face a truth he'd known but ignored, hitting him with a harsh reality check. Deep down, he'd hoped they got it. The betrayal stung.
Gongsun Yan saw no easy fix. It wasn't about common sense or trust. That Yun kid had seemed to grasp the toilets' benefits once he'd explained calmly. This went beyond facts—it exposed a clash of worldviews between him and the kids he led, this era's people at large.
To them, history and life were cycles. Peace and chaos spun round and round; improvement meant stability now, not transforming daily life. No dreams of a better tomorrow than today, or a future outshining tomorrow. As Henry Ford said, before he showed people a new world of cheap cars, all they wanted was faster horses. And that was natural. Economic growth and progress were modern inventions.
Before the Industrial Revolution, humanity's per capita income barely budged over millennia, even long-term. Population booms masked it as growth. In today's capitalist world, where stagnation spells collapse, mindsets clashed fundamentally with these ancients.
The gulf between Gongsun Yan and them was vast. To modern man Lee Yeon, living conditions begged improvement. To those serving ancient Gongsun Yan, life was this—always had been, always would be.
Luckily, power awaited Gongsun Yan. He'd ram through policies by force, results emerging in years. No matter their cyclical history view, they weren't dumb enough to ignore visible gains.
But moderns knew: the efficiency gap between those who understood and bought into your work versus those who didn't. And how individual shortfalls could tank whole ventures, not just slow them.
"Eek! Yeon-ah, wait! Seona'll bring a friend!"
While Gongsun Yan brooded, Seona—after fruitless chattering and soothing—huffed off toward the construction site in a pout.
Let's shift focus briefly from Gongsun Yan to one kid in his peer group(?). Name: Mu Baek. Sounds cool, but it just means "Martial clan's eldest son." That's how commoner Chinese named kids. Later eras ditched fancy hanja like Baek-Jung-Suk-Gye for blunt numbering like Zhu Zhong-Ba or Zhang San. This was better by comparison.
Anyway, this Mu clan eldest lived a typical commoner's life.
"Mom!!! Dad!!!"
"Aigoo, what's this? Folks, the Mu house collapsed!!!"
"What?! Everyone, gather quick!!!"
To modern Gongsun Yan's eyes, it was worse than an African refugee camp. He'd whined about rats and bugs in his ceiling, damp moldy walls—but that was a full belly griping. He lived in a fine mansion, after all.
Common Chinese homes here were rammed earth (rammed-earth style) builds. Fancy hanja, but it meant packing frames with soil, sand, and water to form walls. Surprisingly sturdy—Chinese walls were rammed earth inside, stone or bricks mere facing. Properly done, it rivaled stone.
Blame the Yellow River plains (or Yalu here) for abundant clay, but logging big timber was brutally hard. Rafters for roofs were scarce, so most commoners skipped pillars for rammed earth huts.
Liaodong's wild with forests—why not wood? Who provides axes? Iron was scarce for farm tools, let alone armies in chaos. Iron axes? Dream on. Stone ones wore out fast, useless for roof beams.
This "5,000 years of Chinese wisdom" made solid, insulated homes—if kept dry.
"Ain't just the Mus! Creek overflowed—water's ankle-deep everywhere. Leave it, and it'll all collapse!"
"Mom!!!"
"But someone's pinned!"
"Tragic, but survivors gotta survive!"
Rammed earth meant water spelled doom, however sturdy. Moderns knew: landslides follow heavy rain. Ancients tried—wide eaves, drainage—but flaws persisted. Ankle-deep flooding had homes crumbling everywhere; the Mus' fully collapsed, burying sleeping Mu Baek's parents under the roof.
Usually survivable. Roofs weren't noble-log behemoths—just flimsy thatch on tiny huts, weight borne by earthen walls, kept small. Sudden drop startled, but escape was easy.
Except Mu Baek's family wasn't so lucky.
"Mom... Dad..."
"...Tsk tsk, young couple didn't make it. Heaven's cruel."
"How can you be so casual?"
"Us? Speak for yourself. Ours is barely better. And we've got four kids already."
By cruel chance, the heaviest beam crushed their heads—not bodies, which might've just injured. Fragile as fly lives, these era folk.
"Damn, what a mess. Hey! Zhang Bai! Grab shovels and poles!"
"Young master, shovels I get—poles?"
"No chatter—hurry!"
Gongsun Yan, numb to chaos talk after daily Liaodong horrors, shoveled in.
Even in their "peaceful eras," lives barely improved. Fewer wars and bandits, sure—but commoners same as ever. Peace wouldn't stop light rains killing folks like Mu Baek's parents.
"Grab this pole—one, two, push! All together—one, two!"
"Heave—!!!"
Thus, Gongsun Yan aimed to remake life from the ground up. Not altruism or sainthood. Elites' lives rested on the base; the poorer and harsher the bottom, the shakier the top. Selfishly, he had to change it—for himself.
"There! I see 'em... oh god."
"Kid, don't look. Jo clan! Hurry, clean up. Least give 'em a proper send-off."
"Young master, no need for grim sights. You've done enough—let's go."
Maybe that's why Gongsun Yan started taking in Mu Baeks.
"You got anywhere to go?"
"...Dunno."
"Driving me nuts. Zhang Bai, think he'll survive as a beggar?"
"Taking him as a slave?"
"Slave? Nah. Neighbors can't cover him? Hey, kid—follow me. Food first, talk later."
That day, ordinary commoner Mu Baek lost parents, gained a lord.
Grand title for a kid building homes with peers (young master even lent an iron axe—they built crude wood huts. Mu Baek teared up, thinking of parents who'd died without one). He and homeless pals tilled the narrow field left by folks, using loaned tools and seeds.
To such a Mu Baek, Gongsun Yan was lifelong liege, to serve eternally...
"Yeon-ah! Brought him. Ask!"
Yet Seona dragged a reluctant Mu Baek—intimidated by the lord he revered.
She picked the familiar face, most regular at gatherings.
Mu Baek panicked. He barely grasped hard words, just said "fine" to check-ins (once near-freezing without fuel, lied "fine"—Gongsun Yan found out, sent charcoal; he bawled thanks).
Forced here, body stiff, mind blank—unavoidable. Refuse Seona, young master's "concubine"(?) A lowly like him? Impossible.
Gongsun Yan chuckled at fidgety Mu Baek and triumphant Seona.
"Ask him yourself? Spotted the barbarian, huh. Not as dumb as you look?"
"Seona no dummy! Ask quick. Quick!"
Zero expectations, Gongsun Yan asked. He remembered Mu Baek's face and name from that episode—not all kids, but this one stuck. Probably just "lord says so" blind faith.
"Fine. You're Baek, right? Mu Baek."
"Yes, young master."
"This town's names all Baek-Jung-Suk-Gye or horse-pig crap. Confusing. Anyway, why d'you think I'm building toilets? Even burying jars?"
Mu Baek froze. Gongsun Yan's knowing, disappointed smile sent him off; Seona looked flustered too.
Pressure mounting, Mu Baek strained his sluggish brain.
"Uh... dunno. But since young master does it—"
"Yeah, go. Wasted a worker."
"No! Young master's deeds always have reason. I'm ignorant, stupid—but everything you do has purpose, right?"
"Appreciate the words."
"That day too—with the pole? You handled my parents!"
Scrounging thoughts, Mu Baek noticed Gongsun Yan go quiet.
A single realization had flashed through Gongsun Yan's mind.