Each Person's Circumstances
As the name Bang Yeol suggested, he was a commoner by birth. How could you tell just from the name? Because commoners in this era all received names like that. If a name carried plausible characters like Xiahou Dun, Xun Yu, or Xun You, you would think, Ah, this fellow must come from a decent family, and you would usually be correct. If they even possessed a separate courtesy name, it was a safe bet they came from a wealthy household. By comparison, naming a commoner was far simpler. When a commoner surnamed Bang had their first child, the boy would be Bang One and the girl Bang Hana. The second child became Bang Two, the third Bang Three, and so on until the tenth child would be Bang Ten. If the father himself was a second son named Bang Two, then the second child would be Bang Two Junior. There was no actual law demanding that lowly people name their children carelessly, but since the only entertainment available to common folk back then was tumbling with their wives, houses overflowed with children and just as many died young. In an age like that, losing sleep over a name was the real eccentricity.
Yet unlike his slapdash name, Bang Yeol came from a rather well-off family for a commoner. This was because his father had been born a lowly slave in a powerful clan, while his mother was the only daughter of a prominent clan in Changshan, Jizhou. What kind of clan would be mad enough to marry their sole daughter to one of their own slaves? Of course the girl’s parents were not mad, so they jumped and screamed and tried to stop her. But the daughter herself was the mad one. She gathered up every valuable object in the house and fled north to Youzhou with the slave who was to become her husband.
That’s right. Bang Yeol might have been a commoner, but to true commoners he was nothing more than a deceiver cosplaying as one.
As mentioned before, Bang Yeol’s mother, Lady Jo, had thrown everything away and run. Of course, “everything” still included several cartloads of family wealth—enough to maintain appearances, cover basic living costs, raise the children, hire and keep servants, and buy a house at least half the size of her childhood home. She had no choice, you see. In any case, she and her husband Mr. Bang had loved each other enough to abandon the world for marriage. At that point one might fairly ask whether “eloped” was the right word or if “committed armed robbery” would be more accurate. One even began to wonder if the woman possessed a conscience at all. Yet both she and her parents considered that meager amount “only just enough,” weeping over how such a delicate girl would manage to eat and survive. Absurd to outsiders, perhaps, but by their own standards she truly had given up everything.
Anyway. When a young man and woman are in love and newly married, what they do next is obvious. Thump-thump at home. Thump-thump before bed. Thump-thump the moment they woke. Thump-thump that overturned the dining table. Thump-thump the instant their eyes met while working. Thump-thump in a dark corner the moment desire flared on the road. Whether in the white heat of the honeymoon or long after it had cooled, the pair seized any time and space to share their love. It was only natural they produced a swarm of children.
The first was Bang One. Lady Jo had exploded at the careless name, demanding how anyone could call a baby Bang One, but the servants and her husband persuaded her that children named carelessly grew up healthy. She relented with great reluctance. Then came Bang Two, Bang Three, Bang Four, Bang Five, Bang Six, Bang Seven, Bang Eight, and finally Bang Nine. She had endured the earlier names through clenched teeth, but Bang Nine was too much. Her blood rushed to her head.
She roared and proceeded to slap her husband Mr. Bang’s back and belly with loud, crisp smacks. Life as a fugitive in Youzhou had sharpened both her tongue and her hands considerably. Mr. Bang endured the beating while still trying to wield his invincible “name them carelessly” theory, but even the servants who usually supported him now stared at him coldly, as if asking how anyone could name a baby Fart. In the end, Mr. Bang rubbed his aching back, skipped a number, and attached “Ten” instead of “Nine.” Thus Bang Ten was born. Even though he was the ninth child, his name carried “Ten.” Therefore Bang Yeol received not only his father’s gift of seed and his mother’s gift of birth, but also his mother’s additional grace of a proper name.
Bang Yeol, born this way, inherited his mother’s face and hair along with his father’s sturdy body and health, delighting both parents. His siblings had each taken after only one parent—either their mother’s lovely hair on an ordinary frame or their father’s build with a mediocre head—so the family had begun to feel disappointed. Bang Yeol grew up drenched in parental love and expectation, as well as his siblings’ envy and affection. Though his parents possessed no real wealth by hojok standards, they still hired tutors for literacy, horsemanship, and martial arts. They fed him every rumored tonic and delicacy. It was only natural he grew up a head taller than the rest.
At this point one might ask in what way this family could possibly be commoners, but they were not hojoks. In this era, if you were neither hojok nor imperial kin and held no office, no amount of money could change the fact that a commoner remained a commoner. So what exactly made someone a hojok? It was not enough to be rich. One had to distribute money in the village to win goodwill, arrange marriages with other famous hojoks, occasionally send a clever child into office, and share drinks with wealthy families from other regions and Luoyang. Only then would people call the family a hojok. In short, a family famous for being famous earned the title. Mr. Bang had been born a lowly commoner, and although Lady Jo had been the only daughter of a named house in Jizhou, her elopement meant she was no longer considered hojok either. Therefore, no matter how much money they had or how proudly they walked in the village, they were not hojoks.
That was why Bang Yeol’s parents skimped on the other children to feed and educate their promising son. The times being what they were, even a baseborn man could buy office if he had coin, but a single mistake could ruin the entire house, let alone prevent them from becoming hojoks. They needed to send someone strong and clever. If he failed, the whole clan would be slaughtered. If he succeeded and caught the eye of the powerful, perhaps even forming a connection with a suitable bride, then they could strut through the neighborhood declaring, “Our house is now a hojok too!” It was a gamble that wagered the entire family.
Of course, those born into high houses had slightly different circumstances. They too had to pour out money to gain office, but even if they performed poorly or caused scandals, the family was rarely destroyed. Existing hojoks who blundered or misbehaved would be shielded by their elders, who would smile and speak of “youthful vigor.” For example, there was Yuan Shu, the Colonel of the Western Garden known on these Luoyang streets as the evil spirit. Instead of patrolling, her hobby was ordering delinquents to seize merchants like rats and drinking honey water with the extorted money. How else would a young lady from a great house earn the nickname “Vicious Ghost of the Capital”? Yet her conduct never reached the Emperor’s ears. Lord Yang Biao had simply said it was the hot blood of youth and that he would admonish her properly. Then he invited her to a drinking party.
“Aigo, our Gonglu! You’ve grown so much I barely recognize you. Last time we met you were still a little child, and now you’ve become a fine lady. Are the elders of the Yuan family all well? And your sister—how is she? Aigo, don’t even speak of it. I don’t know whether I’m raising a child or dealing with a married woman. I thought only our Yang Xiu was a child, yet it turns out the child has given birth to one.”
They drank cup after cup. When they grew drunk they linked arms. When they grew even drunker, he would roar, “Our Colonel needn’t worry about anything! Do whatever you want!” Pulling strings here, pushing obstacles there. Before long Yuan Shu entered the command of Colonel of the Northern Army Lu Zhi, received orders to subjugate the Yellow Turbans, and was promoted to Colonel of the Infantry. The gesture carried Lord Yang Biao’s favor—killing a few Yellow Turban fellows would serve as an excuse for yet another promotion—but the person in question only grumbled about having to sleep in a tent outside.
If not that, she would sneer, “That bitch Cao Cao is a Colonel of the Infantry too? Have things gotten so bad they’re telling me to play with the eunuch’s granddaughter now?” She really was a wretched woman.
At any rate, this was why wealthy commoner families desperately sought connections with hojoks. If one could create a reason for promotion like the Yang Biao example, that was ideal. In most cases, however, they simply submitted a recommendation claiming the candidate was “usually of upright character and renowned for filial piety,” and the post would be granted. Therefore, following his parents’ wishes to obtain office and somehow enter the sight of the powerful, Bang Yeol set out from Dontou Village in Pingxi County, Dai Commandery, Youzhou, carrying dreams of buying rank and position. The carts were loaded with bribes meant to prove that Bang Yeol was indeed a youth “of upright character and renowned for filial piety,” escorted by strong men. The faces of the departing party could not hide their excitement; their bodies practically bounced with anticipation. To anyone watching, they looked exactly like country bumpkins on their first trip to Luoyang.
Yet before Bang Yeol’s group could even leave Jizhou, a piece of news poured cold water over the journey. It was the report that Cheng Yuanzhi, a slave of the Bang household, had massacred the entire family and joined the Yellow Turbans.