WSMTATMC C13

Chapter 13

Plop! — Chen Qingyan tumbled right off the bed. Ignoring the pain shooting through his body, he scrambled toward Wang Ying’s sleeping place. The bedding was still warm, carrying the faint scent of soapberries. He had been there just a moment ago — how had he suddenly disappeared?

Fear and confusion roiled in his chest, yet he made no sound, merely sitting there on the floor with a grave expression.

Meanwhile, in the experimental field, Wang Ying was equally anxious. Heaven help him — he knew how to get in, but not how to get out!

The perimeter of the field was like being under a giant transparent glass dome, pinning him inside. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t find a way through.

How was he going to explain this to Chen Qingyan when he got back?

If he told the truth about the experimental field, would the other believe him?

Or would he take him for some supernatural monster, have the officials burn him alive… or simply write a divorce letter and send him away — which might actually be the best outcome.

At least the wheat in the field was ripe; even if he left the Chen family, he wouldn’t starve.

Damn — he should’ve waited until the man was sound asleep before coming in here! What now?

Every moment ticked by in suffocating silence. He could hear nothing from outside. He didn’t even have the heart to go on harvesting — just sat on the bund, each breath dragging like a year.

At last, a flash of white light — and he was back in the room.

In the darkness, their eyes met. Wang Ying was too tense to speak.

“I—”

Chen Qingyan suddenly pulled him into an embrace. A drop of liquid fell on his neck — and the chill of it made him shiver.

Of all the possibilities he’d considered, he’d never imagined this. For a moment, he had no idea how to respond.

After all, Chen Qingyan was only seventeen; in Wang Ying’s previous world, he wasn’t even legally an adult. Most likely, he’d just been frightened. Wang Ying patted his back gently. “Don’t cry — let me explain…”

Abruptly, Chen Qingyan pushed away, turning his head to wipe his eyes. “Are you… a spirit creature?”

“No. But I do have a secret. If you want to hear, I’ll tell you slowly.”

Wang Ying didn’t mention the transmigration — that was too far beyond comprehension for an ancient person — only the matter of the field inside him.

“You know I jumped into the river before the wedding?”

“I heard Chen Bo mention it. Said it was because you didn’t want to marry me…”

Wang Ying coughed lightly. “It’s true I didn’t want to back then. But I didn’t manage to die. When I woke, I found there was farmland inside my body.”

“Farmland?”

Wang Ying suddenly remembered the wheat in his robe. He pulled out a few heads and handed them over. “That’s right — about three mu¹ in size. I planted wheat there.”

Chen Qingyan looked at the wheat in puzzlement, unable to imagine where such land could be hidden.

“It’s just like ordinary farmland — the only difference is that the temperature there is constant, never too hot or too cold. I can go in every night, but only for about half an hour.”

“And no one else can enter?”

“Seems so. I can carry in tools, seeds, dead things — but nothing alive.” A few nights ago he’d tried bringing in live crickets, and the moment he entered the field they’d died, flattened as though crushed by some invisible force into two-dimensional husks. The sight had scared him so badly, he’d never attempted it again.

“So just now, you were inside this… field?”

“Yes. I thought you were asleep — I didn’t expect you to notice.”

After a long silence, Chen Qingyan yawned and began crawling back to bed.

Wang Ying quickly helped him up.

“This — I’ll keep it secret for you. You… mustn’t tell anyone else.”

“I know. Harboring jade invites disaster, after all.”²

Chen Qingyan gave him a sidelong look. “Sometimes I really doubt you’re just a village ge’er — you even know that proverb.”

Wang Ying rubbed his nose. “I just know a bit more than most.”

Chen Qingyan did not press further. “Since you’ve told me your secret, I’ll tell you why I can’t sit the exams anymore.”

“I can’t take the imperial examinations again because… I cheated.”

“What?!” Wang Ying’s eyes went huge.

“Not willingly — I was framed.”

Now fully awake, Wang Ying swore. “Damn — what happened?”

Chen Qingyan sighed and began.

“Last year, in the second month, I went to take the county exam. There were three other tongsheng3 from our town. One, called Zhang Shiqiu, was about my age and befriended me.”

“His family was poor, and in the county he couldn’t afford lodgings, so he stayed in a cheap dormitory. I saw it was inconvenient for studying and invited him to share my place. We read and discussed together daily.”

His gaze dimmed. “But one day, I realised his mind was not right — he stole my things to pawn them.

“It was a fine Anhui inkstick my fourth uncle had sent specially; I’d never dared use it. He pawned it for three hundred copper coins.

“Chen Bo found out and wanted to throw him out on the spot. That Zhang boy knelt and begged forgiveness, saying he was penniless and had acted out of desperation. I, too naive, thinking it was rare to have a friend, forgave him once — reclaiming the ink and letting him stay.

“For half a month, we continued as before. On the exam day, we went together to the hall…”

Whatever memory he’d touched on made him start trembling.

Wang Ying took his hand; he could guess the rest.

“As we queued to register, I was last in line. The candidates ahead had their baskets inspected and entered. When it was my turn, the guard stopped me.

“From the shaft of my brush, they pulled a rolled slip of paper, inscribed in characters smaller than rice grains — passages from the Four Books.”4

The thunderbolt of it left him blank. No explanation was believed. His qualifications were revoked on the spot, and he was banned from all future exams.

He scarcely knew how he left that hall. Back home, the blow struck both body and spirit; he fell gravely ill for months, and more than once considered ending his life.

“That paper — Zhang put it there?”

“Who else? No one but him could have touched my stationery.”

Wang Ying’s heart twisted at the sight of the thin, pale youth. A bright future, ruined by malice — no wonder he’d fallen so far.

“Does your mother know?”

He shook his head. “I’ve told no one. Not even Chen Bo. Everyone just thinks it’s because I failed the exam.”

Saying it now, the long-buried weight in his chest seemed, at last, to shift.

“And you never confronted Zhang after?”

He gave a bitter smile. “He’d never admit it. Why go court humiliation?”

“Well — if the exams are closed, we’ll do other things. You wanted to open a sishu, right? I’ll help you find a place. If you can teach a few students to become juren, that’s not bad either.”

“All right…”

The darkness pressed in, making the air feel faintly warm between them. Chen Qingyan abruptly pulled back. “It’s late. Sleep.”

“Mhm.”

Summer was waning.

By the start of the seventh month, autumn was officially in. The days were still hot, but mornings and evenings were cooler.

In recent days, Chen Qingyan’s health had improved; he could now stand and walk a few steps with support, though quickly wearied. Months more exercise would be needed to regain normal strength after so long in bed.

Madam Li was overjoyed to see her son’s spirits lift; she was fond enough of Wang Ying before, but now her regard for her son-in-law grew warmer still.

Only Wang Ying had a headache — the household funds were nearly gone!

It had been barely over ten days since they’d inventoried the storeroom; of the six guan5, only a few hundred coins were left. He rubbed at his brow over the account book.

It was true — you can’t know how dear firewood and rice are until you manage the household yourself. Since Madam Li had handed over the keys, she had washed her hands of it; each day she read or embroidered, or went visiting ladies at the temple — donating silver each trip.

After breakfast that morning, Wang Ying couldn’t hold back: “Mother, the two guan you withdrew from the accounts the other day — what for?”

Madam Li looked like a child caught in mischief, twisting her handkerchief and mumbling, “To… to donate at the temple…”

“Two guan in one go?”

At this, Tian Mama’s face turned sour. “So what if it was? It’s not your money. Since when does a junior lecture an elder? No upbringing at all — just a yokel ge’er from the countryside!”

“Don’t speak like that, Tian Mama…”

Wang Ying slapped the ledger down on the table. “Quite capable, aren’t you? Why don’t you take over the books and see if you can feed this entire household?”

She choked, then sneered, “Madam gave you the keys out of kindness. Don’t take porcelain work without the diamond skills for it.”

“Tian Mama, silence!” Madam Li’s voice snapped — rare for her ever-gentle temper.

The older servant started, “I only meant for your own good—”

“I know your heart. But I allowed Ying’er to manage the house, and so he has the authority to question expenses.”

Wang Ying’s tone eased. “I don’t object to your praying, Mother. But you know our situation — medicine for Qingyan costs silver; Song’s schooling costs silver; every mouth here eats and drinks — all costs silver. The fields’ income won’t arrive for a while; we’re near to having no food.”

“I… I have my dowry — we can use that…”

“Dowry money runs out too. Don’t you want Qingyun to have something when she marries?”

Madam Li finally realised her indulgence was harmful; she’d been used to spending freely, and it was hard to rein in.

“I won’t go to the temple anymore. Tian Mama, decline any invitations you can.”

“Madam!”

Wang Ying didn’t want to take away her small joys. “If you wish to pray, why not get a small statue and worship at home? Invite the other ladies here to recite and offer incense.” A bundle of incense cost ten coins — even daily for a year, it was nothing.

Madam Li’s eyes lit. “You’re right — I’ll go up the mountain in a few days and bring back a small Bodhisattva image to enshrine!”

No one noticed Tian Mama, standing in the corner, her gaze poisoned as she glared at the pair.

notes:

1. Mu (亩) – Traditional measure of land; about 0.165 acres or 666.7 square metres.
2. “Harboring jade invites disaster” (怀璧其罪) – Classical idiom meaning that possessing something valuable can make one a target for trouble.
3. Tongsheng (童生) – A licentiate; students who have passed the local qualifying exam and may take the county-level imperial exam.
4. Four Books (四书) – The Analects, Mencius, The Great Learning, and The Doctrine of the Mean; core Confucian classics in the examination curriculum.
5. Guan (贯) – A string of 1,000 copper coins; a common unit of bulk currency in pre-modern China.