WSMTATMC C76

Chapter 76

“Cleared successfully?!” Chen Rong repeated in surprise.

“Mm. It was all thanks to Master Liang’s help behind the scenes that it could be overturned.”

“That’s wonderful—now Qingyan can sit for the civil exams again!” Chen Rong grasped her nephew’s hand, overjoyed.

“This year’s been one happy event after another. Our two families’ days will only get better!”

“Yes, better and better!”

They raised their cups to celebrate, and the meal didn’t end until the late You hour.

Winter days were short and nights long; the sky outside was pitch-black. Wang Ying supported Chen Rong in front, with Chen Qingyan and Cao Kun following behind, chatting as they walked.

“How’s the shop preparation going in your county?”

Cao Kun said, “Almost done. I was just going to ask Cousin-in-law about it—after the full-month celebration, I’ll start sourcing fresh vegetables from town.”

“Alright. Let me know in advance how much you need, and I’ll have it ready.”

To transport fresh produce, Cao Kun had even bought a new wagon and two sturdy mules, planning to make a tidy profit during the New Year season.

He’d always had one lingering doubt: where exactly did these vegetables come from? But since his cousins didn’t say, he felt embarrassed to ask.

Selling fresh vegetables was profitable. Last year, just from helping with transport, he’d earned seven or eight taels of silver in margin. Now selling himself, he could easily make several taels a month.

But he couldn’t handle all the work alone—he’d need to find someone to run deliveries with him.

The full-month banquet arrived as scheduled. The guests weren’t many, mostly family and friends, all gathered to chat.

Someone suddenly brought up Lin Qiu’s father.

“Did the husband’s parents not come?”

“No… I heard they divorced.”

“What for?” Divorce was rare in this era, and everyone grew curious.

One woman familiar with the situation lowered her voice. “Don’t spread this around, but Lin Qiu’s father is none other than Scholar Lin from West Alley!”

“What, him?!”

“No wonder they divorced. Who could live with a man like that!”

Someone who didn’t know asked, “Who’s Scholar Lin?”

“He’s notorious in West Alley—divorced his wife to have a son, then turned around and married a low-class prostitute.”

“Heavens, such a thing!”

“Call it heaven’s justice—his child is simple-minded, nearly two and still can’t walk or talk. A while back, I even saw him crawling bare-bottomed in the cold without pants.”

“Tsk, tsk—serves him right.”

“Don’t Cao Kun and his husband do anything? He’s a blood brother, after all…”

“Do what? A dullard, once taken on, is a lifetime burden—stick once, never shake loose. Besides, after the filth Scholar Lin did, would you take care of a child born to a brothel woman if it happened to you?”

The women all shook their heads; their hatred for him ran deep. With the banquet about to begin, everyone fell silent.

At the Lin residence in West Alley, the once neat little courtyard had fallen into disrepair with no one maintaining it.

Dead grass stood waist-high in the yard; snow piled above the calves, and no one swept it away.

Scholar Lin was ill, shivering under layers of bedding, coughing now and then like a bellows with a hole, each breath whistling sharply.

“Hungry, hungry…” The simple-minded boy crawled around naked on the floor. Hunger was the only word he knew; when starving, he stuffed anything into his mouth.

Lin Changbin watched coldly without stopping him—starve then, best if you just starve to death!

He regretted everything long ago. If not for that child, how would his wife have divorced him? How would Qiu’er and Sui’er have disowned him?

This cursed child—he should never have let him be born!

“Cough, cough…” Choking on hatred, Lin Changbin coughed again, but his body was too weak to rise, too weak even to drink water.

Drowsiness overtook him, and he slipped into a fitful sleep.

In the dream, he returned to years past. He still ran a private school. Each day after classes, just upon entering the courtyard, he heard the sound of weaving inside.

“I’m back.”

The loom fell silent. Chen Rong came out with a smile. “Are you thirsty? Drink some water. In a bit I’ll make dumplings for you…”

Cradling the ladle, he gulped water, thinking how good it was to have a wife at home…

But one always wakes from the dream of millet. When he opened his eyes for the last time, he saw his son had starved to death, and he himself could no longer move. With tears streaming down his old face, he gazed out the window and slowly closed his eyes.

It was several days before the neighbors discovered that father and son had starved to death in their home.

The full-month celebration proceeded smoothly. After it ended, Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan didn’t linger and took a carriage back the next day—they’d missed their child terribly after several days away.

On the road back, heavy snow forced them to stop at an inn for two days. By the time they returned, it was already mid-twelfth month.

As soon as he stepped through the door, Wang Ying hurriedly jumped from the carriage and ran toward the main hall.

“Yuanbao!”

Inside, the child was playing. Suddenly hearing Wang Ying’s voice, little Yuanbao dropped his toy at once and twisted around to look at the doorway.

The door opened. “Yuanbao, did you miss your Ah Fu?”

Yuanbao’s eyes reddened instantly, and tears began to patter down—looking so pitiful it broke one’s heart.

Wang Ying melted into a puddle, scooping the boy up and stroking his head. “Don’t cry, Yuanbao. Ah Fu is back.”

Chen Qingyan followed inside. “Why is Yuanbao crying?”

Madam Li said, “Ever since you left, he’s been searching for Ah Ying. When he can’t find him at night, he cries—three or four nights running!”

Wang Ying kissed his son’s forehead. “Next time, Ah Fu won’t be gone so long.”

“Fu-fu…”

Wang Ying froze, thinking he’d misheard. “Did Yuanbao just call me?”

Qingyun squealed, “He did! He did! I heard it!”

“Yuanbao, say ‘Grandma’?”

“Yuanbao, say ‘Auntie’!”

“Say ‘Daddy’.”

Little Yuanbao pressed his face into Wang Ying’s neck, both hands clinging to him, as adorable as could be.

Madam Li huffed playfully, “You little ingrate—see your Ah Fu and you don’t want Grandma anymore.”

As if he understood, Yuanbao reached out and patted Madam Li’s arm, just as the adults would usually soothe him.

Everyone burst out laughing—how could this child be so clever?

The older Yuanbao got, the clingier he became. Every time he was separated from Wang Ying for a while, he would whimper. With the weather so cold, it wasn’t practical to take him to the shop.

And with Wang Ying wanting to spend some time at the manor soon, he simply hired a shopkeeper to manage the vegetable shop.

The new shopkeeper, Liao Hai, was a man in his mid-thirties, not very tall, with a handlebar mustache. He was literate and good at numbers.

He’d worked as a shopkeeper at a distillery for several years—an old hand. After a single day of instruction, he could manage on his own.

Wang Ying set his pay at 500 cash per month, to try for three months, and if all went well, he’d entrust the daily management to him.

On the third day of the twelfth month, Wang Ying took the baby, his mother-in-law, and Qingyun back to the manor for a stay—this trip would last until after the New Year.

Before leaving, Madam Li bundled Yuanbao into almost a ball for fear he’d get cold on the road.

The little fellow didn’t fuss, staring with round black eyes at everything. He’d hardly been out since winter began, and found the snow fascinating.

Once in the cart, he insisted on watching the snow, so Wang Ying rolled a snowball from the ground and gave it to him to play with.

The little lad held it with curious delight—and immediately tried to bite it.

Madam Li quickly stopped him. “No, no—don’t eat it, or your tummy will ache.”

Yuanbao handed the snowball back to Grandma and pointed outside to keep watching. Wang Ying lifted the carriage curtain a crack, letting him peek out.

A cold wind blew in; he sneezed, so Madam Li wouldn’t allow him to keep looking.

The mule cart swayed, and soon the motion lulled Yuanbao to sleep.

Mountains and fields were a vast sea of white. The carriage moved like a lone boat over snow. It was nearly noon by the time they reached the annex.

Because Wang Ying had sent word to Chen Qingyan the previous night, he’d been anxiously waiting and ran out as soon as he heard the gate.

“You’re finally here—was the road very cold?”

Wang Ying jumped down first, then turned and handed Yuanbao into his arms. “Not too bad—but your son insisted on watching the snow, and when we opened the window a bit, it got cold.”

Hearing voices, Old Master Liang also came out. At first, his hands were clasped behind his back, but seeing Yuanbao in Qingyan’s arms, he strode forward to take him. “Cold as it is, don’t stand outside holding the child. Get in the house!”

Wang Ying couldn’t help laughing. “Keep an eye on him—he’ll grab your beard again.”

Qinghuai and Qingsong helped with the luggage. This stay would be long, and both adults and child had brought plenty of clothing—enough to fill two big trunks.

Qingyun helped Madam Li down. It was their first time at the annex; both looked around, curious at the spacious courtyard.

The last time Qingyun had come, she’d only spent a day at Chen Xi’s place, and remembered low, shabby rooms. Now the place was broad and stately.

In the middle of the courtyard ran a live stream—a brook with steam rising from it.

Qingyun hurried over, dipped her hand, and exclaimed, “It’s warm!”

Wang Ying said, “There’s a warm spring behind the mountain. This water is diverted from there. Come see the new rooms—we haven’t even looked at them properly yet.”

They passed through the covered corridor into the rear courtyard. The old fenced wall was gone, replaced by a row of spacious rooms. A shaded veranda ran the length, supported by a row of round pillars—simple and elegant.

Pushing the door open, a wave of warmth greeted them, along with the fresh pine scent unique to new timber.

Madam Li said, “There’s no brazier here—why is it so warm?”

“It’s a heated wall—and the bedrooms have heated kang beds.”

The east room was reserved for Madam Li—spacious and bright, already furnished with a dressing table and wardrobe.

“So this is a kang? Won’t sleeping on it roast a person?”

Master Liang had asked the same question. Wang Ying laughed. “No. With bedding on top, it’s not too hot. Try it.”

Madam Li took off her shoes and climbed onto the kang. Warmth flowed up through her feet, banishing the cold from the road. “It’s really good.”

“The only downside to a kang is that it can feel dry and cause ‘heatiness.’ Keeping a basin of water in the room at night helps.”

Next door was Qingyun’s bedroom, slightly smaller but with a kang as well, thoughtfully hung with a bed canopy.

Qingyun scrambled up eagerly. “It’s so hard!”

“You’ll still lay bedding when you sleep. You’ll get used to it.”

Before long, Chen Qingyan came over holding Yuanbao, who was wailing.

“What happened?” Madam Li rushed over at the sound.

“He grabbed Master’s beard and wouldn’t let go. I gave him a couple of light swats.”

Madam Li scolded lightly, “Why did you hit him? He’s so little—he doesn’t know right from wrong!”

“He can’t be allowed to be naughty all the time either…”

Wang Ying nudged him with his elbow, hinting to say no more.

“Oh—there, there, don’t cry. If your Daddy dares hit you again, Grandma will hit him!”

“Hit, hit…”

Wang Ying laughed. “Hey now, you little rascal—climbing the pole while it’s leaning.”

Not daring to scold Wang Ying, Madam Li whisked her grandson into the bedroom. “Come play with Grandma—don’t play with them.”

The couple exchanged a helpless look. Grandparents—always ready to spoil a child.

 

TL note – Felt bad for that kid