WSMTATMC C125

Chapter 125

Marriage was considered one of the most important events in a person’s life—naturally it could not be treated carelessly.

Chen Xi had saved some silver. Earlier, when Er‑shun went away with their master, their young master had rewarded him with ten taels. After he returned, another ten taels were given as reward. Er‑shun spent little on himself at his master’s house, ate and lived there, and was frugal besides. This time returning, he used only one string of cash to buy two bolts of flowered cloth at the county market for his wedding clothes. The rest he handed back to his father.

Now, with the household masters also present, Chen Xi wanted the celebration to be proper. He sent villagers far and wide to ask where pigs might be bought.

After the flood, Chen Village had no pigs left. Those few they had once driven up the mountains had all been slaughtered during the famine—when even men had nothing to eat, how could there be feed for swine?

Word came that pigs were sold in Baishu Town, forty li away. But the price had soared: once ten copper per catty, now forty; even whole pigs sold thirty per catty.

Chen Xi and his wife discussed. With a heavy bite of the teeth he decided—buy a fat one. His son’s marriage could not be without meat.

The next morning they drove one home: a fat hog of one hundred seventy catties, costing five whole strings of cash—no small expense!

They also bought sixty eggs, at three coins apiece, another two strings spent.

Fresh vegetables were still scarce in early spring. Wang Ying could not draw stock from his experimental field this time, so they had to content themselves with cabbages, radishes, and dried goods stewed with meat.

On the wedding morning, the whole village was up early.

The women bustled preparing, while the men gathered to slaughter the pig.

Little Yuanbao and Woodie ran to watch, but the pig’s squeals frightened them so much that Woodie hoisted Yuanbao onto his back and carried him indoors.

Chen Qingyan acted as bookkeeper, writing the gift lists. When his son peeked in, he picked some candied pieces off the table to slip quietly to them.

“Go on, eat, but don’t let your A‑fu see.”

Wang Ying was strict—he never let Yuanbao have sweets for fear of rotting his teeth.

But just then, Wang Ying walked in. With a cough at the doorway, he startled the boys, who dropped the sweets and fled.

After Yuanbao had gone, Wang Ying glared at Qingyan. “You spoil him too much. To spoil a child is to ruin him.”

Qingyan smiled ruefully. “It’s only a lump of candy. Not as serious as you say.”

“You play the kind one, now he clings more to you than to me.”

Qingyan quickly rose in apology. “It was my fault—don’t be angry. You are his father; no one can take your place.”

Wang Ying harrumphed, but then pulled out a silver ingot. “Write this on the list. We must give a gift—silver is best.”

“So much?”

“After marrying, Er‑shun will follow us to the prefecture city. It’s much like we take another son. This gift silver should be thought of as supporting Chen Xi in his later years.”

“True… then I’ll write it.” He took the silver into the chest and neatly penned on the list: Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan gift, ten taels silver.

One after another, villagers came with offerings. Most were small amounts—tens of copper, no more than a hundred. They left their gifts and gathered waiting for the meal.

In the courtyard great cauldrons boiled. The fragrance of stewed meat floated through the village.

Everyone’s mouths watered. Hunger had gnawed for the past half year—many had scarcely seen oil, much less pork. Who would not drool?

At last the pots were ready; the bride had been welcomed home.

Er‑shun’s wife was surnamed Qin—Qin Xiaofeng. A round‑faced girl, not especially stunning, but when she smiled, dimples appeared; she radiated kindness.

The hour was right—the master of ceremonies cried, “Set the feast!”

Bowls and platters of meat were carried out, and the guests fell upon them like soldiers in battle. The pork, stewed soft till chopsticks could split it, melted in the mouth, rich and savory. Some even wanted to lick bowls clean of broth.

Chen Xi set two private tables indoors for Madam Li and the masters, not wishing the rough eating manners of the villagers to offend them.

Even those used to regular meat found the communal feast had its own flavor—rustic but delicious. Even Fourth Aunt, who rarely touched meat, praised it and ate several bites.

When the meal was done, the rites were nearly complete. Some stayed to help clean, the rest went home.

For Wang Ying’s party, it was also time to prepare to return to town. Rest one day, then to the prefecture.

He wanted to leave quietly at dawn, but word spread. The whole village poured out to line the road.

One old man chanted an impromptu verse:

“In Chen Village lives young Master Wang,

Reborn as Shennong with strength so strong.ⁱ

He led us to fight the floods like war,

Gave seed to save lives, his name spreads afar!”

And the crowd followed suit, crying “Master! Master!”

In the carriage, Wang Ying wept, hiding his face in his sleeve. What virtue have I, to be lauded so?

That night in the crowded village houses they hardly slept.

Next morning Er‑shun came again with his new wife, along with Dashun and his wife. In recent days they had already been to town to tidy the storefront from top to bottom.

Wang Ying, cautious, also took the deed to the yamen, recording the transfer, and penned a contract clarifying rights—to prevent troublemakers claiming the shop.

Once all was settled, it was already the tenth day of the second month. With sunlight bright, the household departed for the prefecture city.

The prefectural exam (fushi) was generally held in the fourth month. Afterward came the yuan shi (academy exam) in the prefecture capital. To win first place in all three stages—county, prefecture, academy—was called a “Small Triple Yuan.”

As for the great trilogy—provincial, metropolitan, palace exams—one who topped all three would be a Great Triple Laureate (da san yuan). In history few achieved it. To win all six was unheard of.

The journey took half a month. At last they reached the prefectural city.

For Lin Sui, this was his first time traveling so far; he was anxious. Qingyun noticed and stayed at his side these days for company.

City gates were strictly inspected. Luckily, they carried papers. Uncle Chen, long acquainted from hauling vegetables, slipped the guards two strings of cash, and they passed.

Crossing the gate, the noise of hawking filled their ears. To the south was a bustling bazaar: food vendors, sellers of hares and game, eggs from ducks and geese, even live rabbit kits—gray and white, tiny things the size of fists.

Little Yuanbao pressed to the carriage window. “A‑fu, I want a bunny!”

Wang Ying sent Er‑shun to ask: ten coins each, cheaper for a pair.

“Then buy two. But you and your cousins must care for them.”

The three children nodded rapidly like pecking chicks.

Finally the carriages stopped before their residence. Uncle Chen turned the key. Inside the courtyard lay traces of snow, marked only by sparrow prints.

They entered. Wang Ying asked Qingyun to take Lin Sui to her room to rest, while he figured out arrangements.

The house lease still had half a year left; cancelling early meant no refund. They had coin enough to rent a larger compound, but not quite enough to purchase. So they must squeeze together for now and focus on business.

Qinghuai and Qingsong continued to share a room. Quiet sons, they offered no complaint—indeed enjoyed company and talk at night. One room was freed for Lin Sui.

He had once been lively, but now, after hardship, had grown subdued and gentle, helping tidy the house without being asked.

Afterwards, Madam Chen went shopping for salt. Wang Ying took Lin Sui to the shopfront to reacquaint.

Two months empty, dust lay thick. They swept and scrubbed until the store gleamed again.

Neighbors came to greet. One said warmly, “Manager Wang, I thought you’d closed. Back so soon?”

“How could I? I was away accompanying my husband to his county exam!”

“Ah—you’re married to a scholar? Did he pass?”

Wang Ying grinned. “Not only passed—he was the county’s Anshou (top scorer). My cousin and brother too—three from our family all passed!”

The man’s eyes widened in awe, his tone instantly respectful. To have three scholars from one household!

When he left, Wang Ying leaned to Lin Sui. “See, I boasted for a reason. Now they know our family has talent—less likely they plot against us.”

Before, Wang Ying could rely only on his guise as a “known man” for protection, but that was a flimsy shield. Now, scholars’ prestige gave deterrence.

Lin Sui nodded. He trusted his cousin‑in‑law’s methods—just follow his lead.

“Come summer, we must sell popsicles again,” Wang Ying explained. “But here it will draw envy.”

Vegetables could be explained—anyone might grow them. But ice was different: controlled by the state.

Each winter, official ice cutters harvested great blocks—three feet long, three broad, five inches thick—from rivers, hauled them into icehouses. By summer, much melted, and the rest was reserved for officials.

By regulation, fifth‑rank officers received three feet monthly; sixth and lower, one. Only fourth rank and above allowed purchase privately. Theft of ice was punishable—one foot stolen meant ten lashes, three feet meant thirty lashes and penal servitude.³

Thus ice fetched exorbitant prices. A single block in summer might bring a full string of cash. Only rich merchants could afford it.

In small towns, Wang Ying sold popsicles harmlessly—villagers found them strange but cheap entertainment. In the prefectural city, under many eyes, such trade could prove deadly without permit.

He dared not reveal the secret of saltpeter ice‑making (硝石制冰).⁴ Operation was too difficult, impossible to produce daily in bulk.

So he declared boldly his family’s scholars’ success, discouraging would‑be meddlers.

When they returned from the shop it was already dusk. After supper, everyone retired, exhausted from travel.

Two days later, Qingyan and his brothers began visiting old friends in the prefectural city.

Footnotes:

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1. Ice Regulation — In imperial dynasties like Tang and Song, ice was state‑controlled luxury for officials; theft harshly punished. 
2. Saltpeter ice‑making – An ancient method: dissolving potassium nitrate in water creates an endothermic reaction sufficient to freeze water in small containers—laborious, costly, not practical for bulk.