WSMTATMC C127

Chapter 127

Originally, this was just something Master Liu said in passing, but Lady Liu took it to heart and soon pulled her son aside to ask, “Those Chen boys—do they have any girls or gē’er in the family?”

Liu Changyi flushed scarlet. “How would I know?”

“Then go ask!”

“That would be far too abrupt. It would be terribly discourteous to inquire so suddenly.”

“You child!” As the saying goes, the emperor’s not anxious, but the eunuch is; the husband and wife had long been anxious about their son’s marriage, while he behaved as if it were no concern at all.

It wasn’t that the prefectural city lacked marriageable young ladies; rather, he had rejected several proposed matches. The couple were unwilling to force their son to marry a woman he didn’t like, and so the matter kept being delayed.

“Delay a few years more and you’ll be an old bachelor! Let’s see then what girl or young gē’er would want you!”

“Then I’ll shave my head and become a monk.”

Lady Liu snatched up the feather duster and swung. “Insolent boy—if you dare become a monk, I’ll beat you into a wooden fish first!”

Liu Changyi bolted, locking himself in the study to escape a thrashing. Yet, his mother’s words did not go entirely unheeded.

Brother Qingyan already had a two-year-old child, and Liu himself was three years younger—hardly too young to marry.

But he truly did not like the grand ladies that matchmakers proposed. He wouldn’t even grant a face-to-face meeting, insisting on talking from behind a screen.

Talking was fine—except he would speak ten lines and receive one in return; and at every turn, the girl would fall silent in shyness, which irritated him to no end. He rejected every proposal; better to stay home and read than endure that.

—

Elsewhere, Wang’s Vegetable Shop reopened. Before dawn, Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan had already risen to move produce out of the experimental field and into the cart, and Steward Chen looped outside the city to haul it all back.

Because the shop had been closed for so long, much of the field’s produce had grown old. Wang Ying even converted some near-expiry crops into “experience,” losing a large sum. Now that they were back, he took out everything stored: sell what can be sold, keep the bruised for the household, and give the rest to neighbors to taste something fresh.

By late morning, as soon as the shop opened, familiar customers came by word of mouth.

Across the street, the husband of the Yang Trading House came and bought three strings’ worth of vegetables at once.

Wang Ying smiled. “No need to worry—we’ll be open again tomorrow.”

“Can’t help it—I feel secure buying more. You’ve been gone two months; we’ve eaten nothing but cabbage and radishes. I’ve been craving fresh greens.”

After payment, Wang Ying tucked in four extra tomatoes. “All fresh—just a few scuffs on the peel. Don’t mind it.”

“Who would mind? I’m fretting I can’t buy any!” The Yang household husband left, all smiles, with servants in tow.

Nimble-handed, Lin Sui re-arranged the produce a customer had rummaged through, placing the freshest on top and setting the less presentable aside—his sister-in-law had said they would take those home to eat.

Soon, another regular came. Wang Ying greeted her. “Madam, welcome.”

It was none other than Lady Liu, mother of Liu Changyi. Though she had often come to buy vegetables before, she and Wang Ying had never really conversed.

Upon learning that the shop was run by Chen Qingyan’s spouse, she became more curious. “I heard the shop reopened, so I rushed to buy some greens.”

Wang Ying explained why the shop had been closed for so long.

Lady Liu said, “I know. Your husband and his brothers told me yesterday.”

Wang Ying blinked, then hurriedly asked, “You must be the mother of Qingyan’s classmate?”

Lady Liu nodded with a smile. “That’s me.”

“Your fried tang yuanzi were marvelous. We took a whole tray home yesterday, and they were gone in no time!”

Lady Liu had few hobbies beyond exploring food. Hearing his praise, she beamed with delight. “Next time they come over, I’ll make more.”

“Oh, how could we impose?” Wang Ying quickly began filling the basket held by her maid with the freshest of each variety—heaping it full.

When she reached for her purse, Wang Ying stopped her. “If you insist on paying, you’ll make it too formal. Qingyan says he and your son hit it off like brothers. How can one charge family for a few vegetables?”

“That won’t do. You’re running a proper business—no taking for free.” After much back-and-forth, Lady Liu insisted on leaving two strings of cash.

Seeing that, Wang Ying simply added even more produce. After a bit more conversation, he walked her to the door.

Just then, Qingyun arrived with lunch. Her resemblance to her brothers was striking, and Lady Liu could guess her relation at a glance.

Lady Liu examined her more carefully; Qingyun, noticing, didn’t shy away—she smiled broadly and nodded, then went inside to set lunch for her sister-in-law and cousin.

“Chen Auntie braised soy-pig’s-feet today. Yuanbao ate more than half a bowl of rice with it.”

Wang Ying rinsed two cucumbers, then ate alongside them—soft, flavorful, savory without being greasy.

“Mm.”

Having eaten at home, Qingyun packed the dishes away and returned, while Wang Ying and Lin Sui continued to tend the shop.

By the Hour of Wei in the afternoon, nearly everything was sold out. The few limp items were discounted and cleared. The day was a strong success; the cash box brimmed—conservatively over fifteen strings.

Fresh produce from the field would sell well for only a month or so. Once weather warmed and local fields came in, business would cool.

With daylight left, the two tidied up, Wang Ying locked the door, and took Lin Sui out to the street.

“Sister-in-law, aren’t we going home?” he asked, curious.

“Taking you for a stroll—we haven’t really walked the prefectural city.”

Lin Sui nodded happily. He was still young; in another life, boys his age would just be entering high school. Yet he had already divorced once, and lost a child…

Yang Street was lively, peddlers everywhere with shoulder poles crying their wares, and the shopfronts on both sides dazzled the eyes.

Nervous, Lin Sui stuck close until they reached a clothing shop and stopped.

The weather warmed by the day. These past few days, heavy coats had become too much—midday was comfortable in a single layer.

Wang Ying planned to buy Lin Sui two bright outfits. He still wore what the Huangs had made for his wedding—coarse cloth in dull colors that sapped spirit.

A face like a flower, battered like by hail—unacceptable. To live well, the first step is to change one’s own sense of self—and that starts with appearance.

As soon as they entered, a shop hand came to greet them. “Would you like custom tailoring or ready-made garments?”

Wang Ying pointed to Lin Sui. “According to his measurements, choose several bright colors in fashionable styles, all in fine cloth.”

“Right away—I’ll find some.”

Lin Sui nervously gripped Wang Ying’s sleeve. “Sister-in-law, I’ve clothes. No need…”

“It’s only a few garments—won’t cost much.”

He still shook his head; Mother had cautioned him not to trouble aunt or cousins, and besides, he really did have clothes—several barely worn.

Soon the clerk returned with four bright robes—current favorites for gē’er: two diagonal-collar, two round-collar.

“There’s a changing room—try them, and if anywhere doesn’t fit, our seamstress can alter them on the spot.”

Wang Ying handed them over. “Go on—don’t overthink. You’re still young. To me, you’re like Qingsong—both my little brothers. It’s nothing for me to spend a bit for you.”

Lin Sui’s nose prickled; he hugged the clothes and went in.

All four fit well—sleeves just right, like custom work.

The shop boy’s praise came like beans from a split pod, making Lin Sui blush—but his spirit was noticeably lifted.

Wang Ying had intended to buy all four. But when he asked the price, Lin Sui turned pale and refused, so they settled on two.

One grass-green, one vermilion. With Lin Sui’s clear-cut features, he looked particularly poised and handsome in both.

Wang Ying bought two pairs of trousers for himself. As for Chen Qingyan and Yuanbao, he never worried—Mother handled their wardrobes.

Leaving the clothier, he took Lin Sui to a nearby pastry shop for two boxes of sweets. Traditional pastries were plentiful: white-skins, mahua twists, sugar-fried knots, mung-bean cakes, red-bean cakes, pea-yellow, and more.

They all shared one trait—very sweet. Sugar was dear; most folk ate it rarely, so when buying pastries, they chose the sweetest to feel it “worth it.”

Wang Ying was not fond of sweets. The most he’d eaten in his last life were those big, tear-and-share school bread loaves. If only he could bake—bringing in Western pastries might make a fortune.

Back at home, several carriages stood in the courtyard—Wang Ying immediately guessed Master Liang had returned. He hurried in and, indeed, found Liang Boqing back—cradling Yuanbao and teaching him The Thousand Character Classic.

“Master, you’re back!”

Liang beamed. “Just returned at noon.”

“That trip must have been tiring. Have you eaten? I’ll have the kitchen make you a bowl of soup noodles.”

“No need—I’ve eaten.”

Wang Ying beckoned to Yuanbao. “Run outside and play with Chunsheng and Mutou. Don’t pester your grandpa.”

Yuanbao obediently scampered out.

Rubbing his neck, Liang said, “I was waiting to speak with you.”

Wang Ying straightened at once.

“Do you remember the wheat seed we sent to the capital the year before last?”

“I remember.”

“News came from the capital. Not finding your address, the letter was sent to my son in Changting.”

He paused. “The seed we sent to the capital yielded exceptionally. The Ministry of Agriculture wishes to know whether you have any other fine seed stock of staple crops.”

—