WSMTATMC C181

Chapter 181

They had originally planned to stay in Tianyang for some time, but their eldest cousin persuaded them to return first. Though their uncle’s condition was serious, it was not yet critical—remaining there too long would only delay their other obligations.

Upon returning home, Madam Li fell ill. The worry and fatigue from travel had worn her down; she could hardly eat for four or five days. Everyone grew anxious.

Chen Rong stayed by her bedside, trying to soothe her. “Sister-in-law, you mustn’t let this eat at you. Life and death are in Heaven’s hands. No matter how much we grieve, we can’t change that. You must think of the children.”

Madam Li choked back tears. “I know you’re right… but every time I picture my brother lying there, my heart feels pierced through.”

Chen Rong sighed softly. “When my elder brother fell ill, I felt the same way. But life must go on. Qingyan will soon take up his post in the capital, Qingyun is expecting, and Qingsong hasn’t yet taken the examinations. If something were to happen to you, who would care for them? You can’t expect Wang Ying to manage everything alone.”

Madam Li was silent for a long moment before finally breaking down in tears. Yet after that release, her heart seemed lighter. Within days, her health began to recover, to everyone’s immense relief.

Had anything truly happened to her, none of the younger ones could have endured it—and even Chen Qingyan’s career would have been affected. According to Wuchao law, any official whose parent died was required to observe three years of mourning, during which advancement was forbidden. Once that golden period passed, promotion became exceedingly difficult.

By mid-May, the ancestral shrine was finally complete, and the entire family attended the beam-raising ceremony.

On that day, everyone dressed in their finest. The men bound their hair and wore formal crowns; the women adorned themselves with hairpins and jade ornaments.

Little Yuanbao was dressed in a brand-new blue robe. Sensing the solemn atmosphere, he sat obediently on Wang Ying’s lap, perfectly still.

By the time they reached the manor grounds, villagers were already waiting at the village entrance. They surrounded the carriages and escorted them up the slope toward the rear mountain.

When Wang Ying lifted the carriage curtain, he could already see, from afar, the newly erected Zhuangyuan Archway—its three large characters gleaming proudly in the sunlight. On its side were inscribed the words: “In the thirteenth year of Wuping, Chen Qingyan attained first place in the Imperial Examinations.”

The carriages halted by the roadside, and everyone continued on foot, passing under the arch and into the courtyard of the newly built ancestral hall.

The shrine, designed according to Wang Ying’s own drawings, consisted of three chambers. Passing through the main gate led into the central hall, with two smaller side halls on either side. The main chamber enshrined the tablets of the Chen family’s forebears, while one of the side halls was dedicated to the married daughters, sons-in-law, and children who had passed prematurely.

According to the customs of Wuchao, married women and ge’er were not allowed to be buried in their natal family’s ancestral graves, nor in their husband’s tombs. Most were left to rest in wilderness plots, and if no descendants remembered them, the graves would soon fall to ruin.

Thus, Wang Ying had specially built this smaller shrine beside the main one—so that those excluded by convention might also be cared for and receive incense from future generations.

When Chen Rong learned of this, she was moved to tears. Ever since her separation, she had worried about her resting place after death, believing that without the right to enter her family’s ancestral ground, she would be abandoned to the wild. But Wang Ying had already thought of everything. Gratitude overwhelmed her—what a thoughtful and kind nephew-in-law he was!

Another hall had been set aside for the villagers of the estate. More than half of them shared the Chen surname—some by blood, others by adoption or change of name. Regardless of origin, they were now one lineage. Knowing they, too, could enter the shrine after death filled them with pride and belonging.

That was the power of the ancestral hall—its unspoken strength to bind hearts together.

Around mid-morning, the beam-raising began. The same elder who had presided over the ceremony for the Chen family’s secondary manor came again. He was over seventy now, his hair entirely white, but his steps still steady.

Leaning on his cane, he greeted them cheerfully. “Blessings upon the master’s household! The old man comes once again.”

Chen Qingyan hurried forward to support him. “We trouble you with this once more.”

“No trouble at all!” the old man chuckled. “This is a joyous occasion. I’m honored to be part of it.”

In the courtyard, a table had been set with the traditional three sacrifices. The elder lit incense and began chanting the ceremonial verses—first offering prayers to Master Lu Ban, patron of builders, then to the local earth gods, and finally to the ancestral spirits themselves.

After reciting the blessings, Chen Qingyan dipped his brush in vermilion ink and wrote four bold characters across the main beam: “Auspicious Raising of the Beam.”

Chen Xi called ten strong men forward. They looped thick hemp ropes around the massive timber and, with shouted rhythm, slowly hoisted it upward.

As the beam settled into place, firecrackers burst in thunderous celebration. The elderly wiped tears from their eyes, children clapped in delight, and every heart swelled with shared pride.

In that moment, everyone truly felt the strength of kinship and home—the spirit of the ancestral hall brought to life.

The entire family lined up to offer incense. Even little Yuanbao was not left out. Wang Ying guided his small hands to hold the lit sticks and led him to kneel before the altar.

“Yuanbao, these are your ancestors,” he whispered. “Bow three times, just like your father, then place the incense in the burner.”

“Mm.” Yuanbao mimicked the gestures carefully, knocking his little head three times before placing the incense upright in the censer.

At that moment, Wang Ying thought he heard soft laughter—faint, like a breeze brushing his ear. Startled, he looked around, but the sound faded instantly, leaving only silence.

When the others came forward to worship, Wang Ying stepped aside, passing Yuanbao to Madam Li and joining the villagers for a walk through the wheat fields—it was nearly harvest time.

Chen Xi said proudly, “Ever since you gave us that new wheat strain, our village’s harvest has been the best in town—an acre yields nearly a whole shi more than the others!”

Another elder added, “There was a blight in spring, gray-leaf disease, but we used the treatment you taught us, and not a stalk was lost!”

“Good,” Wang Ying said, examining a plump golden head of grain. “That’s very good.”

“The neighboring villages wanted to buy our wheat seeds,” one man admitted. “But we weren’t sure if we should sell them without asking.”

“Sell them,” Wang Ying said with a smile. “Charge ten to twenty percent above the regular price. That way, you’ll have a little extra income.”

Cheers rippled through the group. Since the master’s household had been exempted from taxes due to the Zhuangyuan’s honor, Wang Ying only collected thirty percent of the harvest, leaving the rest to the tenants. Most families had more grain than they could eat, and selling the surplus brought prosperity.

Even Wang Ying’s portion went toward repairing bridges, paving roads, and maintaining the ancestral shrine—all for the common good. It was how families and villages flourished together.

At noon, the village hosted a grand communal feast. Everyone—men, women, and children—sat side by side, eating, laughing, and reminiscing.

Some began recalling the floods of years past. “Three, four villages around us were wiped out, and their land seized by the yamen. If not for the master leading us to safety, we’d have perished too. Now look at us—living better every year!”

“Aye, better and better!” someone echoed, faces beaming. Simple folk, they asked for little: enough to eat, enough to wear, and a roof that didn’t leak—that was happiness enough.

They celebrated well into dusk. When the Chen family finally boarded their carriages to leave, the entire village followed behind, escorting them for nearly eight miles before stopping.

Their only wish was that their benefactors would remain healthy and prosperous—for only then could their own lives stay bright.

That night, back home, Wang Ying mentioned the strange moment at the shrine. “When I was helping Yuanbao offer incense, I swear I heard laughter—right beside my ear.”

“Laughter?” Chen Qingyan repeated. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It wasn’t from outside,” Wang Ying said seriously. “It was close—so close my skin crawled.”

Chen Qingyan chuckled and patted his head. “Don’t be afraid. It must’ve been our ancestors—happy to see you and the boy honoring them.”

Wang Ying smiled faintly. “If you say it like that, I guess I’m not scared anymore.”

Resting his head on Qingyan’s shoulder, he murmured, “It’s hard to believe we’re leaving again so soon. Who knows when we’ll return next?”

“Then when we’re old,” Qingyan said softly, “let’s come back here for good. We’ll buy a few acres and live out our days in peace.”

Wang Ying’s eyes lit up. “That’d be perfect! We’ll get a dog, maybe a cat—but no chickens or ducks, those filthy things just eat and poop everywhere!”

Chen Qingyan burst out laughing, the sound warm and unrestrained. For a moment, all they felt was quiet contentment.

Time flew by, and soon the day of departure arrived.

On the twenty-sixth of May, the skies were clear and the breeze gentle—a perfect day for travel. The family packed up, said their farewells, and reluctantly left the old estate.

They stopped first in the county to drop off Third Aunt and her family. Business at the courier station couldn’t pause for long, so Cao Kun had already returned the day after bringing them.

They didn’t linger in the county, resting one night before continuing on at dawn. Before leaving, Wang Ying pulled Cao Kun aside to ask about his plans for expanding the courier business.

“I’ve spoken with the workers,” Cao Kun said. “Half are willing to move to the prefectural city, and the rest will stay to keep the county branch running.”

“Good,” Wang Ying said. “Once we’re back, I’ll help you find a shopfront.”

“I’m in your debt, sister-in-law!”

Wang Ying waved him off. “We’re family—no need for thanks. Just let us know when you come, and I’ll arrange a place for you to stay.”

“Likely by July or August,” Cao Kun replied.

“Then we’ll be waiting in the prefectural city.”

The journey home was long and tiring, worsened by several days of rain that forced them to stop at inns along the way. They finally reached home on the fifteenth of June, utterly exhausted.

Soon after arriving, Madam Li fell ill again—perhaps from the summer heat or the poor water on the road. She suffered terrible nausea and stomach distress, frightening both Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan half to death.

After several days of treatment and medicine, she and Qingyan finally recovered their strength.

Qingyun came to help for a few days. Her pregnancy had stabilized, and her complexion had grown rounder and rosier.

“Mother and I kept talking about you,” she said cheerfully. “It’s such a pity we couldn’t go with you this time. Who knows when we’ll get another chance to visit home?”

Wang Ying smiled. “There’ll be time yet. You’re seven months along now, right?”

“Seven and a half,” Qingyun said. “The midwife says I’ll deliver in August.”

Wang Ying calculated quickly—it would coincide with Qingyan’s departure for the capital. “What a shame we won’t be here. I’ll prepare your nephew’s full-month gift in advance.”

Qingyun laughed. “It better be something nice, or I’ll complain to you and Brother!”

Wang Ying playfully flicked her forehead. “You little rascal! Daring to demand gifts from your sister-in-law now, are you?”

They laughed together until Qingyun clutched her belly, wincing. “Oh, heavens, even laughing hurts! Pregnancy is miserable—I can’t sleep properly at all. Lying on my side is uncomfortable, lying flat makes me breathless. I just want him out already!”

“Don’t say that,” Wang Ying teased. “The hard part comes after. Once the baby’s born, you’ll have sleepless nights for an entirely different reason—crying, feeding, changing. Motherhood never ends.”

Qingyun stroked her round belly with wonder. “It’s amazing though, isn’t it? That a woman can grow a whole new life inside her.”

Wang Ying thought wryly to himself—No, what’s truly amazing is that even a man can do it.

Footnotes

1. Beam-raising Ceremony (上梁) – A traditional rite marking the installation of the main beam in a new building, symbolizing stability and blessing. 
2. Zhuangyuan Archway (状元坊) – An honorary structure built by local officials to celebrate the achievement of a Zhuangyuan. 
3. Three Years of Mourning (丁忧三年) – A Confucian obligation requiring officials to retire temporarily upon a parent’s death. 
4. Lu Ban (鲁班) – The legendary Chinese patron of carpenters and builders, worshipped in construction rituals.