WSMTATMC C123

Chapter 123

Among the group, only Chen Qingyan had already married his husband‑lord. The others were still unmarried.

Chen Qinghuai became the most sought‑after. At just eighteen, fresh from passing the county exam, and with his father serving as zhou mu (provincial governor)¹, his prospects seemed limitless.

Any family with foresight wished to betroth their children to him. Though a mere xiucai² (licensed scholar) held little real power, there was no telling—what if he someday passed as a juren (provincial graduate)? Then their fortunes would rise with him.

But Fang Ling refused them all. Her son’s marriage was not her decision. Long before, her husband had already promised him to the Bai family’s daughter, to be formally engaged after the autumn provincial exam. How could she dare agree to anything else?

When those matchmakers saw they could not secure Qinghuai, they turned their sights to Chen Qingsong and Chen Qingyun instead.

But Qingsong was only fourteen—far too young. As for Qingyun, Madam Li was indeed anxious yet refused to promise her daughter lightly. Especially after what had happened with Lin Sui, she was all the more cautious.

If they were to settle permanently in the prefecture city, they certainly would not leave Qingyun behind in a county marriage. So these proposals too were declined.

They thought the matter closed, but unexpectedly someone turned greedy eyes toward Chen Qingyan himself.

The Song family were large merchants in the county. Originally they had run nothing more than a grain shop. But when the floods came, it so happened they had amassed huge stores of grain. Seizing this fortune, they sold at soaring prices and emerged as wealthy county magnates.

The Songs wished connection to the rising Chen family. At first they proposed their youngest son should marry Chen Qingyun, but again the Chens refused.

So they turned scheming: in their household was a concubine‑born daughter, sixteen years of age. Rather than marry her into some ordinary family as main wife, why not send her into Chen Qingyan’s household as concubine?

In case Qingyan passed the juren exam, they would then have a political bond. If he did not, well, they lost only a concubine daughter—not much of a loss.

Resolved, Song Jincheng came personally with lavish gifts. He sought out Cao Kun first, expecting him to introduce him into the Chen family.

Cao Kun had dealt with him before in business, so thought little of it. He assumed the man merely wanted acquaintance, as many families had asked him recently to make introductions.

“Brother Song,” said Cao Kun, “if you’re not urgent, I can bring you along this afternoon.”

“Very well! If all goes well, I’ll treat you to wine in thanks.”

That afternoon Cao Kun brought him to the Chen residence. Granted Cao Kun’s introduction, the family duly received the guest into the courtyard.

But scarcely had a few formalities passed when Song Jincheng declared:

“My family has a daughter of sixteen summers, comely and gentle, skilled in managing the household. Should the gentleman not disdain, I am willing to provide her with a dowry of one hundred strings of cash.”

Qingyan immediately interjected: “My second brother is already promised, and my third brother is still young…”

But Song Jincheng smiled. “You misunderstand. Not your younger brothers—but you yourself, sir.”

“I am already married.”

“So what? Since when was it rare for men to have three wives and four concubines? Surely you cannot confine yourself to a single ge’er.³ My girl would not contest pride of place—only enter humbly as a concubine. Then we’d become one family.”

Before Qingyan could refuse, Cao Kun shot to his feet, seizing Song’s collar and dragging him.

“Let go! Master Cao, what do you mean by this?”

Cao Kun roared: “I thought you wanted to befriend my cousins—not shove a girl into my cousin’s bed! My cousin‑in‑law is among the most capable on earth—why would my cousin ever look at your pig‑brained daughter?”

And with a shove, he flung the man outside.

The commotion drew the whole family out. Once they heard the details, they were speechless.

Wang Ying glanced at Qingyan and nearly laughed at his stricken look.

Qingyan frowned at him. “You can still laugh in a matter so serious?” Then declared: “Tomorrow we return this rental house. We’ll go back to Qing Shui Town to honor the ancestors, then move on straight to the prefecture.”

Madam Li agreed. “Yes indeed. It is time to return early anyway, for the prefectural exam awaits.”

The incident left poor Cao Kun awkward on both sides. After expelling the Song merchant, he came to apologize.

“I did not know that he came to make such a shameless request. Please, cousin‑in‑law, don’t take offense.”

“No need,” Wang Ying said gently. “I’m not angry.”

“I ought to have asked beforehand. This man’s behavior truly overstepped!”

Wang Ying even comforted him: “Let it go. I know my husband’s character. Even if you laid beauties at his feet, he would not accept.”

“Of course… he is a true gentleman. The fault lies in me. I will never thoughtlessly bring people again.”

After he departed, Wang Ying and Qingyan tidied their belongings, packing away scattered things into the storage field-space. Tomorrow, departure.

That evening Wang Ying teased: “Offered a lovely young concubine—did your heart not stir?”

“Ah‑Ying, don’t jest in such a way. It sullies the girl’s reputation and wounds what we have.”

“Only a question, can’t I?”

He grew solemn, clasping his hand. “Back when I lay ill, I swore heaven’s oath: if only you would not abandon me, then in this life I would marry none but you.”

“Pah!” snorted Wang Ying inwardly. From his former life he knew too well what men were worth. His parents divorced precisely because his father had strayed. Empty vows counted little.

“Chen Qingyan, hear me once. If you keep faith with me, I will never betray you. But if ever you turn disloyal—” He paused, then said coldly: “I will not cling to a single tree and wait to die. I will take our son and leave, far where you cannot find me.”

Qingyan’s heart clenched at his resolve. He knew full well his husband had the ability to carry that out. He held him desperately tight, unwilling to ever let go.

The next day, callers still arrived, but found the Chen gate locked up tight. Asking neighbors, they learned the family had departed that morning. To where, no one knew. Shrugging, they left.

By then Wang Ying and his household rode their carriages toward Qingshui Town.

It had been half a year since leaving. What did the old town look like now? Along the roadside, snow still clung unmelted, ruined villages standing silent. Of ten villages, barely three or four still showed smoke; the rest had become ghost hamlets.

For the first time, the Chen brothers felt fully the cruelty of natural disaster. Hearing tales was one thing; seeing bones still whitening in the weeds by the way was another altogether.

But at least the road was safe—no bandits troubled them. All breathed relief.

They reached Qingshui Town. At the entrance, the sound of hawkers rang out.

Qingyun leaned out eagerly. “Mother, isn’t that the peddler you used to buy things from?”

Madam Li, startled, leaned to look. Yes—so familiar. She had not thought the little peddler had survived.

Further into town, some shops already reopened, selling food or sundries.

When they reached their own shop, Wang Ying had Uncle Chen halt the carriage. He went to look. The main doors were gone—whether stolen or swept away he could not tell. Inside was a mess of mud and weeds.

Clearly, they would not restore it. Still, it was a shame to leave idle ground. Perhaps Da‑shun’s family might be asked to run a little grocery here.

The carriage rolled on toward their estate. Nearing the gates, all hearts clenched. What state would their home be in now?

But the gate opened suddenly. Chen Fang came rushing out. “Master, Young Master—you have finally returned!”

“Chen Fang? Why are you here?”

“Not only I—Ershun, Tian Ju, Old Ma—many of us remained. Please, come in quickly!”

The carriage rolled into the courtyard. Off they stepped, and all gasped—

The entire courtyard was swept clean, the houses repaired!

Madam Li cried in glad surprise: “You… you repaired this?”

Chen Fang shook his head. “It’s a long story. Old Mistress, please sit and let me tell it slowly.”

The hall was warm with a lit brazier. The furniture set back in place, repaired though bearing scars, yet all cared for with utmost effort.

Soon Ma Zhendong and Tian Ju also came to bow down.

Madam Li raised them up. “Get up—what happened here?”

They explained: “Old Uncle Chen Xi led the work. After you left, we grew your special seed through to autumn. As you said, the water had sweetened the soil—yields far greater than before, even barren paddies produced double!”

Families were fed, hope restored.

That year, with grain in hand, the court waived tax, and Master had waived rent. Abundance overflowed. They even brought grain to town to sell, but found your courtyard seized by vagrants: eating, defecating, tearing doors for firewood. A devastation.”

Chen Xi rallied the village men, drove them out. “This is Master’s ancestral house! We will not see it ruined.”

After autumn harvest, with time free, he gathered ten strong men and rebuilt.

They first raised the walls and gate to secure the yard, then roofed and replaced beams. No cedar was to be found, so they used pine—not as fine, but strong enough. The best they could find.

Wang Ying gazed up at the new beams, his nose stinging. Indeed—cause and effect. He had given seed to the villagers, and in return they had given him a home again.

Tired from travel, they toured the rooms. Madam Li’s chamber remained with just one bed frame—other furniture long burned for fuel by squatters. But that hardly mattered. With home intact, the rest could be restored.

Little Yuanbao scampered off toward his father’s courtyard. Their private residence had weathered best, with furniture still intact. Only the bedding was ruined by damp.

Quickly, Qingyan cleared it out. Wang Ying unpacked from his spatial field a new set of quilt and covers, laying it fresh.

Stretching on the familiar bed, memories of their wedding night swept back. But Yuanbao came running, calling: “A‑fu, I’m hungry!”

Wang Ying laughed faintly, thinking—had all this been but a dream?

“Very well,” he said softly. “Your A‑fu will cook you something delicious.”