WSMTATMC C23

Chapter 23

From town to the manor was more than thirty li¹. Normally, the carriage ride took just over an hour, but Chen Bo was afraid the jolts would be too much for Chen Qingyan’s body, so they travelled slowly, not arriving until close to noon.

Having learned from last time, Wang Ying brought plenty of snacks, his mouth hardly still the entire way.

“Want some pastries? Flaky crust from Sanshian Zhai.”

“No.” Just seeing pastries reminded Qingyan of Chen Qingfeng, souring even his appetite.

“What about a tomato? Picked fresh this morning.”

Glancing at it, Qingyan accepted. He was meticulous about eating — wrapping the tomato in a handkerchief, then biting a small opening and slowly sucking out the juice.

Wang Ying stared, fixated on his lips. Whatever thought crossed his mind made his face flare crimson. He choked on his pastry and sprayed crumbs everywhere.

“Eat properly — don’t get it all over.”

“Yes, yes!” Wang Ying brushed the crumbs off his clothes, grabbed the water gourd and gulped to cover his embarrassment.

Strange… I’ve never really felt anything for men before.

By nature fairly open-minded, Wang Ying had had gay friends in his past life, but none had ever stirred a different sort of feeling.

Must be because of that weird dream last night.

They finally reached the manor. Two months had passed since their last visit; the millet in the fields had turned a reddish brown, and harvesters dotted the ridges between plots.

The mule cart stopped at the steward’s house just as Chen Xi happened to be home.

“The masters are here?”

Chen Bo, acquainted with him, smiled. “Both the young master and the young master’s husband.”

“Well now — the young master himself!”

Wang Ying lifted the curtain and hopped down first. Chen Bo half crouched in front of the cart so Qingyan could lean on him getting down.

At the sight of Qingyan, Chen Xi dropped to kneel. “Greetings, young master!”

“Please rise, Uncle — no need for such ceremony.”

“Last I heard from young master’s husband, you’d caught a chill. Are you recovered now?”

“Much better. Thank you for the earthworm bones, Uncle.”

Chen Xi rubbed his hands shyly. “Just something dug from the hills — not worth any thanks, so long as it helped.”

The group went inside. Qingyan looked around. “I remember last coming here with my father. The place hasn’t changed.”

“In a village like this, nothing changes much. Three years gone in a blink. The old master — such a good man — alas, taken too soon.”

At the mention of his father, Qingyan’s face shadowed. Wang Ying quickly changed the subject. “Where’s Auntie and the two children?”

“Out bringing food to Dashun and the others in the fields. I twisted my arm doing chores a few days back, so I’m resting at home.”

Just then, Auntie returned with the two children. On seeing the mule cart in the yard, she knew the masters had come. “Masters! You haven’t had lunch yet? I’ll start cooking right away!”

“No need to trouble yourself — we ate on the way,” Qingyan said.

“No trouble at all — you can’t come without eating something!”

The children looked up at her, eyes bright. “Great-grandma, are we having chicken again?”

Remembering last time, Wang Ying laughed. “Yes — we’ll eat together today.”

“Pay them no mind — just two greedy kittens,” Chen Xi said, waving the pair out to play.

“This time, we came for something. Does the manor have anyone skilled at tending livestock?” Since the arrest of the Tian family, the Chen household had been short several servants.

Now Chen Bo was caring for both Qingyan and the mules; being no longer young, it was too much. Servants from town were an option, but Wang Ying preferred someone from the manor, where they knew the character.

Chen Xi thought a moment. “There is a man — a widower named Shidunzi. He was a groom in the army, excellent with stock. If you’d like, I can fetch him now.”

“No hurry. We also need someone to do the marketing. I was thinking of asking whether Dashun or Ershun would be interested — wages are a hundred and fifty copper a month.”

At once, Chen Xi tried to kneel in gratitude. For a tenant farmer, even a year’s labour left little money; a task at the main house, even with just incidental benefits, was far better than scrabbling in the fields.

“This… we would be honoured! Nu, Hu — fetch your father!”

“Yes!” The children ran off barefoot.

In truth, Wang Ying had decided this back during their last visit. He’d taken a liking to Chen Xi’s family; Dashun and Ershun seemed honest and steady, and with their kin here, they’d think twice before doing wrong.

Before long, all the Chen men had returned. Word of the opening had them grinning ear to ear, and they kowtowed solidly on seeing the masters.

Dashun was twenty-two, Ershun eighteen. Though Wang Ying had first thought of Dashun, as the eldest son with a wife and children, he couldn’t leave. So Ershun was chosen for the town job.

At noon, Auntie again stewed a chicken. Even with Wang Ying’s urging, the women and children refused to sit at table, taking only a bowl of meat to share around the stove.

Over the meal, talk turned inevitably to the old master. “There was nothing to fault him. The whole region envied Chen Manor — even tenants willing to pay seventy percent rent to move here.”

“Seventy?! Do they still have enough to eat?” Wang Ying was surprised.

“They can always open up wasteland — here, we don’t charge rent on newly reclaimed plots. Plant beans to supplement, and you can get by. Other manors aren’t so generous; they collect rent even on land you break yourself.”

Wang Ying nodded.

“One year, a spring cold almost wiped out the wheat. Everyone was sick with worry about making rent. The old master came himself and, learning the yield would be poor, waived the rent entirely.

“Next manor over wasn’t so kind — took every grain, stripping the bark from the hills. People were chewing dirt before it was over, and many starved.”

The mention of untimely frost sparked an idea. “It’s nothing to fear. Next time, press the shoots down ahead of a cold snap; irrigate the field before the temperature drop, and then cover the stalks with straw to keep in the warmth — it will prevent or lessen freeze damage.”

Chen Xi’s eyes went wide. “Water the field? Won’t that freeze the wheat solid?”

“With more moisture, the soil conducts heat better. When frost forms, the process releases heat, protecting the wheat buds.”

The knowledge was far ahead of its time — Chen Xi could only half-follow. “We’ll try it next time, as you say. Oh, about that white powder disease on the millet — I cut some plants and sprayed with sulphur water like you said, and it worked well!”

“And in the untreated plots, the yield was poor, right?”

“Yes — smaller, shrivelled heads without it.”

“Take me to have a look.”

Qingyan watched him with a small smile; get him talking crops, and Wang Ying became someone else entirely — fluent and authoritative.

After lunch, Wang Ying wheeled Qingyan to the fields. The land here was level; everywhere ripe millet bowed the stalks, heavy heads golden in the sun.

“This side is treated — look at those plump heads! But next to it, the untreated plots are much smaller, with many hollow inside.”

Wang Ying plucked heads from each for comparison, when behind him Qingyan gave a small “ah.”

“What is it?”

“Something bit me, I think.”

Chen Xi’s face changed. “A snake, maybe? You get them out here.”

Wang Ying’s own face changed — he dropped to check.

“It’s fine…”

“No — if it’s venomous, you could die!” He rolled up Qingyan’s trouser unceremoniously — sure enough, two tiny puncture marks were welling blood.

Kneeling, Wang Ying took up the leg and put his mouth over the wound, sucking the blood out and spitting it away.

The warm softness of his lips against his calf was like the light brush of a feather, and Qingyan was suddenly reminded of the pet cat he’d had as a child, twining around his legs with a flicking tail that made his heart itch.

He turned his head, swallows bobbing, heart pounding like a drum.

When Wang Ying finally let go, he asked quickly, “Any pain? Tingling?”

Blushing, Qingyan shook his head.

“Don’t know what bit you — let’s hope it’s not venomous, or with medicine here, you’d be done for. You’re not coming to the fields next time.”

Not far off, Chen Xi called, “Found the snake — it’s a harmless flower snake!”

Wang Ying patted his chest. “Scared me half to death.”

Qingyan pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from Wang Ying’s mouth.

“That snake — picking on the weak. You already have trouble walking; now you’ll be limping.”

Qingyan tossed him the kerchief. This man — a dog’s mouth produces no ivory.

notes:

1. Li (里) – Traditional Chinese unit of distance; in the Qing-type measure, ≈ 576 meters. Thirty li is roughly 17 km (~10.5 miles).