WSMTATMC C7

Chapter 7

The fine rain fell like a woven curtain, and it didn’t take long for the drizzle to soak through one’s clothes.

Wang Ying didn’t feel cold — only the rush of hot blood pumping through him, an excitement that had him running back and forth through the field. The experimental field was real. It wasn’t just a dream.

Before long, he calmed himself and hurried to check the wheat.

Judging by the timeline from his previous life, it should now be mid-April. The wheat in the field was entering the “flag leaf” or “booting” stage — in a month, it would be ready for harvest.

Looking at the thriving crop, an indescribable joy swelled in him, followed by a cascade of questions.

What exactly were the requirements for entering this experimental field? How long could he stay each time? Was it permanent, or did it have a usage limit?

There were no answers. The field seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

He let the questions go for now. Wang Ying plucked two small wheat ears and tucked them into his robe to see if he could take them back with him later.

When he walked toward the edge of the field, he found that each time he approached, an invisible force bounced him back to the field’s center — much like being trapped in a “ghost wall”¹.

It seemed he couldn’t use the field to return to the original world.

The rain gradually stopped, leaving the sky a deep clear blue. The only sound in the world was the rustling of wheat in the gentle wind.

After rain, the air was filled with the mingled fragrance of earth and grass. Wang Ying drew in a deep breath, slowly accepting the fact that there was no leaving.

A white flash crossed his vision again — and he was back in the bedchamber.

“Hoo…” He sat up from the floor, breathing hard. The wheat ears he’d tucked away tumbled from his chest onto the ground.

“It’s real!” He’d counted the time this round — he’d been in the experimental field for about an hour.

Would he be able to enter again tomorrow? With those questions lingering, Wang Ying drifted off to sleep.

In the blink of an eye, nearly half a month had passed since he arrived in this era, and Wang Ying had become familiar with the Chen household.

His mother-in-law, Madam Li, was the epitome of a “hands-off” matron: mild-tempered to the point of weakness, spending her days on Buddhist scriptures, praying for her children’s safety, and in idle time embroidering or composing verses — with not a trace of a household head’s firmness.

His younger sister-in-law, Chen Qingyun, was clever and capable for her age and managed most household matters — but she was still a child, and easily outwitted by sly servants.

His third brother-in-law, Chen Qingsong, attended school daily and was reportedly a good student, planning to sit the county examination² next year.

As for Chen Qingyan — he still lay in bed half-alive each day. Wang Ying tried every trick to get him to eat, and while his condition hadn’t much improved, it at least hadn’t worsened.

That morning, Chen Bo finally brought back the wheelchair-cart, made nearly identical to the drawings Wang Ying had provided.

Pushing it around, Wang Ying found it no different from a modern pushcart — even the swivel casters at the back had been replicated!

Beaming, he wheeled it straight into the room. “Hey, Chen Qingyan, look what this is!”

The man on the bed glanced up. “A… wooden chair on wheels?”

“It’s called a wheelchair. Come on, let Chen Bo lift you onto it — I’ll take you out for some air.”

“No.” The refusal was immediate.

“I went to all this trouble to have it made — at least try it.”

“I never asked you to.”

Chen Bo stood frozen at the side, not daring to lift the master without permission.

“Tsk.” Wang Ying rolled up his sleeves, strode over, and scooped him right up. Though a ge’er, he’d done plenty of hard work at home before — and had the strength to show for it.

Chen Qingyan went rigid, his face flushing red, then white again, before finally bursting out, “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Getting you out to see the sun. You’re growing mold.” Without giving him a choice, Wang Ying set him in the wheelchair and pushed him out the door.

“Outrageous! How dare—”

But the rest of the words evaporated as bright sunlight poured over him, too dazzling to look into. He raised an arm to shade his face, and a feeling impossible to describe welled up inside.

How long had it been since he’d felt sun like this? It seemed that since the day he failed the imperial examination, his life had been shrouded in damp gloom.

After a long moment, he lowered his hand and let the sunlight wash over him, warmth shivering through his body.

Walking behind them, Chen Bo subtly brushed at the corner of his eye. Thank goodness for the Little Master — without him, the young master might never have taken another step outside.

The sun was strong, so Wang Ying soon steered the chair under the shade of the old locust tree in the center of the courtyard.

“You sit here. I’ll tidy up the vegetable patch.”

Originally, the rear yard had three beds planted with roses, peonies, and crabapple trees. As Wang Ying had no taste for flowers, he’d gotten Madam Li’s permission to tear them out and plant vegetables.

Though the space wasn’t large, it held quite a variety: scallions, coriander, garlic, and celery, with cucumbers, bottle gourds, and beans climbing trellises on the other side.

These were the staples of the local diet. In one corner, though, grew some stranger seedlings: tomatoes, chili peppers, and a few watermelon sprouts.

These seedlings had been transplanted from the experimental field. How did tomatoes and peppers get there? That went back to the day he’d leased the plot.

When renting the plot for his experiments, Wang Ying had also bought some farmyard manure from a nearby household — humans’ and animals’ waste alike. Evidently, some undigested seeds in the manure had sprouted in the field.

The weather was hot, and the plants had started to wilt under the sun. Wang Ying fetched two buckets of water and, ladling it out with a dipper, watered each one in turn.

After watering, he needed to make trellises for the vines — cucumbers, gourds, and beans all thrived best when climbing.

Skilled from a lifetime with his grandparents, he twisted ropes from straw and stuck several wooden poles into the ground, binding them at the top.

Many of these methods weren’t found in books — they were the fruit of life’s own lessons.

From under the tree, Chen Qingyan watched him work. What had seemed dull at first gradually drew his interest, and he found himself asking, “Why do you tie those stems to the poles?”

“Because those are vining plants. Once they reach the vining stage, they need support. Without it, they’ll sprawl on the ground, blocking the sun. The shaded leaves will rot, and the yield will suffer.”

Straightening, Wang Ying went on, “With supports, the vines climb upward, spacing the leaves, letting in air and light — that way, they’ll bear more beans.”

Chen Qingyan nodded thoughtfully. “So even growing vegetables has its principles.”

“Plants need sun and fresh air — all the more so people. When the weather’s fine, I’ll bring you out here.”

This time, Chen Qingyan didn’t refuse. “Only in the back courtyard.”

Wang Ying smiled. So the man wasn’t beyond saving after all.

“Big Brother, you’re outside!” Third Brother Chen Qingsong, just home from school, ran over wide-eyed.

“Mmn… The weather’s nice today. Thought I’d get some air.”

“You should’ve ages ago! What’s this little wooden cart?”

“Your sister-in-law made it — it’s called a wheelchair.”

Wang Ying washed his hands and went over. “What did you learn at school today?”

“We studied the ‘On Government’ chapter of the Analects: ‘If you guide the people with laws and keep them in line with punishments, they may avoid crime but will have no sense of shame. If you guide them with virtue and keep them in line with rites, they will have a sense of shame and correct themselves.’”

“Do you know what it means?”

“Confucius said: Ruling people with decrees and punishing them with law will make them obey, but they won’t feel guilty for wrongdoing. If you instead teach them morality and proper conduct, they’ll learn shame and reform themselves.”

Then he looked at his brother expectantly. “Did I get it right?”

Chen Qingyan nodded slightly. “You’ve given the surface meaning, but not its deeper layers.” Quoting and paraphrasing, he expanded the sentence’s philosophy until Qingsong was looking at him with bright-eyed admiration.

One had to admit — when the young man lectured seriously, he had a certain scholar’s charm.

And his character… While quick to anger, he’d never been cruel to Wang Ying. He’d given him clothes to wear, worried about him catching cold on the floor, even had extra quilts laid out.

If their roles were reversed — suddenly married to a stranger — could Wang Ying himself have been so composed?

In his past life, Wang Ying had never dated. In high school, he’d been busy with studies; by the time he entered his dream university, both grandparents who’d raised him fell ill.

There’d been a girl who pursued him in his second year, but he’d been working multiple jobs to pay for their treatment and had no time for romance. By senior year, a friend had introduced him to someone — but before they could meet, he’d landed in this world.

His gaze drifted back to Chen Qingyan, who was breathing a touch heavily. Wang Ying rose at once. “All right — time to get your brother inside. He’s not strong enough to sit this long.”

“Okay!” Qingsong obediently pushed the chair inside, helping Chen Bo lift him back onto the bed.

The day seemed to have tired him; at dinner, he ate more than usual — half a bowl of tangbing3, noodles served in broth with leafy greens and slivers of meat.

“Thank you,” he said.

Wang Ying blinked. “For what?”

A hint of red touched Chen Qingyan’s ears. “The wheelchair. I like it.”

“Ah, well — we’re married, after all. I’d rather not be a widower too soon.”

…

Chen Qingyan yanked the quilt over himself. Dog’s mouth, ivory… impossible!

“Knock knock — Sister-in-law, are you in?” came Qingyun’s anxious voice from outside the door.

Opening it, Wang Ying found her looking urgent, sending him frantic signals with her eyes.

He quickly stepped out with her. “What is it?”

“Bad news — Second Uncle’s family is here again. Mother’s about to lend them her dowry!”

notes:

1. Ghost wall – A term from Chinese folklore (guǐ dǎ qiáng), describing a supernatural effect where a person walks in circles, unable to leave a place.

2. County examination – The qualifying imperial exam held at the county level; the first step in the civil service degree system.

3. Tangbing (汤饼) – In pre-modern China, this referred to noodle soup; despite “bǐng” meaning “bread” or “pancake,” it indicated soft noodles served in hot broth.