Chapter 7: Sows Giving Birth

Chapter 7: Sows Giving Birth

In Yiyuan these past few days, people had been coming and going. First, four servants arrived to clear out Chen Fu's belongings, his leisure items, and decorations that he usually kept in Yiyuan. Then, two maids dressed in red and green spent the better part of the day locked in He Xiaoniang's room, eventually carrying out five large camphorwood chests before sealing the doors and windows tightly with paper strips.

Such precautions were... unapologetic indeed...

Xianjin was somewhat speechless.

With the fierce concubine He Ainiang's departure, Yiyuan finally began to quiet down.

Zhang Po, impressed by Xianjin's martial prowess, secretly informed her that the four maids originally assigned to her had an uncanny sense for self-preservation. On the eve of He Ainiang's death, they all found preposterous excuses like "My aunt passed away, I need to return home," "My brother broke his leg, no one is there to care for him," or "Our sow gave birth, I have to tend to the sow during her confinement period" to pack their things and leave, hoping for another master-servant encounter in the future.

All the other reasons could be understood.

But a sow giving birth? That was truly unbearable.

Could they not put a little more effort into their excuses?

Could they not show a modicum of respect, even if it was feigned?

In any case, over these days, He Xianjin's back pain subsided after just two days without anyone to take care of her. She had to fetch water, stoke the stove, wash clothes, and clean the courtyard herself. In the vast expanse of Yiyuan, no one asked about her well-being, but she found some joy in her solitude.

Fortunately, Chen Fu, who didn't read much, packed away his half-month-old walnuts but left behind all thirty books.

They all fell into Xianjin's hands.

The original host knew how to read.

She often embroidered a couplet of melancholic poetry on her handkerchiefs.

Mostly self-pitying and self-lamenting.

Her poetic skills were questionable, but Xianjin judged from lines like "I pity myself as worthless as weeds, despised by all when I brush against the willow" that the original host was merely literate.

She had a small dream of being a bit artsy, but not much.

She had a fair amount of pretentiousness.

You expect to be waited on hand and foot, yet you claim your life is as worthless as grass.

What would the sister who went back to tend to the sow during her confinement think?

Since the original host could read, Xianjin could openly read the books without restraint, gaining insight into this wondrous dynasty that emerged from a crack in a stone - Great Wei.

It was indeed a remarkable era - blending characteristics of the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties. Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism had not become mainstream, while Confucianism, Daoism, Neo-Confucianism, and Xinology were vying for dominance. The development of literature and martial arts was balanced, and the agricultural and commercial environment was favorable. To the north were the Tartars, to the west the Red Sanda Kingdom, and to the south the Japanese pirates. Women's status was not high, but it wasn't so low that they would disfigure themselves to preserve chastity after being seen by a man, nor did they bind their feet into three-inch golden lotuses, allowing others to control their minds through physical means.

In summary, Xianjin believed this was akin to another Song Dynasty.

Whether in terms of historical and cultural development or the daily lives of commoners, it leaned more towards the Northern Song Dynasty before it was embroiled in war.

This was good.

Peaceful times were always better than those ravaged by war.

At least there was a chance to live like a human being.

The more tranquil Xianjin became, the less noticeable her days in Yiyuan were.

And the less noticeable the days, the harder they became.

First, it manifested in the food -

Each meal grew increasingly haphazard. Originally, breakfast consisted of one egg, a bowl of clear porridge, a few side dishes, and two vegetable buns, akin to a typical breakfast at a train station.

These past few days, breakfast had been reduced to half a steamed bun, a bowl of rice gruel, occasionally accompanied by a few green peas, plummeting to the level of prison rations.

Gradually, it deteriorated to a single meal where the kitchen provided only a plate of boiled vegetables and a small bowl of unhusked grain.

Xianjin lifted the lid in the steam-filled kitchen to inspect.

Looking at the food, she raised her head to glance at the cook, then looked back at the food again.

The cook chuckled, "Sister Jin, you're mourning! How can you indulge in good food?" Pointing downwards, he added, "Your mother is watching!"

Watching, hoping you develop sores on your feet and pus on your head.

Xianjin said nothing, picking up the food box and walking out.

A meal or two was manageable, but five consecutive days of the same fare, without even a change in the type of vegetable, was difficult.

Xianjin felt terrible.

In the middle of the night, hunger drove her to sit up and reach under the bed for a narrow wooden box. Inside were three hundred-liang silver notes stacked together, two heavy gold hairpins, and three thick gold rings.

These were what He Ainiang left for Xianjin to save her life.

Clearly, He Ainiang hadn't considered the practicality of such large-denomination silver notes and gold hairpins within the confines of the inner quarters...

At least, Xianjin dared not exchange a hundred-liang note for three vegetable buns.

If she dared, the third madam would dare to confiscate everything she owned in the next moment.

Xianjin closed the wooden box, sighed, and hid it back under the bed.

Just wait a little longer, endure a little more.

"Knock knock knock —"

There was a light tapping outside the window lattice.

Xianjin knelt on the bed and pushed open the wooden window.

A food box was pushed inside.

"Eat quickly!"

Zhang Po's face appeared in the moonlight, noticing Xianjin's dazed expression, she hurriedly urged, "Eat quickly! Third Master asked me to deliver this for you!"

Xianjin opened the food box, inside was a bowl of egg custard, a plate of soy sauce scallion tofu, and a bowl of white rice, all still steaming hot.

"Third Master was tied up in the stable by Old Madam, beaten fifty times with a board, he had a high fever for three days, his skin torn and flesh split, it was terrifying!"

Zhang Po looked around, then pulled out a purse from her sleeve and slid it onto the windowsill, "I've brought you some silver, all of Third Master's money is now controlled by Old Madam, this is all that I could manage to get."

"Tomorrow, Third Master will be sent to Jing County, no one knows what will happen in this household. He told me to tell you not to clash with Third Lady, bear with it, wait until he succeeds and returns, then he'll find you a good home."

Zhang Po, uneducated, strained herself to remember these refined words.

Xianjin was still somewhat stunned.

She always thought... Chen Fu was simply an unreliable rebel with a childish infatuation... his skill points were all invested in how to quickly and absurdly drive his mother to her grave, a brainless second-generation private entrepreneur...

Xianjin tightly gripped the purse, then slowly released her hold.

Zhang Po hesitated for a moment, then, with a bite of determination, she poured out the rumors she had heard halfway through the day, "...Third Lady is treating you so badly just to make you taste the hardship of mourning. She has arranged a marriage for you, to the accountant of the mulberry bark workshop in the eastern part of the city, his previous wife died two months ago, he holds the accounts of the mulberry bark workshop, she has always wanted that workshop, she wants to use you to keep that accountant..."

And to completely extinguish Silang's heart!

"I'm still in mourning..." Xianjin hesitated, "Isn't it supposed to be three years without marriage or remarriage?"

Zhang Po sighed, "You silly girl! Three years is for officials and scholarly families! Go to the countryside and see, who dares to mourn for three years?! Three years without marriage and no children? Who would work and farm at home?!"

Yes, rural population equals productivity.

Three years without marriage could mean four or five years without adding to the family, this was a big deal.

The Chen family was just a business family, they didn't follow rules strictly.

Xianjin narrowed her eyes, "Did Old Madam say when she would recall Third Master from Jing County?"

Zhang Po slapped her thigh, "She said if the profits from the Jing County workshop can surpass those of the eastern city mulberry bark workshop, she'll let Third Master return!"

Ah, the moment of KPI competition had arrived.

"What are the profits of the mulberry bark workshop?"

"This..." This was confidential information, Zhang Po didn't know, but women's focus was always different, "It should be very good! The wife of the manager of the mulberry bark workshop, Mrs. Jiang, never blinks when she buys things on the street!"

"And what about the profits of the Jing County workshop?"

"The wife of the manager of the Jing County workshop, Mrs. Zhao, is still wearing patched clothes from three years ago!"

He Xianjin: ...

Finished, this love-struck fool might never come back.