Chapter 62: Definitely Not the Eternal Second, Can Be Trusted

Chapter 62: Definitely Not the Perpetual Second Place

Those who couldn’t find a way through the Bing family tried approaching the Nan family instead.

The Nan family had already received letters from their son-in-law and Xiao Geer, repeatedly urging them not to accept any gifts.

Now, the entire Nan family had risen thanks to Bing Wengu’s support. Seeing their son-in-law’s success and his imminent attainment of the scholar candidate rank, the Nan family was even more obedient than the Bing family.

Those who sought out the Nan family were all skillfully dodged with clever excuses. Those attempting to weasel in—such as offering gifts under the guise of collaboration—were told to pay the exact listed price for goods, with no overpayment accepted. As for long-term partnerships, agreements were limited to one year; anything beyond that was flat-out rejected.

This wasn’t the Nan family’s own idea but followed Bing Wengu’s instructions in his letter, stating that he had other plans for them after a year.

The Nan family didn’t know what those plans were, but they were certain they wouldn’t be worse than the current situation, so they fully complied with Bing Wengu’s wishes.

Miao Shi watched the retreating figure of a scheming merchant and snorted heavily. “Just because I’m a farmer digging in the dirt doesn’t mean I can’t see the calculation in his eyes! Trying to push some young girl as a concubine for my son-in-law, then have a son to completely take over and push my Jin Geer out—what a beautiful dream!”

Gu Shi, meanwhile, fretted anxiously. “Younger brother-in-law is becoming more and more outstanding. If he really passes the county exam and becomes a scholar candidate, I’m afraid there will only be more people with ulterior motives. Sooner or later, he’ll take a concubine.”

Miao Shi’s heart sank. She glared fiercely at her eldest daughter-in-law for speaking so bluntly, but deep down, she knew the words held truth.

She had seen scholar candidates in town before—none of them had fewer than one wife and two concubines. And those were the less lustful ones. Those with more wealth had even more concubines at home.

“Mother,” the eldest daughter-in-law continued, “right now, younger brother-in-law spoils Jin Geer rotten, but you can’t trust a man’s heart as far as you can throw it. And if he truly becomes a scholar candidate, our family wouldn’t have a say. The only solution is for Jin Geer to get pregnant as soon as possible. As long as she gives him a child, there’ll be nothing to fear.”

Having lived most of her life, Miao Shi understood this logic all too well. She glanced at her husband and saw the same worry reflected in his expression—Nan’s father was equally concerned.

The conception mark between Nan Jinping’s brows was faint, and even the herbalist had said she might struggle to conceive. No one knew if she could still get pregnant.

“She’ll definitely conceive,” Nan’s father insisted firmly, though it was unclear whether he was trying to convince himself or others. “Jin Geer’s conception mark is faint because she starved as a child. Now that the family’s conditions have improved, eating more meat will surely restore it.”

“Yes, that’s right!” Miao Shi echoed.

Meanwhile, Bing Wengu and his party had already arrived in the Prefectural City, first settling in an inn before renting a courtyard short-term through a broker.

They had come early, so finding a place wasn’t difficult, though the rent in the Prefectural City was even higher than in the County—five taels of silver for two months, in a neighborhood that was neither rich nor poor.

After resting for just three days, Nan’s eldest brother and Bing Silang got back to business.

As in the County, the Prefectural City had no shortage of top scholars, but they weren’t overly common either. Bing Wengu’s reputation as the Prefectural First still carried weight. When people heard that the food was from the top scholar’s family, many curious folks with coin to spare stopped to try it, eager to taste what the famous household offered.

Nan’s eldest brother and Bing Silang didn’t disappoint. Their skills were now honed to perfection—no one who tasted their food said it was bad. From the first day, they attracted many regulars.

Moreover, the three-flavored dried tofu was a rarity even in the Prefectural City, while the mold-fermented varieties were one-of-a-kind, making them even more popular.

On the first day, as they were packing up, a regular stopped them. “Wait! Do you have any more dried tofu, red or green? I’d like some more.”

The old man had initially bought just a little out of curiosity, but when he got home, the two pieces he’d purchased weren’t even enough for his grandson alone.

Bing Silang replied, “All gone!”

“What?” The old man was stunned. “So fast? I saw plenty earlier. Isn’t this your first day in business? How is it this good?”

Bing Silang grinned. “Folks here have great taste! If you like it, come earlier tomorrow. We only do business in the morning.”

“Only in the morning?” The old man was astonished—he’d never heard of such a way of doing business.

“Yes.” Bing Silang shrugged. “You know my elder brother is the Prefectural First. He takes studying very seriously, so in the afternoon, we have to go home to read and study.”

The old man tsk’ed approvingly. “That’s the spirit!” Then someone else called out, “In that case, doesn’t that mean the food you make is limited?”

Bing Silang nodded, and the old man quickly pulled out some silver and tried to stuff it into his hands. "I want to place an order! No matter what comes in, you must save it for me—don’t sell it to anyone else."

Bing Silang refused to take it. "We don’t accept orders. If you want to buy tomorrow, you’ll have to come early."

Back at home, Nan Jinping’s elder brother counted the silver while grinning at her. "People in the prefectural city are really wealthy—even richer than those in the county town. You wouldn’t believe it. Just by shouting out the title of Prefectural Top Scholar, not a single passerby failed to stop and buy. In just one morning, we sold out all the fermented tofu we’d saved up from the county town. Even as we were leaving, there were repeat customers who hadn’t had enough coming back for more."

Bing Silang shook his head regretfully. "I really wish we could do this business all day—we’d make a fortune."

Bing Wengu scoffed coldly. "Then stay here and run the business. No need to follow us anymore."

Bing Silang shrugged it off. "I was just saying."

After Bing Wengu left, Nan Jinping’s elder brother sighed helplessly at Bing Silang. "You know how much brother-in-law values education in the family. Even when he’s not home, he hires tutors to teach. Why say things that upset him?"

Bing Silang adopted an unbothered expression, shrugging. "He’s always got that stone-faced look. Who does he ever soften up for except brother-in-law?"

Nan Jinping’s elder brother couldn’t help but agree. His brother-in-law had even given their mother a cold look for making their younger brother do chores—he spared no one’s feelings.

But thinking of how Bing Wengu treated Nan Jinping, the elder brother mused that even the village chief’s dog didn’t wag its tail as eagerly. The man’s smile never left his face around Nan Jinping.

Yet when speaking to the rest of them, even as the elder brother with some standing, Bing Wengu remained lukewarm—neither warm nor cold. As for Bing Silang? His attitude was as stiff as a drill sergeant.

In a way, the elder brother was spot-on.

"Why so happy?" Upon returning to their room and seeing my dear, Bing Wengu’s icy demeanor melted away instantly, replaced by a gentle smile.

"I’m counting silver," Nan Jinping replied without looking up.

"Still the hundred taels from the county town?" Bing Wengu had seen him tally it over and over before.

"This is money I earned myself—a hundred taels!" Nan Jinping boasted proudly. "Before we married, I wouldn’t have dared dream our family could have a hundred taels. Back then, I thought having ten taels in savings would make us incredibly rich. And now, I’ve earned a hundred taels with my own hands!"

Bing Wengu sat behind him, grinning as he played with Nan Jinping’s hair. "See, my dear? Now you know the benefits of marrying me. Back then, when I swore you’d never suffer, you gave me such a doubtful look."

Nan Jinping turned to him, ready to apologize. But then he remembered—Bing Wengu had made him promise never to apologize between them. It was too formal. If he ever felt the need to say sorry, a kiss would do.

"I should have believed you. You’re so capable. From now on, no matter what happens, I’ll stand firmly by your side." Nan Jinping pressed a kiss to Bing Wengu’s lips. "If you say it, I’ll believe it."

Bing Wengu’s eyes turned dark in an instant, as if thick ink had spilled into them, obscuring their depths.

Nan Jinping barely registered the shift before he was pushed down firmly by Bing Wengu. A rough, heated breath brushed his ear as his husband murmured, "Believe in me, my dear. For you, I’d take on the whole world without a second thought."

This wasn’t the first time Bing Wengu had laid his heart bare so openly, but each time, Nan Jinping felt the depth of his love even more profoundly—each declaration deeper than the last.

Bing Wengu surrendered to desire, his consciousness sinking into the depths of passion. His spiritual energy seeped into Nan Jinping’s consciousness, where he was delighted to find hints of his influence slowly growing. It meant that, perhaps without even realizing it, Nan Jinping was beginning to love him.

He didn’t fear waiting—only that his dear might never realize his own feelings. Looking back now, even the struggles of pursuit had taken on a sweet, nostalgic flavor.

Being newcomers to the prefectural city and unfamiliar with its ways, Bing Wengu had personally taken Nan Jinping to operas and musical performances, worried he might face trouble. They went daily until they became familiar with the theater manager.

Just then, Ping’an returned.

"My Lord, I’ve returned!" Ping’an hadn’t even rested upon reaching the city, heading straight to the courier station. There, he found the message Bing Wengu had left and followed its directions home.

Nan Jinping smiled. "You must be tired from the trip."

Ping’an shook his head. "Thanks to the silver you gave me, the trip was easy."

"My Lord, shortly after you left, two merchants came to the house. I know them—they hold considerable influence in the city. They say one’s even the prefect’s in-law." Ping’an’s first order of business was reporting this.

Bing Wengu squinted, "What did they say?"

"They just asked if you were home. I told them you left overnight, and they left. But when they walked away, they seemed angry."

"Could they be eyeing our business?" Nan Jinping was no longer the simple country lad from before. During this time, Bing Wengu had drilled him full of cunning strategies—enough to write a Storybook—so he caught on immediately.

Bing Wengu silently commended his young husband a hundred times in his mind. So clever—now he could see right through things.

"Good thing we left quickly, or we’d be in trouble," Nan Jinping felt a chill of apprehension.

A cold smirk tugged at Bing Wengu’s lips. "They should count themselves lucky."

If they dared to set their sights on his business, he’d make sure they ended up blind for the rest of their lives.

Ping’an didn’t know Bing Wengu’s true capabilities and thought he might be exaggerating a little. But Nan Jinping knew better. After hearing all the ruthless methods Bing Wengu had shared with him, even with his husband-admiring view, he understood that Bing Wengu was no benevolent gentleman.

Ping’an added, "Here’s the deposit refund from the inn—twenty taels silver. Please check it, my lord."

Bing Wengu, currently reading a book, didn’t even glance up. "Don’t bother me with this. My husband manages everything in this household."

Ping’an's heart skipped a beat. He realized he had displeased his lord—this was a warning.

He suddenly remembered his first day in the household when his lord had instructed him that his sole loyalty should be to the husband. Now, Ping’an truly understood the weight of those words.

"Yes." This time, Ping’an handed both the silver and the address Jiang Songde had left to Nan Jinping. After all, Jiang Songde was an unrelated man, and giving his address to the master’s husband was practically a grave offense if questioned.

But since Bing Wengu had just reprimanded him, Ping’an didn’t dare provoke him further and simply said, "After you left, Jiang Lang came looking for you. He left this address, saying if you ever feel bored while enjoying operas, you can visit him there."

"Give it to me," Nan Jinping took it without changing his expression.

Ping’an stole a glance at Bing Wengu’s reaction and was relieved to see he hadn’t even lifted his head.

"There’s also a letter from town, addressed to you, my lord."

Nan Jinping opened the letter, and a small silver note fell out. "Ten taels—another ten taels! *Da Lang*, the bookshop proprietor also paid ten taels for my book!"

Bing Wengu set down his book and praised, "They’re getting a steal. Once your reputation grows, they’ll be laughing at how cheaply they got it for just ten taels."

Nan Jinping was used to such compliments by now and didn’t react much, but Ping’an couldn’t help but glance at Bing Wengu. In just a few days, he had already heard his lord praise Lord Nan countless times.

In his previous household, the lord had respected the lady, but he had never heard the lord constantly praising her—if anything, the lady admired the lord.

But in the Bing household, everything was turned upside down. It was as if his lord wasn’t just married into the family—he might as well have been the one who married in.

When Bing Wengu sent a letter home, he had also mailed Nan Jinping’s Storybook to the town’s bookshop proprietor. He wasn’t worried the proprietor would keep the book without paying.

As the Prefectural First, his influence might not extend far in the prefectural city, but in their town, it carried weight. Sure enough, the bookshop proprietor wisely sent a ten-tael silver note.

Not that the proprietor would lose out—in fact, he stood to make a hefty profit, given how well the title of Prefectural First sold.

Besides, the letter mentioned that Nan Jinping’s book reviews had set the town abuzz—utterly and completely. The proprietor hinted that not all the feedback was positive.

In truth, some of it was quite harsh, but the proprietor didn’t dare write it all out.

Still, there was no denying that many people loved it. The reactions were sharply divided—those who hated it wished they could curse the author to death, while those who adored it considered Nan Jinping a kindred spirit. Some bachelors and maidens had even begun discreetly inquiring whether the elusive "Master Wuwei" (Nan Jinping's pen name) was married—they wanted to have him as husband.

A man who championed their cause was rare indeed—the perfect match.

The bookstore managers had all mentioned it, and Bing Wengu remarked in a mocking tone, "Oh, I wonder if Young Master Nan is betrothed yet?"

Ping'an was still present and couldn't help but feel exasperated. Their lord wasn't angry about an outsider leaving an address for Young Master Nan, yet here he was getting possessive—over what, exactly? It was all the same gender; nothing could possibly come of it.

No matter his inner thoughts, Ping'an knew it was time to tactfully excuse himself. Before the door even closed properly, he heard his lord start with the sarcasm again.

"Even if you're betrothed, it doesn’t matter. Little old me is willing to serve as your slave, begging only for the chance to stay by your side."

At first, Nan Jinping genuinely thought Bing Wengu was angry. But when she met his smiling eyes, she realized he was teasing her again—or, as he would say, flirting.

Nan Jinping’s beautiful phoenix eyes flickered, and she snorted, deliberately tilting her chin high. She reached out, pinching Bing Wengu’s jaw with her fingers, playing the dashing rogue. "You’re not bad-looking. Fine, this young master will take it upon himself to hide you from the old ball and chain and keep you as an outside lover."

Bing Wengu had never seen Nan Jinping flirt with him like this before. It was the first time, and he was exhilarated. He leaned in, pressing himself weakly against her.

"The forbidden fruit is the sweetest, husband. Let’s tie the knot quickly—I can’t wait any longer."

Too hot to handle. Too hot to handle. Time to flee.

Nan Jinping bolted, leaving only Bing Wengu’s hearty laughter behind.

Ping’an scratched his head, utterly baffled. Just moments ago, his lord had been seething with jealousy, and now he was laughing uproariously. Then again, he supposed it was normal not to understand. If he could decipher his lord’s thoughts, he’d be a Prefectural First himself, not still a servant.

In truth, Ping’an had overestimated his lord’s sophistication. The man was simply a love-struck fool—thinking like one would make everything clear.

Outside, Nan’s elder brother and Bing Silang were already used to it. Whenever Bing Wengu was with Nan Jinping, he was in high spirits—no explanation needed.

Meanwhile, Jiang Songde and Shen Yao were on their way to the prefectural city. Shen Yao was busy studying and had no time for Jiang Jinghuai, so Jiang Songde read Nan Jinping’s storybook by himself.

He’d expected the usual clichés—a poor scholar saving a rich maiden or a fox spirit falling for a destitute scholar—but this time, it was the complete opposite. Jiang Songde found himself clapping in admiration.

Shen Yao, disturbed from his reading, frowned. "How can you get addicted to such wish-fulfillment drivel now?"

"Not at all, not at all," Jiang Songde shook his head. "Cousin, you’re mistaken this time. This isn’t some disgusting fantasy. If certain old-fashioned types saw this storybook, they’d surely curse it as ‘turning the world upside down.’”

Shen Yao frowned, unable to see how a storybook could warrant such a label. Jiang Songde briefly explained.

"Dong Geer wanted nothing more to do with her disgusting ex-husband." The term "ex-husband" was borrowed from the storybook itself. In Dayong’s male-dominated society, there was no standard term for a divorced former spouse—until Nan Jinping heard Bing Wengu mention it and found it fitting.

Jiang Songde, ever the nonconformist, thought the term was brilliant. "She chose the second path: revenge against her ex-husband’s family. But as a simple farm boy with no means, King Yanluo used a spell to show him a vision of millennia. In that moment, Dong Geer’s mind was flooded with knowledge and schemes."

Returning to the past, Dong Geer convinced his parents to break off the engagement. He thought that would be the end of it, but his ex-husband refused to let go—even scheming to push him into the river and "save" him, forcing marriage through compromising contact.

Only then did Dong Geer realize the engagement had been a calculated ploy from the start. His ex-husband didn’t want him—he wanted his family’s extra dishes.

The ex-husband’s family was large, and he was the unfavored son, left with no inheritance. Desperate, he planned to marry into wealth to inherit it all.

But Dong Geer was no longer the naive farm boy. Using the knowledge from his vision, he turned the tables spectacularly—not only escaping but humiliating his ex-husband, making him lose all face in the village forever.

That was just the beginning. Dong Geer later uncovered more secrets, like the child his ex-husband had brought home—actually his bastard with a widow.

Dong Geer arranged for the ex-husband and the widow to be caught in bed by her late husband's kinsmen, then exposed her carrying his illegitimate child. The two nearly got drowned in the village pond.

In the end, the ex-husband’s family had to sell their land to appease the widow’s in-laws.

Yet Dong Geer didn’t lose himself in vengeance. Instead, he paid to learn embroidery in town. Gifted and diligent, he eventually mastered his craft—one Guanyin embroidery piece fetched a thousand taels, even attracting commissions from high officials in the capital.

Later, Dong Geer married a scholar, living happily ever after. Meanwhile, his ex-husband’s fortunes took a nosedive into poverty. The widow, unable to endure it, became a streetwalker—while the ex-husband listened helplessly from the next room.

Dong Geer became someone the ex-husband could no longer aspire to reach. The ex-husband was consumed by regret, ending up living worse than Dong Geer's previous life. In the end, he died, his corpse left without even a straw mat to cover it, thrown into a mass grave and devoured by wild dogs. As for the child Dong Geer had raised in her past life, he later became a beggar, reduced to begging for survival.

Dong Geer’s own child recognized him and pityingly gave him a few coins. That child gazed enviously at Dong Geer’s child, fantasizing that if his father had truly married Dong Geer back then, perhaps the one living in luxury now would have been him.

Jiang Songde clicked his tongue admiringly. "Nan Jinping’s storybook is so novel and satisfying. But I bet plenty of sour old fogeys will criticize her for it."

"Perhaps that’s exactly what she wants," Shen Yao remarked meaningfully.

"Huh?" Jiang Songde was puzzled. "Cousin, there’s no need for such cryptic talk with me. Just say it plainly."

Shen Yao shot him a glare and explained, "If you look at the beginning of the storybook, the theme is already telegraphed. Despite the lowly status of Shuang Er in Dayong, this storybook grants the grandest identity to a Shuang Er. What does that signify?"

"Rebellion." Jiang Songde wasn’t truly foolish—his background ensured he wasn’t completely ignorant. "Since ancient times, when rulers overthrow old dynasties to claim power, they always invoke mystical elements to legitimize themselves, claiming heaven's mandate to establish legitimacy."

Now, with Nan Jinping pulling such a move, isn’t it signaling her intent to overturn the old hierarchy of Shuang Er and rebuild it anew?

"Don’t say rebellion, but if our guess is correct, what Nan Jinping and Bing Wengu aim to achieve is no less difficult than rebellion," Shen Yao mused, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"It’s utterly a thankless task—why would they do this?" Jiang Songde’s upbringing had always emphasized never engaging without personal gain.

Shen Yao chuckled lightly. "Nan Jinping’s elder brother—Bing Wengu’s husband—isn’t he a Xiao Geer? Likely, that Xiao Geer endured much bullying in the village during his youth. The two of them probably want to completely transform the social environment for people like him."

"Just for that?" Jiang Songde found it hard to believe. "That’s too idealistic."

Born into noble families and raised in the imperial city, everyone he interacted with prioritized interests—if not personal gain, then familial or factional benefits. Never had he encountered someone who sought no advantage for themselves yet dared to defy the world to change the circumstances of an unrelated group.

"People like this are too idealistic. Do they truly exist?" Jiang Songde couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

"Exist or not, we’ve met them now," Shen Yao replied. Coming from official families, they were surrounded by flattery and sycophancy, so they never listened to words—only observed actions.

Now, everything Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping did aimed at changing the social status of Shuang Er.

"Fabricating a mythical origin for Shuang Er, defying fate, taking revenge on the husband’s family, standing on their own feet, and sustaining the family's honor as a Shuang Er." Jiang Songde nodded. "Each act overturns the natural order, each aims to overthrow the wretched fate of Shuang Er."

"If their true goal is this, then they’re worth befriending."

"Hah?" Jiang Songde gaped at Shen Yao. "Didn’t you tell me to stay away from them before?"

"I was worried they might be deliberately getting close to you," Shen Yao said. "Now that we know their purpose, there’s nothing to fear. People pure enough to defy the world for a cause unrelated to themselves—such hearts are worth forming deeper bonds with. Neither of us is like that, nor could we do such things, but we can’t deny the value of such sincerity."

"Cousin, this is the second time you’ve made an exception for Bing Wengu and his lot." Jiang Songde counted on his fingers. "First, you—the perennial top scorer in the academy—were crushed into perpetual second place. Now, you’re willing to stoop to befriend someone clearly of inferior background. Aren’t you afraid of nurturing an ingrate?"

Shen Yao swelled with indignation, latching onto one phrase. "I am not perpetually second! This time, I will surpass Bing Wengu without fail."