Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wang Ying walked back, a blade of grass clutched in his hand, his mind heavy with thought. If last night hadn't been a dream, then had his experimental field somehow transmigrated with him?

Though the idea was utterly fantastical, he had already experienced body-swapping—what was scientific logic in the face of that?

Wang Ying tentatively repeated "experimental field" in his mind, but there was no response. Could it be that he could only access it at specific times?

He decided to try again tonight!

"Young Master." A voice from behind startled him. Turning around, he saw Uncle Chen, Chen Qingyan’s caretaker.

"You're up so early, Uncle?"

"Old folks don’t sleep much." The old man had a favorable impression of Wang Ying. Just yesterday, when Second Master’s family came to sponge off them, it was thanks to the Young Master’s intervention that they didn’t take advantage.

"Young Master, why are you standing here instead of going inside?"

"Ah, it’s nothing." Wang Ying pushed the door open, and the two entered together.

Inside, Chen Qingyan was already awake. He shot Wang Ying an unfriendly glance before gesturing for Uncle Chen to help him to the outhouse.

After a while, they returned and began the morning routine—washing up, changing clothes, and tying up his hair. The entire process left Chen Qingyan breathless and pale.

Wang Ying thought to himself: *Tch, even this sick, he’s still so particular.*

Breakfast was brought by a maidservant—two bowls of millet porridge, several gray flour buns, and a plate of pickled vegetables.

The term "gray flour" came from the crude milling techniques of the era, which left impurities in the flour, giving it a grayish hue. The buns didn’t have the pure white appearance of modern ones.

Even so, gray flour was considered a treat common folks rarely got. In his original body’s memories, Wang Ying’s family could only afford bean-paste cakes and bean meals, which caused bloating. They only ate gray flour during festivals.

Wang Ying polished off three buns and a bowl of porridge. Meanwhile, Chen Qingyan had barely made a dent in his porridge, only sipping a little broth before pushing it away.

Uncle Chen worriedly said, "Young Master, you should eat more. How can you recover if you don’t eat?"

"Bring me my book." Chen Qingyan was stubborn; once he refused to eat, he usually wouldn’t take another bite.

Uncle Chen sighed in resignation and went to fetch a book from the shelf.

Suddenly, Wang Ying stood up, took the half-finished bowl of porridge, and walked over to the bookshelf.

Chen Qingyan looked at him, puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"Are you going to finish this porridge?"

"No."

"If you won’t eat it, I’ll feed it to your books."

"?!" Chen Qingyan’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t understood a word.

Wang Ying pulled out *The Doctrine of the Mean* from the shelf, opened it, and made as if to pour the porridge over it.

"How dare you! Put that book down! Cough, cough, cough…"

Uncle Chen watched in stunned silence, sweating anxiously. "Young Master, Young Master…"

Seeing the book being "ruined," Chen Qingyan turned livid with rage, on the verge of passing out. Wang Ying then took out *The Analects* from the shelf. "Still not eating?"

"I’ll eat… I’ll eat…"

"Uncle Chen, go get the young master more porridge."

"Ah? Right away!" Uncle Chen hurriedly brought a fresh bowl of steaming millet porridge. Only after watching Chen Qingyan eat it did Wang Ying leave *The Analects* alone.

Wang Ying wiped his hands on a handkerchief. "See? You can eat just fine."

Too furious to retort, Chen Qingyan urgently motioned for Uncle Chen to clean the "ruined" book.

But when Uncle Chen opened it, he discovered that Young Master hadn’t actually damaged it—he’d used a trick, placing a sheet of white paper inside so the porridge hadn’t touched the text.

Furious and humiliated, Chen Qingyan pointed at Wang Ying. "Get out!"

"Tch, now that you’ve eaten, you’ve got the energy to yell. Next time you refuse to eat, I’ll really feed your books."

"Get out!"

Wang Ying laughed loudly, closing the door just as Chen Qingyan threw a bowl at it, leaving him inside pounding the bed angrily.

Uncle Chen stood by, wanting to laugh but not daring to. "If there’s nothing else, this old servant will excuse himself."

Chen Qingyan waved him away irritably. Picking up his book, he found himself unable to focus, his mind filled with Wang Ying’s smug face.

*Damn it, he would write a divorce letter later—he absolutely had to get rid of him!*

*

Outside, Uncle Chen chuckled. "Young Master, your method did the trick! It’s been a long time since the young master ate so much!"

"It might be a rough method, but as long as it gets him to eat more, it’s fine."

"Exactly." Uncle Chen picked up a broom and began sweeping the courtyard.

Wang Ying wondered. "It doesn’t seem like he has no appetite. Why does he only have a little each time?"

Uncle Chen glanced back at the bedroom and lowered his voice. "This isn’t something to talk out of turn about, but since you’re married now, I suppose it’s alright to tell you."

"Last autumn, the young master came down with a cold, and his health worsened. By year’s end, he was bedridden. Once, he ate something that upset his stomach…"

Despite Uncle Chen’s diligent care, Chen Qingyan had an accident and soiled the bed.

For a young man whose pride meant more to him than life, it was a devastating blow.

Though the family comforted him that it was no big deal, Chen Qingyan couldn’t get over it. For days, he refused to eat or drink, almost fading away until Li Shi threatened to kill herself to make him eat.

Since then, he only ate small amounts to avoid a repeat.

But a man needs food to survive—this couldn’t go on. Suddenly, Wang Ying thought of something: a wheelchair.

Not the traditional large-wheeled kind, but a small pushcart similar to a stroller.

In his previous life, his grandmother had leg problems, so Wang Ying bought her a small cart with wheels. She could use it for shopping for groceries and rest on it when tired.

With such a device, Uncle Chen wouldn’t have to carry him to the outhouse, which would make things much easier for Chen Qingyan.

"Uncle Chen, do you know a carpenter?"

"Yes, I do. What does Young Master want made?"

"I want a small cart with wheels. I’ll sketch it out for you."

"Alright, just give it to me once you've drawn it."

*

When Chen Sanlang came to the backyard, he saw his elder brother’s wife drawing in the yard.

"Looking for me?"

"Mother... Mother said I should accompany you back to your family home." The boy was shy, blushing as soon as he spoke.

Wang Ying looked up. "Back to what home?"

Chen Sanlang scratched his head. "Just to visit your family."

Only then did Wang Ying recall the local custom: the day after marriage, a woman or a *ge’er* was to bring their new husband back to their family home for a visit.

Chen Qingyan, frail and sickly, naturally couldn’t accompany Wang Ying back, so Li Shi planned to have her third son go along instead.

"I’ll go tell Mother I’m not going back today."

"Why aren’t you going back?"

"Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand." Wang Ying blew on the ink to dry it, handed the finished drawing to Uncle Chen, then went to the main house.

When he arrived, Li Shi was having a maid help pack gifts for the return visit.

To be fair, Mother was quite generous—she had prepared half a side of pork, four boxes of pastries, two bolts of coarse cloth, and one bolt of fine cloth. All together, these items were worth nearly four or five *guan*.

Just yesterday, she’d claimed that even a landlord’s family had no surplus grain, but it seemed a starved camel was still larger than a fat horse.

"Ying’er, you’ve come at just the right time. See if anything’s missing, and I’ll have someone buy it."

"Mother, there’s no need to prepare anything. I don’t plan to go back."

Li Shi was stunned. "That won’t do—it’s against custom."

Wang Ying stepped forward, looking at the items on the ground. "My parents are even more shameless than Second Uncle. They could sell their own son—let alone curry favor with wealthy in-laws."

Li Shi understood instantly, her face paling with fear. Chen Biao alone was enough of a headache; if another family like that came along, life would become unbearable.

"Then... then handle it as you think best... but you should still go back once."

Wang Ying thought for a moment. "I should go back once, but there’s no need to bring gifts. I’ll go back alone."

The original owner had suffered so much in that family. Since he now inhabited his body, he ought to help him "pay them back."

"Let Uncle Chen drive you. Go early and return early."

"Alright."

The Chen family kept several mules. In this era, mule carts were the daily mode of transportation for wealthy families.

Uncle Chen was an experienced driver, and the cart moved steadily. They reached Wangjiazhai Village in two hours. Wang Ying had him stop the cart outside the village and went home alone.

Arriving at the Wang family’s gate, Wang Ying looked at the both strange and familiar yard, feeling a sudden, sharp bitterness.

In his memories, the original owner had lived here for eighteen years—up before the rooster crowed, to bed after the dog slept, serving the whole family yet receiving no kindness, and ultimately pushed to his death over ten strings of coin.

Just thinking about it made him furious. He patted his chest and said, "Don’t you fret, little Wang Ying. I’ll get justice for you." With that, he tousled his hair, bent down to scoop up a handful of mud, smeared it on his face and clothes, and burst through the gate, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, Mother! My life is overrrr—"

His voice was already loud, and drawn out as it was, it startled Old Mrs. Wang, who was inside feeding her grandson, nearly causing her to drop the bowl.

"Who’s howling out there?!"

Wang Ping ran in. "It’s Second Brother back!"

The author has something to say: