Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Lin Zhangbin was jolted awake, opening his eyes to find himself bound hand and foot on a flatbed cart, the child who had been with him nowhere in sight.

He thought he had fallen victim to bandits and tearfully pleaded for mercy, "Gentlemen, have you perhaps seized the wrong person? Do I look like I possess any wealth? Please, I beg you, release me..."

However, the cart driver remained silent, merely cracking his whip.

It wasn’t until evening, upon reaching a waystation, that Cao Kun had Lin Zhangbin pulled down to use the latrine, then brought him into the station for a meal.

Seeing that they had no intention of harming him, Lin Zhangbin gradually grew bolder. "May I ask, where is my son?"

Cao Kun signaled to a worker, who emerged from a room carrying the child. The child had already been fed broth and was now fast asleep.

Lin Zhangbin quickly took the child into his arms.

"Might I inquire, why have you apprehended me? Is there some past grievance between us?"

Cao Kun scoffed at his pathetic demeanor. "No grievance. Someone merely asked me to send you back to the county town."

"Could it be Chen Rong? Or Lin Qiu... that unfilial son! He knew I was here and couldn't even be bothered to see me!"

*Smack!* Cao Kun slammed the table, startling Lin Zhangbin so much he nearly toppled off his seat.

"Did... did I say something amiss?"

"Shut up and eat. Another word, and I’ll throw you out!"

Lin Zhangbin dared not speak again, quickly devouring his buns. For the remainder of the journey, he uttered not another sound.

Two days later, upon their return to the county town, Cao Kun dragged him off the cart and threatened, "Do not go looking for Madam Chen in Qingshui Town again. If you do, it won’t be as simple as merely sending you back!"

"Yes, yes, I understand..." Lin Zhangbin had no money to return anyway. The trip from the county town to Qingshui Town had cost him over two hundred coppers, and now his pockets were emptier than his cheeks—how could he possibly afford to go?

He had only taken two steps when someone called out to him. "Hey!"

Lin Zhangbin paused and turned. "What else do you require, sir?"

Cao Kun said, "The Porter's Guild still needs a bookkeeper. Two hundred coppers a month—are you interested?"

Lin Zhangbin’s face immediately lit up with a wide smile. "Yes, yes, I’ll take it!"

After he left, a worker approached and asked, "Second-in-command, who was that man?"

"My wife's father."

"What? I thought he was your enemy! The bookkeeper’s monthly pay is five hundred coppers, and you only gave him two hundred."

"Get back to work. Don’t concern yourself with such trivialities."

Cao Kun had placed Lin Zhangbin under his watchful eye to spare Lin Qiu trouble, preventing him from causing further mischief. Otherwise, given the shameful things he had done, Cao Kun would have sent him far away long ago.

Lin Zhangbin’s arrival did not cause Chen Rong much distress. On the contrary, his silent departure was somewhat unexpected.

But Chen Rong paid it no mind. She wouldn't have spared him a second glance even if he had died out there.

*

During this period, Wang Ying was not only overseeing the construction of the new house but also monitoring the growth of the crops in the fields.

The weather this year had been unfavorable. It was already mid-March, and there was still no sign of rain.

The fields were so parched they had cracked. The wheat, which should have been entering the tillering stage, was stunted and yellowed.

Seeing that half a year’s work might go to waste, the villagers were anxious, their lips covered in blisters. Every household began carrying water to irrigate their fields, but with many people and little water, fights often erupted over irrigation rights.

That morning, Wang Ying left home to check on the experimental fields and encountered two families fighting along the way.

Men and women were entangled, pulling hair and tearing clothes, hurling the most vulgar insults at each other.

Wang Ying quickly stepped in to break up the fight. "Stop fighting! Uncle Liu, Aunt Zhang, let go of each other!"

When they saw it was the landowner, the group reluctantly released each other, straightened their clothes, and put their shoes back on, though they continued to mutter complaints.

"Everyone else is carrying water to irrigate their fields, but your family blocks the water and diverts it all to your own land. Have you no shame? What about the fields downstream? Shouldn’t they get water too?"

"Bah! The river isn't yours alone. If your field is downstream, that’s your misfortune!"

"That's utter nonsense!"

Seeing that the two were about to start fighting again, Wang Ying quickly scolded them, "No more fighting! The river water is for everyone to share. Your family needs it, but so do others. We all depend on the crops to survive—you can’t take all the water and leave nothing for others!"

"The landowner is right! This shameless, unreasonable woman—"

"You shut up too! Speak civilly—there’s no need for insults."

The man fell silent after being reprimanded. Seeing that both parties were still resentful, Wang Ying worried they would fight again after he left, so he took them with him to the experimental field.

When they arrived, everyone slowed their steps in amazement. The field was completely different from the others—the wheat seedlings were lush and green, standing half a hand taller than the neighboring crops, seemingly unaffected by the drought.

An old farmer eagerly stepped into the field to inspect it and found the soil dry, showing no signs of irrigation.

"Landowner, why is this wheat field growing so well?"

"Yes, the leaves aren’t even yellow—it’s growing exceptionally well!"

"This field is planted with a drought-resistant strain. After the spring harvest, we’ll distribute the seeds, and next year, the entire estate will switch to this variety."

Hearing this, everyone broke into smiles.

Wang Ying took out his notebook and recorded the wheat’s growth cycle with a charcoal stick. It seemed that the Changfeng 3 variety he had cultivated was adapting well in ancient times.

However, the plants were noticeably shorter than those in the experimental fields, likely due to the lack of fertilization.

With the weather warming up, Wang Ying planned to teach them how to create compost, which could be used when planting millet in June.

"Landowner, how is the construction of your new house coming along?"

"The foundation is already laid. We can start building the walls today."

The foundation is the core of a house. As the saying goes, "A well-built foundation ensures a lasting house." The foundation was dug six feet deep and compacted in layers. As long as there was no earthquake, the house would stand for a hundred years.

Elder Liu said, "Once the foundation is compacted, the rest of the construction goes quickly. The walls can be built in ten days to half a month. Once the main beam is installed, the house is essentially complete."

Wang Ying became even more excited at the thought. The idea that this would be his future home energized him.

"Don’t fight anymore. Distribute the water fairly—no one should take more than their share. If I hear of another fight over this, I’ll have to increase the rent."

The two men froze and quickly apologized, "We won’t, we won’t!"

This proved more effective than mediation. Wang Ying hid a smile and hurried off to the new house site.

When he arrived, Wang Ying happened to see Chen Qingyan teaching some village children their letters nearby. Interacting with the children, he was noticeably more at ease, and he spoke without stuttering, much like he did when he used to run the private school.

Wang Ying did not disturb him and waited until evening to ask about reopening the private school.

"Would you like to start the private school in the village again?"

Chen Qingyan nodded without hesitation. He quite enjoyed teaching children, watching them grow from ignorance to literacy and understanding etiquette—a sense of accomplishment that’s hard to put into words.

"Once the house is renovated, we can start taking in students."

"Great!"

Wang Ying recalled the letter from Fourth Uncle that came during his last trip to town and felt he should mention it to Chen Qingyan.

"Last time I went back, Mother said Fourth Uncle sent a letter. His term ends next year, and he might get transferred back to the capital."

"That's wonderful news."

"The letter also mentioned... after returning to the capital, he would see if he could pull some strings to clear your name regarding the imperial exam situation..."

Chen Qingyan was stunned and didn’t speak for a good while.

Wang Ying quickly added, "But it’s a difficult matter. Fourth Uncle just brought it up briefly. He was afraid to tell you, afraid that if it didn’t work out, it would only bring more disappointment."

Chen Qingyan held Wang Ying’s hand and said, "I understand. I’ve pretty much given up hope for the imperial exams. If heaven takes pity on me and gives me another chance, I will cherish it. Even if Fourth Uncle can’t succeed, I won’t dwell on this anymore."

After these events, Chen Qingyan had matured considerably.

It seems that only after enduring the storms of life can one truly grow stronger.

*

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye, and the main structure of the new house was completed. An auspicious day was chosen for the ridgepole-raising ceremony.

In ancient times, ridgepole-raising was an important tradition, not only celebrating the completion of the building but also symbolizing blessings for a prosperous future.

Two days prior, Wang Ying had Uncle Chen get two pigs and a sheep to treat the villagers who had helped with the construction.

Chen Xi’s wife arrived early with the village women to help, while the men gathered at the new house for the ridgepole-raising.

The ceremony was presided over by the village’s elderly carpenter, nearly seventy years old. In an era with limited medical care, reaching such an age was considered a long life.

The old man, with graying hair and full of energy, leaned on a wooden stick as he admired the tall blue-brick house. "Such an impressive house," he exclaimed. "I’ve only seen houses like this in town."

Most village homes were made of mud bricks, as proper bricks and tiles were too expensive—unaffordable even after a lifetime of savings.

Wang Ying smiled and said, "Thanks for leading the ridgepole-raising, Elder."

"Good, good," the old man replied, pacing around the house with his hands behind his back, saying lucky chants. He then had someone bring a prepared rooster, using its blood to drip on the ridgepole to ward off evil.

Next, offerings were made to heaven and earth, inviting the divine presence of the master craftsman Lu Ban to bless the pillars and secure the beam.

Three sacrificial animals were presented, incense and candles were lit, and the old man knelt and recited: "The pillars support the heavens, the household prospers; the beam bears the sun and moon, blessings flow long..."

The crowd watched in breathless silence, while younger carpenters quietly memorized the rituals, hoping to preside over such ceremonies decades later—a passing down of tradition.

After the prayers, the moment arrived. At the old man’s call of "Raise the beam—", dozens of men pulled thick hemp ropes, chanting as they hoisted the ridgepole bit by bit to the roof, securing it in place. The beam was raised!

Dun Zi set off firecrackers, while Chen Dashun tossed lucky coins from the roof. Adults and children joyfully scrambled for them, the atmosphere growing lively.

After the ridgepole was raised, tiling began. With many hands, the work went quickly, and it was finished before noon.

The crowd returned to the village laughing and chatting for the feast, held at Chen Xi’s house. Eight tables were set, each laden with wine, meat, and freshly steamed coarse flour buns. Everyone ate to their heart’s content.

In the midst of the meal, a mule cart suddenly stopped at the door. Chen Ershun jumped down from the cart and called out, "Young Master, Young Master, another letter has arrived from Laizhou!"