Chapter 4 Staying

Chapter 4: Staying

After Song Tingzhou said his piece, hearing no stir from the room, he figured the person inside had heard him. He then slung his book basket back on to leave.

Chang Jinhua couldn't talk her son out of it and started to regret not running the purchase by Song Tingzhou first.

"Wait a moment."

The door opened, and Meng Wan, shedding his earlier shyness, raised his head to call out to Song Tingzhou.

It wasn't that he was acting all high and mighty as a guest; it was simply that the man before him was so tall he had to crane his neck to look him in the eye.

Wasn't he at least six-foot-one? How could he be so tall? Did people back then really eat that well?

The guy had sharp eyebrows, eyes like a hawk, a high nose bridge, and thin lips. His facial features and contours were well-defined and handsome. He wore a blue scholar's robe, the kind students wore, but his tough vibe made him look like a handful.

Come to think of it, he looked a lot like Aunt Song.

Song Tingzhou gave a casual glance at the open door, and that one look made him stop mid-motion as he bent for his book basket.

The young man stood there, looking pretty, behind the door, wearing his own old robe that was way too big. To move around easier, he'd tied a dark green cloth strip around it as a belt, which made his waist look super slim. His face was like jade, his eyes like a fall pond. Unlike most guys like him who'd hide from strange men, he just stood there staring at him, with a hint of surprise in his eyes.

He was checking him out.

Song Tingzhou straightened up and stared back.

Growing up in the countryside and studying in town, his only goal was to pass the imperial exams and take care of his mom. When had he ever seen a guy as drop-dead gorgeous as Meng Wan?

Meng Wan was a whole head shorter than him. Standing in front of the guy, he automatically felt smaller. After pulling himself together, he humbled himself and said, "The day Aunt Song bought me for eight taels of silver, so I'm part of the Song family now. Meeting you today, sir, with your bright face and deep learning, I'm probably not good enough for you. But I've got nowhere to go now. I'm willing to work for the Song family as a servant, just hoping for a roof over my head. Could you take me in, sir?"

Even though he sounded sincere, Chang Jinhua couldn't help feeling sorry for him. But in this world, there were way too many pitiful people. Why should she, a widow, be the one to feel bad for them?

Her family had already blown through most of the savings her late husband left to fund Song Tingzhou's studies. How could they afford to feed another mouth?

"You..."

But before she could get a word out, her eldest son had already turned him down for her.

"Our family doesn't have extra grain to feed a servant." Song Tingzhou looked straight at Meng Wan, but his tone was somehow gentler than before.

Meng Wan got anxious. The Song family was a simple household, and Chang Jinhua, though stern on the surface, was kind-hearted. In his view, the Song family was his best option. If they drove him away, given his status as a young man and a registered slave, leaving would mean death—the only question was whether it'd be a quick death or a slow, painful one.

"I can wash clothes, cook for Aunt Song, chop firewood, and haul water."

Chang Jinhua had to point out, "I was doing all that myself before you showed up." And I wouldn't have to cook an extra portion. That was the real kicker—food was more precious than anything. One person's rations might not seem like much, but in a famine, they could mean life or death.

"You heard my mom. We're a simple farm family. It's hard enough for us to feed ourselves. Who's got extra grain to raise a stranger?" Song Tingzhou's tone was indifferent.

Chang Jinhua glanced at her son. Usually, when faced with young men or women, he'd use the excuse of avoiding impropriety and let her handle the interactions. Even with Yang Bao'er, to whom he'd been betrothed for three years, they'd only met once during the engagement. This was unlike him...

Meng Wan realized he was being unreasonable. Since that was the case, gaining his freedom wasn't a bad outcome. At worst, he could cover his pregnancy mole and wander the streets doing small trades. He just hoped no one would report him.

"Aunt Song buying me was already a great kindness. For me to stubbornly insist on staying is too greedy. Since that's the case, I'll leave now." He gritted his teeth and took two steps toward the door, still unaware of the dire situation he faced. He was simply too thin-skinned to endure rejection, young and inexperienced.

"Leave for where?" Song Tingzhou immediately followed up.

Meng Wan hadn't expected him to ask and replied blankly, "To do some small trading in town?"

He suddenly snapped back to reality. No, in this world, his gender was a vulnerable one. Though he didn't know how others distinguished between young men and men aside from the pregnancy mole, there was clearly an instinct for it—just like in the modern world, where some people had androgynous features but could still be instantly identified as male or female.

He probably wouldn't even make it to town before being recognized. A young man of marriageable age, with no parents, no relatives, and no connections—there were a thousand paths, yet none were open to him!

Song Tingzhou indeed laughed after hearing his words. His features were naturally stern, but this smile softened his cold expression. "Small trading?"

"Uh, I..."

Song Tingzhou's smile faded, and he repeated his earlier words, "I said, our family can't afford to raise a stranger."

Meng Wan was still confused, but Chang Jinhua caught on. She first looked up at her son, who was putting on airs, then began to persuade Meng Wan.

"If the young man were to marry into our family, you'd be one of us. Once you and my eldest son are wed, he'll take you to the county office to have your slave registration canceled."

Meng Wan's restless heart was swayed by the suggestion. This seemed like the fastest and simplest way to erase his slave status. But the question was—would Song Tingzhou be willing to marry him?

He looked at Song Tingzhou with hopeful eyes.

Song Tingzhou slightly turned his head to avoid Meng Wan's gaze. He himself wasn't sure if he'd ever marry Meng Wan, but he knew that at this moment, he didn't want to let him leave.

"Stay for now."

After all that—the doubts, the attempts to drive him away—it was Song Tingzhou who finally said, with a light tone, "Stay for now."

Years later, when Meng Wan recalled this incident, he'd still grind his teeth in frustration. That damn reserved man—he'd scared him on purpose.

Today's events had somewhat overturned Meng Wan's understanding of Song Tingzhou. He'd assumed that with a widow and her son, the son would defer to his mother in everything. But now he saw that it was the son, not the mother, who held the reins.

"What's your name?"

Song Tingzhou asked as he lifted a bucket to pour water into the vat.

Meng Wan had just picked vegetables from the yard and was washing them in the kitchen. He replied, "Meng Wan."

Song Tingzhou pressed further, "Wan, as in evening glow?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"I only get one day off every ten days. I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning. I'll entrust my mother to your care." Song Tingzhou set down the bucket and spoke seriously.

Meng Wan responded politely, "Not at all. It's Aunt Song who takes care of me. I'll certainly help wherever I can."

Song Tingzhou glanced at him and fell silent.

Chang Jinhua went to fetch grain from the room. She was cooking polished rice again—not porridge this time, but dry rice. Since her son was rarely home, she'd gone to the market yesterday to buy two catties of pork belly. She cut it into even cubes, dry-fried them in the pot until the oil rendered out, which she poured into a bowl. Then she added scallions to the pot, stir-fried briefly, added water and salt, and covered the pot.

After simmering for a while, the aroma of meat filled the entire house, even reaching the neighbors.

"Is Widow Song's eldest son back again?"

The neighbor next door was surnamed Tian, another major clan in the village. The Tian family lived with three generations under one roof. By seniority, Song Tingzhou had to call their old patriarch Fourth Grandpa.

Fourth Grandpa had two sons, three daughters, and one young man. Two daughters had died during the famine years, and the remaining children were all married.

Fourth Grandpa now lives next door with his eldest son, while his second son resides elsewhere in the village. The eldest son has two sons and a daughter; the daughter is married off, and both sons have taken wives. When the eldest son married, the family was in a tight spot, so he wed a man as a husband. This year, the second son just got married to a woman. Neither daughter-in-law has children yet—if they do, it’ll be four generations under one roof, which would be even livelier.

Now, this whole family sits around a square table, but there’s not enough room, so both daughters-in-law eat standing up with bowls in hand. The one speaking is Fourth Grandpa’s eldest daughter-in-law.

“Widow Song’s family—how much wealth do they have? All these years, supporting Tingzhou in town for his studies must have cost a fortune, right?” Aunt Tian’s words were sour with envy.

The old man was fifty-nine. Before Song Tingzhou’s father died, he knew the situation. “When Song Da was alive, he worked as a bookkeeper in town, bringing silver home every month. Widow Song knew how to stretch a penny when she was young; the couple planned early to send their child to the town private school. Back then, they earned money but couldn’t bear to spend it, only had meat on holidays.”

“Grandpa, don’t we only have meat on holidays too?” the second grandson, Tian Wang, chimed in.

His father, Uncle Tian, gave him a nudge. “Eat your meal.”

Ain’t that how it was for every farm family? Just getting enough to eat every day was a good life; dreaming of meat every day was out of the question. But Song Da was different—he’d picked up a few characters from the village’s old scholar as a child, was bolder than the village kids who only knew farming, and went into town to find work as a laborer. He used his wages to buy gifts and butter up the bookkeeper, learned the trade, and married the guy’s daughter.

The couple didn’t blow their money; instead, they saw the advantages of being able to read, recognized the value of education, and planned ahead and saved money for their son’s schooling.

Uncle Tian thought to himself: he was still in his prime, both sons were strong laborers, the family had plenty of land, and they worked hard. In the off-season, they could chop wood or work in town for extra cash. Maybe when both daughters-in-law had children, they could send them to the town private school?

Tuition was one and a half taels a year per kid; for two, that’s three taels. They could tighten their belts and swing it. The money was all with his wife; he’d have to talk it over with her tonight.

Every time her son came home, Chang Jinhua would buy a pound of meat. This time, with an extra mouth to feed, she bought two pounds, showing that even if she didn’t say it, she was happy inside.

A small basin of trembling pork belly was piled on a plate. Meng Wan hadn’t seen meat in four or five months, and he fought his craving as he kept stoking the fire under the stove.

The meat was scooped out of the pot, and without washing the pan, she threw in half a basin of washed and chopped greens, stir-fried them briefly, and served them on a plate. Chang Jinhua carried both dishes inside, and Song Tingzhou pulled the wooden table from the corner and set it against the kang.

Chang Jinhua set down the food, and Meng Wan followed with the rice. He could cook, but Chang Jinhua hadn’t let him help. Earlier, she’d asked him to wash and slice two cucumbers, and he’d added vinegar and minced garlic for a salad.

He and Chang Jinhua sat on the kang edge, while Song Tingzhou sat on a stool. No one started eating, and Meng Wan didn’t dare to either.

Chang Jinhua picked up a piece of meat for each of them. “Eat up, both of you, have plenty.”

Meng Wan took a small bite, half a piece of meat entering his mouth. The happiness nearly made him cry again—it was so delicious. Not that Chang Jinhua’s cooking was anything special, but the local pot-roasted pork, plus how long he’d gone without meat, made the taste out of this world.

Meng Wan ate two pieces of meat to satisfy his craving, then didn’t dare take more, quietly eating greens and rice. Suddenly, two more pieces of meat appeared in his bowl. He turned his head to see Chang Jinhua and Song Tingzhou’s chopsticks still retreating.

A few tears fell into his bowl, swallowed down with the vegetables and rice.

That evening, Meng Wan moved to the corner of the big room’s kang to sleep alongside Chang Jinhua. Afraid he might feel awkward, she hung a curtain between them.

“Tomorrow morning, after Da Lang leaves, you can move back.”

Meng Wan breathed a sigh of relief. The Song mother and son were both good people.

The next day, before dawn, Chang Jinhua got up. Her son had to hurry to the private school, so she couldn’t delay. She deftly rolled out a few flatbreads, fried them with yesterday’s rendered lard, packed them in a cloth bag for Song Tingzhou, and boiled eight eggs. After a moment’s thought, she took one out and set it aside for Meng Wan to eat when he woke.

As the sky barely lightened, Song Tingzhou shouldered his book box and stepped out. Turning back to look at his mother seeing him off, he said, “Mother, if I don’t pass next year, I’ll find a job in town and bring you… bring all of you to live there.”

Chang Jinhua wiped away her tears. “Our fourteen mu of land were bought by your father while he was alive. Renting them out all these years hasn’t saved us much silver, but the grain we collect is enough for us two to get by. Even adding our little xiaoge, it’s enough for the three of us.

The eighty taels of silver your father left behind—after all these years of spending, thanks to you copying books to supplement the household, we still have about seventeen or eighteen taels left. Even if you take the exams for another two years, I can support you. After two years… we’ll see.”

Their family had no labor force, so the land was rented to villagers. Sometimes they got money, but mostly grain. They were better off than others in terms of grain, because most families would sell their surplus for silver, while Chang Jinhua kept it all to feed her son white rice.

“But you’ll be nineteen after the New Year. The Tian family’s second grandson next door is your age, and he got married early this year. Wan Geer… what are your thoughts?”

To his own mother, Song Tingzhou didn’t hide anything. He said calmly, “If I must marry, it should be him.”

The pride of a scholar—Song Tingzhou had it. Whether it was lust at first sight or taking advantage of the situation, from the moment he first saw Meng Wan, he never thought of letting him go. Even if feelings hadn’t yet blossomed between them, an overwhelming possessiveness had already flooded Song Tingzhou’s mind.

A beauty like him was meant to be mine.

When Meng Wan woke up, no one was home. Neither the Song mother nor son was there. The stove still held residual warmth. He glanced around—the small room’s door was open, and it seemed empty.

As he washed up, the gate opened from outside. Instead of closing as usual, it swung wide open. Chang Jinhua walked in from the yard. “There’s food on the table. Eat and clean up after yourself.”

Meng Wan replied, “Okay. Has Mr. Song left?”

“Don’t call him ‘Mr.’—people will laugh their teeth out,” Chang Jinhua scolded lightly, opening the chicken coop to let the hens out to forage.

Meng Wan felt embarrassed, sensing the awkwardness. “Aunt Song, what should I call him then?”

Chang Jinhua scattered some rice husks on the ground, making the chickens cluck and scramble. “Da Lang’s name is Song Tingzhou, given by a scholar your father invited. At home, you can call him Tingzhou Ge, or just Da Lang like I do. To outsiders, call him cousin.”