Chapter 20 The Character “Fu”

Chapter 20: The Character "Fu" (Blessing)

Meng Wan was totally mortified, even more embarrassed than when the slave dealer had spun tall tales about him.

His naturally slightly upturned eyes went wide in disbelief as he stared at the pile of crap in front of him.

"Nice pose, just lower your wrist a little more."

Song Tingzhou pressed his fist to his lips, suppressing a hint of a smile.

Meng Wan knew the theory, but his hand was stubbornly uncooperative, as if the brush was determined to gouge into the paper.

It felt like a little steam train was chugging in his ears, puffing smoke from his left ear to his right, as he clutched the brush that wouldn't obey, totally embarrassed.

Song Tingzhou asked gently, "How about I guide you through a couple of times?"

With someone to teach him, Meng Wan nodded eagerly, "Yes!"

Meng Wan knelt on the kang with his back to Song Tingzhou, facing the window, with the low square table in front of him. Song Tingzhou stepped over to stand on Meng Wan's right, leaned down a bit and wrapped his hand around Meng Wan's right hand, their palms stacked, and both of them shivered.

Before he figured out his sexuality, Meng Wan was just a regular student, he'd mess around with a bunch of rowdy guys all the time—physical contact was normal, hugs and stuff were no big deal. But he'd never felt anything like that electric shock.

Was it because he'd been keeping his distance from guys ever since he realized he was gay, so this random touch made his heart pound?

Meng Wan figured he'd cracked the code and quietly asked Song Tingzhou, who was still spacing out, "You ready?"

Song Tingzhou glanced at his ears, which were bright red, and said, his throat dry and rough, "Ready."

He loosened his grip a bit, slid down to hold Meng Wan's wrist, not too tight, and then moved his wrist in a pushing motion—

"Don't shake, move it gently," Song Tingzhou said softly. As he said the last word, a neat "Wan" character appeared on the paper.

Meng Wan felt like he was getting the hang of it, so Song Tingzhou guided him through a few more rounds. Before they knew it, it was getting dark. The windows were covered with white paper, so it was already dim, and now it was even harder to see.

"Da Lang, Wan Geer, why didn't you light the lamp?"

Chang Jinhua's voice came from outside, and Song Tingzhou immediately pulled his hand back. He walked over to the cabinet, grabbed an oil lamp, and lit it. The light was dim and yellow, but it lit up that little space.

Chang Jinhua lifted the cloth curtain and poked her head in. "Wan Geer's in here too? I thought you'd gone to bed."

Meng Wan shook out his wrist. "I had something to talk to Cousin about, and he's teaching me calligraphy on the side." Man, what was I thinking, I almost forgot the real reason.

Chang Jinhua didn't quite agree. "He's heading to the prefectural city in March, so let him study at home. If you want to practice, wait till he gets back from the prefectural city."

Song Tingzhou chimed in, "A few days off from studying won't hurt. Mom, go wash your feet first."

Chang Jinhua had mixed feelings. Was he kicking her out? Really, a son's no good once he's betrothed, already taking his husband's side before they're even married.

She was pissed and went back to the main room without a word.

Meng Wan shot Song Tingzhou a guilty look. "I'm really not in a rush to practice calligraphy. I came to talk about the market on the 28th in town. I want to buy some red paper and have you write a few 'Fu' characters for me to sell."

"Alright, do you need them now?" Song Tingzhou agreed without a second thought. Though such items wouldn't fetch much, if Meng Wan wanted them, writing a few wouldn't take much effort.

"No, no, it's too late today. Tomorrow I'll show you some designs, and you can write them as I describe."

Meng Wan had been planning to make some money ever since he heard about the market on the 28th.

A few days ago, at the Red Temple Village market, someone had set up a stall selling "Fu" characters and couplets. They simply cut red paper into squares, wrote the character with black ink pointing upward, and did the same for couplets, cutting the paper into strips.

Meng Wan wanted to add some flair to sell them for a few extra coins. The town wasn't like the village; even without the wealth of the south, there were country gentry and landlords. Most families in town had some means and wouldn't mind an extra coin or two.

In the countryside, everyone went to bed early. If not for the scholar in the house, some families wouldn't even light an oil lamp—burning one all night cost four or five coins.

Meng Wan washed his feet in the kitchen by the glow of the stove fire, then returned to lie on the kang. Chang Jinhua was probably awake but said nothing.

"Aunt, are you asleep?"

No response.

"Mom~"

Chang Jinhua snapped, "You brat, have you no shame!"

After the betrothal, Meng Wan had let loose. "Hey, it's only a few months away. I'm just getting used to it early."

Chang Jinhua's lips curved in a smile she couldn't suppress, though she scolded, "No manners. If you were my son, I'd give you a couple of whacks."

Meng Wan reached his hand through the curtain. "A daughter-in-law is also a child. Go ahead."

Chang Jinhua pinched him gently, her voice hiding a laugh. "Don't be so reckless outside. Mind your reputation. A few years ago, a newly married woman in the village..."

Meng Wan knew she had calmed down and drifted off to sleep, lulled by her gossip.

While he slept and ate well, the Tian family next door was far from happy.

When the Song family started their feast at noon, the old and young next door had listened at the wall. Chang Jinhua hadn't made a big deal of her son's betrothal, but Zhang Xiaoyu had spread the news to almost the entire village, and the neighbors were no exception.

Xiao Mei was the only one happy for Meng Wan, though she was a bit upset. "Wan Geer got engaged, and he didn't tell me. I could have helped out at his place."

Tian Wang hugged her waist and consoled her. "You're pregnant; do you think they'd dare use your help? The Song family has plenty of relatives. I saw Dali and Man Geer's couple both there. They don't lack hands."

Tian Xing lay on the kang in the eastern room, glaring sideways at his brother and sister-in-law's affection, his eyes fixed on Xiao Mei's barely visible belly.

Aunt Tian the elder passed by the window, blocking her eldest son's view, and shot him a fierce glare. She hissed, "Xiao Mei is pregnant, the most precious person in this house. Don't let your dead-eyed gaze fall on my younger daughter-in-law. Look at your own useless son in your room—years and not even an egg, eating up the family's food for nothing!"

After a string of curses, Aunt Tian the elder felt a bit relieved. She warned coldly, "Those bruises you had the other day—who do you think doesn't know how you got them? How did I end up with such a fool? Even if it worked out, wouldn't the whole village point fingers at us?"

At his mother's scolding, Tian Xing lowered his head further, while Zhu Geer shrank into a corner, invisible.

He seemed worse off these days. At least before, he looked somewhat human, with clean clothes. Now, huddled in the corner, his clothes were filthy, with two patches of yellow-white gunk on his trouser legs. He was nothing but skin and bones, not a patch of unblemished skin visible on his exposed body, his face bruised purple and blue.

Aunt Tian the elder swept her gaze over him and suddenly laughed. "Zhu Geer, I heard your family has a younger sister who's fifteen this year?"

Zhu Geer's eyes were numb. "My sister is already betrothed."

Aunt Tian the elder shot him a look. "Your parents are so poor, of course they'd betroth their children early."

Tian Xing gasped from the kang. "Doesn't your family have another son who's not betrothed?"

But he was as ugly as a black monkey, worse than Zhu Geer, or he would have set his sights on him earlier.

At his words, Zhu Geer trembled involuntarily. He understood the mother and son's intentions. "His pregnancy mole is small..." And he was young, only fourteen after the New Year.

Aunt Tian the elder clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, what are we talking about? I was just thinking, since it's almost New Year and your family's circumstances are poor, why not bring your younger brother over to stay for a few days and have some fun? Send him back to your parents after the New Year."

Aunt Tian the elder was full of schemes. She thought: if she brought that young son over, the family would save a month's worth of food. Her in-laws would have no reason to refuse. After the New Year, she'd send him back. If he got pregnant, he'd be even harder to betroth, and her in-laws would be eager to send him back. If not, she'd have to find another way to get a child—her eldest couldn't end up without an heir.

In the Tian family courtyard, many wing rooms were built, blocking sunlight from both sides, making it feel more oppressive than other homes. The wing rooms were even worse; because Tian Xing drank medicine daily, they had built a stove with yellow mud and stones in the room, keeping a medicine pot on it morning and evening, filling the whole room with a pungent medicinal smell.

The rest of the family was reluctant to come near this room, and even Tian Xing's own mother stood outside the window to talk to her eldest son.

Zhu Ge'er was trapped in the room all day, enduring Tian Xing's venting, yet seemed oblivious to the smell. He crouched by the medicine stove, watching the mother and son's nasty expressions, listening to the happy family next door.

He gradually lost all warmth in his heart in the Tian family, feeling like a stone that wasn't all that hard.

——————

The next morning, as usual, Song Tingzhou's reading voice woke Meng Wan. With no need to get up early to make tofu and no guests arriving early, Meng Wan put back on his indigo-blue cotton padded jacket, thinking to himself that this outfit looked way better.

Chang Jinhua headed to the chicken coop in the yard to feed the chickens. In winter, there were no weeds or insects on the ground, so every family saved the chaff from threshing grain. When it got cold, they'd mix it with water to feed the chickens.

There was still half a basin of leftover rice from yesterday's meal. Meng Wan scooped two ladles of water into the pot by the main room and set up a steamer basket.

Hearing the noise in the kitchen, Song Tingzhou came out and said, "I'll start the fire."

"Then add some wood to the big pot first, and help me light the small pot too." Meng Wan didn't bother being polite with him anymore.

Once the small pot's fire was going, Meng Wan added half a spoonful of solidified snow-white lard. Before the oil was fully heated, he fried some chopped scallions in it until fragrant, then added a bowl of water.

He took three eggs, beat them in a large bowl, stirred the scallion oil water into the beaten eggs, put it with the leftover rice in the big pot, covered it, and started steaming.

The family did their morning routines—washing up, tidying dishes—and about a tea-drinking time later, they ate.

The three of them, holding bowls of rice, gathered around a big bowl of egg custard and ate happily.

"Wan Ge'er's egg custard is better than what I make," Chang Jinhua said, scooping two spoonfuls before stopping. She'd never saved eggs to sell; they always kept them for the family. But in the cold winter, the chickens laid fewer eggs, and two had been killed for the engagement yesterday, leaving only half a basket left from the stock she'd saved up.

The two kids were still growing and needed to eat more, so she could make do with a little less.

"If it's good, have some more." Meng Wan scooped a spoonful into her bowl.

Song Tingzhou, who'd been eating quietly, also scooped a spoonful into Chang Jinhua's bowl.

"Just eat more yourselves; it's not like I'm helpless," Chang Jinhua fussed at the two younger ones, but her heart felt a warmth she couldn't put into words.

Since her son came back, the water vat in the house was always full, but he had never touched the kitchen work. Such thoughtful consideration for her was also unprecedented.

Before Meng Wan arrived, she hadn't felt anything was wrong. Compared to others in the village, Da Lang was considered filial. But after Meng Wan came, something seemed different in the household. As an uneducated country woman, she couldn't put it into words, but she could feel it in her heart.

After the meal, Zhang Xiaoyu arrived right on time to return the basket. The sun was good, so Chang Jinhua cleaned up the dishes and chatted with her in the yard. After the New Year, when Meng Wan married, they would need a relative's home for the ceremony, and Zhang Xiaoyu's house was just right.

Song Tingzhou placed the kang table that had been leaning against the wall onto the small room's kang and asked Meng Wan, "Wan Ge'er, what kind of 'fu' character did you say you wanted to draw last night?"

"Coming."

Meng Wan trotted in to find him, immediately launching into his grand plan.

"Cousin, I tell you, if we figure this out today, tomorrow we'll go to the paper seller in Hongmiao Village and buy more red paper. Then I'll cut the paper, you'll write the characters, and we'll make a bunch to sell at the market on the 28th!"

Song Tingzhou agreed, "There's a papermaker near the town who sets up a stall in front of the private school. I often buy from him; the price is fair. How about I go buy the red paper from him tomorrow?"

"Great."

Both members of the household had been charmed by Meng Wan's enthusiasm, going along with his schemes. Chang Jinhua no longer said anything about delaying Song Tingzhou's studies. Meng Wan spent half the day in the small room researching, practicing his calligraphy, and recalling the cartoon images printed on the 'fu' characters and couplets from his past life.

Having some foundation from his previous life—having written so many exam papers—though brush calligraphy was difficult, Meng Wan gradually grasped some tricks. At least he could sketch on paper and explain to Song Tingzhou.

"Look, in past years at the market, weren't the 'fu' characters simply written in the center of the paper?" Meng Wan scribbled a crooked 'fu' character on scrap paper.

Song Tingzhou found it amusing but didn't show it, nodding seriously, "Right. Those with better handwriting could sell for one or two wen more, while poorer ones still went for five wen each."

The price he mentioned was similar to what Meng Wan had asked at the market, where a half-century-old student candidate was selling them.

Though his rank was low, after years of selling 'fu' characters and couplets, his brushwork was decent, and the price was fair—six wen per piece, with room to haggle for bulk purchases.

It was only after checking the price that Meng Wan saw the profit potential. With the New Year approaching, selling food items might be more popular.

But first, making hot food in cold weather risked it getting cold by the time they arrived. Second, preparing food was troublesome; with limited manpower, they had to get up early to make tofu that morning, leaving no time for anything else.

If they wrote the 'fu' characters in advance over the next few days, it would be different. These items weren't afraid of freezing or spoiling; they could be rolled up casually.

Low cost, simple labor, yet not cheap to sell. A pure meat bun cost three wen, but a single 'fu' character went for six. No wonder scholars held such high status in ancient times.