Chapter 31 Renting a House

Chapter 31: Renting a House

"Why are so many county constables, all on horseback, coming to our little place?"

County constables don't have official positions; they're just hired informally by the county office, many of them even local thugs and troublemakers who can barely afford a horse, a luxury item. So the horses they ride must be county property—meaning they're here on official business in Quanshui Town?

Meng Wan filed this matter away in his mind, planning to ask Shopkeeper Huang about it again tomorrow in town; he might have gotten some news.

After returning home, Chang Jinhua had already cooked dinner: rice, cabbage braised with tofu, and Meng Wan's favorite stewed ribs.

After dinner, Meng Wan specifically checked the bucket of soaked beans. Seeing that Chang Jinhua hadn't added too many soybeans, he relaxed.

In March, Song Tingzhou would head out for the prefectural city to prepare for the exams, and Meng Wan planned to go along and check it out, with Chang Jinhua also coming.

Travel was already expensive, and the three of them together would cost even more silver. The Song family's savings might be enough, but they couldn't just sit back and live off their savings.

For regular folks, running a small business was enough to get by and even save a little, but his family's expenses for supporting a scholar were high. The income from selling tofu couldn't cover the expenses, so they needed to find other ways to earn more silver.

He was a liberal arts student, and after the college entrance exam, he had given back all his chemistry and physics knowledge to his high school teachers. All that remained in his mind were the ancient poems he'd memorized over the years—he couldn't exactly show off with that, could he?

He knew how to make simple soap and alcohol, too, but wouldn't that be too flashy in a small town? As an outsider with no known background, he'd already stuck out by making tofu. If he tried something else, would it make people jealous?

Besides, he and Song Tingzhou weren't married yet, and there was still Sixth Aunt Song in the village who knew the truth. If something went wrong in these two months and it got out, what would he do if he were still in servitude?

It wasn't that he thought badly of people, but these matters almost involved his life and safety, so he had to be careful.

To make money, he couldn't do anything too flashy, so he should still stick with food. Meng Wan thought things over in his mind, and the next day, he got up early with Song Tingzhou to go to town again.

"You're asking about those county constables who came to town yesterday?"

Shopkeeper Huang stood behind the counter, looking a bit surprised.

Meng Wan didn't seem like someone who liked to gossip—why would he suddenly be asking about this?

"Yes, I'm thinking of starting a business in town and worried about bothering the officials."

Meng Wan wasn't completely lying. He'd looked into rent in town before; it wasn't too pricey, and buying power was higher than in the village.

In the village, food and drink were self-sufficient, but in town, things were easier. Meng Wan had noticed that the taverns and fabric shops were doing well, proving there were people with plenty of extra cash who didn't worry about food and clothing—he just couldn't see them from his current social position.

Shopkeeper Huang understood and said with emotion, "You're a clever young man, not like my whole family, stuck running this shop our whole lives. This is easy—I'll ask around sometime."

Neither of his two sons was as good as he was when he was young. The contacts he'd built running this shop, along with years of social networking, should be enough for them to keep what they had.

His second son was carrying paper to the back storeroom, feeling a bit annoyed by his father's words.

Why be so nice to that young man? He was just a country boy—hardly worth all that praise.

Meng Wan thanked him and spent another day working at the bookstore with Song Tingzhou. Shopkeeper Huang was polite to him and didn't constantly watch over his work, so he got a lot done without feeling tired.

In the afternoon, Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou left together again. On the way, Song Tingzhou asked him, "You want to start a business in town?"

Meng Wan smiled. "That's the idea, but it's not about running a big business. I don't know much about that. I was just thinking of selling some food in town. I haven't decided on the specifics yet, so I didn't tell you or Aunt Song."

Song Tingzhou was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "I've made things hard for you."

Making tofu at home already kept Meng Wan and Chang Jinhua busy, and now Meng Wan wanted to do business in town, likely for his sake.

Meng Wan walked ahead without looking back. "I'm not doing this just for you. If a person settles for the status quo and drifts through life, what's the difference from pigs and sheep waiting to be slaughtered in a pen? Are they supposed to cry out in vain when the butcher's knife falls?"

Meng Wan stopped and turned back to smile at him. "You've studied 'Be ever prepared, and you'll have no regrets' and 'Repair the roof before it rains,' haven't you?"

Song Tingzhou, following closely behind, nearly bumped into him when he suddenly turned around.

He steadied himself and stammered, "I... I've studied them."

Meng Wan guided him. "So you have to think, to reflect. Don't just memorize things from books mechanically—apply your own considerations to other matters too."

Conditions in town were limited, but Song Tingzhou had written down so many of his own thoughts in his books, proving he was sharp and intelligent. Yet he was very limited, and these limitations were tied to his horizons.

Although Meng Wan had never been to the capital and didn't know if the Yu Kingdom had a Directorate of Education like in his era's ancient history, he knew such institutions existed.

The Directorate was the starting point for aristocratic children. They were born above ordinary people, easily entering the nation's highest academy to gain knowledge, while a farming scholar like Song Tingzhou had to climb step by step to gradually broaden his horizons.

But in Meng Wan's view, this order was fundamentally wrong from the start. Only with substance in the heart could one write brilliant essays. Without experience, forcing it only led to empty words.

Now, passing the county exam tested memory and comprehension, but later, for the provincial exam to become a provincial graduate, it relied entirely on accumulated knowledge from ancient texts and rare books. What aristocratic children had seen since childhood, Song Tingzhou would have to cram.

Confucius also said, "A craftsman must first sharpen his tools if he wants to do his work well."

Hard study was the foundation, but the key was finding the right method to study well.

So just reading books wasn't enough. Song Tingzhou needed to start now to make up for his shortcomings. Since the family couldn't afford books at home, he should start by understanding the meaning, extending it without straying off-topic.

On the tenth day, when Meng Wan went to the bookstore again, Shopkeeper Huang had indeed gathered some news.

"They say a dam is being built between Quanshui Town and Qingfeng Town, which is why those county constables came. I've heard there'll be troops stationed here soon."

Hearing this, Song Tingzhou reacted first. "Doesn't that mean they'll conscript labor?"

A faint worry creased his brow. "If it's only two months, it could still make it in time for spring plowing. But if it takes longer, with only women and children at home, wouldn't that ruin the year's harvest?"

Meng Wan glanced at him in surprise. He didn't worry about his own prefectural exam first but instead thought of the villagers' crops—he had the makings of a good official.

But Meng Wan set aside others' concerns for now and looked up to ask him, "You're leaving for the prefectural city in March—won't this delay you?" After all, Song Tingzhou was still just a student candidate without exemption from corvée labor.

Song Tingzhou felt a warmth in his heart. "This kind of labor conscription probably won't be forced, and it won't affect the exams."

Meng Wan breathed a sigh of relief and then thought of other issues.

Building a dam between the two towns meant the County Magistrate would also deploy some troops to guard it. Although a county's troops might not even number a hundred, for a small town like Quanshui, suddenly having dozens of people was quite a lot.

These people would be in town for at least two or three months. What about their food and lodging? The laborers working during the day were supposed to be provided with a meal at noon, but it was clear it wouldn't be anything good.

The county's garrison soldiers and county constables had regular salaries—how could they eat the same food as the laborers? The nearby towns of Quanshui and Qingfeng would definitely be great places for them to splurge on meals.

With that, wouldn't there be customers!

Meng Wan mulled it over all night and became more convinced it was feasible. If he rented a yard in town to do business during this time, Song Tingzhou wouldn't have to travel back and forth.

After the tenth, the lantern painting at the bookstore was almost done. On the eleventh, he didn't need to go, but Meng Wan still got up early. Song Tingzhou didn't call him out on it, just quietly followed him out.

Meng Wan asked him, "Aren't you going to ask why I'm still going to town today?"

Song Tingzhou glanced at him. The Xiangyun hairpin on Meng Wan's head hadn't been taken off since the first day of the month, and it was now perched charmingly in his hair. He was wearing the hairpin he'd given him, curiously pressing him with questions, stirring his insides into a sour, swollen mess.

Song Tingzhou forced himself to look away. "Didn't you say you wanted to do business in town? Have you figured it out?"

Meng Wan walked briskly. “I’ve decided. Morning food is the way to go—it might be a bit hard, but the faster we work, the more we make.”

His family already had a steady tofu business; wouldn’t fried dough sticks be the perfect match?

There were already stalls selling steamed buns and noodles in town, but none sold fried dough sticks and tofu pudding like he planned to.

Still, Meng Wan couldn’t help feeling a little down. After nine years of compulsory education, three years of high school, and four years of college, he ended up selling fried dough sticks and tofu pudding in ancient times?

For the second time, he regretted not studying physics, chemistry, or going to New Oriental cooking school.

There was a broker in town, but a private one at that. Meng Wan thought the older woman looked more like a matchmaker than a broker. The mole on her face, near her mouth, was about the size of Zhang Xiaoyu’s—like a soybean seed—and frankly, it wasn’t very attractive.

“Our town only has this one main street and a few alleys. You looking to rent a yard to live in, or a storefront for business?”

Meng Wan touched the mole under his eye—a bit bigger than a sesame seed, smaller than a grain of rice, bright red, round, and full. Not bad-looking at all.

Song Tingzhou’s eyes darkened as he watched him do that, then he looked away and answered the broker. “A storefront for business, preferably with a yard out back.”

The broker clapped her hands. “I’ve got one just like that.”

The three of them walked down the street. Meng Wan felt uncomfortable with the broker staring at him like that, so he stuck close behind Song Tingzhou and let him do the talking.

The broker led them to the west end of the street, unlocked a storefront with no sign out front, and pushed the door open. Inside, it was spacious—big enough for three rooms—but completely empty, with no clue what it used to be.

“How about this one? Plenty of room. You’d just need to furnish it yourself—that won’t set you back much. Come on, there’s a door through here that leads to the inner courtyard.”

They followed the broker through the door into the inner yard, which was also big, with four main rooms and a well in the middle.

It was nice, but Meng Wan’s heart sank. There was no way it was cheap.

Sure enough, the broker said the price: ten taels.

In this town? Ten taels? That’s robbery!

Meng Wan frantically jabbed Song Tingzhou in the back.

“Ahem... ten taels is a lot. Let’s go home and talk it over with our elders.”

The broker wasn’t happy. “A yard this big for ten taels isn’t expensive at all. What kind of place are you looking for?”

Song Tingzhou said nothing.

Even as she walked away, the broker muttered under her breath. “Tch, poor people shouldn’t bother looking at shops. Go live in a thatched hut out in the countryside.”

Meng Wan turned and glared at her, but she just swayed her hips and walked off.

Song Tingzhou wanted to touch his sleeve but figured it wasn’t proper, so he hunched his usually straight back a little and coaxed him gently. “Don’t be mad. I’ll buy you a sugar-coated hawthorn stick, okay?”

Meng Wan had been craving fruit all winter. He turned his head back. “Two sticks!”

The hawthorn seller roamed the streets with his straw target, and Song Tingzhou led Meng Wan around until they found him.

As luck would have it, Shopkeeper Huang was there too, buying a stick for his three- or four-year-old granddaughter.

“Young master, what brings you to town today?”

Meng Wan didn’t hold back. “I’m thinking of starting a food business here. I looked at a shop with a broker, but I wasn’t happy with it. I’m heading home after buying these hawthorn sticks.”

“Ah, young master, why didn’t you say so earlier? The yard next to my place is always up for rent. How about I have my second son take you to see it?” Shopkeeper Huang couldn’t leave his shop, so he offered to send his son.

Meng Wan hadn’t expected such a lucky break. Of course, he agreed.

Shopkeeper Huang’s second son was named Huang Zheng. He seemed younger than Song Tingzhou, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and his personality wasn’t clear—he only asked Song Tingzhou a few questions on the way and said little else.

The yard wasn’t far from the bookshop, just two alleys away. The gate was open, and a woman was washing clothes in the yard.

Huang Zheng asked the young woman, “Sister-in-law, is my aunt home?”

Seeing the visitors, she guessed they were there to rent. “She’s inside. I’ll call her.”

She set down the clothes and went in. “Mom, Xiao’er is here with some people who look like they want to rent.”

Soon, a woman in her forties came out, wearing a gray cotton jacket and a plain silver hairpin. She seemed efficient and got straight to the point. “Are you two here to see the place? You, scholar, look familiar.”

The town wasn’t big. Song Tingzhou, who studied here year-round, was tall and handsome, so he stood out.

Meng Wan, as usual, stayed in the background. As an unmarried young man, it wasn’t proper for him to take the lead, so Song Tingzhou handled it.

“I study at Scholar Li’s private school and often come to town. You’ve probably seen me before, auntie.”

The woman was pleased to see Song Tingzhou polite and a scholar. “Xiao’er, have you told the scholar about our place?”

Huang Zheng answered honestly, “Dad just told me to bring them over. You can discuss the rent yourselves. I’ll head back now.”

“You, kid. Fine, thank Shopkeeper Huang for me.”

After Huang Zheng left, the woman led them inside. “I have one main room and two side rooms here. One west side room is already rented. The east side room is bigger than the west one—it used to house a scholar who just moved out before New Year’s. By the way, who is this?”

An unmarried young man, following a young man to look at a rental?