Lin Yue had assumed that since the two families weren’t from the same village and had no kinship ties, as long as they didn’t meet in town, he probably wouldn’t see them again for the rest of his life. Little did he know he’d run into them again in less than a month.

It must be karma for saying he’d visit the temple but never finding the time. Prepared for another confrontation, Lin Yue shot them a fierce glare. Yet the two across the street looked away, avoiding his gaze.

Lin Yue’s eyes darted. Had this family fallen on hard times? They didn’t even dare look at him.

Before he could ponder further, Shen Huaizhi approached, his voice softer than usual. “Why are you here? You’ve finally come home—shouldn’t you spend more time with your parents?”

Lin Yue flashed a bright smile. “Mother sent me to fetch you for dinner. Is school out already?”

The two stood in the courtyard, exchanging affectionate glances, utterly oblivious to everyone else.

This scene stung the couple standing nearby. Hong Xiufang couldn’t hold back any longer, her veiled criticism cutting like a knife: “Some people just have no shame. Not at all like a proper young master from a good family.”

Lin Yue shot her a glare. Another argument today—how tiresome.

Shen Huaizhi’s attention had been fixed on Lin Yue, so he naturally noticed their subtle exchanges. He immediately interjected, “Xiao Yue, these two are the parents of my classmate Shang Wencheng. They came today specifically to request an absence for him and also to ask if we’ve seen him in the past couple of days.”

This was the first time Lin Yue had heard parents request leave for such a distinguished young master. The fact that they’d come only after learning he wasn’t home made him even more curious.

He recalled how the Shang family had once strutted about with such arrogance, boasting of climbing the social ladder and looking down on him. Now they wore worried expressions. Lin Yue deliberately asked, “We’re old acquaintances, Auntie. Has your son gotten married? How come I haven’t heard of any wealthy families in town marrying off their gers lately?”

He hoped heaven would forgive him for his unkind schadenfreude. He would definitely burn incense—within this year!

This remark clearly struck a nerve with Hong Xiufang and her husband. Both glared at him angrily.

Lin Yue lifted his chin, speaking coolly, “Uncle and Auntie seem to have poor memories. Let me refresh your memory, the last time you visited my home. This time, it’s our turn to visit yours.”

Hong Xiufang was clearly still shaken. Her son had specifically warned her: with only three months left before this year’s provincial exam, they couldn’t afford any reputation-damaging incidents at this critical juncture. She forced herself to respond, “Who’s talking about you? Don’t take things personally and try to pin this on us. No way.”

Realizing she’d just dug herself into a hole, Hong Xiufang, unwilling to let Lin Yue gloat, shot back sarcastically, “You’re quite the sharp-tongued one. Aren’t you afraid your in-laws will find fault with you?”

Lin Yue was thoroughly annoyed by her cowardly yet provocative demeanor. He cut straight to the point: “Don’t waste your breath. You can mock me later when your precious golden boy has climbed high enough. Just don’t end up failing Xiucai and still not reaching those lofty heights.”

Hong Xiufang was furious. She’d always prided herself on her son being a scholar. When he told her a ger from town had taken a liking to him, she’d thought it only natural—even felt her family was the one with the higher status. But now, that shameless young man had taken her son away, refusing to let them return home or come forward to propose. Her son’s marriage prospects were ruined, while the one who’d broken off the engagement had gone and married someone else. And now this ger dared to curse her son!

Seeing her bristling with rage, ready to pounce, Lin Yue felt a surge of mischief himself. Unfortunately, Shen Huaizhi interrupted him.

Shen Huaizhi hadn’t meant to interfere. He simply hadn’t noticed his husband’s mischievous intent. Seeing the Hong Xiufang couple’s tense expressions—especially Shang Dafu’s clenched fists—he instinctively stepped forward, blocking their view.

Shen Huaizhi was in his early twenties, at the peak of his strength. His imposing stature and muscles straining beneath his clothes made it clear he could easily handle two opponents.

His presence was intimidating, at least to the Shang Family couple.

Hong Xiufang dared not argue further with Lin Yue and pulled Shang Dafu away.

Lin Yue deliberately peeked out from behind Shen Huaizhi and called out enthusiastically, “Auntie, remember to invite me to the banquet! I’ll definitely bring plenty of gifts.”

As for what kind of banquet, that was entirely up to their own interpretation.

Hong Xiufang stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, muttering curses under her breath—clearly nothing pleasant. Lin Yue generously chose to let it go, pulling Shen Huaizhi along as they headed home.

After such a delay, the food was nearly cold.

Last time Shen Huaizhi dined at the Lin household, he’d been quite reserved. Today, however, he was a different person entirely. His hands moved with astonishing speed, just a step away from wolfing down his food.

No choice—afternoon classes were about to start!

At Old Xiucai Gao’s private academy, students brought their own lunches. To ensure they could return home early in the evening, the midday break lasted only half an hour—sometimes even just fifteen minutes. If Shen Huaizhi didn’t hurry, he’d be late.

Lin Yue could only load his plate with food, his movements clattering with guilt. Despite Shen Huaizhi’s urgency, he couldn’t finish in time. He quietly declined Lin Yue’s further attempts to serve him, setting down his chopsticks with less than a cup of tea’s time left before class. “Father, Mother, Xiao Yue, little brother, eat slowly. I must go now.”

Shen Huaizhi’s footsteps faded away, accompanied by Lin Yue’s laughter.

That afternoon, Lin Yue accompanied Lin Yuan and his brother on a stroll through the fields. Returning home, he collapsed into a chair under the eaves to cool off. Beside him sat a plate of freshly picked peaches—washed, no less—alongside tea and melon seeds, making for a thoroughly indulgent break.

Only when Shen Huaizhi came to pick him up after school did Lin Yue reluctantly gather the things his mother had packed for him and slowly make his way out the door.

On the journey home, the scene repeated itself.

Lin Yue’s expression mirrored that of the day he returned home, though this time he adjusted more quickly. However reluctant he might be, he was gradually growing accustomed to this life, for he was certain his parents would always be waiting for him at home.

Entering the Shen family courtyard, Lin Yue called out loudly, “Father, Mother, Lingzhi, would you like some peaches? There are also red eggs and steamed buns.”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

After the Dragon Boat Festival, Lin Yue plunged back into the busy farmwork.

Summer taxes and autumn grain—by May, the villagers had to prepare hemp for weaving to pay their summer taxes. Though silver could be used instead, almost no one chose that option.

Ramie can be harvested three times a year. Each clump bore dozens of stems. During harvesting, the roots weren’t dug up; the perennial roots remained buried in the soil. Each spring, they would sprout on their own without needing replanting. Therefore, fields planted with ramie were generally left untouched for several years.

Harvesting ramie was an annual, labor-intensive endeavor. Lin Yue and the others headed to the fields early, stripping the fibers by hand, washing them in clear water, and then scraping them with ramie scrapers—each step demanding considerable effort. Once the scraped fibers were sun-dried, the next task was spinning the ramie.

After dinner that evening, Lin Yue and Shen Lingzhi carried a pole to the river, filling their household water jars to soak the sun-dried hemp fibers.

By the next morning, the overnight soaking had softened the fibers. Lin Yue and Shen Lingzhi sat in the courtyard, carefully separating the strands by hand. Song Xunchun then joined these individual strands together, winding them into flat, round skeins. This second step—aligning and winding the hemp—marked the completion of the first major phase.

With this, half the flax-gathering work was complete. Next came threading and drawing the threads—a task handled by mother and son, Song Xunchun and Shen Lingzhi. Meanwhile, Lin Yue was in the kitchen boiling rice paste, preparing to coat the flax threads.

The sizing process was relatively straightforward. Lin Yue held a wooden basin filled with thick rice paste in his left hand and a brush bound with thatch in his right, evenly coating the fibers. Shen Lingzhi followed behind, combing the sized hemp yarn to prevent tangling and increase its stiffness.

Another day passed. The glazed hemp threads dried in the courtyard. Once wound into bundles for weaving, they would be ready for the loom.

By this stage, the Shen family felt considerably more relaxed. Song Xunchun waved his hand generously. “Yue and Ling, you two have worked hard these past days. You don’t need to help with the weaving. Mother can manage it alone in just a few days.”

The Shen family’s hemp field spanned one mu, yielding roughly fifteen jin of hemp fiber. Each jin could be spun into five chi of cloth, meaning one mu could produce seventy-five chi of fabric. With five family members, the Shen household needed to submit twenty-five chi of hemp cloth annually. The remaining fifty chi roughly sufficed for the family’s clothing needs for a year.

However, hemp cloth lacked vibrant color. Households with modest means would send their spun hemp to dye shops for coloring before making garments.

Spinning cloth demanded immense patience—a task few young lads like Lin Yue and Shen Lingzhi could focus on. Thus, elders typically handled this work, and the boys accepted without protest.

Lin Yue smiled. “Then I’ll listen to Mother. Once the cloth is dyed, I’ll make clothes for Father and Mother.”

Shen Lingzhi nodded in agreement. “I’ll make some for Father and Mother too.”

Shen Zhengchu wasn’t home at that moment; he’d already headed out to the fields with his hoe.

Song Xunchun waved her hand. “I’ll handle your father’s and mine. You two should make your own outfits. I heard the dye shop has new colors this year—bright and vibrant, perfect for young people like you.”

At this, Song Xunchun thought of her own son and added to Lin Yue, “In past years, I made all Huaizhi’s clothes. Now that you’re here, I’ll leave that to you. But don’t rush—make your own first. As for Huaizhi, his old clothes will last him a while longer.”

This was only natural, and Lin Yue readily agreed, merely smiling as he said, “My skills can’t match Mother’s. If mine turn out poorly, don’t blame me.”

Song Xunchun’s smile remained unchanged. “Of course not. How could yours possibly be bad?”

The three of them laughed and joked in the courtyard for a while. As the sun began to set, Lin Yue rose to return to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

After a day of farm work, a hearty meal was essential. Today, the Shen family table featured meat dishes: a dish of stir-fried pork with garlic shoots, rich yet not greasy, with a savory, caramelized aroma, and a bowl of refreshing, fragrant cucumber and egg soup.

Shen Zhengchu arrived home punctually as always, putting away his tools and washing his hands just as the dishes were served from the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Shen Huaizhi was still nowhere to be seen that evening. The prepared meal was returned to the pot to keep warm.

Song Xunchun grew concerned. “Why hasn’t Huaizhi come back so late today? I hope nothing happened?”

Across from her, Shen Zhengchu took a sip of water and muttered, “Could he have been kept after class by Old Xiucai Gao?”

Song Xunchun shot him a look. “Huaizhi hasn’t been kept after class since his third year at the private school. Surely he hasn’t regressed in his studies?”

Lin Yue listened with keen interest. So Shen Huaizhi had been kept behind after class before. I wonder if he cried like a baby, rolling on the floor like Lin Yang used to do when he was little.

Lin Yue nearly laughed out loud. Clearing his throat, he said, “Perhaps something else happened. Yesterday, he mentioned Old Xiucai Gao had a cough. Maybe that delayed the end of class.”