Hiiii, so sorry for the over two weeks late update, this is the first of the six I was meant to schedule. I’ll schedule 2 for everyday until Friday. Thanks for understanding!

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Since Shen Dage had come by today, after seeing him off and resting for a while, Shen Linchuan spread his books out on the table.

Zhou Da, seeing that he’d returned early today, felt an irresistible urge to use the handcart again. He simply loaded some pork onto it and said, “Ning-ger, Linchuan, I’m going to take a stroll around the nearby villages. I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

Shen Linchuan replied, “Father, don’t go too far. It’s getting dark, and the roads are rough.”

“I know.”

Zhou Da headed out first. Zhou Ning tried to slip away on tiptoe, but Shen Linchuan wasn’t about to let him get away. He knew exactly what little schemes his Fulang had up his sleeve. Seeing him walk toward the door with a furtive look, he finally spoke up, “Ning-ger, where are you going?”

Zhou Ning straightened his back and turned to say, “I’m going to the back mountain to gather firewood.”

“That can wait. We’ve plenty of firewood at home. My older brother came by today, and you haven’t finished your calligraphy practice from this morning yet. Finish that first, then you can go out.”

“Morning’s already over.”

The implication was clear: no need to write it now.

“Come back.”

Shen Linchuan’s tone was calm, yet his face held a smile. No matter how thick-skinned Zhou Ning was, he could tell there was something off about that smile. With a reluctant “Oh,” he went over to write the large characters.

Shen Linchuan had already laid out the paper for him. Zhou Ning took a deep breath and began copying the characters written on the sheet in front of him. Seeing him look as if he were heading to the execution ground, Shen Linchuan felt a bit of a chuckle rising. “Be a good boy. Write neatly. You’ll definitely need this in the future.”

Zhou Ning was completely flustered by Shen Linchuan’s childish coaxing; he couldn’t stand up to a single word of it. He sat there obediently and wrote two sheets of large characters, then ran off as soon as he finished.

Shen Linchuan laughed. Writing really is such a struggle.

Zhou Ning grabbed his machete and headed to the back mountain. The area was now lush and green everywhere. He picked up some dead branches from the ground, and whenever he came across a dead tree that hadn’t sprouted, he’d chop it down with his machete. With just a few swift swings, he brought down a dead tree as thick as his wrist.

Zhou Ning flexed his wrists. Farm work was definitely more satisfying. Writing those big characters was such a drag—if you held the brush too high, it was wrong; if too low, it was wrong too. It was pure torture.

“Ning-ger, I could tell it was you from a distance.”

Zhang Xiaoyi, carrying a basket in one hand and a small shovel in the other, approached with a smile.

“Not busy today?”

“Nope, just came to gather firewood.”

Zhang Xiaoyi rolled his eyes. “Why are you still doing this kind of heavy labor? Get Shen Linchuan to do it. What’s a grown man like him doing at home?”

Zhou Ning shook his head in alarm. “He’s at home studying.”

There was plenty of firewood at home. Every autumn, his father would go up the mountain to chop wood, gathering enough to last the whole year. Zhou Ning helped out, too, so there was already a huge pile of firewood at home. Why would they need to gather more now?

He’d actually planned to sneak out under the pretext of gathering firewood; he certainly didn’t want to be forced by Shen Linchuan to write calligraphy at home.

Zhang Xiaoyi sat down on the grass nearby. Her small basket was filled with herbs Zhou Ning didn’t recognize. “You really spoil him too much. Come over and rest a bit.”

Zhou Ning sat down beside him. Zhang Xiaoyi fished a handful of red gooseberries out of his basket and handed them to Zhou Ning. He crossed his legs and began peeling and eating them. “Is Shen Linchuan picking on you? The moment he mentioned coming over, you shook your head so hard it almost flew off.”

Zhou Ning silently peeled a red mushroom fruit and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet and sour, full of seeds—not as good as the apricots Shen Linchuan had bought him today.

Zhou Ning ate two and stopped. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to talk to Zhang Xiaoyi about it; after all, they were friends.

“Shen Linchuan isn’t bullying me. He just keeps making me copy large characters.”

When Zhou Ning told him this, Zhang Xiaoyi’s delicate brows knitted together. How could anyone make Ning-ger do something he didn’t like!

Although learning to read was a good thing, he hadn’t liked copying large characters when he was a child either. Kids love to play, but his father would make him write until he finished; he wasn’t allowed to go out and play until he was done. He’d cry while writing, but once he finished and ran out to play for a bit, he’d forget all about it.

Zhang Xiaoyi thought that Shen Linchuan actually had Ning-ger’s best interests at heart—finding time to teach him to read while studying at home himself. But he was firmly on Ning-ger’s side, and his heart was already leaning toward him. “That won’t do! You’re the head of the household; he has to listen to you!”

“Me? Isn’t my father the head of the household?”

“Oh, I meant that when the two of you are together, he has to listen to you. He’s a son-in-law by marriage—you know what that means? He has to listen to you. Go back and tell him, ‘I’m not copying anymore!’”

Zhou Ning didn’t dare nod. He felt that if he stood on a stool and shouted, “I’m not writing those big characters anymore,” Shen Linchuan would snap his legs off. Although Shen Linchuan was usually gentle and kind, he just had a feeling that Shen Linchuan would definitely discipline him.

Zhang Xiaoyi had never thought much of Shen Linchuan to begin with. He muttered under his breath, offering advice to Zhou Ning. “Ning-ger is just too honest—that’s why he’s been walked all over by that scheming devil Shen Linchuan. How can this be right!”

“Let me tell you this: you need to act like the head of the household. Everyone in the house—big and small, inside and out—has to listen to you. Go home and tell Shen Linchuan that if he doesn’t listen to you, you’ll kick him out. Hmph!”

Zhang Xiaoyi grew more and more excited as he spoke, as if he could already see Zhou Ning standing tall and trampling Shen Linchuan underfoot. Let’s see how arrogant Shen Linchuan could be then.

“By the way, aren’t the two of you running a small business with your dad? Is Shen Linchuan hoarding the silver and not giving any to you?”

“I’m the one holding it.”

Zhang Xiaoyi burst out laughing. “I knew it! How could Shen Linchuan possibly… What? You have it?”

“Yep, Shen Linchuan gave it all to me.”

“Then… then who does the chores at your place?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Zhou Ning replied, “Shen Linchuan fetches water, I get up to feed the chickens, and when Shen Linchuan cooks, I tend the fire.”

Zhang Xiaoyi: “……”

Flawless.

“Well, well…” Zhang Xiaoyi hesitated for a long time but couldn’t come up with a single word. Wait, how could Shen Linchuan even be cooking meals? What was he supposed to say? It seemed like his good buddy was already strutting around enough—he was practically about to poke a hole in the Zhou family’s roof with all that swagger!

It was rare to see a man in the kitchen, though. It looked like Shen Linchuan had Ning-ger wrapped around his finger.

“Does he ever disobey you?”

Zhou Ning shook his head honestly. “No, and there aren’t any problems at home either.”

Zhang Xiaoyi deflated. “Alright.”

Wasn’t Shen Linchuan supposed to be that lazy, shirking scholar everyone in the village talked about? Otherwise, how could the Shen family have taken him in as a son-in-law? Why does Ning-ger’s description sound so different from what people used to say?

Zhang Xiaoyi patted his brother on the shoulder. He was already holding his own.

“Why don’t you just write the calligraphy? I used to do it when I was little.”

Zhou Ning nodded firmly. “Yi-ger, you’re right.”

“Huh?”

Wait, what did he just say? Why does it seem like this has actually brought the two of them even closer?

“Yi-ger, you’re right. Shen Linchuan has to fetch water, cook, run a business, study to pass the Xiucai exams, and teach me calligraphy. I can’t be a burden to him—I’ll do the writing! Thanks, Yi-ger.”

Zhang Xiaoyi’s mouth twitched. “You’re welcome.”

Zhou Ning stood up, tied the bundle of firewood on the ground onto his back, and set to work with such speed and efficiency that he could outdo many a man.

“I’m off. I’m going home to make some sweet soup for Shen Linchuan to drink.”

Zhang Xiaoyi picked up his basket and followed behind. In the sunlight, he noticed Zhou Ning was wearing a new wooden hairpin—exquisitely crafted, made of ebony no less.

He recalled that Ning-ger usually wore a peachwood hairpin. “Ning-ger, you bought a new hairpin. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Shen Linchuan bought it for me.” Zhou Ning recalled Shen Linchuan saying that seeing the hairpin would remind Zhou Ning of him, and he felt a bit embarrassed.

“Hehe, hehe, really? That explains it.”

Wait a minute—how come Shen Linchuan doesn’t have a single flaw? Could it be that all those rumors in the village were false, that Shen Linchuan was framed, and he’s actually a kind-hearted person? Could it be that I misunderstood him?

Zhang Xiaoyi had already imagined a whole drama unfolding in his head: Shen Linchuan’s older brother and sister-in-law, fearing he might claim their inheritance, had forced him to marry into the family. They’d deliberately spread rumors to tarnish his reputation, making everyone think he was a useless scholar with no ambition…

By now, Zhang Xiaoyi had already imagined a scene where Shen Linchuan and his wife turned the tables on Shen Linchuan’s older brother and sister-in-law. If Shen Linchuan were to hear this, he’d surely have to admit, “You really have a way with words! Why are you a doctor? It’s a shame you’re not writing novels!”

The two walked together along the path behind the mountain toward the village. Zhou Ning strode briskly, carrying a bundle of firewood on his back, while Zhang Xiaoyi, trailing behind him, frowned as he continued to run through the details in his head.

Zhou Ning stopped in his tracks. Zhang Xiaoyi, caught off guard, nearly bumped into the bundle of firewood. “Ning-ger, what’s wrong?”

Zhang Xiaoyi craned his neck from behind Zhou Ning and saw Zhou Xiaonan ahead, staggering under the weight of a huge bundle of firewood.

Zhou Ning stepped forward and steadied Zhou Xiaonan’s load. “Why did you gather so much all at once?”

Zhou Xiaonan felt the weight on his back lighten. He tried to turn around but couldn’t see who it was—he’d gathered far too much firewood to look back. From the voice, he knew it was Ning-ger.

“Let me help you carry it.”

As soon as Zhou Ning finished speaking, he set down the bundle of firewood he was holding. He hadn’t gathered much; he’d just come out to avoid Shen Linchuan, and he could easily carry a small bundle tucked under his arm.

Zhou Ning took the bundle of firewood from Zhou Xiaonan’s shoulders and hoisted it onto his own. Zhou Xiaonan’s face flushed with heat. “Ning-ger, thank you so much.”

Zhou Xiaonan picked up the small bundle of firewood from the ground. Zhang Xiaoyi asked, “Why did you gather so much all at once? You’re just a young ger—how could you possibly carry all that?”

Only after speaking did he realize that Ning-ger could indeed carry it—he was strong and taller than the average young ger. He had subconsciously assumed all young gers were frail.

Zhou Xiaonan wiped the sweat from his forehead and said sheepishly, “I saw a fallen dead tree over there that no one had noticed. I was afraid it would be gone by the time I came back, so I brought it all over here.”

Zhou Ning carried a tall bundle of firewood on his back, yet he didn’t seem to feel the weight at all. The path behind the mountain was rugged and winding, but compared to Zhou Xiaonan’s wobbly gait, he walked as if on level ground.

Zhou Ning carried that huge bundle of firewood and helped Zhou Xiaonan carry it all the way home. Zhou Xiaonan’s good-for-nothing father didn’t do his part; it was as if most of the firewood in their household had been gathered by him. Zhou Xiaonan’s family probably just went to the back mountain to gather firewood whenever they needed it instead of storing for the winter.

After dropping Zhou Xiaonan off, Zhou Ning finally headed home with his own small bundle of firewood. Once home, he thoughtfully brought Shen Linchuan a bowl of brown sugar water. “Studying is hard work; you need to replenish your energy,” he said. “Drink up.”

Shen Linchuan put down his pen. Why was he being so thoughtful all of a sudden? He took a sip of the sweet brown sugar water. “How did you get your back all dirty just from gathering firewood?”

“I probably got it dirty helping Nan-ger carry the firewood.”

“Let me help you brush it off.”

Shen Linchuan brushed the dust off Zhou Ning’s clothes. His fulang was such a simple soul—those who didn’t know him might think he was cold and silent, but Shen Linchuan knew his Fulang had the softest heart of all.

Zhou Ning took Shen Linchuan’s hand. Shen Linchuan raised an eyebrow—his Fulang was usually so shy, though not in bed, of course. This was the first time he’d held his hand in broad daylight, and Shen Linchuan’s heart leapt with joy.

“Shen Linchuan, I’ll definitely practice my writing from now on and not cause you any trouble.”

Zhang Xiaoyi was right—(Zhang Xiaoyi: “I didn’t say anything!”)—Shen Linchuan was already busy enough every day, yet he still had to find time to teach him to read and write. In the countryside, let alone gers and girls, there weren’t even many young men who could read.

Families with slightly more means would send their sons to an old accounting house ten miles away to study for a couple of years; that was considered quite good. As for the girls and young women, forget about them learning to read and write—who had the spare cash for that?

Shen Linchuan was doing this for his own good. Regardless of whether it was useful now, once he and Shen Linchuan had a little one, he, as the father, would be able to help the child learn to read. Thinking of this, Zhou Ning couldn’t help but let a faint smile slip onto his face.

Shen Linchuan saw his Fulang lost in thought and suddenly laughed; Zhou Ning laughed too. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. You keep reading; I won’t bother you. I’m going to get the dried tofu.”

Zhou Ning let go of Shen Linchuan’s hand and went back to his chores—even though Shen Linchuan’s hand was still outstretched!

Shen Linchuan chuckled to himself. He could tell his Fulang really didn’t like writing large characters. He’d originally thought of asking him to write a little less starting tomorrow, but who would’ve guessed that after just one trip out, he’d come back saying he wanted to practice properly.

Zhou Da was currently pulling his handcart around the nearby villages, selling pork. That handcart was really handy—it could be pushed or pulled—and was actually more practical than a unicycle.

Zhou Da hadn’t even left Dayangshu Village when he was stopped by people at the village entrance. “Uncle Zhou, I’ve never seen a cart like this before. It looks pretty handy.”

Zhou Da stopped in his tracks. “Linchuan had his older brother build it for us. He said it would make my business easier.”

There were plenty of idle villagers at the entrance, and seeing someone pulling a two-wheeled handcart for the first time was quite a novelty. “It looks pretty nimble—let me give it a try.”

Zhou Da cheerfully let them take a turn. “It even has a rope. If there’s a steep slope, you can sling it over your shoulder and give it a good pull.”

Several young men lined up to give the cart a try. They all agreed it was more practical than a unicycle. Zhou Da happily listed all the cart’s advantages, which only made the young men in the village even more envious. “It’s made by the Shen family in Xinghua Village, right? I’d like to have one made for myself, too.”

“This cart can even be taken apart—it’s truly lightweight and practical.” As more and more people gathered around, Zhou Da took advantage of the crowd to call out, “Anyone buying meat? Just look at how fresh and plump this hind leg is!”

The young men, in particular, were circling the cart. If they had one of these at home, farm work would be so much easier.

“That Linchuan is a quick thinker. Seeing that my unicart couldn’t carry much, he specially got me this cart,” Zhou Da said with a broad smile.

“Brother Linchuan is an educated man; scholars have broader horizons than we farmers.”

“Zhou Da, you’re truly blessed—both your children are so dutiful.”

Many people envied Shen Linchuan for getting Zhou Da a handcart. Previously, some villagers had wanted to make fun of the Zhou family, but now they saw that Shen Linchuan cared for the family far more than any biological son could.

Although Granny Diao was envious too, she remarked, “This isn’t much different from the flat-bed carts pulled by animals. You still have to pull it yourself. If he could buy a mule or a donkey, now that would be true filial piety.”

Someone replied, “How can you compare them? Those flatbed carts are clumsy and heavy—pulling them by hand would wear a person to death. Besides, how many families in the countryside can actually afford to buy livestock? Everyone wants to buy livestock.”

Zhou Da wasn’t pleased to hear Granny Diao speak this way. He still remembered how she owed his family money and refused to pay, and how she’d even cursed his son-in-law. This flatbed cart was a token of his son-in-law’s filial devotion—it was certainly not for Granny Diao to criticize.

“That boy Linchuan is a good lad. He said he’d buy me a mule someday,” Zhou Da said.

“Oh, is that true?”

“Of course it’s true. Linchuan is such a dutiful son.”

Hearing that Shen Linchuan intended to buy Zhou Da a mule, many people grew even more envious. Setting aside whether he could actually afford it, the fact that he had the heart to do so—and had already spent money to get his father a cart—was enough to make quite a few people envious.

Many families asked where the cart had been made, and Zhou Da told them it was crafted by his son-in-law’s eldest brother in Xinghua Village.

Zhou Da let people admire it for a while at the village entrance, then pulled the cart off to nearby villages to sell pork. Pulling the brand-new cart, his steps felt a bit lighter—his son-in-law’s heart was full of filial devotion.

Even after Zhou Da had walked quite a distance, many young men were still craning their necks to look. “That handcart is really something. I’d like to get one too. I’ll have to go to Xinghua Village one of these days and ask how much it costs.”

Granny Diao rolled her eyes. “Zhou Da’s just showing off. He even said Shen Linchuan was going to buy him a mule. But Shen Linchuan’s a scholar—where would he get the silver to buy him a mule?”

When Granny Diao accused Zhou Da of showing off, the onlookers all thought she was just being petty and couldn’t stand seeing others do well.

In Dayangshu Village, Zhou Da was famous for being a good-hearted soul. Whenever a family needed help, he’d always be there if they called on him. Even for tasks others considered unlucky—like carrying coffins or digging graves—he’d show up without being asked. He was the most sincere and helpful person around; how could he possibly be showing off?

Granny Shi, who had just been watching the commotion, chimed in: “You don’t know, but Shen Linchuan and his Ning-ger are running a small business with their father. They might have made a bit of money themselves.”

A few days ago, Granny Shi had woven two wicker baskets for Shen Linchuan. Now that she realized they were meant for this cart, she thought to herself that Shen Linchuan was no ordinary man. Even if they weren’t close, she shouldn’t offend him, so naturally she spoke up in his defense.

“That’s just moving money from one hand to the other—it’s still silver earned by Zhou Da.”

“You’re just sour grapes. Have your eldest son buy you a cart too. You can’t pull it yourself anymore, but your son could pull you into town. This cart’s spacious—you could even lie down in it.”

The crowd around them burst into laughter. Granny Diao was so embarrassed that her face turned red; she waved her hands, trying to argue her case, but she couldn’t win the debate.

Everyone agreed the cart was a great improvement over the usual flatbed cart—it was much roomier. Indeed, whether heading to town or visiting relatives, the cart could carry the elderly and children who couldn’t walk on their own. The unicycle could only seat one person and didn’t allow for lying down, whereas this cart could easily haul two adults and several children.

Zhou Da went to a few villages to hawk his pork. The novel cart drew quite a crowd of onlookers, and Zhou Da took advantage of the crowd to sell a good amount of meat. When people asked about the cart, he’d tell them all about its benefits, subtly praising his son-in-law’s filial piety in every word.

Granny Diao was actually right this time—Zhou Da really was showing off. Everyone had been saying his son-in-law was no good, so he wanted everyone to see just how capable his son-in-law really was.

Hearing the people around him praise his son-in-law for being smart and dutiful, Zhou Da smiled so broadly that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. Whenever someone bought meat, he’d set the scale high for them.

After making the rounds through a few villages, the pork on the handcart was nearly sold out. As the setting sun cast its glow on the ground, it was time to head home for dinner, so Zhou Da hummed a country tune on his way back.

The very next day, he pulled his cart into town to do business again. It could hold the goods from two stalls—and even a bit more if needed. Zhou Da pulled from the front, while Shen Linchuan and another man helped push from the sides. Zhou Da felt that this cart was even lighter to pull than a unicycle.

When they arrived in town, many people noticed Zhou Da’s two-wheeled cart, and Zhou Da felt even prouder—after all, he was the only one who owned such a vehicle.

While Zhou Da was doing business, quite a few people came over to ask where he’d had the cart made and how much it cost. Zhou Da happily told them all. Even customers coming to buy meat at his stall asked, and a crowd gathered around Zhou Da’s pork stall.

Shen Linchuan’s business was booming today as well. Even before he arrived, several people were already waiting for him. When Shen Linchuan and his partner showed up, an impatient customer even helped set up the stall.

“I’ll take two portions—give me a bit of everything!”

Nowadays, people buy no more than two portions at a time. After waiting this long, buying just one would have been a waste. This braised pork was simply too fragrant; saving it to reheat at lunchtime and pairing it with steaming hot rice was an absolute delight.

Good wine needs no bush—the aroma of Shen Linchuan’s braised pork wafted far and wide. Not only were regulars eager to return, but even first-timers were eager to sample this dish everyone raved about. The only pity was that they could only produce forty slices a day—how could that possibly be enough?

In the crowd waiting in line, Shen Linchuan spotted a young man dressed like a servant—wearing a blue, narrow-sleeved tunic, a silk sash around his waist, and a black headscarf. He was dressed far better than the villagers. Shen Linchuan hadn’t realized his little stall had become so famous that even wealthy families were coming to buy from him.

Just as Shen Linchuan was slicing some pork for a customer, he heard laughter nearby. “Look, look! I told you Shen Linchuan was selling pork on the street.”

Shen Linchuan looked up and saw it was an acquaintance from the academy. Zhang Dong was leading Zhao Si’er and a few other wealthy young men over to make fun of him.

Zhao Si’er was dressed in a royal blue straight-cut robe with a scroll pattern, a sachet hanging from his waist, and a folding fan in his hand—the very picture of a dashing young gentleman. With his chin slightly raised and eyes narrowed, he looked as if he didn’t think much of anyone.

The few who followed him were also from families that ran small shops in town. Though they weren’t dressed as well as Zhao Si’er, they weren’t half bad either. Leading the group was Zhang Dong, who came from a rural family much like Shen Linchuan’s—his entire family supported him as the sole scholar, pinning their hopes on him to make something of himself.

Zhang Dong, from a humble background, wore a long blue cotton robe with a diagonal collar that had been washed until it was faded. He acted as a lackey to the few who pretended to be young masters from families with a little money.

Zhao Si’er fanned himself. “Shen Linchuan, if you’re broke, just tell me. We were classmates, after all, and you’re a scholar too. Yet here you are, selling these things right out in the open. You’ve completely disgraced us scholars.”

The others burst into laughter. “That’s right, that’s right. We’ll each give you a few coins—just don’t make a spectacle of yourself here.”

Zhou Ning couldn’t stand hearing them speak of Shen Linchuan that way; he rolled up his sleeves to fight, but Shen Linchuan held him back. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt a bit.”

Seeing Zhou Ning about to step in, the others were so startled they all took a step back.

“They’re just a bunch of scrawny scholars. I could take them out with one punch each.”