After comforting Xing Zhao, Qingheng took up the reins again.

The old horse knew the way and was already trotting briskly, leading them to the village gate.

The gate guard, Jiang Liu, smiled from a distance: “I thought you weren’t coming back today.”

He was Jiang Shen’s eldest brother, nearly forty years old, with dark skin and a hearty smile.

“I was worried I wouldn’t make it in time, so I’ve been rushing all the way,” Qingheng replied with a smile.

Early yesterday morning, Qingheng had rushed out, even going so far as to trouble Jiang Liu to get up in the middle of the night to open the gate for him. He said, “I ran into Jiang Shen at the county office. He asked when the family planned to pay the taxes—if possible, preferably before his term of service ends.”

The lines between Jiang Liu’s brows deepened instantly. He sighed and nodded. “All right, I understand.”

He asked Qingheng, “When are you going?”

“We’re about to start burying vines.” A maturity beyond his years shone in Qingheng’s eyes: “I plan to discuss it with Lady Wang tonight, pack up tomorrow, and pay the taxes the day after—the sooner the better.”

He suggested, “If the timing works for your family, we could go together. I’ve rented a truck that needs to be returned, and the one at home is sitting idle. If your family needs it, feel free to take it. It works out perfectly—I’ll use the rental car as a backup to help you haul some things. I figure we can get everything done in one trip.”

Upon hearing this, Jiang Liu’s eyes lit up. He thought for a moment and said, “I’ll discuss it with my wife tonight. If we’re set, I’ll send you a message first thing tomorrow morning.”    

“Alright, great,” Qingheng smiled.

“Who are these two?” After wrapping up the discussion, Jiang Liu finally turned his attention to the two men sitting in the carriage. One was older, the other younger—both quite handsome, though unfamiliar to him.

“They’re staying here for a while,” Qingheng said casually. “I’ll go report to Lizheng later.”

Xing Yue and Xing Zhao couldn’t understand the two men’s rapid-fire Xizhou dialect. Seeing Jiang Liu looking at them, they could only smile and nod slightly in greeting.

Jiang Liu seemed to find the situation amusing; he burst out laughing, rubbed his head, and praised them, “You two young gentlemen smile at everyone you meet—you’re quite polite.”

Qingheng: “……”

That was because they couldn’t understand or speak the dialect of Xizhou.

“Alright, you two go on in,” Jiang Liu said with a smile. “I’ll wait another half-incense stick’s worth of time. If no one comes in or out, I’ll lock the gate.”   

“Right,” Qingheng replied with a smile, giving the reins a gentle tug. The old horse lifted its hooves and began to trot.

Qingheng didn’t head straight home. With a flick of his wrist, he steered the horse toward Lizheng’s house.

“Lizheng knows a little Mandarin, but not much. If he asks how long you’ll be staying, just tell him you’re staying for a month, but that you’ll be leaving your younger brother in my care. We’ll be troubling him as well.”

While driving, Qingheng instructed Xing Yue: “If he asks about your family, tell him your mother has passed away, your fiancée abandoned you, one sister’s whereabouts are unknown, and the other died on the way here, leaving your younger brother with no one to care for him.”

He spoke these lines in Mandarin, enunciating them very, very slowly, almost as if he were babbling them out one word at a time. This was partly because he wasn’t very fluent in the language, and second, to ensure Xing Yue could hear and understand clearly.

“If anyone asks why I brought you back, just tell them you suffered a severe head injury and are too weak to serve in the army for the time being. The county stopped providing you with food, and your younger brother was sick and nearly starved to death. I took pity on you and came to your rescue, vouching for you so you could receive medical treatment, giving you a temporary place to stay, and helping you care for your younger brother. Military service is grueling; you don’t know if you’ll survive it. If you make it through your term safely, you’ll pledge yourself to me, become my son-in-law, and take care of our son and me from now on.”

“Tomorrow, villagers might go to his place to ask for news. He usually tells everyone exactly what you say, so by then, everyone will likely know.”

“…The first part is fine, but there’s no need to share the family matters with others, is there?” Although Xing Yue couldn’t translate every word precisely, he was already deeply shocked.

He couldn’t imagine coming out to everyone, telling every person he met that he liked men. He wasn’t some kind of attention-seeker, after all.

And playing the victim everywhere—what with his mother passing away, his fiancée abandoning him… He wasn’t exactly a macho man, nor was he overly concerned with saving face, but that didn’t mean he had to broadcast every private family matter to the world.

He wasn’t an exhibitionist. And on top of that… becoming a son-in-law?

Did he translate that right?

Didn’t he even consult me about this?

His language skills are non-existent, but he was pretty sure he didn’t miss that part.

And what’s this about raising a son together? Raising a son?

Is this even human language?

Why does he keep feeling like he’s missing something?

Xing Yue looked at Qingheng, his head full of question marks: “Why?”

Qingheng paused for a moment, gave him a few up-and-down looks, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you always give me the impression of being a newborn baby, completely devoid of any worldly experience?”

Xing Yue picked up on the key words and detected the sarcasm in his remark, but the thought of having to perform “performance art”—coming out to everyone and playing the victim everywhere—made his skin crawl.

“Villagers tend to look down on exiles,” Qingheng said, pausing as the smile faded from his face. “Especially exiles whose families have been convicted of treason.”

After all, that was far more terrifying than petty theft or even arson and murder.

People are on guard against petty theft and arson; during a year of general amnesty, those crimes might even be pardoned or have their sentences reduced.

Treason… targeting the Emperor. A general amnesty won’t pardon or reduce the sentence for it, and no one can guard against the Emperor’s changing mind and continuing to implicate others.

“But if you are in dire straits—so desperate that everyone has abandoned you, leaving you with nothing and unable to survive—most people cannot help but feel compassion and show you some leniency. If you remember to repay those who helped you—even going so far as to become a son-in-law to repay a great debt of gratitude—people will feel it’s a pity—some might help you, while others, though wishing to stay uninvolved, would say nothing, keeping to their own business.”

Xing Yue recalled his life in the modern world: “Wasn’t that just kicking me while I was down, trying to finish me off?”

“There are people like that,” Qingheng said. “But they’re usually your friends, relatives, or strangers who are inherently evil. It’s unlikely to be just any random stranger.” 

As he spoke, the old horse stopped at the entrance to a large courtyard.

“What about the son…” Xing Yue was about to ask what he meant.

But before he could finish, a hoarse, aged voice interrupted their conversation: “Has Brother Heng returned?”

The speaker was an old man in his fifties or sixties with completely white hair. He wore a gray, round-collared robe with narrow sleeves and a futou, standing before the wooden gate.

“He’s back!” Qingheng jumped off his horse and smiled. “Have you eaten yet, Old Man? Why are you standing at the gate?” 

“I’ve eaten. Just came out for some fresh air.” Lizheng turned his gaze to Xing Yue. “And who is this?”

“This is Xing Yue,” Qingheng said. “The young master is his younger brother, Xing Zhao. I brought them here to register.”

He then introduced Xing Yue: “This is the Lizheng of Jiangjia Village, Old Man Jiang. He’s always been very kind to us—he even helped draft your petition to visit you.”

Xing Yue gave a slight, composed nod. “Thank you, Old Man Jiang.” Xing Zhao also hurriedly added, “Thank you for your help, Old Man.”

Upon learning their identities, Lizheng’s eyes betrayed a clear look of surprise. However, after glancing briefly at the two of them, he withdrew his gaze and nodded impassively: “All right, follow me.”

Lizheng’s house and courtyard were both built of yellow mud bricks. The courtyard wall stood over six feet high, and the courtyard itself was vast—roughly the size of a basketball court.

Xing Yue didn’t linger to look around; he took Xing Zhao by the hand and followed Lizheng into a mud-brick house on the right side of the entrance.

“What is your family’s current situation?” Lizheng pulled a scroll from a scroll holder, unrolling it as he asked Xing Yue the question.

Just as Qingheng had predicted, he asked three questions: their family situation, why they had come to Jiangjia Village, and how long they planned to stay.

Xing Yue cautiously relayed the answers Qingheng had prepared. After listening, the old man said little; he jotted them down and then told them to wait outside. Qingheng had braced himself for a scolding. He stopped fidgeting and sat obediently on the edge of the kang.

Lizheng, however, smiled and shook his head. “You’re quite bold, aren’t you?”

Qingheng knew Lizheng wasn’t angry, so he immediately relaxed and chuckled, “You bet. I’ve secretly vowed to swallow the heavens whole.” 

Lizheng shot him a look. “Aren’t you afraid of choking? Want me to pour you a glass of water to wash it down?”

“Keep it low-key, keep it low-key,” Qingheng waved his hand nonchalantly. “Don’t startle the heavens just yet. Let me brag a little longer first.”

Lizheng twitched his lips. “…What a waste of potential!”

After Qingheng finished chatting, he recalled what Xing Zhao had said about his second sister. He stopped slouching and asked, “Is Silang planning to go to the capital to stay?”

Lizheng family’s fourth son was also a garrison soldier in Jiaohe County’s Zhechong Garrison. Every year, he had to report for duty, and the garrison would assign him to perform garrison duty at the city or the mountain passes. A while ago, he’d heard it was Silang’s turn to perform garrison duty in the capital.

Qingheng mused that if he went to the capital, perhaps he could ask him to keep an eye out for news of the Xing Family’s second wife during his downtime. But Lizheng quickly cut short his plans: “I plan to pay Silang a sum of money as a military exemption tax.”

Qingheng paused in surprise and asked, “Two guan of copper coins?”

Lizheng shook his head, his eyes and brow heavy with weariness. “It’s gone up to four guan. I hear many people don’t want to go and are opting for the military exemption tax. Since they can’t get enough volunteers, the Zhechong Garrison has raised the price.”

Qingheng was astonished. “Four guan of copper coins?” That was enough to feed a family of five for two years. Of course, grain prices were high in Xizhou, so that was a different matter.

Still, it was enough to buy seven or eight mu of prime farmland near a water source. With the right crops and diligent cultivation, it could support a single person. But this wasn’t a one-time payment to buy out the obligation.

It was a rotating duty every year; if they didn’t go to the capital, they’d have to go somewhere else.

“If they were performing garrison duty, traveling a thousand miles at their own expense—covering their own food, lodging, and the costs of horses and weapons—training by day and patrolling by night, they could probably manage for a month.” Lizheng said helplessly, “But those noblemen are surrounded by countless servants, yet they still compete with one another over lavish lifestyles and privileges. To force them into servitude and hard labor, subjecting them to constant beatings, insults, and humiliation—what child could endure that? Wouldn’t their families be heartbroken? They’re human beings, after all!”

Qingheng opened his mouth but said nothing.

Lizheng sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “When will this ever end?”

“It will come to an end.” Qingheng patted his shoulder, offering comfort. “If we really can’t muster enough men this year, the Zhechong Garrison will report the situation. If His Majesty sees this, perhaps he’ll give those nobles a stern warning, and life for the garrison soldiers on garrison duty will become a little easier.”

“Ah, let’s hope so.” Lizheng bent over and sighed deeply.