In addition to the tea shop, Matchmaker Zhang’s family also ran an inn, managed by her son and daughter-in-law. She took Ye Tao there to spend the night on a communal bunk.

Though it was called a dormitory, he was the only guest staying there. It was clean and tidy; the long table showed signs of having been repaired—likely taken down from the tea shop and polished until it was spotless. A small incense burner sat on the table, though no incense was burning; the straw mat—perhaps newly replaced—gave off a distinctive, fresh scent.

In the evening, he opened the window facing the river, and the gentle night breeze blew in, making it very pleasant.

“This is pretty much just like a dorm,” Ye Tao thought optimistically.

Early the next morning, Matchmaker Zhang took Ye Tao into town to look for work.

They’d agreed before setting out that no matter what kind of job it was or how much it paid, the first month’s wages would go to her as a “referral fee” for acting as a go-between. Ye Tao had no objections; if anything, he felt much more at ease. After all, if you didn’t offer any compensation, why would anyone go out of their way for you?

In the Song Dynasty, household registration was closely tied to fixed assets. People like Ye Tao, who had neither a house nor land nor the money to buy either, were called “floating households.” If they wanted to register as permanent residents, they had to either buy a house or land, or clear land themselves.

Matchmaker Zhang said that last year’s severe flooding had led the authorities to encourage the people to reclaim wasteland; they could borrow seeds and farming tools, but it would take at least several months for the fields to yield a harvest, so they’d have to fend for themselves in the meantime.

Some large landowners also organized people to reclaim wasteland, then collectively registered them as tenant farmers.

Matchmaker Zhang took Ye Tao’s hand and said, “You look so delicate and soft-skinned—you don’t seem like the type who could farm. You’d be better off going to the city to find a proper trade. Once you’ve saved up some silver, you can buy some property, and that will allow you to register as a resident.”

Ye Tao certainly didn’t know how to farm. In all his life, the closest he’d ever come to farming was watering the scallions his grandmother grew in a plastic basin, so he nodded: “I’ll take your advice.”

As a job broker who specialized in connecting people with work, Matchmaker Zhang had a clear understanding of all the trades in the city. Even for those where she didn’t have any influence, she could find a suitable contact—it all depended on what Ye Tao was capable of doing.

She asked Ye Tao first, “Have you ever gone to school? Can you read?”

Ye Tao was about to say yes, but then he thought better of it. He could read simplified Chinese characters, and with a bit of guesswork, he could probably make out traditional ones too—but he certainly couldn’t write them.

To put it mildly, he had even forgotten what his own surname looked like.

“I recognize some of them, but I can’t really write them.” Ye Tao spoke with a lack of confidence. He’d gone through nine years of compulsory education and even made it to college—so how had he ended up practically illiterate?

Matchmaker Zhang wasn’t surprised. Even though most of the shopkeepers in town could read and write, if you asked people out in the fields, you wouldn’t find even one or two out of ten who could—and even being able to read their own name was considered quite good. 

They entered the fabric market, a street lined with shops selling cloth and ready-to-wear garments. Colorful fabrics hung at every shopfront, and some even displayed the latest styles of clothing right outside.

Ye Tao took a look; most of the items on display were brightly colored women’s garments.

Matchmaker Zhang strolled along, taking in the sights, and upon seeing a pale pink long tunic, she laughed, “If this were ten or twenty years ago, I’d definitely have bought that dress.”

Matchmaker Zhang was getting on in years and lived a comfortable life, so she had put on a bit of weight. The dress looked tight and might not fit her well, so Ye Tao asked her: “Can’t you have it custom-made?”

The weather was lovely today; the sun had been shining brightly since early morning. Matchmaker Zhang was holding a fan, and upon hearing this, she fanned herself and said, “It’s not the size—it’s the color that’s too young. At my age, I just can’t wear something like that.”

Ye Tao looked up and examined it closely. The dress wasn’t a bright peach-pink, but rather a muted lotus-root pink—it wasn’t necessarily something only young girls would wear.

After he said that, although Matchmaker Zhang still had no intention of buying it, she couldn’t stop smiling: “If you weren’t so tongue-tied, I’d actually consider hiring you to sell clothes.”

But having a speech impediment was, after all, a major problem—he couldn’t sell clothes. Matchmaker Zhang told Ye Tao that a tailor shop was hiring an accounting clerk.

“Zhong Niangzi is a kind-hearted woman. The pay for an apprentice is a bit low—only three hundred wen a month until you’re fully trained—but room and board are included, and you’ll even get a full set of seasonal clothing. Once you’ve completed your training, working as a bookkeeper or shop manager is a respectable livelihood, much better than toiling and struggling out on the streets.”

It was clear that Matchmaker Zhang was genuinely looking out for Ye Tao’s best interests. Unfortunately, she was a step too late—someone else had already arrived first. It was a quick-witted boy of fourteen or fifteen, brought in by the tailor shop’s veteran tailor. He had attended elementary school, could read and write, and spoke articulately; Ye Tao stood no chance against him. 

Matchmaker Zhang took it in stride and suggested taking Ye Tao to look around elsewhere.

Ye Tao glanced inside the tailor shop and asked in a low voice, “Do you take on tailor apprentices here?”

“You want to learn tailoring?” Matchmaker Zhang eyed him, somewhat surprised. “We only take female apprentices here—they start learning when they’re eleven or twelve. The master tailor will evaluate you—but can you actually make clothes?”

“I can make children’s clothes.” 

And I’m actually quite good at it—a set of clothes can sell for over a thousand. 

When he mentioned children’s clothes, Matchmaker Zhang was surprised. “You actually know how to do that?” 

She exchanged a few words with Zhong Niangzi. Since Zhong Niangzi and Matchmaker Zhang were acquaintances—and it had been Zhong Niangzi who’d originally asked Matchmaker Zhang to find someone—she felt a bit guilty about making her come all this way for nothing. So she immediately told Ye Tao to go to the back and do whatever he could: cutting, sewing, embroidering, ironing—whatever he was capable of.

Traditional Hanfu is always cut flat; master tailors can even cut it directly with a pair of scissors. Ye Tao couldn’t do that—let alone embroidery—and he didn’t know how to use a charcoal-fired iron for pressing either. His only option was sewing, but after he’d sewn just a few stitches, the veteran tailor standing nearby shook his head: “That’s way too slow. Even the young girl who just started last month works faster than you.” 

The implication was that he didn’t want him.

Zhong Niangzi came to take a look as well. Ye Tao’s stitching along the hem was fine and even, but it was indeed slow. Sewing clothes isn’t particularly difficult, and the one thing a tailor shop has in abundance is people who can sew.

Zhong Niangzi didn’t close the door entirely, though: “Nine hundred wen a month, and once you get the hang of it, it can go up to eighteen hundred wen. The shop provides one lunch a day.”

Nine hundred per month, without room and board. Ye Tao recalled that the vegetarian-filled steamed buns Matchmaker Zhang had bought for him that morning cost three wen each.

He ate at least three per meal. With one meal at the shop, the remaining two meals—calculated at six vegetarian steamed buns a day—would cost 18 wen, totaling 540 wen a month. He wasn’t sure if the remaining 360 wen would be enough to rent a room, let alone buy clothes and shoes.

He shook his head and said, “I don’t have a place to stay. Nine hundred isn’t enough.”

Stepping out of Zhong’s Tailor Shop, Ye Tao felt a bit dejected. He was a master craftsman whose work could keep him booked for half a year—how had he ended up in a situation where he couldn’t even land a job as a tailor?

Matchmaker Zhang tried to comfort him: “Let’s go check out some other places.” 

Since Ye Tao wanted to learn tailoring, they searched along this street, but perhaps having used up all his good luck in his narrow escape from death, he walked the length of an alley from one end to the other and back again—whether it was shops selling clothes, fabric, or thread—not a single one would take Ye Tao on.

They even asked at a secondhand clothing shop, but Matchmaker Zhang was at a loss: “Why don’t we look into other trades?”

She was puzzled too. Logically, it should be easy for such a handsome young gentleman to find work; perhaps his zodiac sign was simply incompatible with this trade.

“Would you be willing to work in a tavern?”

She ran a tea shop herself, so she was even more familiar with that line of work.

After being turned down all day, Ye Tao had lost his temper and simply nodded. “Anywhere is fine, as long as it’s a job that puts food on the table. If all else fails, I’ll go to the docks to carry bags.”

Matchmaker Zhang shook her head repeatedly: “How could you possibly handle work at the docks? Even those tough, calloused lads would have half their skin worn off on their first day.”

Fanning herself, she assured him, “Don’t worry. Even if I have to forgo a month’s wages, I’ll find you a place to work. You can stay at my house for the next few days.”

As evening approached, the city gates were bustling with people coming and going. Matchmaker Zhang led Ye Tao to a different gate: “It’s a long way from here, but there aren’t many people. We can take a boat back.”

Ye Tao was only too happy to agree; he’d been walking all day in a pair of ill-fitting straw sandals, and his feet were already covered in blisters. There was still a bit of a walk to the riverbank, and on the way they ran into an acquaintance, so Matchmaker Zhang stopped to exchange pleasantries.

It was a matchmaker. Seeing that Ye Tao was handsome and just the right age, she asked him a few more questions. After saying goodbye, Matchmaker Zhang tentatively asked Ye Tao, “If there were a family looking to take in a son-in-law, would you be willing to move in with them?”

Ye Tao thought he had misheard her, so he asked for confirmation several times. He realized that Matchmaker Zhang meant exactly that—she was asking if he would be willing to become a son-in-law who moves into his wife’s family’s home.

Ye Tao was at a somewhat awkward age—old enough to be considered for marriage, but not yet capable of supporting himself. Most families wanted a man who could head the household, while wealthy families looking to take in a son-in-law preferred someone of modest means who was well-educated.

Fortunately, Ye Tao was handsome; perhaps a wealthy family might be willing to take him in as a son-in-law simply for his good looks.

Ye Tao was so startled he blurted out, “I’m gay!” Matchmaker Zhang didn’t catch what he meant, so he cleared his throat and invoked the feudal law: “I’m the only son in my family—I won’t become a son-in-law.”

Matchmaker Zhang looked at him with even greater tenderness. Poor thing—such a delicate, fair-skinned young gentleman must have been pampered at home, yet he’d fallen into this predicament.

Ye Tao didn’t realize that he—a child who had never known his father, whose mother had died young, and who had been raised by his grandmother—had become the young master of a wealthy family. Although there were fewer people here than at the gate they’d passed through earlier that morning on their way into town, it was still bustling, with quite a few vendors hawking their wares from shoulder poles. 

He pricked up his ears and listened intently, trying to get a sense of the minimum cost of living.

Matchmaker Zhang had a cheerful personality and was well-liked by everyone. After walking just a few steps, she ran into another acquaintance. Unlike the matchmaker earlier, this time she took the initiative to approach her and greeted her warmly: “Huiniang, it’s been a long time. Are you feeling better?”

Lin Niangzi smiled and said, “Much better. A-Chuan was worried, so he insisted on getting a few extra doses of medicine from the pharmacy.”

Matchmaker Zhang nodded solemnly: “You really should take them. I can see your complexion has improved a lot. Are you out buying vegetables?”

Lin Niangzi nodded and pulled back the hemp cloth covering her bamboo basket to show her: “Zhenniang had crucian carp and tofu for dinner yesterday, and she wants it again today, so I’m buying some scallions and ginger to take home.”

When Matchmaker Zhang heard that she could still afford tofu, she realized her family wasn’t quite at the end of their rope, so she felt at ease enough to make small talk: “If you found a wife for A-Chuan sooner, you wouldn’t have to come out shopping yourself, and you could enjoy a life of ease.” 

Hearing this, Lin Niangzi gave a bitter smile: “In our current situation, how could we possibly afford a wedding? I’m the one letting A-Chuan down—I’m just holding him back.”

“How could that be your fault?!” Matchmaker Zhang spoke her mind bluntly. “That damned heavens—first floods, then plagues, and on top of that, your late husband’s son, who was struck down by the plague, did such heartless things. If you ask me, you never should have married Chen Laoliu in the first place!”

Her voice was so loud that Ye Tao even turned to look, so she cleared her throat before continuing, “Still, A-Chuan is a good man. If he can get through the next couple of years free of illness and disaster and save up some silver, he’ll naturally be able to arrange a marriage.”

Lin Niangzi shook her head: “A labor headman in the trade asked A-Chuan to go work at Houzhu Port. He was worried about Zhenniang and me, so he refused to rent a place there. He left before dawn today and hasn’t come back yet.”

“There are all these big ships heading to the East and South Seas—they’ll be gone for a year or two—and they’re all rushing to unload their cargo during these two months, so the pay is a bit higher.”

Matchmaker Zhang also thought this was a good opportunity, but the daily commute was indeed exhausting. “Why don’t you take Zhenniang with you and come stay at my place for two months?”

“How could that work?”

“Why not? Are you still treating me like a stranger?”

“It’s not that I’m keeping my distance from you, but you have your own family to take care of, plus the tavern—and you’d have to look after the two of us as well. How could you possibly manage it all?”

“I’m used to the work at the tavern—it’s no big deal.” Though she said that, Matchmaker Zhang suddenly remembered that her daughter-in-law’s period was late this month. So she might be expecting. She’d also need to keep an eye on the inn. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ye Tao, and a brilliant idea suddenly struck her.

“You know what I do for a living. I have a young man here—he’s quite handsome, though I’m not sure where he came from. He doesn’t speak very clearly, so it’s hard to find him a trade. If you just want someone to look after the household for these next couple of months, I think he’d be perfect. He’s about the same age as A-Chuan, and he has a pure and kind heart. Today I took him out to find work, and on the New Bridge we ran into a lame man pulling a cart to sell charcoal—and the boy even helped him push the cart.” 

“Take him back with you. Give him a place to eat and sleep, and let him look for work little by little. He’s a capable worker.”

Lin Niangzi followed her gaze. According to Matchmaker Zhang, the young gentleman currently had no income, and since A-Chuan was the sole breadwinner for the family, an extra pair of hands would be helpful—but it would also mean one more mouth to feed.

Just as she was about to politely decline, she noticed Ye Tao’s clothes.

All of Chen Chuan’s current clothes were sewn by her own hand. Her eyesight wasn’t very good, so she couldn’t do very detailed work, but she could still see things from a distance—and the young gentleman was clearly wearing one of Chen Chuan’s outer jackets.

The patch on the shoulder was the one she’d sewn on half a month ago after he’d snagged it while hauling lumber.

Yesterday, A-Chuan had mentioned rescuing someone; she’d assumed he’d lost the coat during the rescue, but it turned out he’d given it away. The young gentleman was tall, so even wearing A-Chuan’s coat, it didn’t drag on the ground. 

Ye Tao noticed a gentle-looking auntie staring at him and instinctively smiled; Lin Niangzi smiled back.

Seeing this, Matchmaker Zhang said, “See, I told you so—this young gentleman is quite charming, isn’t he?”

She felt even more convinced that her idea was a good one: “Here’s what we’ll do: go back and talk to A-Chuan. Tomorrow I’ll bring some people over. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take him to find another line of work—it won’t hold him back.”

Lin Niangzi seemed gentle and soft-spoken, but having been friends with Matchmaker Zhang for so many years, she was also a decisive person. Once she’d made up her mind, she didn’t want to delay. She said immediately, “A Chuan should be here by now. There’s no need to wait until tomorrow—you can come back with me right now.”

Matchmaker Zhang naturally agreed, telling her to go ahead. Turning to Ye Tao, she said, “That Lin Niangzi from earlier is a good friend I’ve known since I was back at my parents’ home. Her family has gone through some difficulties, and she isn’t in the best of health. She’s looking for someone to look after her, help with some odd jobs, and provide meals.”

Fearing Ye Tao might misunderstand, she went out of her way to explain, “Don’t worry—it’s not hard work at all. Just helping to light the fire and cook meals, and doing the laundry. Even if you don’t know how to do it now, you’ll learn.”

Cooking and doing laundry were no problem for Ye Tao, but he was worried about something else. He asked cautiously, “I’m really not going there to be a son-in-law, are you?”

“Her daughter is only seven or eight years old—what kind of son-in-law would you make?” Matchmaker Zhang laughed. “There is, however, a young gentleman about your age.”

Feeling guilty, Ye Tao stammered nervously, “I—I’m not going to marry a man either.”

Matchmaker Zhang said, puzzled, “Of course not.”

“All right,” she said, waving her hand to signal Ye Tao to come with her and take a look first.

Ye Tao followed Matchmaker Zhang into an alley where the braying of donkeys could be heard. They walked straight down the alley until they reached the edge of a pond. 

Aunt Lin, the gentle woman he’d met earlier, was talking to a tall young man. When Matchmaker Zhang called out, “Huiniang,” they both looked over. Chen Chuan’s gaze swept past Matchmaker Zhang and settled on Ye Tao.

He had a scar above his eyebrow that split his brow into two parts; tall and imposing, he looked like someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. Ye Tao felt uneasy under his gaze—was he being mistaken for a con artist trying to scrounge a free meal?

Chen Chuan stepped forward, and Ye Tao, feeling a bit sheepish, took half a step back before standing firm again. Even though he was here to scrounge for a free meal, he wasn’t a con artist! Aunt Lin had called them over.

Ye Tao straightened his back a little.

Chen Chuan raised his hand… and ran it across Ye Tao’s face, even pinching the flesh on his cheek. 

Ye Tao：？

Ye Tao swatted his hand away and glared at him. What a hooligan!