His husband had also been busy in the prefectural city, getting quite a few things done. The study had only recently been formally set into motion, but the trading firm was doing big business, and by year’s end it would bring in a substantial profit. Now there was also a child on the way—the family was about to welcome a new member.
Only at the end did he speak of himself. He had passed the provincial examination and earned the title of juren, and he had taken on a teacher.
He had not gone out of his way to investigate who his teacher was or what official post he had once held. He wanted to keep things as even and calm as possible, to avoid entanglements of interest and losing his original intentions.
Even so, he knew that a promising future was now within reach.
Xie Yan burned several sheets of examination papers for his father—his answers from the provincial exam.
He said, “Mother has already told you many things in front of your spirit tablet. If I say too much, you might not like hearing it. I do not like talking to you through that tablet either. A man who once stood so tall, reduced to a small wooden plaque—it feels strange to look at.
“Lately, I have been mentioning you more often. Back then, I did not know how to cherish things. I thought you were too strict, too harsh on me—not a good father. Now that I have grown up, I understand your goodness. When I look at Mother, my heart aches. I always think—if only you had not fallen ill.
“Now I can barely hold up the household, and I am about to have a child. Whenever I have time, I think about how I should raise him. I am still learning myself—how can I teach another? So I keep recalling how you taught me. Perhaps my child will be like me, unable to understand a father’s painstaking care until he grows up. But I will still do it. I will raise him well.”
After that came a string of meaningless murmurs, scattered bits of chatter. When he finished burning the paper money, he said, “I will come back again next year. By then, the whole family will return. Do not worry about us.”
That night, Xie Yan stayed at the estate. The residence had long been repaired; a few days earlier, Miao Qing had brought the children over to tidy it up.
Seeing that he had just finished paying respects to his father, no one rushed over to offer congratulations. They prepared hot water and food for him, then returned to Lu Family Village.
Xie Yan did not know how to manage the estate’s affairs. He only chatted briefly with people, then went out to look around—the mill, the livestock sheds, the pig pens.
At night, he felt a craving. He took some of this year’s newly harvested wheat, ground it into flour, and steamed a batch of buns. The fresh grain was fragrant. Late at night, he carried the buns, stir-fried two dishes, and went to visit his father’s grave again.
“Did not expect this, did you? I can cook now. You have no luck tasting it—Mother is already tired of it.”
The night air was cold, the wind rustling through branches and grass. There was a solitary grave here. A timid person might have cried out in fear, but Xie Yan took it as his father’s response, finishing his meal here before leaving.
He slept until broad daylight. When he returned to Lu Family Village, the sun was already high.
Inside and outside the village, people came out to see the newly titled juren. Xie Yan did not feel much closeness toward them. He kept a stern expression, deliberately distant. If he wanted to command respect, he could not be too friendly.
Being warm only with his uncle’s family was enough—it showed he remembered his kin and had not forgotten them.
His father-in-law’s small, shabby house had lost its liveliness. After just a year, it already felt worn down. It was clean, but it could not withstand the wear of wind and frost.
The words “Yangliu Brothers and Family” pasted on the wall had been washed nearly away by rain.
Xie Yan reached out and touched it, then went inside to look around.
He decided to handle this house. If any relatives were struggling, it could be given to them to live in.
When his two fathers returned in the future, they could have people move around a bit. With people living in it, the house would last longer.
That day he was a guest at his uncle’s home, chatting about many everyday matters.
The estate had given their family a stable income. With improved living conditions, disputes in the household had lessened. It had returned to the harmonious state Xie Yan remembered.
A few days earlier, Miao Qing had gone to the county town and specially bought some pastries, bringing them out today to entertain him.
They were not like Lu Lin. No matter how casually or sincerely Xie Yan spoke, they still treated him with respect. The relationship had changed.
Xie Yan found it dull. After staying for lunch, he wandered around the village in the afternoon. Seeing it was still early, he did not linger and set off for Li Village.
Life in Li Village was thriving, and his arrival lifted the atmosphere even higher.
He arrived just as night was falling. The village head had people set up a bonfire, making it a lively evening.
Xie Yan recognized quite a few people—Da Qiang, Wang Meng, Er Jun, San Miao. He had spent a fair amount of time with them before.
With Da Qiang and Wang Meng taking the lead, these men spoke freely. The nearby villagers felt at ease, coming over to bask in the scholarly aura of the juren. Seeing how approachable he was, many children gathered, asking him to tell stories.
Xie Yan knew many stories—ones he usually told Lu Yang. The principles from books, those sentences that seemed like heavenly script, became simple and easy to understand when he told them, delighting the children. They ran around saying, “The juren is better than the old licentiate! The old licentiate does not understand enough to explain clearly!”
The old licentiate knew the difference in ability and was not offended. Instead, he encouraged the children to soak up more learning, so they could become even better than him.
“At least be able to explain a story clearly!”
Xie Yan sat by the fire. Apart from the village head, everyone around him was familiar.
The village head’s grandson, Li Fei, was also there. He recognized Xie Yan and would be going to the prefectural city with him this time.
“My grandfather wants me to study in the prefectural city for a few years,” he said. “I will learn skills from Brother Dafeng and Brother Yang.”
The child would be fostered in Li Feng’s household. This generation would go out and carve a path, while the next would benefit, gain an education, and eventually return home.
Xie Yan said, “If you have questions about your studies, come to me. We will be close by—I can teach you as well.”
Li Fei was thrilled and turned to look at his grandfather. On the old man’s weathered face, his smile was gentle, his eyes filled with satisfaction.
If even one descendant could be raised well, there would be continuity.
Xie Yan stayed in Li Village for two days. He inspected drying yards, watched medicinal herbs being processed, saw mushrooms being dried, and even went up the mountain.
Da Qiang and Wang Meng took him to dig winter bamboo shoots. They also found a bamboo stalk filled with water, split it open, and let him drink the bamboo sap—cool and sweet.
Finding winter shoots required skill, and they taught him how to recognize them.
Xie Yan took a shovel and joined in digging. The ground was crisscrossed with roots—one root could extend far and wide. He could not help but marvel.
He thought, So this is what it means to take root.
Da Qiang said, “Straight on the surface, tangled underneath—just like Wang Meng here. Looks honest, but his heart is dark.”
Wang Meng replied, “Long roots mean many shoots. Good bamboo gives good shoots—just like me.”
Xie Yan: “…”
All his thoughts vanished. Better to just dig bamboo shoots.
He wanted to bring some back to the prefectural city, to cook a pot of yanduxian—to sit together with family, eating a steaming hot stew. Just thinking about it felt wonderful.
By the tenth month, it had rained for two days.
When the weather cleared, Lu Liu prepared to clean up the houses.
They had newly rented three places, all about the same size, each originally meant for two families to share. Lu Liu had checked the layouts and matched them with each family’s size—everything fit just right.
The Lu family, who had taken in a husband, could have the older and younger couples live under one roof but with some distance, with extra rooms for children.
The Luo brothers had always shared one courtyard. Suddenly splitting up would feel too spacious at first, but they would get used to it. Adults and children would each have their own rooms, and with just one courtyard between them, they could see each other easily.
Li Feng had already inspected the heated brick beds and stoves. Hai Youtian had people clean the flues, and one of the kangs had been rebuilt. The roof had been repaired. The well did not need dredging—houses that were continuously inhabited always had functioning wells.
Lu Liu hired people to do the cleaning. He was getting used to delegating work instead of doing everything himself, learning how to act as the head of the household.
Since they were hiring help, opinions differed.
His two fathers were frugal. They felt that since they had time, they could do more work themselves. The houses were nearby, and there were still days before anyone would move in—cleaning a little each day would suffice.
They often went to the shop, working in the back courtyard and chatting with He Qingzao. Because of that, He Qingzao also felt he could help with cleaning. The shop’s busy hours followed mealtimes, and during quieter periods, he had time to sweep and tidy.
Zhao Peilan, Lu Yang, and Chen Guizhi met and talked every day, influencing each other’s thinking. They believed that when there were no means, one should be frugal—but when there were means, one should enjoy life. How could people live in hardship forever? If you earned money but were reluctant to spend it, then what was the point of earning it at all?
Shun Ge’er added a small opinion of his own. He pointed out that everyone had their own business to run, then calculated how much profit a pot of soup could bring. If they had time, they should cook more soup instead of doing cleaning.
He struck the key point. Winter had arrived, and hot soups were selling well. From morning to night, people came to buy. The portions they had initially set for different soups were all well received.
When there were many customers, they cooked larger pots. When there were fewer, they sold smaller jars. Those short on money could buy a small bowl. It covered everyone’s needs. Besides the Luming Academy, students from nearby private schools also made detours to buy soup. The small eatery’s business was booming.
With opinions unified, Lu Liu took the cleaners to inspect the houses, telling them to be thorough.
Now they only needed to wait for final inspection. Seeing the sun was out, he sent the two little children to his brother’s place to be looked after by Zhao Auntie. He planned to go out with his mother to visit matchmakers.
When Shun Ge’er heard this, he quietly slipped away to the shop to busy himself.
Chen Guizhi remarked that his skin was sometimes thin, sometimes thick—she did not know who he took after.
Lu Liu said, “He is thin-skinned. Now that he is dealing with people outside, he has toughened up. Some things, after hearing them enough times, he just gets used to them—it looks like thick skin, but it is really familiarity.”
Chen Guizhi laughed. “You have gotten quite smooth yourself—your words and actions are more and more polished.”
That praise made Lu Liu beam all the way.
Mother and son visited several matchmakers, gathering information. When someone gave them honest advice, they tipped them a few coins and asked them to keep an eye out.
Over two days, they not only visited private matchmakers but also two official ones. The official matchmakers were more formal, asking about every condition in detail.
Only then did they learn that official matchmakers not only handled requests but also kept records of eligible individuals. For families seeking a live-in husband, they could not only find registered candidates but also persuade men of modest means to consider such arrangements.
Naturally, this meant the recruiting family had to be well-off and attractive.
Lu Liu left the talking to his mother—he was not yet experienced enough.
Chen Guizhi boasted: they had a trading firm (shared ownership), farmland (just under twenty mu), three horses (two of them foals), three dogs (one belonging to Lu Yang), and assets worth several thousand taels of silver (though much of it was customer deposits, and after expenses and dividends, only a fraction would remain).
Even the official matchmaker raised his brows at these claims.
“How many people are in the household? How will you live after marriage?” he asked.
Chen Guizhi continued boasting. “Just two of us. My eldest is already married with two children and lives separately. I live with my younger son and am recruiting a husband for him to support the household.”
She understood the concerns of a live-in husband. Men could accept parents-in-law—they could endure hardship with the hope of eventually inheriting. But if there were strong brothers in the household, unless they were desperate, no one would willingly marry in.
The matchmaker, experienced as he was, feared exaggeration and asked to visit.
They agreed. Returning home, they had Lu Yang and Zhao Peilan temporarily move to another house to create the illusion.
When the matchmaker came, he saw two adjacent homes—both respectable residences in the alley. It did look like a wealthy household. Seeing Shun Ge’er’s appearance, his eloquence, and the bright red pregnancy mole, he told Chen Guizhi, “This match will not be hard to arrange. Wait for my news—by year’s end, you should have prospects to meet.”
Shun Ge’er asked, “Where will we meet?”
“You are recruiting a husband,” the matchmaker said. “You will follow the man’s side and visit his home.”
That surprised him. He had thought the men would come here—too many visits would expose the deception.
The matter was set in motion, awaiting introductions.
That day, Hai Youtian returned with news—he had found some beekeepers.
Shun Ge’er had been doing needlework at home, sewing wedding quilts. Though they were recruiting a husband, appearances still mattered.
Just as he stepped out to help at the shop, he ran into Hai Youtian.
Hai Youtian, cheerful as always, greeted him casually, “Where are you going? Is your elder brother home?”
Caught off guard, Shun Ge’er was startled. Some relationships were like that—perfectly natural before, but once something subtle changed, even if only on one side, it brought an inexplicable awkwardness.
He did not want to see him. He avoided his gaze, then shot him a glare, lifted his chin, and hurried off.
Hai Youtian rubbed his nose, assuming he was holding a grudge.
Calling out, he told Lu Liu about the beekeepers he had found.
Inside, he grew nervous under Chen Guizhi’s presence, remembering her sharp tongue. Sitting stiffly on the edge of the stool, he spoke carefully.
“There are a few beekeepers from the countryside,” he said. “Two are elderly couples—their children are married, and they now keep bees and farm. They can refine honey and are willing to teach, but their prices differ. I tasted their honey—it is not as good as Old Ma’s.”
He lowered his voice when mentioning Old Ma.
“There are also two family-run apiaries. They can keep bees and refine honey, and they are willing to teach—but they want to join as partners. They have people, skills, and their own hives. If you want to open a honey workshop, they would go in together.”
But that required a lot of capital. They did not have enough money themselves and were unwilling to leave the prefectural city.
“The last one,” Hai Youtian said, “is a widowed husband named Sun, with two young sons. His family has been beekeepers for generations—his skills are excellent.”
After his husband’s death, his craft made him like unprotected meat—many suitors came. His family wanted him to remarry, but he refused, raising his children alone.
He did not want to refine honey for others. He wanted to work in a honey workshop, teach his craft, and sign a contract. He needed housing, the ability to bring his children, and protection—no forced remarriage.
The conditions were excellent.
Lu Liu immediately favored this last option.
Hai Youtian sighed. “But he does not dare go to the mountain village. It sounds like a place where people force marriages… He is afraid that in a strange place, no one would protect him—even his children could be taken.”
Those with lesser skills were easier to hire. Partnerships were secondary. Money could solve most things—but opening a workshop required significant capital.
The last option was not about money—it was about trust and keeping one’s word.
Lu Liu thought it over and felt it was feasible.
He looked at his mother. “Which do you think is best?”
Chen Guizhi, both for personal and practical reasons, preferred the last option. Partnerships often led to disputes; hiring someone was simpler.
After all, Da Qiang’s hunting territory already covered areas rich with wild beehives—on a scale beyond ordinary beekeepers. If they partnered, the skilled party would expect a large share. Too small a share would not satisfy them; too large a share would not be worth it for Da Qiang and the others.
