Shi Wuxiang was speechless at the question. First day at work—what was there to celebrate? He had only bought the balm and ointment during a break at lunch. Since he ate well at noon, there was no need to buy anything for himself.
Seeing him silent, Yuan Zhao knew he wasn’t thinking of himself. He reminded him, “I do farm work every day. I don’t need these expensive things. You should buy books to read. Even if you don’t plan to take exams, knowledge is never wasted.”
Shi Wuxiang was surprised. “You don’t want me to continue taking the imperial exams?”
Since he had taken over this body and all its memories, he knew many people often asked about exams. Even now, people would regret he wasn’t studying, thinking it a pity.
After all, education has always been a fast track.
Moreover, in these hard times, if he could continue exams, even a minor official post would be significant.
“I think it’s a pity not to apply what you know, but whether you take exams is your choice. Passing is just another way to earn; not taking them, I can still support the family. Either way works,” Yuan Zhao said without overthinking it.
He had hands and feet; if necessary, he could work hard on the farm. Hunting could also be added to their routine; wild chickens and ducks in the mountains would fetch a good price in town!
If Shi Wuxiang didn’t want to continue exams, why force him? That would only create resentment. After all, it was his household.
Shi Wuxiang hadn’t expected him to say this. A faint look of surprise and satisfaction crossed his calm, refined face. Such a thoughtful child would be treated as a true younger brother!
“Earning money at home, that’s my responsibility. You needn’t overwork yourself. Once I earn more silver, if you tire, we can hire people to farm the fields,” Shi Wuxiang said generously and matter-of-factly.
But to Yuan Zhao, it wasn’t the same.
“Why would we let others farm our hard-won fields?” Yuan Zhao said, thinking that was the attitude of some town masters. “Don’t say such things. There are many people in the household; silver should be saved, and farming doesn’t cost silver.”
“Farming is tiring,” Shi Wuxiang said. Though he had never farmed before, he knew it was hard work.
Yuan Zhao laughed as if hearing a joke, his thin but healthy face brightening. “Nothing is easy. You must also be careful with your tasks!”
Shi Wuxiang fell silent, each understanding the other’s rhythm. Perhaps he had been a little narrow-minded.
Yuan Zhao didn’t want to argue over these matters. He patted his back like coaxing a child. “All right, rest now. Tomorrow we have to leave early for the cart.”
Shi Wuxiang wanted to ask about it, but Yuan Zhao deliberately kept it secret. He decided to feign ignorance.
Spring was warming each day. Thick clothing gradually gave way to lighter shirts, and the cold was no longer noticeable.
The weather lengthened the days, and Yuan Zhao had boundless energy. He could work in the fields for hours, watching an entire acre bloom under his labor. He was so happy he almost wanted to leap!
“Grandma, let’s sow the wheat first. When we find suitable paddy fields, we’ll buy rice to plant,” Yuan Zhao said. He had already bought seeds from the village head.
Here, rice was only planted once a year. It had to be sown while the weather was warm, and harvested before the cold to avoid frost damage.
Their meals followed the seasons; if crops failed, there would be no food.
Shi Zhang had no objection. The family preferred wheat-based food, so wheat was the priority. Later, they could cultivate more crops.
Yuan Zhao stared at the remaining fallow land. One acre was clearly insufficient. More land had to be cleared.
He thought for a moment. “Once we finish today’s sowing, I’ll ask the village head if we can borrow his ox. That’ll speed things up.”
Shi Zhang didn’t want the younger generation to handle everything. “I’ll go ask now. If it can be borrowed, that’s best. You focus on sowing with Ah Yue.”
“All right,” Yuan Zhao agreed enthusiastically.
Shi Zhang didn’t delay and headed down the mountain to the village head’s house.
Now that it was warmer, more villagers were sowing. Many needed oxen to plow. Shi Zhang arrived while they were discussing whose turn it was to use the ox.
Qingluan Village had over a hundred households; nearly every family farmed and needed oxen.
Yuan Yuan gave a sheepish little hum and said, “Brother, I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven,” Yuan Zhao replied with a smile, patting him gently. “Alright, we’d better hurry and cook. If your aunt comes back later, she won’t have a freshly prepared meal ready.”
As dusk fell, Madam Shi Zhang and Shi Qingyue returned, dragging their tired bodies home.
Yuan Zhao quickly urged them to eat first, setting aside some food for Shi Wuxiang, making sure to leave extra tender stir-fried bamboo shoots.
By the time Shi Wuxiang returned, night had fully fallen.
After stepping down from the ox cart, he handed over two copper coins given by Yuan Zhao. “Uncle Daxiong, thank you for your hard work. I’ll need to ride again tomorrow.”
Uncle Daxiong waved his hand with a laugh. “Can’t take your coins. Zhao’er already spoke to me about it beforehand. Didn’t he tell you?”
Shi Wuxiang frowned in confusion. “He already paid you the fare in advance? How long ago? From now on, I can pay myself.”
Uncle Daxiong laughed as if hearing a joke. “Neighbors help each other, that’s all. It’s just a little extra work to carry someone. Besides, it’s not for nothing—Zhao’er promised to make me ten more baskets!”
Shi Wuxiang didn’t fully grasp this “exchange” system, since in his previous life, debts of gratitude could never truly be repaid, and anything solvable with money was trivial.
But it would be a lie to say he wasn’t touched.
He hadn’t expected Yuan Zhao to think of even this, to tire himself out weaving baskets just so Shi Wuxiang could keep a little extra money.
He had seen the weaving process before, which was why Yuan Zhao had bought the materials in the first place.
“Thanks, Uncle Daxiong. I’ll head home then,” Shi Wuxiang said, letting the matter drop, and started walking back.
The path into the village was pitch-black. Few villagers kept candles burning, usually just torches for a short while during meals, leaving the lanes dark as if abandoned.
Feeling his way in the dark, Shi Wuxiang soon noticed a light not far ahead, gradually approaching.
“Yuan Zhao?” he called out.
“Ah Xiang!” Yuan Zhao’s voice came back, bouncing and calling out as he hurried toward him. “It’s too dark. I’ll come fetch you home!”
Shi Wuxiang instinctively quickened his pace and met him halfway, taking the torch from Yuan Zhao. The warm, dim light illuminated both their faces.
Yuan Zhao looked at him with mild surprise. “Why are you smiling? Was your work good today? Did anyone praise you?”
Had he smiled?
Shi Wuxiang touched his lips in surprise, realizing they really were curved upward.
He suppressed the smile and said softly, “It was easy work. Just accounting… nothing worth praising.”
But Yuan Zhao disagreed. “You’ve never done this before. First day and you didn’t make mistakes. That deserves praise!”
Walking side by side toward home, the night’s chill made them unconsciously huddle closer. Shi Wuxiang couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for Yuan Zhao—anyone would like such a considerate younger brother.
Shi Wuxiang wasn’t picky with food, yet he was quietly moved seeing the extra tender bamboo shoots set aside just for him.
After dinner, once everyone else had gone back to their rooms, Yuan Zhao, as usual, brought hot water for foot soaks—but Shi Wuxiang stopped him.
“You soak your hands first,” he said.
“My hands are clean!” Yuan Zhao looked at them following Shi Wuxiang’s gaze. Though chubby and cracked, they really were washed clean.
“Oh? I was planning to wait and give you a gift afterward—”
“I’ll wash them right now!” Yuan Zhao shouted, ignoring everything else, setting the basin on the ground and plopping down to soak his hands, muttering, “You should’ve told me earlier! Then I would’ve washed them obediently. What gift? I’ve never received one before, haha…”
He soaked his cracked hands until soft, rubbed the skin thoroughly, then dried them and eagerly approached Shi Wuxiang, blinking up at him, hands almost outstretched.
“Hold out your hand,” Shi Wuxiang said with a smile.
“Okay…” Yuan Zhao held out his palms expectantly.
A small, round box landed in his hands.
It was ointment!
Shi Wuxiang said, “Use it regularly; it will ease the cracks. There’s also a bottle of medicine—you mix it in and apply.”
Yuan Zhao was genuinely overwhelmed, almost dazed. “It’s expensive, isn’t it?”
Shi Wuxiang hesitated, anticipating Yuan Zhao’s next words—perhaps a scolding about spending too much, considering their modest household.
Yet Yuan Zhao surprised him.
“And you? First day at work—did you get anything for yourself?”
Yuan Zhao tilted his head, his clear, bright eyes undimmed even in the dim room.
Shi Wuxiang marvelled again. Yuan Zhao always surprised him.