His husband had also been busy in the prefectural city. The bookstore had only recently been officially set in motion, but the trading firm’s business was already large—by the end of the year, it would bring in significant profits. And now, with a child on the way, the family was about to grow.
Only at the end did he speak about himself. He had passed the provincial exam and become a juren, and he had taken a teacher.
He hadn’t gone out of his way to investigate who his teacher was or what official post he once held. He wanted to keep things as steady as possible, not get entangled in too many interests and lose his original intentions.
Even so, he knew that a promising future lay ahead of him.
Xie Yan burned a few sheets of his exam papers for his father—the answers he had written for the provincial examination.
He said, “Your memorial tablet already hears plenty from Mother. If I talk too much, you might not even want to listen. I don’t like talking to a tablet—it’s strange, seeing someone so tall and imposing reduced to a small wooden plaque.
“Lately, I’ve been mentioning you more. Back then, I didn’t know how to cherish what I had. I thought you were too strict, too harsh—not a good father. Now that I’ve grown up, I understand your goodness. When I look at Mother, I often feel a pang of pain. I keep thinking—if only you hadn’t fallen ill.
“Now I can barely hold this household together, and I’m about to have a child of my own. Whenever I have time, I think about how I’ll raise them. I’m still learning myself—how can I teach someone else? So I keep thinking back to how you taught me. Maybe my child will be like me, unable to understand a father’s intentions until they grow up—but I’ll still do it. I’ll raise them well.”
After that came a string of meaningless muttering—fragmented, rambling words. Once the paper offerings were burned, he said, “I’ll come back again next year. When that time comes, the whole family will return. Don’t worry about us.”
That night, Xie Yan stayed at the estate. The residence had already been repaired; a few days earlier, Miao Qing had brought the children over to clean it up.
Seeing that he had just finished paying respects to his father, they didn’t crowd around him with cheerful congratulations. They prepared hot water and food for him, then returned to Lu Family Village.
Xie Yan didn’t know how to manage the estate, so he only chatted briefly with the workers, then went out to take a look at the mill, the livestock sheds, and the pig pens.
That night, craving something, he took some of the newly harvested wheat, ground it into flour, and steamed buns. The fresh grain was fragrant. Late at night, he carried the buns with him, stir-fried two simple dishes, and went to visit his father’s grave again.
“Didn’t expect this, did you? I even know how to cook now. Too bad you don’t get to taste it—Mother’s already tired of it.”
The night air was cold, the wind rustling branches and grass, shadows swaying. With a lone grave nearby, a timid person might have been frightened into a scream. But Xie Yan took it as his father’s response and finished his meal there before leaving.
He slept soundly until broad daylight. By the time he returned to Lu Family Village, the sun was already high.
People from all around came out to see the newly titled juren. Xie Yan didn’t feel particularly close to them, so he kept a stern expression, deliberately distant. If he wanted to command respect, he couldn’t be too friendly.
Being warm with his uncle’s family was enough—it showed he still remembered his kin and hadn’t forgotten them.
His father-in-law’s small, shabby house had grown desolate in just a year. Though it was kept clean, it couldn’t withstand the wear of wind and weather.
Even the words pasted outside—“The Yangliu Brothers’ Family”—had been washed nearly beyond recognition by the rain.
Xie Yan reached out and touched it, then went inside to look around.
He decided to handle the house himself. If any relatives were in need, he could let them live there.
When his two fathers returned in the future, they could have someone move out. With people living in it, the house would last longer.
That day, he visited his uncle’s home and chatted about many everyday matters.
The existence of the estate had given the family a steady income. With better material conditions, there were fewer disputes at home—it had returned to the harmony Xie Yan remembered.
A few days earlier, Miao Qing had gone to the county and specially bought some pastries, which she brought out to treat Xie Yan.
They weren’t like Lu Lin. No matter how casual or sincere Xie Yan sounded, they still treated him with a layer of respect. The relationship had changed.
Xie Yan found it a bit dull. After staying for lunch, he wandered around the village in the afternoon. Seeing it was still early, he didn’t stay longer and headed for Li Village.
Life in Li Village was thriving, and his arrival only heightened the lively atmosphere.
He arrived just as night was falling. The village head had people set up a bonfire, planning a lively evening gathering.
Xie Yan recognized quite a few people there—Da Qiang, Wang Meng, Er Jun, San Miao—he knew them all and had spent quite some time with them before.
With Da Qiang and Wang Meng taking the lead, the group opened up. The nearby villagers felt at ease and came over to bask in the presence of a juren. Seeing how approachable he was, more and more children gathered, asking him to tell stories.
Xie Yan knew many stories—things he usually told Lu Yang. The principles from books, those sentences that seemed like heavenly script, became simple and easy to understand when he explained them. The children were delighted, running around saying, “The juren is better than the old xiucai! The old xiucai’s learning isn’t good—he can’t explain things clearly!”
The old xiucai knew the gap and wasn’t offended. Instead, he told the children to absorb more scholarly air and become better than him in the future.
“At the very least, you should be able to tell a story clearly!”
Xie Yan sat by the fire. Aside from the village head, everyone around him was familiar.
The village head’s grandson, Li Fei, was there too. He recognized Xie Yan and would be following him back to the prefectural city this time.
“My grandfather wants me to study in the prefectural city for a few years,” Li Fei said. “I’ll learn properly from Brother Dafeng and Brother Yang.”
The boy would stay with Li Feng’s family. This generation would venture far and carve out a path; the next generation would benefit from it, gain an education, and eventually return home.
Xie Yan said, “If you need help with your studies, come to me. We’ll be close—I can teach you.”
Li Fei was overjoyed and turned to look at his grandfather. On the weathered face of the village head, there was a gentle smile and a look of deep satisfaction.
If even one child in the family turned out well, the legacy would continue.
Xie Yan stayed in Li Village for two days. He visited drying yards, watched medicinal herbs being processed, observed how dried mushrooms were handled, and even took a walk in the mountains.
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.
There were techniques to finding winter bamboo shoots, and they taught him how to recognize them.
With a shovel in hand, Xie Yan joined in digging. Some shoots had been harvested for sale, leaving behind pits and trenches of varying depths.
As he kept digging, he noticed how tangled and far-reaching the roots were—one root could stretch a long distance. He couldn’t help but marvel.
So this is what it means to take root, he thought.
Da Qiang said, “Straight on the surface, tangled underneath—just like Wang Meng here. Looks honest, but he’s got a dark heart.”
Wang Meng shot back, “Long roots mean more shoots. Good bamboo grows good shoots—just like me.”
Xie Yan: “…”
All his thoughts vanished. Better to just keep digging.
He wanted to bring some winter bamboo shoots back to the prefectural city, to make a pot of cured pork and fresh bamboo shoot soup—imagine the whole family sitting together, sharing a steaming hot meal. Just thinking about it felt wonderful.
………………….
By the time the tenth month arrived, it had rained for two days.
Once the weather cleared, Lu Liu began preparing to tidy up the houses.
They had newly rented three houses, all about the same size—each could originally accommodate two families sharing. Lu Liu had checked the layouts and calculated according to each family’s size; they fit just right.
The Lu family had taken in a son-in-law. The elderly couple and the young couple could live under one roof but still keep some distance, with an extra room for children.
The Luo brothers had always shared a courtyard. Suddenly separating might feel too spacious at first, but they would get used to it. Both adults and children would have their own rooms, and though the brothers would live in separate courtyards, they could still meet just by stepping out the gate—convenient for both sides.
Li Feng had already checked the heated kang stoves. Hai Youtian had arranged for people to clean the flues, and one old kang had been rebuilt. The roofs had been repaired as well. The wells didn’t need cleaning—houses that were lived in regularly always had well-maintained wells.
Lu Liu hired people to clean the houses. He was getting more used to delegating tasks instead of doing everything himself. He was learning—and getting used to being the “head of the household.”
But since he hired help, not everyone at home agreed.
The two fathers were frugal. They felt that since they had time, they could do more themselves. The houses were nearby, and there were still days before anyone moved in—they could clean them bit by bit.
They often went to the shop and worked in the back courtyard, talking frequently with He Qingzao. Because of that, He Qingzao also felt he could help clean. The shop’s busiest times were around meals; otherwise, he had free time and could come over to sweep and tidy up.
