Late May was approaching, and the Qin family’s wedding was imminent.
Yet Qin Xiaoman’s heart was heavy, constantly worrying about the large field. Every day, he checked the seedlings, fearing they would die.
Though Du Heng had offered a remedy, he had never tried it before, so there was no certainty it would work. Nights were restless.
Squatting at the field’s edge, he saw no obvious improvement, but at least the situation wasn’t worsening, which brought some relief.
That day, he took a long-handled sickle and cut some branches that had been shading the field, allowing more sunlight in. Taller branches couldn’t be reached, but the adjustment would help. Since the area was common land, minor damage wouldn’t draw complaints from the villagers.
“As long as the seedlings aren’t dead, they might still grow grains by autumn,” he thought.
He piled the cut branches under the trees for anyone who needed firewood to collect once dry.
He stood with hands on his hips, watching the seedlings like a father tending his children.
“In a few days, the seedlings will recover, and the leaves will improve. Don’t worry,” he murmured.
Qin Xiaoman didn’t know why Du Heng had suggested sprinkling ash.
Cold water in the paddy can stunt rice growth. Combined with nutrient deficiencies and lack of sunlight, plants grow short, with shorter internodes, and the leaves turn yellow.
There were many reasons the rice seedlings had turned yellow, but by releasing water into the field and trimming the branches that blocked sunlight, they had somewhat mitigated the coldness. Applying the powdered animal bones and lime to the roots helped supplement calcium, protect the roots, and repel pests.
“If the seedlings in other fields face the same problem, they could try this too,” Du Heng said. The only difficulty was that animal bones weren’t easy to come by—few families that could afford meat had enough bones to spare—so lime was far more practical.
“小 Man, Du Heng, you two are here. My father says to come over and help. Dinner will be at home tonight.”
The two looked up and saw Qin An driving a bullock cart along the village path, loaded with many supplies. In a couple of days, the Qin family would be holding a banquet, and preparations for the main dishes needed to begin.
Qin Xiong had previously seen how well Du Heng had cooked at Qin Xiaoman’s banquet and had wanted to hire him as head cook this time. Li Wanju, however, wasn’t pleased. Her family had a relative who handled village banquets, so they had decided to do some of the work themselves.
Du Heng, on the other hand, welcomed the break. Being the head cook was exhausting, constantly moving between pots and stoves, and most of the help in village kitchens were women and young men. Rural people were boisterous and loved teasing him; some were even bold enough to interfere with his work.
He had always been sensitive, preferring to cook only for important people or in his own home.
With the banquet preparations nearly underway, the couple only contributed a little effort and didn’t interfere with the cooking. But when the hosts called, it was only proper to go help.
Qin Xiaoman’s worries vanished. Grabbing his sickle, he bounded off. “Here we go!”
After they left, a figure crept to the edge of the large field, peering at the seedlings. Seeing that they had not worsened, the person’s brows furrowed tightly.
“Mother, let’s ask the Qin couple what they did to stop the seedlings from yellowing,” said Zheng Cai’e.
Mrs. Zhao glared at her daughter-in-law. “Why ask? What do they know about crops?”
Zheng Cai’e raised an eyebrow. “Whether they know or not, the seedlings aren’t yellow anymore—that’s proof right in front of you.”
Earlier, Mrs. Zhao had taken some satisfaction in seeing Qin Xiaoman’s large field suffering. A few days later, one of their own paddies had developed the same problem. They consulted Uncle Wufu and added more fertilizer, but instead of improving, the field had grown more pests, which ate the seedlings and attracted birds that further damaged the crops.
Seeing that the Qin family’s seedlings, which had been affected first, were now recovering left Mrs. Zhao puzzled—and a little uneasy.
“They were just lucky. I’ll burn some incense later; maybe something’s hanging over our family,” she muttered.
Zheng Cai’e rolled her eyes. Rural people believed in spirits and gods. When crops suffered, they prayed and hoped rather than working the fields, often ending up crying at harvest.
She herself wasn’t particularly superstitious. “If Mother won’t ask, I will,” she said.
“You have no say in family matters!” Mrs. Zhao snapped, hands on her hips. “That Qin lad was always meddling before. Now that you’re married in, he may still bear a grudge. If you go ask about the crops, he might mock you. Don’t think you can just run over there.”
Previously, Mrs. Zhao had kept quiet about the history between Zhao Qi and Qin Xiaoman. Now that her daughter-in-law had married in, there was no need to hide.
Even if her family didn’t mention it, living long in the village meant long-tongued neighbors would inevitably share what they knew. Her warning also served to keep Zheng Cai’e in check—a daughter-in-law who had seemed gentle and obedient before marriage was gradually showing her true colors.
Though capable and resourceful, Zheng Cai’e was outspoken and quick to mingle with the village women. Within a month of arriving, everyone greeted her warmly, often more enthusiastically than her own relatives.
The men of the Zhao family were timid by nature, and before Zheng Cai’e arrived, she had managed all household affairs with absolute authority.
Now, as a strong-willed daughter-in-law, she could hold her own. Two strong personalities together were bound to clash.
Mrs. Zhao found it difficult to keep her daughter-in-law in check. If more children came, controlling her would be even harder. She secretly hoped to assert dominance over Zheng Cai’e entirely.
Zheng Cai’e wasn’t offended. She had come to work the spring fields, knowing her mother-in-law was shrewd and calculating. The earlier praise and urging to arrive early wasn’t about affection, but about helping with farm work.
Such practical thinking was common in rural marriages, and she didn’t mind. After marriage, she worked in the fields daily, mingled with village women, and had already been informed about all her husband’s prior affairs.
Before marriage, it wasn’t unusual for men to have unresolved past relationships; it happened even among brothers and sisters.
But after marriage, those were different days. She was confident she could keep her husband close, so she didn’t take her mother-in-law’s warnings as a real threat.
“Everyone is married now. Why dredge up the past? We live in the same village, see each other every day—there’s no need to make things so tense and let people laugh.”
“You’ve only been here a few days, and now you’re giving me lessons, your mother-in-law? The Zheng family really knows how to raise a child,” Zhao’s mother said, her voice cold. She snorted and turned away.
“Mother!” Zheng Cai’e called, chasing after her despite her irritation.
Soon it was Qin Wei’s wedding day. Before dawn, Du Heng got out of bed and began searching for clothes in the wardrobe. Although he had only two sets of clothing, today wasn’t a field day, so he selected the outfit usually reserved for trips to the county town.
“Dressing up all fancy to be the groom, huh?”
Qin Xiaoman came running in from outside, seeing Du Heng tying his belt with his back to the door. He playfully slapped him on the rear.
“Stop fooling around.”
Du Heng quickly secured his clothes and, noticing Qin Xiaoman’s mischievous grin, pinched his nose.
They horsed around inside the room for a while before heading out together to Qin Xiong’s house for breakfast.
Though early, the helpers had already arrived—ten or twenty people in all. Qin Xiong was well-liked in the village, and a wedding meant many would come to help and partake in the meal.
Breakfast was set on three tables. The villagers weren’t too formal about it, so there was no strict seating; Qin Xiaoman sat next to Du Heng. After eating, he ran to help with chores—folding and washing vegetables.
Du Heng, presentable today, sat at a small table near the main hall door with writing materials. He was responsible for collecting gift money and recording it in the ledger.
By mid-morning, guests began arriving, approaching him naturally without prompting.
“One mother hen, five jin; twenty eggs,” someone declared.
Du Heng dipped his brush in ink. The simple bamboo-handled brush behaved obediently in his hands, and elegant characters flowed onto the ledger. Though many of the villagers couldn’t read, they found his handwriting pleasing.
“I heard Xiao Du can write, but I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful!”
“Madam, you flatter me,” Du Heng said politely.
“Big words you can’t read—how would you know what’s good?” muttered a man standing beside a speaking woman. Once Du Heng finished recording the gifts, he cautiously led his wife aside.
Du Heng lowered his brows but smiled without taking offense.
“His handwriting is quite impressive—did he earn any official rank?”
Du Heng looked up at the middle-aged man standing at the table, pausing briefly. The man’s dark hair was streaked with gray, neatly combed, with a jade hairpin securing it atop his head. His appearance was clearly not ordinary. Du Heng, facing a stranger, realized he had never met him before and wasn’t sure how to address him politely.
Just then, someone called out cheerfully from behind, “Uncle!”
“Xiaoman, it’s been some time! Looks like you’ve grown a bit.”
Qin Xiaoman had grabbed some fruit from the kitchen to offer Du Heng but instead saw his uncle arrive.
“Just a little,” Xiaoman replied calmly, looping his arm through Du Heng’s. “Uncle, this is my husband Du Heng—you haven’t met him yet.”
“Husband, this is the uncle I mentioned who works in the county,” Qin Xiaoman added.
Du Heng realized and quickly stood, bowing respectfully to the man before introducing himself.
Qin Zhiyan surveyed Du Heng from head to toe and smiled. “Indeed, a fine young man. I had meant to visit when you married, but duties at the county office kept me. Glad to meet you now, my nephew.”
“A good boy, and his handwriting is beautiful,” he added.
“You flatter me, Uncle. I only write decently enough for everyday use—not for display.”
“Yan San’er, the bookkeeper you hired today is quite capable, isn’t he?”
Qin Xiong walked over, laughing. He and Qin Zhiyan were peers and had been close in their youth. Though Qin Zhiyan now had an official position in the county, Qin Xiong still addressed him by his old village name.
“You’re fortunate, not only for welcoming a bride today but also for having a skilled bookkeeper.”
Before they could speak further, villagers arriving for the meal saw Qin Zhiyan and crowded around, calling him “chief clerk” warmly and respectfully.
Returning to the village was rare for him, and attending a feast even rarer. Yet he didn’t put on airs, chatting with the villagers and inquiring about the crops.
The villagers seized the opportunity to ask about county policies, potential tax increases, and upcoming relief for the poor.
Qin Xiaoman didn’t crowd forward to join the conversation; instead, he slipped the fruit he had taken from the kitchen into Du Heng’s hand. Du Heng accepted it with one hand, too polite to eat it immediately.
Qin Xiaoman returned to his chores. After some time, he brought Du Heng a cup of tea. The bride was a girl from a neighboring village, and the wedding procession would take at least an hour to arrive. By the afternoon, the welcoming party was expected to reach the bride’s home just in time.
After marriage, those days were different. Zheng Cai’e was confident she could keep her husband close, so she didn’t take her mother-in-law’s warnings seriously.
“Everyone’s married now. Why bring up the past? We live in the same village, see each other every day—there’s no need to make things awkward and invite gossip.”
“You’ve only been here a few days, and now you’re giving me lessons, your mother-in-law? The Zheng family really knows how to raise a child,” Zhao’s mother snapped, her voice cold. She snorted and turned away.
“Mother!” Zheng Cai’e called, chasing after her despite her irritation.
Soon, it was Qin Wei’s wedding day. Before dawn, Du Heng got out of bed and searched for clothes in the wardrobe. Though he had only two sets, today wasn’t a field day, so he chose the outfit reserved for trips to the county town.
“Dressing up all fancy to be the groom, huh?”
Qin Xiaoman ran in, saw Du Heng tying his belt with his back to the door, and playfully slapped him on the rear.
“Stop fooling around.”
Du Heng quickly secured his clothes and, seeing Qin Xiaoman’s mischievous grin, pinched his nose.
They played around for a while before heading out together to Qin Xiong’s house for breakfast. Though early, the helpers had already arrived—ten or twenty in all. Qin Xiong was well-liked, and a wedding meant many would come to help and partake in the meal.
Breakfast was set on three tables. The villagers weren’t too formal, so seating wasn’t strict. Qin Xiaoman sat next to Du Heng. After eating, he ran to help with chores—folding and washing vegetables.
Du Heng, presentable today, sat at a small table near the main hall with writing materials. He was responsible for collecting gift money and recording it in the ledger.
By mid-morning, guests began arriving naturally, without needing to be led.
“One mother hen, five jin; twenty eggs,” someone announced.
Du Heng dipped his brush in ink. The bamboo-handled brush behaved obediently in his hands, and elegant characters flowed onto the ledger. Many villagers couldn’t read, but they found the handwriting pleasing.
“I heard Xiao Du can write, but I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful!”
“Madam, you flatter me,” Du Heng said politely.
“Big words you can’t read—how would you know what’s good?” muttered a man nearby. Once Du Heng finished recording the gifts, the man cautiously led his wife aside.
Du Heng smiled politely, unconcerned.
“His handwriting is impressive—did he earn any official rank?”
Du Heng looked up at the middle-aged man standing at the table, pausing briefly. The man’s dark hair was streaked with gray, neatly combed, with a jade hairpin securing it atop his head. His appearance clearly marked him as no ordinary villager. Du Heng realized he had never met him before and wasn’t sure how to address him politely.
Just then, someone called out cheerfully from behind, “Uncle!”
“Xiaoman, it’s been some time! Looks like you’ve grown a bit,” Qin Zhiyan said.
Qin Xiaoman had grabbed some fruit to offer Du Heng but instead saw his uncle arrive.
“Just a little,” Xiaoman replied calmly, looping his arm through Du Heng’s. “Uncle, this is my husband Du Heng—you haven’t met him yet.”
“Husband, this is the uncle I mentioned who works in the county,” Xiaoman added.
Du Heng realized and quickly stood, bowing respectfully.
Qin Zhiyan smiled, surveying Du Heng. “Indeed, a fine young man. I had meant to visit when you married, but duties at the county office kept me. Glad to meet you now, my nephew. A good boy, and his handwriting is beautiful.”
“You flatter me, Uncle. I only write decently enough for everyday use—not for display.”
“Yan San’er, the bookkeeper you hired today is quite capable, isn’t he?”
Qin Xiong walked over, laughing. He and Qin Zhiyan were peers, close in youth. Though Qin Zhiyan now had an official position in the county, Qin Xiong still addressed him by his old village name.
“You’re fortunate, not only welcoming a bride today but also having a skilled bookkeeper.”
Before they could speak further, villagers arriving for the meal crowded around, calling him warmly “chief clerk.”
Returning to the village was rare for Qin Zhiyan, and attending a feast even rarer. Yet he didn’t put on airs, chatting with the villagers and inquiring about the crops.
Qin Xiaoman didn’t crowd forward; instead, he slipped the fruit he had taken from the kitchen into Du Heng’s hand. Du Heng accepted it with one hand, too polite to eat immediately.
Qin Xiaoman returned to his chores. After a while, he brought Du Heng a cup of tea. The bride was from a neighboring village, and the wedding procession would take at least an hour to arrive. By the afternoon, the welcoming party would reach the bride’s home just in time.
Qin Xiaoman loved excitement and had a good relationship with Qin Wei, so he eagerly joined the wedding procession, moving energetically with the group.
Du Heng had to stay behind to manage the ledger, so he couldn’t watch the festivities. Once the procession left, the crowd thinned considerably.
He lifted his tea bowl to take a sip when a voice came from beside him:
“You must be Du Heng?”
“Yes,” he replied, looking at Qin Zhiyan. “Uncle, you didn’t go with the wedding procession?”
Qin Zhiyan shook his head. Du Heng understood immediately. As a bookkeeper, he wasn’t an official, but frequently dealing with county officials carried more prestige than being a farmer. Returning to the village for a feast was already a courtesy; there was no need to exert himself further by joining the wedding procession.
Du Heng brought over a chair and poured a fresh cup of tea for Qin Zhiyan. The uncle had spent the morning surrounded by villagers and was understandably parched, so he sat and drank.
“You’re a thoughtful young man,” Qin Zhiyan said with a smile after sipping.
Though their contact was brief, Du Heng could sense the difference between Qin Zhiyan and ordinary villagers—he carried the refined air of a scholar, as did Qin Zhiyan when he looked at Du Heng.
“Your father was closest to me when he was alive. Unlike Qin Er, who liked to wander mountains and rivers collecting birds’ eggs, your father had a disciplined nature. We studied together as children at the village school and later in the county. He passed the lower examination early, showing promise, but after marriage he returned home to care for the family. When your uncle passed away, he lost interest in studies…”
He trailed off, eyes briefly misty, then quickly recovered, gazing kindly at Du Heng. “You’re excellent. Had my elder brother been alive, he’d surely like you as a son-in-law.”
Du Heng remained silent, nodding politely.
“I saw your handwriting—it’s truly beautiful, even better than many academy students. Having studied, do you plan to take the imperial exams?”
Du Heng nodded. “I have some plans, but my family needs help with the fields, and studying costs a lot. Focusing entirely on exams now would be too much pressure at home.”
This was nothing to be ashamed of, and he spoke honestly.
Qin Zhiyan, himself from a farming family, understood the difficulty of supporting a student. Hearing Du Heng speak sensibly increased his respect for him.
“So what’s your plan?”
Du Heng explained what he had told Qin Xiaoman earlier.
Qin Zhiyan nodded. “You care for your studies even while tending fields—that shows ambition and thoughtful planning. But don’t abandon study entirely. The imperial exams are difficult, and you must review regularly. The city academy supports students from poor counties, offering books and writing materials at low or no cost, sometimes annotated by top students. When you have time, go read, study others’ work, and discuss topics with city students. Seeing the world beyond the village is better than stubbornly studying alone.
“If you don’t read and don’t practice writing, you’ll fall behind—bad for exams.”
Du Heng bowed respectfully. “Thank you for your guidance, Uncle.”
Qin Zhiyan waved him off. “Visit with Xiaoman at my house often. Relatives should keep in touch. If you’re serious about studying, I can introduce you to city scholars.”
“That would be most helpful, Second Uncle,” Du Heng replied.
After a short conversation, the sounds of drums and firecrackers signaled the wedding procession returning with the bride. Guests, hearing the noise from afar, arrived promptly, making the scene lively.
Qin Zhiyan and Du Heng paused their conversation, and Du Heng returned to recording gifts in the ledger.
The Zhao family had also been invited. As one of the village’s major families, the Qin household expected attendance. Qin Xiaoman’s family could skip, but Qin Xiong’s absence would be conspicuous.
Zhao Qi, seeing Du Heng as the bookkeeper, felt displeased. He had intended to deliver his gift personally, but seeing Du Heng in charge and enjoying a pleasant conversation with Qin Zhiyan, he was envious.
“Go deliver the gift,” his wife said.
Reluctantly, he handed the large rooster he carried to his wife.
“Why can’t you deliver it yourself? Near the door and already hesitant, a grown man shrinking like this—what’s that about?”
Zheng Cai’e scolded her husband directly. Before marriage, Zhao Qi seemed capable enough, but after moving in, she realized his temper was weak.
“Why not just go confidently? Nothing to be afraid of!”
Zhao Qi, embarrassed, remained quiet. Having been controlled by his mother for years, and seeing his wife’s firm stance reminiscent of his mother’s, he didn’t dare argue.
He shrugged, letting Zheng Cai’e handle it, attempting to step aside. The rooster was shoved back into his hands: “You go today—you’re not losing any meat that way.”
“Ugh…”
Zhao Qi hesitated, but seeing his wife’s stern expression, he reluctantly took the rooster back.
“Our rice seedlings in the field have yellowed, and all the fuss we’ve made over them hasn’t worked. Qin’s seedlings yellowed first, and now they’re looking better. Why don’t you casually ask them what they did?”
“I’m not asking.”
“You won’t ask? Do you think we’re landlords with all this land and crops to waste? How will we pay the grain tax at harvest?”
Reluctantly, Zhao Qi walked to the small table. “A five-jin rooster,” he muttered.
Du Heng looked up, recognizing the voice. He accepted the gift silently and recorded it in the ledger. Zhao Qi glanced at Du Heng’s handwriting—fluid and elegant, far better than his own messy strokes—but still looked down on him in his heart.
“All done,” Du Heng said, noticing Zhao Qi lingering.
The man pressed his lips together, turned, and walked away, leaving unasked the question his wife had instructed him to ask.
Du Heng found Zhao Qi oddly frustrating but didn’t dwell on it. The wedding procession returned, and Qin Xiaoman bounded over, dragging him to watch the ritual.
Their own wedding had been simple; the ceremonial bows were just to Qin Xiong. The room was crowded with onlookers. The bride, slender and delicate, wore a red bridal veil embroidered with mandarin ducks, standing beside the tall and broad Qin Wei. The contrast made her appear even smaller, yet the couple looked well-matched.
After the bowing ceremony, guests moved to the courtyard where tables were set with bowls and chopsticks. Once eight were seated at a table, dishes were brought out.
Seeing no more arrivals, Du Heng finally joined the meal. Qin Xiong, a butcher, had easy access to meat, making the feast both plentiful and reasonably priced.
Du Heng hadn’t exerted himself much today, so he wasn’t especially hungry. He ate a bit, keeping an eye out for Xiaoman.
The boy had initially sat obediently but quickly wandered to another table for drinks, showing good sense in avoiding the risk of being pressured to drink too much by others.
Afterward, a group of villagers clamored about a bridal chamber prank, but Du Heng stayed behind. A gentleman didn’t engage in such antics, and with Qin Wei and Qin An around, any attempt would yield little.
Du Heng handed the ledger to Qin Xiong, counting all received gifts clearly. It was getting late, and since they weren’t the hosts, it was proper to leave. Just as he went to find Xiaoman, a flushed young man was dragged out by Qin Xiaozhu, who looked at him with clear disdain.
Before Qin Xiaozhu could speak, Xiaoman leapt onto Du Heng. “Let’s go home!”
Qin Xiaozhu rolled her eyes and turned away.
Du Heng steadied Xiaoman. “Did the bridal chamber prank get out of hand?”
Xiaoman hissed. “Drinking contest. The groom’s group didn’t even get knocked out.”
Du Heng noticed Xiaoman’s hair slightly tousled, eyes red at the corners, and his steps light and wobbly—he’d had a little too much to drink.
“Home,” Du Heng said firmly.
“Okay, home,” Xiaoman agreed.
Du Heng lifted Xiaoman onto his back, bowed slightly to Qin Xiong who was still seeing off guests, and carried him away.
The moonlight was bright along the path home, with villagers returning and torchlight illuminating the way.
The boy on his back felt limp, like he’d lost his bones, exhaling the scent of wine with each breath.
“When we get home, we’ll go to the bridal chamber too,” Xiaoman murmured drunkenly into Du Heng’s ear, nuzzling him and planting kisses along his neck and jawline.
Du Heng’s hands tightened instinctively, and his steps quickened slightly.