Chapter 11

Song Lao’er’s wife, Madam Zhao, usually spoke little. She lived by the saying “marry a chicken, follow the chicken; marry a dog, follow the dog,” and generally listened to whatever her husband said.

Her son, Song Cheng, however, was not so quiet. Just after being scolded by Zhang Xinghua, he seemed not to have learned his lesson and said again: “Grandma, I’m already sixteen, the age to discuss marriage. Studying costs so much silver. If all the money goes to Third Brother’s studies, how will I marry a wife?”

Zhang Xinghua slapped him and said angrily: “That’s not for you to worry about! Next summer, when the winter wheat ripens, after we harvest and dry it, we’ll pay the tax. The money left from selling the rest will be saved for your marriage.”

Hearing this, Song Cheng laughed happily. As long as he could marry, he didn’t care whether his spouse was a woman or a ge’er. Having someone to share a warm bed was enough for him.

Zhang Xinghua was the head of the household. She had three sons, and each son had children, so the family had grown large. Except for showing favoritism in supporting Song Sheng’s studies, she usually tried to be fair to everyone. Still, occasional friction and quarrels were inevitable.

But that was how ordinary families lived: bumps, arguments, and noise. Even so, Zhang Xinghua never thought of splitting the household.

Later in the story, when Song Laoda and Song Lao’er proposed dividing the family, Zhang Xinghua was so angry she fell ill.

Everyone else had been given tasks by Zhang Xinghua. When it came to Lu Qing, he volunteered: “Grandma, I’m good at embroidery. I can help with the work.”

Zhang Xinghua nodded with satisfaction: “You’re a good child. But your most important duty is to take care of Sheng, so he can study with peace of mind.”

Lu Qing agreed.

As for Song Sheng, the family’s difficult life was all because they supported his studies. Seeing how everyone poured their hearts out for him, he felt indescribable gratitude and guilt.

Earlier, he had thought about ways to earn money. He knew of things like making soap or firing glass, but only knew the materials involved. He had no idea of the formulas or techniques, so those paths were impossible.

Song Sheng remembered that under the bed in the original owner’s room there was a chest with some old books. They had been stored there for a long time, never taken out.

After leaving the main hall, everyone returned to their rooms, and Song Sheng and Lu Qing went back to theirs.

Once inside, Song Sheng went straight to the chest under the bed, pulled out the books, and opened them. There were more than ten volumes, but none were serious study texts. Instead, they were storybooks like The Tale of Yingying and miscellaneous travel notes.

Song Sheng had never known that the original owner enjoyed reading these kinds of books. In these times, paper was expensive and ink was costly, so buying storybooks was not cheap. Since no one else in the family could really read, they only knew these were books and treasured them carefully for him. 

Song Sheng counted them—about twelve volumes. Some were collections of strange tales and miscellaneous travel notes. 

He opened one storybook and glanced through it. Compared to novels from his previous life, it felt very different. Some even had plots similar to the story of Chen Shimei, which seemed quite popular. 

Song Sheng sorted the books by category, planning to take them to a bookshop in town the next day. Selling them could bring in some money, enough to cover half a year’s tuition. 

The county school’s tuition was four taels of silver per year, paid in two installments: once after the farming break in June, and once after the farming break in October. 

Since the family had not divided their household, all harvests were collected by Zhang Xinghua. The sons’ wages from odd jobs were also mostly handed over—seventy percent went to her for safekeeping, while thirty percent could be kept as pocket money. 

Among them, Song Laoda earned the most by castrating pigs. But this was not steady work; he only did it during the farming off‑season. During busy seasons, he had to stay home and work the fields. 

Altogether, the Song family earned only seventeen or eighteen taels of silver a year. Just paying Song Sheng’s tuition consumed three or four taels, not to mention the cost of paper and ink for writing. Supporting a scholar was truly difficult for a farming family. 

As for buying books, that was even more expensive. Song Sheng decided not to buy any. In his previous life, he had practiced small‑brush calligraphy, which now came in handy. He could borrow books and copy them, which would be enough. 

That night, Song Sheng packed everything up, placing the storybooks into the carrying basket. 

Lu Qing was startled to see him preparing to sell the books. He quickly said that if his husband lacked money, he still had dowry funds to support his studies. 

Song Sheng touched his head and explained gently, which finally eased Lu Qing’s worries. 

“Tomorrow I’ll go into town with you, husband. The basket is heavy, and the trip is more than twenty li. I’ll help you carry it. If you think I’ll get in the way, I’ll just wait at the city gate and won’t cause you any trouble.”

Song Sheng was at a loss for words. Walking more than twenty li was indeed far for him. Still, their village was not the farthest—some villages were said to be over forty li from the city.

“Then let’s go to the bookshop together.”

Hearing this, Lu Qing was delighted. He had thought his husband didn’t want to take him into town.

There were still a few days before school started, so the next morning Song Sheng put the matter of selling the books on his schedule.

After breakfast, he told Zhang Xinghua that he needed to go into town.

He didn’t mention selling books, afraid she would scold him as wasteful and forbid it. He couldn’t explain that the books were only storybooks, because that would hurt the family’s feelings.

The family worked so hard to support his studies, yet he had bought storybooks for leisure—how shameful that would seem!

So Song Sheng only said he had business in town, nothing more. He planned to explain after selling them and bringing back the money. By then, even if she scolded him, the books would already be gone, and nothing could be changed.

When Zhang Xinghua heard he was going to town, she quickly went inside to fetch money for him.

Her memory had slipped—school was about to start, and he would need pens, ink, and paper prepared in advance. How could she have forgotten?

Song Sheng saw Zhang Xinghua bring out a string of coins from the house and quickly refused. He truly only meant to inform her, not to ask for money.

But Zhang Xinghua would not listen. How could one go into town without money to buy things? She knew her grandson appreciated her efforts, yet when it came to studying, the necessary expenses had to be paid.

Song Sheng had no choice. Unable to refuse, he accepted the money.

From the way Zhang Xinghua handed over the coins so skillfully, it was clear the original owner had often asked her for money. Otherwise, how could he have afforded so many storybooks?

Before leaving, Song Sheng saw Dà Máo and Dà Niū crying loudly in the courtyard, fighting over a single stalk of sweet grass they had found.

In the countryside, sweet grass grew everywhere along the ridges in spring. Since malt sugar was expensive, children loved to squat by the fields, chewing sweet grass to taste its sweetness.

Now it was October, the leaves were yellowing, and winter was near. Sweet grass was gone, so when Dà Máo and Dà Niū found one stalk, they treasured it dearly.

Song Sheng crouched down and coaxed them: “Dà Máo and Dà Niū, be good at home. When Uncle comes back, I’ll buy you some candy, all right?”

Hearing about candy, the two children immediately stopped crying. Dà Máo answered obediently: “Okay, but Third Uncle must come back early. Dà Máo wants candy.”

Dà Niū was only three years old, her words not as clear as Dà Máo’s. In her soft childish voice, like a breeze slipping through, she said: “Dà Niū also wants candy.”

“Good. Stay home and behave, and I’ll bring it back for you.”

After that, Song Sheng and Lu Qing set off for town.

Song Sheng had thought of riding an ox cart, but that cost money. Usually, people only rode when carrying heavy goods to sell. One person’s fare was three copper coins; for two people going and returning, it would be twelve. He decided against it. They were not in a hurry, and walking would be good exercise.

By noon, the two reached the city.

Following the original owner’s memory, Song Sheng found the bookshop he often visited.

Since school had not yet opened, business at the shop was slow. The shopkeeper was at the counter calculating accounts. Seeing Song Sheng enter, he hurried over warmly.

This was one of their regular customers. Shopkeeper Li assumed he had come to buy books and greeted him enthusiastically: “Young Master Song, you came at the right time. Just yesterday we received the latest batch of storybooks from the Songyan Press in the prefecture. You’re in luck. I’ll give you a twelve percent discount. Would you like to take a look?”

Song Sheng looked embarrassed, especially with Lu Qing standing beside him.

He said awkwardly: “Well… Shopkeeper Li, I didn’t come to buy books today.”

“Oh, not to buy books? I see. Since school is about to start, perhaps you want to buy pens, ink, and paper to prepare? My paper prices are always the fairest. How much would you like?”

Song Sheng added: “It is not to buy these.”

He then took all the books out of the basket. “Shopkeeper Li, I remember your bookshop also buys old books, right?”

Shopkeeper Li saw the books and paused before realizing his purpose.

He frowned and said: “Our shop does buy old books, but the price is much lower than for new ones. Are you sure you want to sell them?”

Most of these storybooks had been bought from his shop, and he knew exactly what they had cost. Now they would fetch barely half the original price.

Song Sheng nodded. “I am sure, Shopkeeper. Please give me a price.”

“You see, these books are not well preserved, and they are not rare editions. The paper is damp. Including these travel notes, I will give you a total of six taels of silver. Will that do?”

“Yes,” Song Sheng replied.

Although Shopkeeper Li had lowered the price considerably, it was still far more than Song Sheng had expected.

With six taels of silver, he used two taels for tuition and spent less than one tael on a bundle of paper and a stick of ink.

Studying consumed the most paper and ink, so he needed to prepare extra.

Lu Qing stood by, stunned. He had not expected the old books to be worth six taels, nor that just a little paper and ink could cost one tael. No wonder people said studying was expensive.

Leaving the bookshop, they still had five taels left. After deducting two taels for tuition, three taels remained as Song Sheng’s starting capital.

In Jing Dynasty currency, one tael of silver equaled one string of coins, and one string was one thousand copper coins. Three taels meant three thousand coins. In an ordinary farming household where two taels could cover food and drink for a year, three thousand coins was no small sum.

By noon, Song Sheng and Lu Qing left the bookshop. Since they had eaten breakfast early to set out, both we

re hungry.

Following the route in his memory, Song Sheng planned to take Lu Qing to eat bone‑broth noodles. Unexpectedly, a few unwelcome figures appeared ahead.