Chapter 4

First Sister‑in‑law Sūn shì and Second Sister‑in‑law Lǐ shì both laughed, saying that he couldn’t even lift a water bucket yet was talking about helping them carry it.

Although they were surprised that Song Sheng took the initiative to help with chores, since he was already married, it was normal for him to care for his husband and help with household work.

What surprised them more was that Song Sheng then swept the courtyard and helped take out the bedding and quilts to be aired in the sun.

They sighed: “The younger uncle really is different now that he’s married. He even thinks of the household.”

“Yes, his temperament is much more cheerful than before. He used to seem gloomy. It looks like marriage is a good thing!”

Song Sheng’s change was a good sign, and sweeping or airing quilts was not tiring.

But when Zhang Xinghua returned and saw Song Sheng airing quilts, she quickly said: “My Sheng, why are you doing these chores? Leave them for me, the old woman. You, hurry inside and study. And if your eyes get tired, rest for a while, understand?”

Song Sheng, helpless, was persuaded back to his room to study. To be fair, Zhang Xinghua truly cherished him. His mother Luo had died early, and Song Sheng was raised entirely by Zhang Xinghua, loved like the apple of her eye.

Her favoritism toward him, however, could easily make the two sisters‑in‑law uncomfortable.

Fortunately, judging by their expressions just now, they did not seem displeased, which eased his mind.

Song Sheng realized that the family was not yet as bad as described in the book. At this time, they still doted on him and had not yet developed resentment.

But he knew it could not last forever. If time brought hidden grievances, the family would lose unity and eventually fall apart.

In his previous life, Song Sheng had hardly felt warmth of family affection. His parents divorced when he was very young. Though wealthy, he was raised by nannies, with parents only sending money and rarely appearing.

Now, having crossed into this life, he felt no regret for leaving behind past wealth. Here, he finally experienced family and affection again, and he did not want this family to break apart.

In the Great Jing dynasty, all occupations were considered lowly except for studying. The emperor widely opened special examinations, so the status of noble families was no longer secure. This was a great opportunity for poor families to rise. People often said: “In the morning a farmer’s son, by evening standing in the emperor’s hall.” Song Sheng realized that only by studying hard and taking the imperial examinations could he find a way forward.

But the examinations were not easy. The original person had tried for years without success.

In his previous life, Song Sheng had never suffered much in learning. He only needed to read a few times to memorize, and often skipped grades as a child. Now, for him, it was simply returning to school again.

Yet when Song Sheng returned to his room to read, he felt that even if he repeated everything, he might not study better than the locals of this era.

Books were printed vertically, without punctuation, requiring him to divide sentences himself. Unknown characters had no phonetic annotations, making it quite difficult.

Still, he had to work hard. Though he was not short in height, his body was weak, and studying was his only path.

After finishing his chores, Lu Qing also came into the room.

Song Sheng saw him enter, put down his book, and naturally pulled him closer by the hand: “Your hands are so cold, aren’t you chilly?”

Lu Qing’s face flushed red, and he softly said: “Not cold, they’re cold because I just fetched water.”

Song Sheng rubbed his palm. Where did he learn this habit of blushing so easily? So adorable!

At that time, there was no more work in the courtyard. The two sisters‑in‑law sat under the eaves, sewing shoe soles while watching Dà Máo and Dà Niū.

Lu Qing sat in the room watching Song Sheng read and write, while also tidying up the dowry and clothes he had brought with him when he married.

In the afternoon, someone came to the door — it was Uncle Zhou from the village, who usually had good relations with Song Sheng’s family.

Standing at the courtyard gate, Uncle Zhou called out loudly: “Eldest daughter‑in‑law, is your Song Sheng at home?”

Sūn shì put down the shoe sole she was sewing and came forward: “Yes, he’s inside reviewing his books. What is it, Uncle Zhou?”

Song Sheng heard the voices from inside. The house, built of straw mixed with mud, did not block sound well.

Hearing that Uncle Zhou was looking for him, Song Sheng came out.

Uncle Zhou pulled him aside and said: “A traveling peddler has come to the village. I have a few jin of peanuts I want to sell, but I can’t do the accounts and I’m afraid of being cheated. I’d like you to help me keep an eye on it. Also, your Uncle Tian wants to transfer some of his land and needs you to write a contract.”

Songjia Village was small, and Song Sheng was the only one still at home who could read. Whenever families needed help with accounts or writing, they came to him.

Most of the time, though, Song Sheng was away at the academy, so he hadn’t been asked often.

This time was just coincidence — he happened to be home.

Most villagers were illiterate, and those who could read had gone elsewhere to make a living. Only Song Sheng remained at home, continuing his hard study.

At such times, Sūn shì and Lǐ shì felt proud. If villagers needed help, of course they had to come to their younger brother‑in‑law. No one else could do it!

“Uncle Zhou, you go ahead first. I’ll return to the room to get paper and brush, then I’ll come.” Song Sheng replied. Although ink, paper, and brushes were not cheap, maintaining good relations with fellow villagers was important.

Taking the writing materials, Song Sheng stepped out, glanced back at the little husband standing under the eaves, smiled faintly, and waved: “Do you want to come along?”

Since there was no work at the moment, Lu Qing nodded quickly and walked to Song Sheng’s side. He wanted to stay with his husband.

Uncle Zhou’s house was on the eastern side of the village. The two had just walked a few steps when Aunt Cui from next door called out loudly from her courtyard: “Heading out? What are you going to do?”

Song Sheng answered briefly that he was going to Uncle Zhou’s house, then continued walking.

On the way, they met many villagers who greeted them. Everyone was curious, since they had never seen Lu Qing before. Seeing him out, they came forward to greet and join in the excitement.

Lu Qing was shy. When greeted, he usually just nodded, gave a soft “mm,” or politely asked simple questions like “Have you eaten?” or “What did you eat?” before ending the exchange.

But some people were tactless. Having heard of his reputation, they mocked: “Isn’t this the little jinx from West Village? When did he marry into our Songjia Village?”

“Lan gē ér, how forgetful you are! Wasn’t it just yesterday he married in?”

“I heard his father had a fate that harmed husbands. Do you think he might be the same? What if Song Sheng dies before even passing the xiucai exam?”

The first two remarks were tolerable — Lu Qing had grown up hearing people call him a jinx, and he usually ignored it.

But when they said he would harm his husband, even kill him, he grew angry. After the anger came panic: would his husband be upset? Would he despise him?

He wanted to open his mouth to refute them, but his tongue was clumsy and he couldn’t come up with any words to fight back. His eyes grew misty with frustration, fixed on Song Sheng, and at last he could only stammer: “Husband, it’s not like that.”

Looking so pitiful and wronged, he resembled a simple, foolish rabbit, which made Song Sheng’s heart ache terribly.

Song Sheng gripped his hand tightly, stroked his head, and comforted him: “I know. This has nothing to do with you. Don’t think too much.”

“Mencius once said: ‘A ritual that is not proper, a righteousness that is not righteous, a gentleman will not do.’ I don’t ask for your morals to be lofty, but since we are all from the same village, gossiping about others should have its limits. My husband is a good person. I hope never to hear words like ‘jinx’ again.”

After speaking, he did not forget to bow politely, full of scholarly manners, which instantly made many of the onlookers feel ashamed.

Song Sheng then led Lu Qing by the hand to Uncle Zhou’s house.

After they left, the one called Lan gē ér spat on the ground: “He’s just a useless scholar. Talking about Mencius this and that — does studying a few years make him so great? He hasn’t even managed to become a xiucai.”

Lan gē ér was from Song Dahe’s family. His looks were ordinary, but he once fancied Song Sheng and wanted to marry into the Song family. Unfortunately, Song Sheng rejected him. Now that Song Sheng had married Lu Qing, Lan gē ér was consumed with jealousy, which made him spit out such sour words.

Still fuming, Lan gē ér was tugged by another gē ér beside him, who said: “Lan gē ér, don’t you feel Song Sheng has changed a lot since marrying? He wasn’t like this before.”

In the past, Song Sheng always looked down on them, nose in the air, never bothering to speak with gē ér like them. But this time he had actually acted like a scholar, standing up to argue.

The other gē ér added: “It must be because he wanted to defend Lu Qing.” Then sighed: “I didn’t expect Song Sheng to be so protective of his husband. He really treats him well.”

Hearing this, Lan gē ér grew even angrier and snapped: “What’s so good about that? He only said a few words for him. If even a jinx like him can marry a scholar, I refuse to believe it. I’ll marry a xiucai myself, just to prove it!”

When Song Sheng brought Lu Qing to Uncle Zhou’s house, the traveling peddler was already waiting.

As soon as Song Sheng arrived, the peddler weighed the peanuts again — altogether five jin and eight liang.

The peddler, looking about thirty years old, calculated on the ground: “One liang of unshelled peanuts costs two copper coins. One jin is twenty coins. So five jin and eight liang would be…”

“One hundred and sixteen coins,” Song Sheng said.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” the peddler replied. Before Song Sheng came, he had already weighed and tried to calculate the price, spending quite some time. He hadn’t expected this young man to give the answer immediately.

“Young man, you’re really good at studying.”

Uncle Zhou, seeing Song Sheng was correct, also praised: “Of course! My nephew is very skilled in his studies!”

Lu Qing silently watched. Though he didn’t understand the calculation, hearing others praise his husband made him happy.

After leaving Uncle Zhou’s house, Song Sheng went to Uncle Song Youtian’s home.

Song Sheng introduced Lu Qing to the household, then greeted: “Uncle Youtian.”

“Ah, Sanlang, you’re here. Quickly help Uncle write a contract.”

From Song Ping’s generation onward, the family was ordered: eldest Song Ping, second Song Feng, third Song Sheng, fourth Song Cheng. Villagers disliked the sound of “Song Sheng,” so they often called him “Song Sanlang.”

Uncle Youtian’s son was going to the county to do business, and the family couldn’t farm all their land. They needed to lease part of it to others, so he asked Song Sheng to write a rental contract.

Contracts in the Jing dynasty had fixed formats, not something one could casually write. Song Sheng knew how to write them from the original person’s memory and from lessons at the academy.

After finishing the contract, Uncle Youtian gave Song Sheng a basket of eggs.

After all, ink and paper were expensive, so he had to give something in thanks.

Song Sheng accepted.

Lu Qing carried the basket of eggs, following Song Sheng home, cheerful all the way. His husband could calculate accounts and write contracts — his husband was amazing!