Chapter 87:

The kang in the house wasn’t heated well, but Chunmu, lying on it, didn’t feel much discomfort. His mood, however, grew increasingly gloomy. He never expected to be struck by such an illness—no hope of recovery, just waiting for death to come.

Grief welled up in his heart, triggering another fit of coughing so severe he could barely catch his breath. He looked up at Xiuhua standing nearby and forced a weak smile. “I’ve troubled you enough. You should go back. I want to sleep.” With that, he turned over, pulling the quilt over his head. In the darkness, his eyes reddened. His parents had failed him in so many ways, and now even heaven showed him no mercy. He wasn’t even old yet, but his life was slipping away, filling him with terror. Suddenly, he thought of Chunfu—his own flesh and blood. Her life was getting better and better, and he couldn’t help but envy her.

Li Xiu’e hurried home with the medicine she’d bought from Dr. Han, her breath still heavy from running. She started brewing the medicine immediately, then rushed into the main room and sat beside Chunmu, who had his back to her. Worried, she asked, “Chunmu, are you feeling any better? Once the medicine is ready, drink it. It’ll help. Don’t dwell on dark thoughts.”

Chunmu slowly turned to face her. In just a short while, his complexion had grown even paler, his eyes dull, his lips cracked and dry. Li Xiu’e quickly brought him water to moisten his lips. He spoke weakly, “Don’t waste money on this. Zhang Tong still needs to study. This medicine is a bottomless pit—no guarantee it’ll even work. The little money we have won’t be enough to fill that hole.”

Tears welled in Li Xiu’e’s eyes. “Don’t say such things to scare me. Medicine can save your life. I’d sell everything we own to keep you alive. At a time like this… just listen to me and don’t overthink it. I’ll handle everything.” She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Chunmu—the man she’d loved with all her heart, the one she’d considered the greatest blessing of her life. She didn’t know what she’d do if one day he was gone.

From then on, Li Xiu’e took on all the household chores. Chunmu either lay on the kang to rest or sat on a small stool in the sun, trying to warm himself. He struggled to adjust to this sudden idleness. Li Xiu’e remained as diligent as ever, but to him, she seemed to have grown noticeably thinner in just a few days, constantly either tending to him or tidying the house.

Zhang Tong brought water to Chunmu, who took a small sip before looking at his son with resignation. “Do you blame me? It’s my fault you can’t continue your studies. I once asked your teacher about you—he said you were diligent and had a solid grasp of your lessons. I was so proud. But now, to see your future ruined because of me… it breaks my heart.”

Zhang Tong shook his head. “Father, I don’t blame you. You’re more important than books and studies. I know how much you and Mother have favored me all these years. I’m content. As long as you get better, I’ll do anything.”

Chunmu squinted at the glaring sun, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. After a long pause, he said, “Go tell your mother I’m going out for a walk. Staying cooped up at home isn’t good for me.” With that, he got up, patted his pants, and walked out.

Meanwhile, Chunfu was also having a hard time. Used to freedom, she now had to endure her mother-in-law’s constant nagging, which left her feeling stifled. The age-old tension between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, deeply rooted in centuries of cultural history, remained as fierce as ever—even in modern times, it could be likened to a battlefield.

Madam Mu was a clever woman. Her criticisms were never direct but wrapped in layers of implication, subtle enough that a duller mind might miss them entirely. Chunfu, however, was sharp enough to catch every hint, which only frustrated her further. She couldn’t bring herself to complain to Jicheng—after all, there was no concrete evidence. With Jicheng rarely home, she had no choice but to endure Madam Mu’s barbs.

Unbeknownst to Chunfu, Jicheng had noticed her growing irritability. He’d even consulted Dr. Han privately, who advised him to be more accommodating and ease her stress. Pregnant women needed extra care, but in a poor household, who had the luxury of idleness? There was always work to be done.

Kneeling on the kang, Chunfu basked in the warm sunlight, drowsiness creeping over her. But with Madam Mu sitting nearby, she couldn’t afford to slack off. She picked up her needle and thread and began sewing. Before long, she heard someone call her name from outside. She got up, never expecting it to be her elder brother, Chunmu.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes sunken and shadowed, his entire demeanor hollowed out. Though Chunfu resented him, seeing him like this tugged at her heart. Clearing her throat, she said, “Brother, what’s wrong? Did you catch a chill? Come inside.”

A faint smile tugged at Chunmu’s gaunt face as he followed her in. Noticing the elegantly dressed woman sitting nearby, he sighed. “Chunfu, I know you hate me. I don’t expect forgiveness. Your sister-in-law and I wronged you terribly. I shouldn’t have come, but… for Zhang Tong’s sake. He and Zhang Yan are your nephews. I’m begging you—help him. I have consumption. I won’t last much longer. Because of me, he missed school today, and your sister-in-law won’t let him go back. I can’t bear to see his future cut short. He’s diligent—with a little luck, he could earn a name for himself. Please, help him. I’ll make sure he repays your kindness.”

Consumption! Despite her resentment, Chunfu’s heart clenched at the news. She had so much to say but didn’t know how. Under Madam Mu’s scrutinizing gaze, she managed only, “I’ll discuss it with Jicheng when he returns. Don’t worry too much, Brother. Focus on recovering. You’ll get better.”

The siblings had never been close, and now they had little else to say. Chunmu nodded and left. The rift between them might never heal—Chunmu had always resented Chunfu for ruining the life he’d wanted, while Chunfu had long lost all trust in him. Only in moments like this did a flicker of kinship surface. Their estrangement ran so deep it was hard to say who was at fault.

Madam Mu had been visiting the Ji household frequently lately. Unaccustomed to plain water, she’d brought fine tea and a tea set, making the chipped bowls in the house seem embarrassingly crude. She sipped her tea gracefully, her expression one of detached amusement, a faint smile always playing on her lips.

Chunfu understood—to Madam Mu, the scene with Chunmu was just another joke. In just a few days, she’d grasped Madam Mu’s underlying message: she wasn’t good enough for Jicheng. But it was too late—they were already married, and now she was carrying his child. There was nothing left to say.

Not long after Chunmu left, Jinjuan pulled Chunfu to Liansheng’s wife’s house. The three women sat together, sympathizing with Chunfu’s plight of having to endure her wealthy mother-in-law’s disdain.

“You’re used to freedom. It must be hard having someone watching you all the time,” Jinjuan said worriedly, eyeing Chunfu’s belly. “If you’re unhappy, the baby will feel it too.”

Chunfu shook her head. “She’s Jicheng’s mother. He doesn’t say it, but I can see he still cares for her—he walks her to the village entrance every day before coming home. She hasn’t done anything to me. We just go about our own business.”

“Will you move to the capital? Jicheng’s someone important now. Staying in this little village is beneath him. Isn’t his mother trying to reclaim him for their family?” Liansheng’s wife chimed in.

Chunfu’s mind was a mess. She didn’t want to think about it—she’d rather focus on how much their pigs would sell for. She was looking forward to the New Year, when the mushrooms, wood ears, and silver fungus she’d stored could fetch higher prices. The thought made her grin. “Jicheng can decide. I married him—I’ll follow wherever he goes.”

This trip to town, Jicheng had brought not only medicinal herbs like ginseng but also the snow fox he’d hunted. In the end, Chunfu’s persuasion had won out. The weather was fine, and if he finished early, he’d be home before sunset.

To ordinary folk, a white fox was a rare and valuable sight, though few knew its exact worth. For them, just glimpsing such a treasure was a rare treat. Jicheng sold the herbs first, splitting the earnings with Liansheng before waiting for a buyer for the fox. He’d initially planned to keep it alive for its future owner, but the creature proved stubborn—it fought, screeched, then curled up and refused to eat. Worried its beautiful fur would suffer, Jicheng carefully skinned it to preserve its value.

After waiting half an hour in the cold with no takers, Jicheng headed to a fur shop. The shopkeeper was a shrewd talker, skilled at driving prices down—a talent that discouraged many from selling their best goods there.

Just as he was about to enter, a young man rushed over, saying his master had spotted the fox pelt from a teahouse upstairs and wished to buy it. Would Jicheng come up to discuss the price?

Jicheng followed without much thought. He wasn’t entirely sure what the pelt was worth—he’d never imagined he’d one day trade as a hunter. If the offer was close to what Madam Mu had mentioned, he’d sell.

The teahouse’s private room was elegantly furnished, with familiar pastries on the dark wooden table and steam curling from the teapot. The buyer, dressed in exquisite black robes with a purple-gold hairpiece, had two visible ear piercings—a woman in disguise.

After inspecting the flawless pelt, the “young master” handed over 150 taels in silver notes, stunning Jicheng. He thanked her politely and left, marveling at how Chunfu’s sharp eye had turned a half-year’s effort into such profit. At his age, he’d been outmatched by a girl barely fifteen. His admiration for her deepened—her cleverness, her sweetness, her dependence on him. He wanted to hold her close, to keep her by his side always. The thought made him eager to return home. He flicked the donkey’s reins, the bells around its neck jingling merrily.

“Tomorrow, I’ll prepare a feast. Tell your brother to bring the kids over. We’ve got a jar of wine—let’s drink properly.”

Liansheng envied Jicheng’s happiness, but even more, he admired Chunfu. Jicheng often praised her, saying his good fortune was all her doing—without her, he’d still be scrambling for work. People said women were like water, meant to be cherished by men. In Jicheng’s house, the roles were reversed, and he didn’t care who knew it. When teased about living off his wife, he only laughed harder.

When Jicheng returned home, the Mu family’s carriage was still in the yard. He led the donkey to its shed, patting its head in praise before washing up. As he reached for water, one of Madam Mu’s maids hurried over with a cup. “Second Young Master, please.”

Annoyed by their constant presence—making it impossible to even be affectionate with Chunfu in daylight—he said curtly, “You’re dismissed. I can manage.”

The sun hadn’t yet set, but it was time to start dinner. Chunfu hadn’t emerged, likely still upset. Guilt gnawed at him. He pushed aside the curtain, nodding to Madam Mu—still unable to call her “Mother”—before striding to Chunfu’s side. Beaming, he said, “A young master bought the fox pelt today—for over a hundred taels! Even if we never work again, we’re set for years.”

Chunfu was thrilled but hesitated to bring up Chunmu’s request under Madam Mu’s watchful eye. Not wanting to stir trouble, she took the silver notes and tucked them away.

Madam Mu seized the moment. “Money and authority should be in your hands. What does a housewife know? Don’t let her squander it all. I wouldn’t speak up, but you’re my son. I can’t watch you toil while others reap the rewards. Today, her brother came—likely begging for money.”

Jicheng’s smile vanished. “If you’re here to cause trouble, don’t come back. I know my wife. You think she depends on me, but everything new in this house is thanks to her. The life I have now—I owe it all to her. I won’t tolerate anyone speaking ill of her.”

Madam Mu was seething with anger inside. She had finally found her son after so much effort, coming every day with eager eyes to persuade him to return to the capital. Yet, after just a word or two of reminder from her, she was instantly met with coldness. It was true—once a man had a wife, his mother no longer mattered. Overcome with sorrow, she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief: “I only want what’s best for you. Is it wrong for me to fear my son might be deceived? I searched for you for over twenty years. Can’t you think of my pain, the suffering I endured? Am I, as your mother, deserving of this? Do you think I want my son to live in such a place? Erlang, your mother is growing old. Your elder brother is wholly devoted to his career, and the household affairs are overwhelming. I truly can’t manage alone. If you return, you could help me. Not to mention, your little son will grow up to be a proper young gentleman.”

Seeing Jicheng’s furrowed brows, Madam Mu knew her words had struck a chord. She quickly pressed on: “Our Mu family can hire the most renowned scholars in the capital to tutor the child. Raising him in good health from a young age will keep him from falling ill easily. Don’t you want him to stand out among his peers in the future? Parents may seek comfort for themselves, but who wouldn’t wish for their child to excel and achieve greatness? Remote places may be quiet, but do you intend for him to learn nothing but trivial household matters and petty gossip?”

Of course, Jicheng didn’t want his child to live an ordinary life like his own. He longed to give the child the very best the world had to offer. That was why he refused to idle, striving to earn more money—to rebuild their home, ensure the child was well-fed and clothed, and provide capital if the child wished to start a business someday.

Madam Mu’s heart found some solace at last. She could only hope that, for the sake of his little son, he would return to the capital and stay with her for the rest of her days.

After dinner, seeing Madam Mu off, Chunfu noticed Jicheng’s troubled expression and quickly asked, “What’s wrong? Something on your mind? I have something to tell you.”

Jicheng wrapped her hands in his, breathing warmth onto them, and smiled. “It’s nothing serious. You go first.”

Chunfu sighed. “My elder brother has contracted consumption. Zhang Tong has stopped his studies because of it. My brother doesn’t want to burden Zhang Tong and asked me to help him continue his education. With Madam Mu around, I couldn’t agree outright. I thought I should discuss it with you. People are strange—I used to despise him, never considering him my brother. Yet, hearing he might not survive his illness, I still felt pain. It shouldn’t concern me, but I couldn’t help it…”

Jicheng pulled her into his arms, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “Silly girl, it’s only natural. They say the depth of hatred reflects the depth of care. You were just disappointed by his actions—how could your own brother treat you so poorly, right? Now that we’re not short of money, let’s help them. Consider it accumulating blessings for our child. Tomorrow, we’ll take some things to visit him. After all, you’re his only family. This is truly…”

Jicheng kept his thoughts to himself until they were in bed. Then, he shared his plans with Chunfu: “I used to think our life was fine as it was, but would our child be content? Children nowadays have already learned to fawn over the powerful and despise the weak. It’s not that I think our child too fragile, but I don’t want him to lose from the very start.”

Chunfu suddenly smiled. This was the kind of thought a real person would have—a Jicheng who worried like this was a man of the world. Only when the road widened could one dare to dream of moving forward. “Do you want to go back? To reclaim your heritage?”

Jicheng propped himself up, his hands on either side of her. Behind him, silver moonlight spilled in. Though the night obscured details, she could still see the unease, helplessness, and fear on his face. After a long silence, he asked hoarsely, “Yes. Will you laugh at me? It’s not for the Mu family’s wealth, truly.”

Chunfu wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft skin cool against the night air. She smiled sweetly. “Why would I laugh? It’s rightfully yours. Taking back what belongs to you isn’t a crime. But Jicheng, I’m the one who should be afraid. The outside world is so vast—I fear you might… Never mind, I’m overthinking.”

Jicheng suddenly lowered his head, capturing her tender lips in a fervent kiss, drawing fragmented sighs from her. Whispering in her ear, he said, “I’m madly in love with you. No one could take me away. You’re carrying my child—I’m no beast. Trust me. Words alone may not convince you, but once our first is born and you’ve recovered, we’ll have more. Then you’ll know my heart—I only want children with you.”

Chunfu, already stirred by his affection, couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m no broodmare. Right now, I’m only thinking of this one in my belly. As for the future, that depends on whether you please me.”

Their laughter intertwined, and the hidden worries in Chunfu’s heart were momentarily buried beneath the joy Jicheng brought her.

Meanwhile, Madam Mu returned to the county office, where the steward greeted her quietly. “The third young lady of the Tang family passed through and, hearing you were here, came to visit. She says she has a fine gift for you.”

Madam Mu and Madam Tang had been childhood friends. Tang Xiaoxiao often accompanied her mother to the Mu residence, and their families were very close.

This Tang Xiaoxiao was none other than the young “gentleman” who had disguised herself at the Pei family’s teahouse. Upon seeing Madam Mu, she beamed, her voice sweet and melodious: “Today, I met a foolish fellow selling white fox fur on the road. I bought it for over a hundred taels, thinking it would suit you perfectly, Auntie, so I brought it for you to make into a cape. That man must have been new to trade—he didn’t realize how precious white fox fur is. Those creatures are cunning and elusive; catching one is near impossible. Yet he sold it off without a second thought.”

Madam Mu examined the fur carefully, a faint smile curling her lips. Softly, she said, “That ‘foolish fellow’ you speak of is my youngest son—your Erlang brother. What a coincidence. When you return to the capital, you must help your aunt look after him. Show him around the city. After so many years away, he has much to relearn. You’ve always been patient—teach him well.”

Tang Xiaoxiao vaguely recalled the man. Since she rarely saw Mu Hong, she couldn’t place the resemblance at first. Now, she flushed with embarrassment and nodded in agreement.

Observing her shy, charming demeanor, Madam Mu’s thoughts drifted to that indifferent peasant woman. She couldn’t see what made her worthy of admiration, beyond a passably pretty face. As the head of the Mu household, she believed only a daughter from a family of equal standing was fit for her son.

Madam Mu pondered this all night. The next day, after instructing Nanny Sun and Mu Hong, she departed for the capital with Tang Xiaoxiao. Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, Mu Hong frowned deeply. He could guess his mother’s intentions all too well.