Madam Tong arrived and, after some massage and acupuncture, the little baby finally woke up. Just then, the rice soup was ready, and Madam Tong fed him some before the little one fell asleep again.
While waiting for Madam Tong to arrive, Dalang had already explained to Sima Xin about Sima Rusu’s infertility due to cold poison. Sima Xin now looked utterly dejected, not even cheered by his son’s recovery. When Madam Tong spoke to him, he seemed only half-listening.
Upon learning from Dalang that this man was Sima Rusu’s biological father, Madam Tong was furious. She jabbed him with a needle, causing Sima Xin to gasp in pain, but it also snapped him out of his daze. He stared at her, silently questioning.
Madam Tong put away her needle and said to Sima Xin, “The child is indeed poisoned. Though I can treat it, my methods aren’t as effective as Master Shen’s. The poison has reached his brain—he needs immediate treatment, or he’ll either die or become mentally impaired.”
Sima Xin agreed. Dalang called Tan Liu and sent him to escort Sima Xin back to Linzhuang. Sima Xin hesitated, as if he had something to say, but Madam Tong impatiently waved him off. “If you want to know something, go ask Rusu yourself in Linzhuang. If you weren’t her father, I wouldn’t even bother. A grown man who only fathers a child but doesn’t raise them—how shameful! A child barely a few years old, struggling to survive on their own. When she was sick with fever, crying for her father, it was heartbreaking.”
Sima Xin’s face twisted in anguish. Silently, he followed Tan Liu to Linzhuang. Dalang also left the tailor shop to collect his official appointment letter from the county office.
At the county office, Lin Chengxiang looked displeased. Dalang was about to excuse himself—whether he became the town head or not didn’t matter to him. But Lin Chengxiang motioned for him to wait and had someone fetch the appointment letter. After a pause, he explained, “Don’t misunderstand, Lin Dalang. I’m not angry with you—it’s that Shi Liaoliang. He’s truly detestable.”
Shi Liaoliang? Dalang was puzzled. Shi Liaoliang was known for currying favor with officials. Had he come to cause trouble instead?
As Dalang pondered, Lin Chengxiang asked, “Shi Liaoliang is also from Liangping Town. Do you know him?”
“Oh, he’s the largest medicinal merchant in Liangping. Even if people don’t know him personally, they’ve heard of him.”
Dalang didn’t want to discuss the man further, but Lin Chengxiang pressed on. “What kind of person is he?”
Seeing Dalang reluctant to speak, Lin Chengxiang explained, “The imperial decree states that newly appointed town heads and village chiefs should preferably have scholarly titles. If not, those with proven ability may also serve. This rule wasn’t publicly announced—it’s left to officials’ discretion. Somehow, Shi Liaoliang found out and has been pestering me for the position. He has no title and refuses assessment, just endlessly nagging. It’s infuriating.”
Knowing Shi Liaoliang, Dalang suspected there was more to his visits than just nagging. But he wouldn’t pry, merely nodding along.
“Do you know which town Shi Liaoliang wants to govern?” Seeing Dalang still indifferent, Lin Chengxiang tried another approach.
“Lin Town, perhaps? Given his character, he wouldn’t serve without lining his pockets—and Your Honor would surely benefit too.” Dalang cut to the chase.
Lin Chengxiang nodded. “Exactly. It seems you understand him well. He promised that if he became Lin Town’s head, he’d fill the county treasury and ensure my career prospers.”
A sense of foreboding crept over Dalang. “With such confidence, he must have a plan. Did he share it with you?”
“He mentioned a brilliant method but didn’t elaborate, only that it would make me rich.” Sensing Dalang’s sarcasm, Lin Chengxiang tread carefully—he wanted to use Shi Liaoliang to pressure Dalang, but not push too hard.
Leaving the county office, Dalang went to the magistrate’s residence to fetch Madam Tong. On the way back to Linzhuang, he told her about encountering Shi Liaoliang and his conversation with Lin Chengxiang. Madam Tong already knew Shi Liaoliang had been lobbying for the town head position.
Lin Chengxiang was filial and often discussed official matters with his mother, Madam Song, who had told Madam Tong that Shi Liaoliang’s “brilliant method” was to force the Lin family to reveal their black fungus cultivation technique as a county-wide specialty.
Dalang scoffed. “Wishful thinking. Trying to steal our family’s livelihood? A pipe dream.”
Madam Tong remained calm. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s bribing the magistrate with silver and women—he’s determined.”
Surprised, Dalang asked, “How do you know such details? Did Madam Song tell you? Doesn’t she fear you’d betray her son?”
“We’ve grown close. She trusts me completely—talks about everything except her ancestors’ eighteen generations.” Joking to deflect, Madam Tong inwardly sighed in relief. She’d have to be more careful—if Dalang discovered her true relationship with Lin Chengxiang, who knew how he’d react.
Dalang didn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t strange for Madam Tong and Madam Song to confide in each other. As dusk fell, they hurried back.
The Lin family school had been repurposed to shelter refugees. Since autumn, classes had been suspended—even if held, few would attend amid the chaos. The teachers were on paid leave.
Under Master Shen’s care for two years, Chen Dong’s health had improved, though she still avoided winter outings, staying indoors to read, embroider, or practice arts—progressing slowly. Unlike Lin Fang, who excelled at everything except embroidery and could sleep all day if bored. Chen Dong often marveled at her luck.
Now, however, neither was in their room. Lin Fang had dragged Chen Dong to watch Lin Juan embroider—really just to tease her.
“Third Sister, is this a twin lotus? Why embroider it on a quilt? Is there a meaning?”
“Ha! You little imp, trying to trick me? I won’t tell. You’ll understand when you’re older and marry.”
“I’ll never marry. Living alone avoids so much trouble.”
“Wishful thinking. When the time comes, Uncle and Aunt won’t let you stay single.”
Lin Fang, the teaser, refused to be teased. Turning to Lin Xia, who was frowning over a medical book, she asked, “Fourth Sister, what’s Third Sister’s fiancé like? As handsome as Eldest Brother?”
Lin Fang hadn’t seen Lin Meng in years but imagined him tall and dashing like Lin Zhongsi and Erlang.
Lin Xia brightened. “Third Brother-in-law is scholarly, like Second Brother. Eldest Brother is martial—they’re different.”
“What does he look like?”
Lin Xia gestured. “Fair-skinned, not as tall as Uncle but taller than Sixth Uncle. Big eyes, high nose, square face—quite handsome.”
As a physician, Madam Tong knew early childbirth was dangerous. She insisted that Lin family men marry at twenty, women at eighteen—unusually late by local standards, deterring many suitors.
Lin Meng, like Lin Wen, didn’t want early marriage, and his family respected that.
Lin Juan’s fiancé, Sun Jiawang, was from Jile Town. His family agreed with Madam Tong’s views, and the match was made. After the flood, Sun Jiawang found his way to Linzhuang, assuring them his family was safe and planning to move nearby next year.
Relieved, Lin Juan resumed embroidering her dowry, much to Lin Fang’s amusement.
Chen Dong, resigned to her infertility, admired Lin Juan’s skill, vowing to improve her own embroidery through hard work.
As they laughed, Lin Juan’s maid, Qinxiu, announced, “Miss Sima, the First Madam requests your presence at Diecui Courtyard. There’s a guest.”
Diecui Courtyard was the main residence of Dalang and his wife.
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