Cotton-padded clothes still had to be made, otherwise he definitely wouldn’t be able to withstand the cold winter of Qizhou Prefecture.
Moreover, she had earlier helped him wipe his body — what should be seen and what shouldn’t be seen had all been seen — for him to be acting reserved at this moment, it was inevitably a bit pretentious.
Song Shi’an rolled his eyes at Jiang Chun, and said blandly: “Less nonsense, hurry up and finish measuring, I still have to continue copying scriptures.”
Jiang Chun raised her eyebrows. At a time like this, still daring to order her around — was this guy truly calm, or just tough on the outside and weak on the inside?
Just try and you’ll know.
She half-squatted down, stretched out her demon claw, and directly placed it on his thigh.
Jiang Chun’s body was extremely strong, full of vital energy and blood, and her body temperature was also somewhat higher than other women’s. Her warm and soft palm suddenly sticking to the base of his thigh — even though there was a layer of middle trousers in between — Song Shi’an still couldn’t help but tremble slightly.
Jiang Chun’s claws touched and rubbed around on his thigh, rubbed several times, then commented in a rather dissatisfied tone: “Still too skinny, doesn’t feel good to touch, all bones, way too pokey on the hand.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He almost laughed from anger, and mocked coldly: “Sorry for poking Your Hand, I truly express deep apologies.”
Jiang Chun climbed up the pole, generously expressing her understanding: “No need to apologize, once you’ve fattened up a bit, I’ll have a proper touch again, no rush.”
Song Shi’an snorted coldly. No rush? I see you’re quite rushed, practically wishing you could swallow me whole right now.
Jiang Chun copped a feel for a while, then finally held up the wooden ruler against his waist and measured his size.
After measuring, she couldn’t help but let out a sharp inhale: “Sss—”
Song Shi’an’s height, converted to modern measurements, would be about 183 cm. His leg length was a full 112 cm, perfectly matching the 0.618 golden ratio.
Heaven can bear witness — when she originally wrote this beautifully strong and tragically noble male supporting character’s figure, due to vocabulary limitations, she had only used the six characters “broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs”.
Who would have thought the real person would be so defy-the-heavens—this wasn’t just long legs, it was basically “all legs below the neck!”
The moment she thought of how, in the future, after the two of them consummated, she’d be sitting on these heaven-defying long legs doing this and that, she almost drooled.
Tsk tsk, she truly had blessings in this life—not only could she eat her fill, but she could eat well!
Of course, that’s not what she said out loud.
She put on a disgusted expression, and grumbled: “Look at you, what are you growing such long legs for? It just wastes more cloth for nothing—truly a money-wasting thing!”
Song Shi’an felt he had now grasped her weakness, and no longer needed to swallow his anger. He decisively chose to retort: “Your legs aren’t short either. Don’t say Daliushu Village, even among all the women in Hongye Town, there’s not a single one taller than you. Isn’t that just as wasteful of fabric?”
If he was a money-wasting thing, then she was one too.
He spoke unintentionally, but she heard with intent. The moment Jiang Chun heard this, she beamed with joy: “Husband is praising my long legs?”
She immediately stood up, leaned in toward him, grabbed his hand, and while making a show of placing it on her leg, she grinned: “Husband, do you want to touch my long legs? They feel really good~”
The original host’s body was very tall, at least 170 cm, and the proportions were also very perfect — her pair of legs were long and slender, simply the dream legs in Jiang Chun’s heart.
Song Shi’an was practically stunned by her thick skin — the hand that she grabbed felt as if it had been scalded by red-hot charcoal, and he hurriedly tried to yank it back.
Jiang Chun was just teasing him — she knew he was thin-skinned, and couldn’t progress too fast. If she cornered him, with his intelligence, he’d definitely think up a way to deal with her.
So she didn’t use too much strength, and let him pull his hand back.
But her mouth still didn’t miss the chance to take advantage: “Husband, you being this shy won’t do. When we consummate in the future, could it be you expect me to be on top?”
Without waiting for Song Shi’an to respond, she rubbed her chin, not knowing what kind of crooked place her mind wandered to, and began to giggle sneakily with a “heh heh heh”: “Though it’s not like it’s impossible…”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He helplessly held his forehead.
Just look at what’s coming out of her mouth—what kind of crooked talk is this?
How could there be such an improper woman in this world!
Could Heaven please strike down a bolt of lightning and take this girl away?
Fortunately, after Jiang Chun finished measuring his size, she didn’t stir up more nonsense. She carried a bolt of indigo fine cotton cloth onto the kang and began cutting fabric.
Once she got busy with proper work, her expression turned calm and indifferent, looking very composed and capable—she even had a bit of the posture of a woman who could hold up a household and guard the hearth.
The two of them, just like that—one at the head of the kang copying scriptures, one at the foot of the kang making clothes.
Outside, the weather was pleasant and sunny. The warm autumn sun shone over the courtyard full of radishes, presenting a peaceful and harmonious scene.
Until Jiang He returned home pushing radishes.
Jiang Chun heard the main gate being pushed open, put down the scissors in her hand, and went out to help her dad unload the radishes.
Seeing the wheelbarrow, she then remembered the matter of buying a mule cart.
Originally, she had planned to tell Jiang He about it yesterday after returning from the county town, but because of the incident with Wang Yin’er, she didn’t get the chance.
Father and daughter worked together to spread out the two baskets of unloaded radishes for drying.
After washing hands and entering the house, Jiang Chun brought her dad a small stool to sit on, then seriously suggested: “Dad, let’s buy a mule cart. Always renting from Village Head Zou’s family—never mind whether it’s convenient or not, it’s mainly just too costly!”
Renting once costs 20 wen. At the frequency their family rented carts, before long Village Head Zou’s family could buy another brand-new mule cart just from their rental money.
Though that was secondary—the main issue was that not having a cart was just too inconvenient.
As for saying it was costly, that was just a pretense to convince Jiang He to agree to buying a cart.
Jiang He had actually already considered this. But the son-in-law’s body was weak and needed money for medicine and nourishment. Supplements also had to be kept up. The family had just over 30 taels of silver in total savings—if more than ten taels were spent on a mule cart, money would be tight.
He hesitated for a while and discussed with his daughter: “Buying our own mule cart is indeed cheaper in the long run, but right now money is a bit tight. How about we save up for another year and buy it around this time next year?”
How could Jiang Chun wait that long?
But Jiang He wasn’t wrong either—if it weren’t for the extra money she got from the sign-in system, their family really didn’t have the financial condition to buy a cart right now.
Jiang Chun returned to the west room, fished out a pile of broken silver and several strings of coins from the kang’s hollow compartment, then came out and handed them to Jiang He, saying: “Dad, this is seventeen taels. You take it to buy a good mule, and then choose a solid wooden mule cart.”
Under Jiang He’s astonished gaze, she decisively shoved the “black pot” onto Song Shi’an.
With a face full of pride she said: “Dad, your son-in-law wrote two sets of shíwén [时文 – model essays based on the classics, required in imperial examinations], and the owner of a calligraphy and painting shop took a liking to them, offering five taels of silver per piece at a high price!”
In the west room, seated at the kang table with ears perked up, listening to the conversation between father and daughter in the kitchen, Song Shi’an: “……”
He had copied scriptures until he was half-dead for half a month, and after deducting the cost of materials, only earned 160 wen.
But in her mouth, it had turned into ten taels of silver.
Should he be thanking her for putting such a tall hat on him, just so the father-in-law could look at him with new eyes?
“Five taels of silver per book?” On the other end, Jiang He exclaimed upon hearing this, and indeed looked at him with new admiration, praising endlessly: “Son-in-law is truly capable—not only writes beautifully, but also composes fine essays!”
Song Shi’an, who had only ever shown them his Guange style of calligraphy [馆阁体 – a standard bureaucratic calligraphy style from imperial civil service], couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
In the capital, praising someone’s Guange style as good was by no means a compliment—it meant the person’s handwriting lacked individuality and character.
Then he heard Jiang He lower his voice, instructing Jiang Chun like he was giving a serious lesson: “Son-in-law is someone capable of earning big money. From now on when you speak, be careful—don’t go around saying things like he’s living off a woman. That would hurt his dignity. I’ve heard that scholars all value their face, and face is more important than the sky.”
Jiang Chun said in displeasure: “Dad, don’t wrong me. Not to mention now that he can earn money—even back when he couldn’t and we were the ones supporting him, I never said things like that.”
Whether she had or hadn’t said it, she couldn’t quite remember. But that didn’t matter—just deny it and it’s fine.
What, could Song Shi’an jump out and contradict her?
That he could earn big money was something she bragged up for him herself. With his ability to earn 160 wen in half a month, if they really broke it down, she wouldn’t even need to say anything—he’d be so embarrassed he’d want to crawl into a crack in the ground.
Hearing this, Jiang He smiled with satisfaction: “That’s good. I was just reminding you.”
Then, excitedly said: “I’ll go ask your Uncle Jiang Wan, see if he knows anywhere a good mule is being sold.”
Hongye Town was only so big—there wasn’t even a mule-and-horse market. Families who wanted to buy a mule wouldn’t go looking in town, they’d rely on asking around through trusted contacts.
He took a few steps out, then came back and stuffed the silver money back into Jiang Chun’s hands, saying: “You keep this money for now. Once I find out good news, I’ll come back to you for it.”
Then hurriedly rushed out the door.
Jiang Chun walked into the west room, squatted in front of the kang compartment, and was preparing to put the silver back inside.
Just then, she heard Song Shi’an’s voice from atop the kang: “I heard my one book sold for five taels of silver, so two books together ten taels? That’s not what you told me. So, turns out you falsified the accounts to me earlier?”
Jiang Chun: “……”
This guy must have the nose of a dog—when she was talking price earlier, she’d specifically lowered her voice for fear he might hear from the west room.
In the end, he still heard.
She paused for a moment, stuffed the silver into the kang compartment, then stood up, patting dust from her hands while snorting and laughing: “Husband, you call me thick-skinned, but I think you’re just the same. Can’t you tell I’m helping you puff up your face to make you look good in front of others—using silver I earned myself to support your image? Not only are you ungrateful, you even accuse me of cooking the books and ask me for accounts—how dare you?”
Song Shi’an pressed his lips together.
This woman truly had a sharp tongue—no matter whether she was right or wrong, she could speak with confidence as if she were completely justified, then turn around and throw the blame back on someone else.
He said blandly: “No need for you to hold up appearances for me.”
Jiang Chun sneered and mocked: “Aiya aiya, so husband likes being called someone who lives off a woman?”
“Yes,” Song Shi’an nodded calmly, “my teeth aren’t good. The doctor said I should eat more soft things to help digestion.”
He’d figured it out. To deal with someone thick-skinned, you had to be even thicker-skinned than her.
Jiang Chun: “???”
This guy actually said the “eat soft rice” joke out loud— [吃软饭, lit. “eat soft rice,” slang for a man living off a woman] In the end, who is the one who transmigrated—you or me?
Before she could respond, Song Shi’an looked up at her again and questioned: “All day long, you’re either slaughtering pigs and selling meat or busy with household and field work—where did you earn extra silver from?”
Jiang Chun’s heart gave a jump, feeling a bit flustered.
But she quickly calmed down. Then she put her hands on her hips and shouted loudly: “What business is it of yours how I earned it? You, a live-in son-in-law who eats soft rice, actually dare to question the wife-lord who feeds you—have you turned rebellious?!”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He had just admitted himself as someone who eats soft rice, and now she’d blocked him with it—this was basically a boomerang hitting him right back.