Jiang Chun probably also guessed that Song Shi’an had misunderstood, thinking that she was missing her deceased mother Zheng-shi.
She also didn’t explain.
The two of them admired the moon for a while more, then washed up and rested. Tomorrow, Jiang Chun still had to get up early to kill pigs.
But the moonlight outside was too bright, and the linen curtain hanging on the window wasn’t enough to block the light. The room was illuminated bright and clear.
Jiang Chun muttered, “When there’s time, I must go get a piece of dark-colored cotton cloth to make a curtain.”
She was dazzled to the point of not being able to sleep, and said something just to say something: “Husband, do you know how to draw?”
Lying flat on the head of the kang, hands crossed over his chest, Song Shi’an, who was cultivating sleepiness, didn’t open his eyes upon hearing that, only responded in a low voice: “Know a bit.”
Know a bit?
Jiang Chun curled her lips. He had studied under the great painter Jiang Yan, his painting skills were very advanced, and works from his hand were difficult to obtain even with a thousand gold coins. After all, he was the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet and the Emperor’s brother-in-law—there was no way he’d be short of money enough to live off selling paintings.
Only his Emperor brother-in-law had a few of his works collected, and would take them out when idle to appreciate with the important ministers.
But that was plot from the future.
At the moment, he clearly lacked money. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be laboriously copying books to earn money before his health had even fully recovered.
Whether he was planning to use money to find out the whereabouts of his relatives through connections, or to support relatives stuck in the mud, clearly, both required silver.
And Jiang Chun herself, also lacked money.
Although she now had a house to live in, land to farm, and could earn money daily by killing pigs and selling meat, that hundred or so wen per day income was just enough to get by.
If any unexpected event were to happen, she would face the embarrassment of a shortage of silver — this made her feel very insecure.
So, since both of them lacked money, why not cooperate to earn it?
Thinking of this, Jiang Chun said with interest, “Since Husband can draw, why not make some paintings and sell them? That day when I went to the painting and calligraphy shop, I saw that even the casual paintings in that shop were priced at one or two taels of silver — very valuable.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He said speechlessly, “Do you know what’s called ‘Even the cleverest housewife cannot cook a meal without rice’?”
Jiang Chun frowned and thought for a moment, then suddenly realized, “Husband means you don’t have brushes and paint? That’s easy to solve — I’ll buy a set for each of us. When we sell the paintings later, you just give me a thirty percent cut, how about it?”
Song Shi’an hooked the corner of his mouth and let out a laugh through his nose: “I have no objection to giving you thirty percent. But do you know how expensive a full set of brushes and paint is?”
Jiang Chun really didn’t know. She curiously asked, “How expensive?”
Song Shi’an said blandly, “Starts from ten taels of silver.”
Because the price of brushes, paint, and paper was sky-high, those great painters famed throughout the land were basically all from wealthy families.
It wasn’t that no talented painters could come from poor families, but that even if those people had talent, they simply didn’t have the financial resources to practice painting skills for years on end.
His master Jiang Yan once said that he began studying painting at the age of five, and only became famous at forty — on the path of painting, his family spent no less than ten thousand taels of silver.
As for Song Shi’an himself, ever since he entered his master’s tutelage at the age of eight, his family increased his monthly allowance from five taels to fifty taels.
By the time he was twenty-two and disaster struck his family, he had already spent over eight thousand taels of silver from home.
When Jiang Chun heard this number, she flipped up from the bedding with a tumble, yelling noisily: “What? Ten taels of silver? How is it this expensive?”
Song Shi’an let out a light hum: “Otherwise, what do you think I’m copying books for?”
Could it be he didn’t know that painting made more money than copying books? Wasn’t it just because the brushes, paints, and paper were too expensive, beyond the Jiang family’s ability to afford, that he settled for second best?
Jiang Chun dejectedly lay back on the kang.
The grand cause of earning money collapsed midway — her heart was chilly, truly chilly.
It wasn’t really that she couldn’t afford it. The family’s silver was in her own hands; there were still over thirty taels left — enough.
But just buying brushes and paints wouldn’t be enough; one also had to buy painting paper, which also wasn’t cheap. That would mean spending over ten taels of silver in one go.
And this was just a small county town. In the calligraphy and painting shop, brushes and paper sold quickly, but paintings and calligraphy could take a long time to sell even a single piece.
If her household didn’t have large expenses, that would be fine — they could slowly wait to make back the money. But he alone required three taels of silver a month just for medicine.
On top of that, winter was coming soon — they had to stock up on coal, firewood, food and drink, and also get the blacksmith to forge an iron-sheet stove.
Moreover, Jiang Chun and Jiang He could still wear last year’s old padded clothes, but Song Shi’an had come to the Jiang household wearing a single threadbare garment.
Jiang He had bought him two sets of single-layer clothes from the ready-made clothes shop in town, and later during the wedding, had tailored a new outfit for him — but there were no padded clothes.
If they didn’t want Song Shi’an to freeze to death, at the very least, they had to make him two sets of padded clothes.
They also needed to make him a padded quilt. The quilt he was using now was Jiang Chun’s, and Jiang Chun was using her mother Zheng-shi’s quilt — only the outer cover had been changed.
With that weak body of his, a single quilt clearly wasn’t enough — you could feel he was shivering under the covers.
Calculating it all like this — truly, everything required money. So the matter of buying brushes, paints, and paper had to be put aside for now. Wait until there was more money on hand before bringing it up again.
“Our household has many expenditures this year. Right now, we don’t have enough silver on hand. This matter can only be shelved for now. Once we have more money in hand later, I’ll buy it for you.”
Jiang Chun explained to Song Shi’an, then closed her eyes and said: “It’s getting late. Let’s sleep.”
“Mm,” Song Shi’an responded.
In his heart, there wasn’t even much disappointment — it was something within his expectations.
After all, the father and daughter didn’t have much sense of guarding themselves, and usually spoke of household money matters without avoiding him. Therefore, he was very clear on how much silver Jiang Chun had in hand.
※
No one knew whether it was because of sitting in the courtyard admiring the moon and catching wind last night, but the next day, just after Jiang Chun came back from selling meat, she discovered that Song Shi’an was coughing badly, and his complexion was abnormally red.
She hurriedly pressed him down to sit on the kang edge, and used the back of her hand to test his forehead.
Good heavens — just like a furnace, burning hot!
It made her so regretful she couldn’t bear it. She knew full well his body was weak, yet still dragged him into the courtyard to admire the moon. Truly muddle-headed to the extreme!
First, she poured him a cup of warm water, letting him rehydrate, then frantically ran to village head Zou’s house to borrow the mule cart.
But as luck would have it, the mule cart had been borrowed by Village Head Zou’s brother to go visit his father-in-law.
Jiang Chun was immediately caught in a blind panic.
Left with no choice, she could only go borrow one from the clan elder’s house.
Logically speaking, Clan Elder Jiang Zhaonian was her great-uncle, and the two families had a very good relationship — considered one of their own. If her family wanted to use the mule cart, they could just go and borrow it directly.
But precisely because they were one of their own, ordinarily they wouldn’t go borrow it, because the clan elder’s family definitely wouldn’t accept rental money.
Yet for country folk, a mule cart was the most precious asset in the household — to borrow someone’s mule cart for free, Jiang He and his daughter both would feel uneasy in their hearts.
So usually, they would rather spend money to rent from Village Head Zou’s household, than borrow from the clan elder’s.
Maybe it was precisely because they didn’t ask lightly that this time, when Jiang Chun ran over and mentioned it, Jiang Zhaonian immediately sent his son Jiang Wan to hitch the cart for Jiang Chun.
And he even said to Jiang Chun: “If it doesn’t work, just let your Uncle Jiang Wan take you two over. He’s idle anyway.”
Jiang Chun hurriedly waved her hand to refuse: “No need to trouble my uncle. I can drive the cart, I’ll just take my husband over myself.”
But Jiang Wan didn’t give her the chance to argue. After hitching the cart, he said forcefully: “Chun-niang, why are you being polite with your uncle? Hurry and get on, I’ll take you both over. You can’t delay a fever like this.”
Jiang Chun couldn’t refuse, and could only climb onto the back bed of the mule cart.
After getting home, she put an outer robe on Song Shi’an, then went to the east room and pulled out Jiang He’s lined jacket to drape over him, and then directly picked him up in a horizontal carry.
Song Shi’an: “……”
He immediately struggled, using a dry and hoarse voice to say: “Put me down, I can walk on my own.”
Jiang Chun smacked him on the butt with a loud “pa” and scolded: “Be honest and don’t move around. Careful or you’ll fall down.”
Song Shi’an’s pale face instantly flushed bright red, and both his ears turned crimson.
Jiang Wan, who had come in to help, saw this and was shocked: “How come the fever’s this bad? He’s almost cooked!”
Song Shi’an: “……”
He would rather have been cooked from the fever, to spare himself from facing the reality of being spanked on the butt by Jiang Chun while still alive.