The next day, Jiang Chun came back from selling meat, then dug out the underpants she had changed out of last night and tossed them in front of Song Shi’an.
She ordered, “Husband, help me wash these underpants.”
Taking advantage has to be done early; watching a joke is the same.
Otherwise, if something unexpected happens in the middle, the benefit of having the Grand Secretariat’s Chief Minister wash her underpants might expire and not be available anymore.
Song Shi’an: “……”
What on earth is this fellow’s face made of—she really doesn’t know the meaning of shame at all!
To think that earlier he even suspected she was a noble lady from the capital—what kind of noble lady from an official aristocratic family would so openly throw her worn dirty underpants in front of a man?
But a gentleman’s word is like a team of four horses that cannot be chased, since he already agreed to this matter, he couldn’t go back on it, lest she look down on him.
He could only reach out, and with difficulty picked up that strangely-shaped pair of underpants, carrying them over to the well in the courtyard.
Jiang Chun brought out her personal wooden basin, placed it by the well, then went to the utility room and brought out a jar of soap pod water.
After that, she went to the kitchen to carry over a small stool, plopped herself down, crossed her arms, and prepared to be the overseer.
But Song Shi’an was unwilling. He said mildly, “Father told you to go help him dig radishes in the field once you got back. Why haven’t you gone yet?”
Jiang Chun sat still, grinning as she said, “I’ll go after husband finishes washing the underpants.”
Song Shi’an tossed the underpants in his hand into the wooden basin, put on a stern face, and said coldly, “Are you going or not? If you’re not going, I’m not washing these underpants.”
Jiang Chun couldn’t help but laugh out loud with a “puchi,” her pair of large round apricot eyes sweeping across his face, teasing, “Is husband feeling shy?”
Before Song Shi’an could respond, she chuckled again, saying, “Aiya, what’s there to be shy about? We’re husband and wife. Not to mention a small matter like washing underpants—even more intimate things, we don’t need to be shy about.”
As she spoke, she even winked at him, a look that clearly meant, you know what I mean.
Song Shi’an: “……”
He didn’t want to know!
This fellow, really…
He simply didn’t know how to describe her.
Song Shi’an suddenly stood up with a “swoosh,” pretending to be angry: “Are you going or not? If not, I’m leaving!”
He could wash her underpants—as repayment for her taking care of him—but only if she didn’t stand there staring.
Having a woman stare at him while he washed underpants—her underpants—he felt he couldn’t maintain his old face, it was truly too shameful.
“Tsk, thin-skinned,” Jiang Chun shook her head, stood up, and said with a helpless expression, “Fine, fine, you do your washing, I’ll go to the field to help Dad dig radishes.”
She had just wanted to tease him a bit—didn’t expect this guy to be so easily rattled.
She didn’t dare tease him anymore. If she made him angry and he threw in the towel, refusing to wash her underpants, what then?
Having the Grand Secretariat’s Chief Minister wash her underpants—such a good handle—she couldn’t trip herself up.
So she found a shovel from the utility room, slung it over her shoulder, and headed out the door, walking toward the west river direction.
However, what she didn’t know was that not long after she went out, someone suddenly pushed open the front gate of her house and walked into her courtyard.
At that moment, Song Shi’an happened to have just rinsed her underpants clean and wrung them dry. He was holding each side of the waistband with both hands and was shaking it hard, trying to shake out the wrinkles on it.
The visitor was Granny Cao from the southeastern corner of the village. Her family would have relatives visiting tomorrow, so she had to make a few good dishes to entertain them. She came early to Jiang the Butcher’s house to give notice—so that tomorrow, a pound of meat would be reserved for her family.
This was also the custom of the villagers in Daliushu Village.
Although their village wasn’t far from Hongye Town, the villagers wouldn’t go to town just because they had nothing to do.
If they needed to buy meat, they would either give advance notice a day before so the Jiang father and daughter could set some aside, or they’d simply get up early and come on-site to get meat.
Granny Cao was famously a blabbermouth, fond of gossip and watching lively scenes. The moment she stepped into the Jiang household, she started glancing around, and her gaze landed on Song Shi’an, who was standing by the well—along with the underpants in his hands.
Those underpants were very small, without pant legs, at most reaching up to the base of the thighs. The waistband opening was also very narrow.
It was clearly not something this live-in son-in-law of the Jiang family could wear. Even though he was skinny like a bean sprout, he was still a man—tall, with a big frame.
“Aiyo, Jiang family’s son-in-law, are you washing Chun-niang’s underpants?”
Granny Cao accidentally said out loud what she was thinking.
Once she realized it, she immediately plastered on a smile and began praising non-stop: “Aiyo, you really are virtuous and capable! The men in our village, don’t even mention washing their own wives’ underpants—even their socks stink to high heaven and they still won’t wash them. They count on the women at home to do it all.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
If you don’t know how to compliment someone, you can just not say anything. Calling a grown man virtuous and capable—how is that a good word?
If not for the smile on her face seeming sincere, he would have suspected this old woman was mocking him.
He turned and walked to the clothesline, hung the underpants in his hands onto the line, then turned back and asked, “This auntie, do you have something to take care of?”
Granny Cao corrected him: “According to seniority, Chun-niang calls me aunt, so you just call me Second Aunt Cao.”
Song Shi’an changed his address: “Second Aunt Cao.”
“Chun-niang and her dad aren’t home?” Granny Cao glanced a few times toward the main house, then smiled and said, “It’s nothing much, just that we’re entertaining guests tomorrow, so I want Chun-niang to save a pound of meat for my family—more fat, less lean.”
Song Shi’an nodded and said, “Okay, I will pass on the message for you.”
“One pound of meat for Second Aunt Cao tomorrow, more fat, less lean.” Granny Cao hadn’t dealt with this live-in son-in-law of the Jiang family before, and worried he might be unreliable, so she repeated her request.
Still uneasy, she gave another reminder: “Don’t get it wrong, alright?”
Song Shi’an pressed his lips together and, in a good temper, repeated once more: “Tomorrow, save a pound of meat for Second Aunt Cao, more fat, less lean.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Granny Cao finally felt at ease. “Well, you go ahead with what you were doing. I’m heading back now.”
She didn’t wait for Song Shi’an to see her out. She turned around and left, even closing the Jiang family’s gate behind her as she went.
As for going home? That was impossible.
She turned her steps and went to the home of a fellow village woman she was close with and muttered with her for a while.
When she came out, she bumped into two women who were just coming back from washing clothes at the West River. She grabbed them and muttered with them for a while.
On the way back, she ran into a few more aunties and womenfolk—naturally, it was also another round of muttering.
By the time evening came and Jiang Chun pushed a wheelbarrow full of radishes into the village, every woman in the entire village already knew that her live-in son-in-law had helped her wash her underpants at home.
The few women sitting under the big willow tree at the village entrance chatting—when they saw Jiang Chun—began discussing it right in front of her face.
“Still, it’s Chun-niang who has good fortune—she brought in a live-in son-in-law who’s tall and good-looking, and even washes her underpants!”
“That’s right! Aside from Chun-niang, in our whole village of women, whose husband has ever washed their underpants?”
“How can that be the same? Chun-niang is a kitchen-guarding woman [守灶女, literally ‘woman guarding the hearth’; a traditional term sometimes implying a woman who stays home to keep house or a woman considered auspicious for domestic matters], and her husband is a live-in son-in-law, supported by her. So what if he washes her underpants? He should be washing them!”
“Tch, isn’t Zhou Dashan also supported by his wife Zhang Xing-niang? Have you ever seen him wash underpants for Zhang Xing-niang? But the Jiang family’s Song son-in-law did it for Chun-niang—shows that Song son-in-law is a person who knows cold from hot [知冷知热, an idiom meaning ‘considerate and attentive’].”
“Of course! I heard Chun-niang’s maternal uncle was the one who picked Song son-in-law for her. Her uncle is really someone—how could anyone he picked be bad? Look, turns out he’s a good one, even washes Chun-niang’s underpants!”
A group of people—every third sentence was about “washing underpants,” which left Jiang Chun completely stunned.
Jiang Chun: “???”
What happened?
She only went to the fields to dig up a few radishes—how did everything suddenly become incomprehensible?
Song Shi’an did indeed wash her underpants, but he did it by the water well in their own courtyard. She would only secretly feel pleased and would never shout it out loud. He himself was even less likely to run out and shout it.
So how did these womenfolk know about this?
She knew far too well the gossiping ability of village women. If even the few sitting at the village entrance knew, then the whole village likely knew—not a soul left unaware.
Tsk, Song Shi’an’s reputation was probably ruined now.
Permitting grief.