They were clearly about to part ways like birds flying in opposite directions, so if she didn’t hurry up and take a little advantage, there wouldn’t be another chance later.
That’s right, she talked to him about terms on the surface, but in her heart, she had never really planned to bring him along.
He could be reckless, but she couldn’t disregard his life and safety and selfishly drag him with them.
She’d cuddle him for one night, take a last bit of advantage, and tomorrow morning she and Jiang He would quietly slip away.
By the time he found out, they’d already be long gone. With his body, even if he wanted to chase, he couldn’t catch up.
She even took the initiative to lift up a corner of the quilt, smiling cheerfully: “Come on in, Husband, I’ve already warmed the bed for you—it’s nice and warm.”
Song Shi’an was so angry he turned over with a flip, lay facing the wall, and couldn’t be bothered to respond to her.
Jiang Chun heard the sound of him turning over, and seeing he didn’t make a sound, understood that he was unwilling.
She said speechlessly: “I say, Husband, you’re willing to throw away your life just to follow us, yet you won’t let me get close to you—aren’t you being super contradictory?”
That sentence hit the nail on the head. Song Shi’an had nothing to say, and could only play dead in silence.
Jiang Chun wouldn’t give up so easily. She changed her tone and said: “Husband, such a reserved person like you, asking you to crawl into my quilt is too much trouble. Why don’t I crawl into yours instead? Anyway, I’ve got a thick face and no shame.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
She even admitted herself that her face was thick—what could he even say to that?
He sighed and advised: “We have to wake early tomorrow to pack up. Stop messing around, and get some rest.”
When Jiang Chun heard that, she froze, and couldn’t help but sober up.
She struggled in her heart for quite a while, but in the end still couldn’t help asking: “You really sincerely want to come with us?”
Song Shi’an didn’t hesitate in the slightest, immediately replied: “Yes.”
Jiang Chun let out a long sigh and said helplessly: “I originally planned to sneak off behind your back early tomorrow morning, but I just couldn’t bear to deceive you…Husband, I truly urge you to reconsider. Your body is too weak—following us, you’ll definitely suffer a lot, and there really is a chance you might lose your life.”
Song Shi’an’s brow twitched. This person—saying flirty things like asking him into her bed, but in her heart plotting to throw him aside and sneak off?
This was way too two-faced and underhanded!
He firmly said: “No need. My mind is made up.”
Jiang Chun sighed again and said helplessly: “Fine then, come if you’re coming. Who told you to be so admiring of me, can’t even drive you away? Really can’t do anything about you!”
Song Shi’an curled the corners of his lips in satisfaction.
At the same time, he let out a cold hum in his heart—fortunately, she turned back in time. Otherwise, he really wouldn’t meddle anymore and would just let them go on their little escape. (TN: So this one is a Tsundere)
- ••
At the beginning of the Yin hour (3 a.m.), Jiang Chun rolled out of bed.
In the past, when slaughtering pigs daily, she also got up at this hour—it had already become her biological clock.
But the moment she sat up, she saw that Song Shi’an was not only awake, but was already sitting upright at the kang table, holding a brush and writing something.
Jiang Chun thought he was copying books, yawned, and said speechlessly: “What time do you think it is, and you’re still thinking about copying books?!”
Song Shi’an finished writing, reached out to pick up that piece of paper, lightly blew on it for a while, and once the ink had dried, folded it in half, then folded it again.
Then he tucked it into an envelope that had already been folded beforehand.
On the upper right corner of the envelope was written “To Brother Lu, personally open”, and the lower left was signed “Song Qingzhi”.
He raised his eyes to look at Jiang Chun and said, “Go call Father in. I have something to speak to him about.”
Jiang Chun frowned in confusion, but seeing that his expression was serious and it seemed to be something proper, she quickly dressed and tied her skirt, then went out to find Jiang He.
Jiang He had already gotten up, had even packed up his bedding, and was currently loading it onto the wheelbarrow in the courtyard.
When he heard that his son-in-law was looking for him, he quickly put down the bedding that hadn’t yet been placed properly and followed Jiang Chun into the west room.
Song Shi’an handed the letter in his hand to Jiang He and said: “Dad, take this and give it to Uncle. Ask him to go find Zhao Deyang, and have Zhao Deyang deliver this letter to Magistrate Lu.”
Jiang He said with difficulty: “Son-in-law, you know too—yesterday your uncle went to seek out Zhao Langjun, but he refused to help…”
Song Shi’an spoke with full confidence: “Dad, just do as I say. Once Zhao Deyang sees this letter, he will definitely help.”
Jiang Chun’s eyes widened in shock—he was using his personal connections to help resolve her trouble?
But the Song family hadn’t been rehabilitated yet. He himself had already fallen to the status of a government slave, and had even been bought by someone to be a live-in son-in-law to a village girl. Would those former connections still be willing to acknowledge him?
This guy had thin skin. If things went south, he probably wouldn’t be able to hold his head up.
Thinking for a moment, she said: “Dad, go find Uncle like Husband said. I’ll stay home and pack up. If Zhao Langjun still refuses even after seeing Husband’s letter, then you hurry back, and we’ll head straight for Qingniu Town.”
Make preparations on both sides, in case neither hand can reach the sky. [colloquial expression, meaning prepare for both outcomes]
“Alright, we’ll do that,” Jiang He felt his daughter’s words made sense, and immediately took the letter, went to the village head Zou household to rent a mule cart, and drove hastily toward Hongye Town.
••
When he arrived at Zheng Yi’s house, Zheng Yi thought his brother-in-law had come to retrieve the wheelbarrow his niece had left behind the day before and said, “The cart’s in the west shed, I’ll go push it out for you.”
“Big Brother, don’t bother with the cart,” Jiang He hurried to stop Zheng Yi.
He pulled out the letter his son-in-law had written from his sleeve, handed it over, and repeated what his son-in-law had said.
Zheng Yi’s brow furrowed tightly.
This live-in son-in-law of his niece, he had only met three times in total. The face was decent-looking, and he was tall, but he was skinny as bones and looked like a sickly person, and he spoke so little it was pitiful.
So Zheng Yi didn’t know him at all, and wasn’t sure whether what he said or did could be relied upon.
But even Zhao Langjun had refused to help—those other wealthy households in Hongye County would dare even less to get involved. He himself was already at his wits’ end.
Might as well treat a dead horse as if it were still alive. [idiom meaning to try anything in a desperate situation]
Run this errand for this nephew-in-law.
If it worked, then great. If not, it wasn’t a big deal—at most he’d be scolded a bit by Zhao Langjun.
So Zheng Yi took the letter, directly jumped onto the mule cart driven by Zhao He that was parked by the door, and hurried toward Hongye County.
When he got to Hongye County, he turned into a street behind the county yamen, and with practiced steps knocked on the door of Zhao Langjun’s house.
Zhao Deyang saw it was him again, and spoke irritably: “Why are you here again? I made it perfectly clear yesterday—your niece’s matter, I really can’t help, and I don’t dare to.”
“I understand,” Zheng Yi nodded understandingly, and pulled the letter he had been carrying from his chest, placing it on the table in front of Zhao Deyang.
Zhao Deyang glanced casually, then caught sight of the signature “Song Qingzhi.”
Immediately, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, he let out a startled “awoo!” and jumped straight up from the chair.
Zheng Yi was so startled by his outburst that he shivered and involuntarily took several steps back.
Zhao Deyang, patting his thumping heart, pointed at the letter on the table and asked with a trembling voice: “Th-this letter, where did it come from? Who wrote it?”
Song Shi’an—courtesy name Qingzhi.
That sentence was obviously a redundant question. Even if someone could impersonate Song Shi’an’s name, no one could imitate his one-of-a-kind handwriting.
Because the name of that script was called Qingzhi Style, personally created by Song Shi’an himself. In the whole world, only he could write it.
The magistrate of Hongye County, Lu Zhengheng, loved calligraphy and painting as dearly as his own life. His lifelong wish was to obtain a calligraphy piece from Song Shi’an, and he had spent no small amount of time at home copying the Qingzhi Style he had written.
As Lu Zhengheng’s lackey, spending every day going in and out with him, if he couldn’t even recognize Qingzhi Style, then it’d be as good as having lived in vain.
Zheng Yi hurriedly replied: “It was written by my niece’s husband. He said to ask you, Zhao Langjun, to deliver it to the magistrate.”
“Niece’s husband?” Zhao Deyang raised his voice in disbelief, “You mean that husband of the niece who caught Liu Qitan’s eye?”
Zheng Yi nodded: “That’s right.”
Zhao Deyang let out a sharp inhale through his teeth and began pacing in circles around the room, looking completely flustered and at a loss.
After several circles, he stopped, glared fiercely at Zheng Yi, and said: “You really know how to cause trouble for me—and for my brother-in-law!”
Then, tossing down a “wait here,” he took the letter and dashed out of his house like smoke, sprinting toward the backyard of the county yamen.
At this hour, Lu Zhengheng had only just gotten up and was washing his face. When he saw Zhao Deyang rushing in recklessly, he spat out the mouthful of rinse water and scolded in annoyance: “Look at you—such behavior! Not composed at all. What, did your ass catch on fire?”
Truly foul-mouthed and uncultured—not like someone who fancies himself a refined man fond of calligraphy and paintings.
“It really did catch on fire!” Zhao Deyang grumbled, flopping into a round-backed armchair like a lump, and said casually, “Brother-in-law, guess whose wife that bastard Liu the Deputy Prefect has taken a liking to?”
“How the hell would I know?” Lu Zhengheng rolled his eyes at him, picked up a cup, and gulped down a large mouthful of water, gargling noisily with a “gulu gulu.”
Zhao Deyang dropped a bombshell: “It’s the wife of Song Shi’an—Song Qingzhi.”
“Puh—!” Lu Zhengheng instantly spat the water out of his mouth, then began coughing uncontrollably.
Only after a good while did he catch his breath.
He put down the teacup, raised his eyes to look at Zhao Deyang, and asked with a grave face: “Is this true?”
Zhao Deyang didn’t beat around the bush and directly handed him the letter, saying: “This is a letter he wrote to you. Whether it’s true or not, you’ll know at a glance.”
Lu Zhengheng was about to reach out to take it, but immediately stopped, turned around and grabbed the cloth towel on the washstand, carefully dried the water off his hands before gingerly taking the letter.
After quickly scanning through the letter, Lu Zhengheng was so overjoyed he nearly jumped with excitement—his mouth stretched wide enough to almost reach his cheeks.
He grabbed Zhao Deyang’s shoulders with both hands and shook him hard, exclaiming in excitement: “Wonderful! I can finally have a calligraphy piece from Song Shi’an!”
Zhao Deyang’s bones nearly came apart from the shaking. He quickly poured cold water on the enthusiasm: “His calligraphy has always been worth its weight in gold—now that he’s willing to let you have a piece, even I can guess with my toes that he wants you to come forward and handle Liu Qitan!”
“Brother-in-law, you really need to think this through. Liu Qitan’s a spoiled playboy, a good-for-nothing, but his grandfather is Liu Luangang, the prefect of Suzhou—his official rank is higher than yours. Aren’t you afraid of offending him?”
Lu Zhengheng spat crudely without any image: “Pah! What the hell am I afraid of? Liu Luangang may be a proper fourth-rank prefect, but I’m the eldest legitimate grandson of the Lu clan of Fanyang. The Lu clan has eighty-nine members in official posts, with several ranked first- or second-grade officials. If it comes down to a clash, the one who’ll suffer losses will definitely be Liu Luangang!”
Zhao Deyang: “……”
This brother-in-law of his, ever since childhood, had always fancied himself extraordinary, and had never stooped to using family background to speak for himself.