This “ga” was a word he had learned from her.
Jiang Chun lowered her eyes, looking at his soft face lying in front of her, and smiled, saying, “Would Husband bear to?”
Song Shi’an, inhaling the orchid fragrance on her body, closed his eyes contentedly and gave a hmph: “You can try.”
Jiang Chun wasn’t afraid of trying and dropping dead either. If he could shed tears from arguing with her, it clearly showed that he deeply cared for her in his heart.
But for the sake of this son-in-law’s face, she definitely wouldn’t tell Jiang He about such private matters.
That ancient-times dad, Jiang He, was a bit of a male chauvinist. If he knew about this, although he wouldn’t look down on him because of it, he would most likely feel that he was a bit effeminate and would lower his opinion of him in his heart.
She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the face, soothing him: “Don’t worry, this matter—heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know—I won’t tell a third person.”
Song Shi’an, satisfied, curled his lips into a slight smile, shifted his legs a bit, and pressed his feet against her legs to warm them.
Hmph, basking in his glory isn’t so easy. If she wanted to bask in his glory, she had to be his human hot-water bottle properly!
Jiang Chun was shivering from his icy-cold feet, and with her own feet, she nudged at his leg, sandwiching his two feet between her own calves.
She hummed and muttered, “Look at you, your feet are like ice lumps—without me, how would you even survive?”
Song Shi’an pursed his lips.
To survive, of course he could. Without a human hot-water bottle, there were still hot-water bottles.
Hot-water bottle was Jiang Chun’s way of saying it; in the capital, they called it tangpozi. [汤婆子, a tin can filled with hot water, placed in the bed for warmth]
At first it was too hot, so you had to be careful not to scald your feet; in the middle of the night, it would go cold, not lasting till dawn.
How could it compare to her—a warm, never-too-hot, always-just-right human hot-water bottle?
No matter what, he had to keep this human hot-water bottle firmly in hand.
Since she couldn’t bear to see him shed tears, then if there were arguments in the future, couldn’t he just use this old trick again?
But rare things are precious—if he cried too much, it wouldn’t be worth anything anymore. So this trick couldn’t be overused—it had to be saved for critical moments.
But it didn’t matter; he still had several ways to make her feel distressed for him, so he could just take turns using them.
- ••
Completely unaware that she had been schemed against and handled, Jiang Chun got up the next morning as usual to slaughter pigs and sell meat. After selling meat and returning from town, she dragged out the stone mortar and began huffing and puffing, pounding rice for Song Shi’an.
Just as she was pounding rice, an old woman surnamed Chang from her maternal family came knocking at the door. After a round of pleasantries, she opened her mouth and asked to borrow six taels of silver from Jiang Chun, saying she wanted to buy ten shi of grain to store up.
Truly such a big face!
Jiang Chun immediately began crying poverty: “Chang Nainai, don’t joke like that. How could my family possibly come up with such a huge sum as six taels of silver?”
“Who in the entire village doesn’t know that my family earns about three taels a month from slaughtering pigs, and that my husband’s medicine expenses alone cost more than three taels a month? It’s simply like a toad swallowing a fly—barely enough to feed our own mouths. I’m already doing well not to borrow from your family, let alone lend you anything.”
Chang Nainai, although knowing that what she said was the truth, still didn’t believe that after all these years of pig-slaughtering and meat-selling, the Jiang family hadn’t saved up any silver.
She pulled out a handkerchief from her sleeve, wiping her tears while sobbing and complaining: “I know everyone’s life is hard, but your family not only farms, you also do business. Your foundation is still stronger than us folks who just scrape food from the dirt.”
“Our family has plenty of land, but there are many children—our whole household has twenty or thirty mouths to feed. Just like you said, it’s like a toad swallowing a fly—barely enough to feed our own mouths. We haven’t saved a single bit of silver.”
“Now the village head has told everyone to stock up on a year’s worth of grain, and my family’s completely in the dark! Chun-niang, please, do me a kindness. Lend me a few taels at least—I’ll definitely remember your favor. Our whole family will remember your favor.”
Jiang Chun sighed and, putting on a “good temper,” started reasoning with her: “Chang Nainai, not hiding it from you, our family has indeed earned quite a bit of silver over the years, but we’ve also been buying land, building a blue-brick, large-tiled house, paying for my mother’s medical treatments, buying me a shangmen nüxu [上门女婿, a man who marries into the wife’s family], and paying for my husband’s medicine. We haven’t saved a single copper coin, and we even owe my uncle a lot of money.”
“Just the other day, I went to my uncle’s house to borrow money to buy grain. After being lectured, he finally lent me a few taels, and even threw me half a sack of leftover rice. Tell me, what use is that precious but not-filling rice to me? I’d rather he gave me a few more taels of silver to spend.”
Chang Nainai saw how clearly she spoke, and with the rice she was pounding in the stone mortar as proof, she couldn’t help but believe it and had to leave in frustration.
In Chang Nainai’s eyes, the Jiang family had always been frugal with food. Before Jiang Chun married in a zhuixu, she and her father ate coarse black bread every day. Obviously, they wouldn’t be willing to spend silver on buying that precious rice to eat. It must have been her uncle, Zheng Yi, who wasn’t lacking in money, who gave it to her.
And at a time like this, when everyone was buying and storing up grain, the only reason for her niece to visit her uncle’s house was surely—only one possibility—to borrow money.
Jiang Chun sent the woman off and had just thought she could breathe a sigh of relief, when she saw her grandmother, Li-shi, push open the door and walk in.
Her eyebrows immediately creased—this old woman couldn’t also be here to borrow money, could she?
Li-shi walked over to their family’s grain storage, squinted her eyes to peer inside, trying to see how much grain was in there.
But clearly, it was impossible.
To prevent rain and snow from leaking in, and also to prevent others from peeking, Jiang Chun had specifically nailed up hemp cloth curtains on the door beams of the two grain bins, using old hemp cloth curtains swapped out from the west room.
Li-shi muttered under her breath, “Like guarding against thieves!” Then she walked into the main hall.
Seeing Jiang Chun pounding rice, her eyes brightened, and she was about to speak.
Jiang Chun, deeply aware of her usual behavior, cut in first: “Grandmother, are you here to give our family silver or to give grain?”
She pointed at the rice in the stone mortar and said: “Look, at least my uncle gave me half a sack of leftover rice from last year. Shouldn’t you, as the grandmother, show a little something too?”
Li-shi immediately jumped up and yelled: “Why should I show anything? I’m the grandmother here—you don’t even show me any filial respect by giving me some grain to eat, and now you’re trying to get things out of me? Truly an unfilial, wretched girl!”
In ancient times, filial piety was of utmost importance. For people born and raised in ancient society, being accused of unfilial behavior was a huge matter.
But as for Jiang Chun, a modern person, did she care about this? A mother’s kindness begets a child’s filial piety. If the mother isn’t kind, who cares who she is?
Not to mention Li-shi—even Jiang He, if he wasn’t a father who truly doted on his daughter and also cared about her bought-in husband Song Shi’an, she might not necessarily be so filial.
After all, that was the original host’s father, not her real father.
Moreover, she wasn’t afraid that her reputation for being unfilial would spread to the capital in the future. By then, she would be the dignified wife of the Grand Secretary, the official wife of the current emperor’s brother-in-law, the future Duke of the State. Who would dare pick a quarrel with her over this matter?
If someone truly dared to jump out without fear of death, then she’d just leave it for Song Shi’an to handle.
She was spending both money and effort on him—wasn’t it all just so that he could cover for her in the future?
Jiang Chun, relying on her backing, smiled without fear: “Nai, you’re talking nonsense again. Back then, when you forced my father to leave the household with nothing, the family division contract written by Village Head Zou clearly stated that my father was not required to support you in your old age. You’ve forgotten so quickly? Do you need me to dig out the family division document written by Village Head Zou and have my husband read it out loud for you?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” Li-shi rolled her eyes at Jiang Chun, speaking unkindly: “You dead girl, don’t change the subject! I almost forgot to get to the main point. I’m asking you—has your family stored up a year’s worth of grain as Village Head Zou said?”
Jiang Chun stared at her warily: “What if we’ve stored it up? What if we haven’t? This is our family’s business—what’s it got to do with you, old woman?”
Li-shi spat, “Peh!” in disdain and said, “Our family has twenty mu of land and hasn’t sold any of our grain—who would covet your family’s grain? I’m telling you, if your family has stored enough, then fine. But if you haven’t, go and hurry to store it. If you have no money, then go ask your uncle for some.”
“Don’t come running to my place begging for food when the time comes, crying that you have nothing to eat. Let me make it clear now—I won’t give you even a single grain of wheat!”
Jiang Chun curled her lips. So, this dead old woman wasn’t here to borrow money or grain—well then, that was fine.
She snorted coldly: “Don’t worry, Nai. Even if the three of us starve to death, we won’t go begging at the old house for a single grain of wheat.”
Li-shi sneered: “Still talking about the three of you, huh? When the famine hits and no family has grain left to feed pigs, you won’t even be able to collect pigs, and the pig-slaughtering and meat-selling business won’t be able to go on. Where will you get silver to buy medicine for that sickly zhuixu of yours?”
“If you ask me, while the world hasn’t turned chaotic yet, you should tell your father to quickly sell him off. The silver you get could at least buy and stock up a few shi of rice.”
Jiang Chun picked up the pestle for pounding rice and swung it in the air a few times in the direction where Li-shi was, saying coldly: “Even if my father and I starve to death, we will never sell my husband. Nai, if you dare say such things again, don’t blame me for not being polite.”
Li-shi was so startled she took a few steps back, but her mouth was still unwilling to back down, shouting, “Not be polite to me? How would you not be polite to me? Could it be that you, as a granddaughter, dare to hit me, your Nai?”
Jiang Chun pounded the rice a few times with a loud keng keng keng and snorted coldly: “Who knows? Nai, if you don’t believe me, you can try.”
This granddaughter was like a shrew. Li-shi didn’t dare truly provoke her and threw down a sentence—“I came here out of kindness to remind you all to stock up on grain, yet I’m treated like donkey liver and lungs [驴肝肺, a metaphor for goodwill being taken as ill intent]!”—then turned to leave.
Jiang Chun said coolly behind her: “Nai, you’d better keep an eye on the grain at home. As far as I know, my uncle and Widow Wang still haven’t cut ties. When the famine comes, and Widow Wang runs out of grain, do you think my uncle will take grain from home to support her?”
“And Widow Wang has many lovers—some of them are idle ruffians who don’t do honest work. If they hear from her that you have a lot of grain, and they team up to come steal your family’s grain…”
Li-shi shivered in fear. If the grain at home was taken by her son to support Widow Wang, or if it was stolen by Widow Wang’s scoundrel lovers—then how would her family survive, young and old?
No way—she had to hide it from her son and secretly move the grain with her daughter-in-law Ma-shi to the cellar, and even add a few large iron locks to the cellar.
Thinking of this, she couldn’t care to bother with Jiang Chun anymore, and hurriedly walked out.
Jiang Chun hooked her lips into a smirk.
Yes, this was stirring up trouble—but what she said was all true.
If the old house’s grain was all taken by Widow Wang and her lovers, then after the old house had just paid her fifty taels of silver as compensation, even if Li-shi sold her coffin savings to buy grain, they likely wouldn’t make it through till the next year’s autumn harvest.
With nothing to eat, they’d definitely come running to her family to beg for food.
When that time came, it would be Jiang He who would have a hard time.
If they didn’t give, they’d have to watch their own mother and younger brother’s family starve to death, which was somewhat hard on the conscience.
If they gave, it would be a bottomless pit—and the grain they had stored up clearly wasn’t enough to feed that family of five for a year.
It was still better to cut off the possibility of being sucked dry right at the source.