Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Volume 4 Chapter 25

Fu Shichun and Ma Meifang sold three of the four mu of land under their name.

They handled the matter in secret. 

At first, aside from the village head who processed the transfer, no outsiders knew. But news could not be contained. In order to sell the land at a high price, the couple sold not only the land but also the crops that would be harvested in two months. 

When the neighbors working in adjacent fields saw that the people tending the land every day had changed, they naturally grew curious and asked around. Once the buyer revealed that he had bought the land from the Fu couple, the truth spread quickly.

Aside from the parcel reserved for Fu Dayan’s old-age use, the couple only had a small bit of land left. Now, after selling so much at once, they had only one mu remaining. In the eyes of farming families, this was tantamount to cutting off their own roots. Calling them wastrels was not excessive.

Villagers found it strange. What had happened to force the couple to sell their land? Many even went to ask Ge Shiyan.

When Ge Shiyan heard the news, she only lifted her eyelids with disdain. She had no interest in that family’s life. If one day the couple suffered retribution and died out completely, she might even shed a few happy tears. Right now, the only thing she cared about was her son’s upcoming exam.

But when Fu Dayan heard about it, he could not hold back after all. He uncharacteristically knocked on his son’s door.

“Why did you sell the land? Are you planning to rent other people’s fields in the future?”

Ever since their fallout, Fu Dayan had not spoken to his son like this for a long time. Although they lived under the same roof, most days they only exchanged cold looks.

The father’s heart was full of defeat and regret; the son’s heart was full of hatred and resentment. The bonds of father and son were nearly worn away.

“What’s it got to do with you? You haven’t regarded me as a son for years.” Fu Shichun lifted his eyelids and responded coldly.

In order to fund his own son’s studies, Fu Shichun had taken whatever temporary jobs paid the most. Some days he worked from before dawn to after dark. After years of this, his back was bent from strain, and his exposed skin was dark and coarse. Standing next to Fu Dayan—who occasionally still ate nourishing foods and looked robust—the two looked less like father and son and more like brothers.

“When we split the family, you said you would stay with our branch, but all these years you haven’t lifted a finger and instead went to the youngest one’s household to be their ox and horse. If you’re unkind, don’t blame me for being unrighteous. When I succeed in the future, don’t you dare change your face and come cling to me.” Fu Shichun abandoned his usual silence. Looking at the nearly sixty-year-old father who was still spirited and sturdy, his eyes carried the delight of an impending revenge fulfilled. “Don’t accuse me of being heartless. Just wait and see—whether that woman and that younger son you favor will support you in your old age. Ha, how could I forget—you even defended me in front of them. They probably already look down on you. They’re only squeezing whatever labor they can from you before you’re too old.” Fu Shichun sneered. “If I were you, I’d take care of my body. When you’re old, no one will tend to you.”

These words did not wound Fu Dayan the way his son hoped. Over the past ten years, he had already reflected on his mistakes. He had long ago suffered through the pain. What pained him now was something else.

Based on his son’s tone… it seemed the family expected to “prosper.” Could their sudden rush to sell land be related?

“Did you start gambling?”

In his understanding, the quickest way to gain money was gambling—also the quickest way to lose everything and ruin a family.

Fu Dayan grew anxious. Most parents were like this—no matter the resentment, no matter the harsh words, at critical moments, they still feared their children would make a fatal mistake.

“No one is gambling.” Fu Shichun averted his gaze. “And it’s none of your business anyway.”

As if afraid his father would notice anything, he shoved him, trying to push him out of the house.

“You think I’m always wrong, but I must still tell you this—whatever you do, you must keep your feet on the ground. Nothing in this world comes free. If there were truly a chance to prosper, why would others help you, an outsider, instead of their own kin?”

Fu Dayan said all he could. He called out a few more times from outside the door, then sighed and left.

“Kui-zi, off to town to sell game again? You caught a lot this time—you’ll make good money, eh?”

“These days you keep an eye out for me. If you snare any wild rabbits, leave two rabbit pelts for your auntie. My daughter’s marrying next spring. Her husband’s father has weak legs—I want her to use the rabbit fur to make him knee warmers and show some filial piety.”

A tall, broad-shouldered young man came down from the mountain, carrying a pole with various trussed-up animals. Among them, a roe deer was especially eye-catching.

That deer must have weighed sixty jin—selling it to a tavern or restaurant would fetch at least ten taels. For an ordinary farming family, even in a good year, the grain surplus after feeding themselves might earn only a dozen taels. One deer equaled a year’s harvest.

Villagers walking along the path stared in envy at the towering youth.

His name was Han Kui, and he lived midway up the mountain. The mountain behind their village contained many fierce animals. Women and children only dared stay at the foot, and even strong men rarely ventured deep alone for fear of predators.

Only the Han family were different. They had been hunters for generations. Their understanding of wild beasts was no less than an old farmer’s understanding of crops.

Han men were large and powerfully built. People still spoke of the time when Han Kui’s father fought a wild boar bare-handed after losing his weapon. Though the boar ripped a chunk of flesh from him and left three bone-deep gashes, he crushed its skull and killed it.

That incident made the Han family famous in surrounding villages. But the wounds were severe. Han Kui’s father was forced to move down the mountain for two years to recover before returning to their hillside home.

Even injured, he would still teach his son to hunt by catching small game near the foothills.

Two years ago, the old hunter passed away. Han Kui’s widowed mother was taken to live with his married aunt in the village below. Only Han Kui remained at the mountain hut.

Like his father, he came down periodically to sell game and visit his sister, always leaving her meat and money.

He wasn’t talkative. To the villagers’ chatter, he only nodded or shook his head.

“Kui-zi, you’re not young anymore. Has your mother arranged a marriage for you?”

Old women loved matchmaking. Han Kui’s conditions weren’t top tier, but not bad either—and many grandmothers had taken interest.

The truth was that hunters rarely lived long. Even the strongest could not guarantee every hunt ended with them as the hunter and not the prey. Han Kui’s father had lived long—for a hunter. He only reached his forties. In peaceful times, most men lived to fifty or sixty.

But hunters earned faster. Each time Kui came down, he never returned empty-handed. Even a few rabbits and pheasants could earn two or three taels.

And he was generous. Each visit to his sister included meat and money. Once he had in-laws, he would surely treat them the same. With such a son-in-law, a family would never lack meat.

Surrounded by the old women, Han Kui only shook his head, saying he wasn’t in a hurry.

At nineteen, he was already older than many fathers in the village. How could he not feel urgency?

Seeing they could not pry more from him, the old women dispersed—already thinking about suitable girls to bring up to his mother.

“Hey, young man—wait!”

Han Kui had taken only a few steps when Ge Shiyan, returning from town with two girls, stopped him.

Da’ao Village had over a hundred households. Even as a resident, Ge Shiyan didn’t recognize everyone—much less someone living halfway up the mountain who only came down every ten days or half a month.

She wasn’t looking for him specifically—she simply noticed the plump pigeons among his catch and wanted to buy some to make pigeon broth for her son.

Han Kui stopped and looked toward her. When his eyes fell on the girl behind her, something flickered in them.

He recognized Lin Yu. She might not know, but he had seen her once when she was six or seven and remembered it clearly.

His father had been recovering in the mountain hut back then and sent him to set traps near the foothills. He saw a group of children fighting over wild fruits—and Lin Yu fought fiercely, like a little beast.

It was the first time he had ever seen such a ferocious little girl.

Han Kui intended to sell his game anyway. The price he offered was fair. Ge Shiyan bought three pigeons and added a pheasant, paying seven hundred wen.

While talking, Ge Shiyan learned he was the son of the hunter family on the mountainside. He also learned the mother and daughters lived near the village entrance, surnamed Ge.

After money and goods were exchanged, they parted.

“Little cousin, that man was so tall!” After walking some distance, Baobao whispered into Lin Yu’s ear.

People of this era tended to be short. Fu Shinian was a typical scholarly build, around one-seventy, considered slightly tall at his academy. Many were shorter.

That young man, however, was built like a black bear—tall and sturdy. Baobao estimated with her eyes that her cousin’s head only reached his armpit. He must have been at least one-ninety.

She had no idea if his temper was good. If he was the domestic-violence type, wouldn’t one punch flatten his wife…

“Mm.”

Seeing Han Kui again, Lin Yu’s thoughts drifted.

In her last life, she had been somewhat connected to him. When her marriage was being discussed, her uncle had looked into several candidates, and Han Kui was one.

But Fu Shichun and Ma Meifang disliked such a powerful man—they feared they wouldn’t be able to take advantage of him. So they chose to sell her off in one go and exchanged her for a high bride-price.

They lied to her uncle, praising another family to the skies and listing countless faults for marrying a hunter. Her uncle, already weak, investigated with difficulty and—because someone deliberately hid the truth—truly believed that family was reliable. He happily betrothed her.

Upon marrying into that household, she entered hell. Her husband claimed she had no parents, and her uncle wasn’t really her family. She wasn’t even allowed to return home after three days—a custom everyone followed. Perhaps it was then her uncle realized his mistake; his health quickly declined.

Lin Yu never blamed him. He had taken her in, and that alone was a debt she could never repay. He simply wasn’t perceptive enough and didn’t truly understand his son and daughter-in-law. Gratitude was gratitude—neither reduced nor erased.

Without him, raised under her elder brother and sister-in-law, her fate would have been worse.

Lin Yu remembered she came back to repay her uncle—but truthfully, compared to him, she revered her aunt even more.

Her life this time was so happy that she rarely thought of her previous suffering.

But she was already of age. In the village, few girls reached seventeen without being betrothed. Because of this, Ge Shiyan had been criticized in recent years—people said she wasn’t fulfilling her duty as an aunt.

But Lin Yu knew the opposite: it was precisely because her aunt was conscientious that she refused to casually seal her marriage.

Lin Yu’s parents died too early—an ominous sign in ancient times. People feared a girl with dead parents would bring misfortune. Her mother had borne four or five children; all but Lin Yu died. People suspected Lin Yu’s fate would make her barren.

A wife’s purpose was to bear heirs. If she couldn’t… why marry her?

Thus, most suitors in the last two years were deeply flawed men: widowers wanting an instant mother for their children, the disabled, the simple-minded, or those who had chased away multiple wives…

After rejecting several proposals, Ge Shiyan had sat Lin Yu down for a serious talk.

She asked if Lin Yu was willing to marry into such households. If she accepted, she would have to walk an extremely difficult path with little hope.

But Lin Yu had another option—relying on the bond she shared with Baobao and Fu Shinian since childhood. Even if she never married, she could help manage their household, and the pair would willingly support her for life.

She didn’t have to marry.

For reputation, Ge Shiyan could have married her off to someone who appeared suitable. But she didn’t—because she believed forcing a marriage would bring more suffering than letting her remain unmarried.

From that day on, Lin Yu respected her aunt even more. She truly felt that the greatest meaning of her rebirth was gaining such a wonderful aunt—and her affectionate younger cousins.

Thinking of the man they had just encountered, Lin Yu realized that perhaps seeing Han Kui again served to remind her how precious her current life was.

She squeezed Baobao’s hand. 

Baobao, clueless as ever, responded with a sugar-sweet smile.

Three days before the exam, Ge Shiyan took the two girls to the county.

The exam would be held at the county examination hall, and coincidentally, it was just three streets from Baobao’s courtyard.

The previous tenant had moved out, and the place had not been re-rented yet. During this period, many examinees were renting rooms near the exam hall. Ge Shiyan rented out half the rooms and kept the back courtyard’s few rooms for themselves.

While Fu Shinian studied during the day, Baobao took Sanhua out for a walk and returned with a bronze oil lamp.

One look at Baobao’s expression and Ge Shiyan knew Sanhua had “found” another treasure. Delighted, she hugged the fat mouse and showered it with affection before taking her “great benefactor” into the kitchen for a special meal.

“Little brother, look.”

When Baobao secretly pushed open a crack in the study door, Fu Shinian was resting—eyes closed, pressing a warm towel over them.

Hearing the door creak, he put down the towel and looked at her.

“What is it?”

He already saw the lamp in her hands.

Seeing she wasn’t disturbing his studying, Baobao happily pushed open the door and stepped inside to show off her find.

“Is this the magic lamp from the story?” Fu Shinian suddenly became playful and, taking the lamp, rubbed it with his sleeve.

When she was young, Baobao told him many strange stories, including one about a magic lamp that granted three wishes if rubbed three times.

“Oh magic lamp, please grant my three wishes.” He closed his eyes and spoke dramatically.

“Cough, cough!” Baobao was displeased. How could he be better at acting than she was? “Sorry, this is an evil lamp. You must fulfill the evil spirit’s three wishes to escape.”

Her round, soft little face stiffened seriously—at that moment, she became Evil God Baobao.

Fu Shinian froze completely. He couldn’t keep up with her imagination.

Fulfill Baobao’s three wishes…

His gaze deepened…

Hadn’t he already said he was willing? Ah—Baobao must really like him, always finding excuses to remind him!

“I’m truly willing.” Fu Shinian said earnestly. Then he stood, walked around the desk, picked Baobao up in a princess carry, carried her to the doorway, set her down, and firmly shut the door.

He had to focus! He had to sprint! He had to cherish every moment before the exam!

Baobao: …QAQ What exactly was he willing to do?!