Chapter 309

Claim someone else’s home as your own? Wang Xiujin wasn’t in the habit of that. After finally enduring dinner, he lay down on the kang to rest. At this moment, he deeply envied the expressionless father and son. The younger one had just begun to embody the demeanor of a father; the cold aura he emitted was enough to intimidate some schemers in the village, preventing them from approaching. As for Li Linshan, he was even more unapproachable—born without expression, simply not making eye contact deterred others. Those with ulterior motives in the village could only seek him out, but seeing him as a male spouse and a respectable merchant, they felt compelled to obey the Li family, thinking he was easy to manipulate. So, they all flocked to him.

To these people, Wang Xiujin merely went through the motions, offering no promises and offending no one. If they wanted favors, there were none to be had—he wasn’t some spendthrift boy, throwing money around with nowhere to spend it.

“If you dislike it, after tomorrow’s ancestral rites, we will leave,” said Li Linshan. Having lived together long enough, it was impossible not to read each other’s emotions. Though Wang Xiujin maintained a courteous facade, Li Linshan knew he was displeased. If these people were Wang Xiujin’s relatives, he might have snapped back outright. But since they belonged to the Li family, Wang Xiujin had to show some restraint. Li Linshan felt a pang of sympathy, knowing that Wang Xiujin, though seemingly unrestrained in hardship, was holding back for his sake.

“It’s nothing, just exchanging a few words. If they truly offended me, do you think I would tolerate it?” Wang Xiujin’s mood was sour, but he refused to take it out on others. Having lived in the countryside, he understood the petty schemes people harbored but preferred not to expose them. He didn’t live in Li Village, so future encounters would be rare; no need to stir trouble. Still, it was best to let the village chief intervene—better than Wang Xiujin saying a few words himself.

Li Linshan held Wang Xiujin’s hand. Yachang sat nearby, watching both fathers. He felt oddly superfluous, as if they had forgotten him again. That was wrong. As for the villagers who murmured that he was originally from the village and wouldn’t have entered the General’s estate without them, Yachang felt no shame in hearing such words. If gratitude was to be given, it should be to the chief’s family. And about those who claimed kinship with him—when he was thrown into the snow, why didn’t they recall their supposed relationship? Did they think he was a child, oblivious to everything?

The night passed without dreams, and before dawn, they rose. Ancestral rites required auspicious dates and precise timing. Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan set out early, with Yachang following suit. Still young and lacking sufficient rest, he appeared dazed. Wang Xiujin wiped his son’s face with a damp towel, then applied moisturizing balm. Yachang was fond of looking neat and clean, bathing daily. Fortunately, he didn’t have the bad habit of needing to change clothes at the slightest dirt.

Watching Wang Xiujin dress their son, Li Linshan’s gaze softened repeatedly. He thought Wang Xiujin spoiled the child too much. But Wang Xiujin didn’t notice Li Linshan’s looks; to him, doing a little for his son was nothing. Compared to his friends before the apocalypse, who lavished their children with affection, he was far less indulgent.

Yachang felt a chill around him and woke fully. He caught his father’s gaze, then quickly looked away, resuming a sleepy, confused expression. With his stepfather nearby, no matter his father’s displeasure, he could only suppress it.

After finishing with their son, Wang Xiujin didn’t even look up. “Linshan, hold our son tight—don’t let him fall. I’ll straighten the quilt, then we must leave. We can’t keep others waiting.” He tidied the bedding as he spoke.

Li Linshan glanced at his son, reluctant to refuse. He carefully lifted the boy despite his unfriendly look. Yachang curled into his father’s arms, yawning heavily, rubbing against his shoulder, feeling a small triumph—as if he had won over his father this time.

The three stepped out, just as they opened the door, the village chief’s voice reached them.

The chief had hardly slept all night. Li Linshan and Wang Xiujin stayed at his home with the child, occupying the east and west rooms. The house was poorly insulated, so he had overheard their conversations clearly. He cursed inwardly at the scheming villagers. After stabilizing matters with the capital, and fostering some exchange, these people immediately latched on, eager even to scare them away. Did they think he, the chief, was a mere figurehead, his words worthless? The chief dreaded what might happen if relations with the capital broke down again.

Their comfortable lives were due to the imperial merchants’ occasional favors. He had his own schemes, but he saw clearly. The Li family maintained contact because Wang Xiujin remembered that he once cared for Yachang for a few days. Without Yachang, what was Li Village? The shortsighted villagers were trying to push the whole village into desperation again.

The chief’s anger toward some villagers was barely contained. He rose early to summon them, unable to speak plainly, forced to adopt a more respectful tone, unlike the carefree manner of the previous day. Li Linshan and Wang Xiujin exchanged knowing looks. Li Linshan, carrying their son and steadying Wang Xiujin, followed the chief’s lantern through the night toward the village burial grounds. They did not enter but stopped where the chief pointed. A man accompanying them tied a string of firecrackers to a tree branch.

As Li Linshan and Wang Xiujin led Yachang in offering incense and bows, the man lit the firecrackers. The sharp crackle echoed through the mountains before dawn, lending a haunting atmosphere.

Li Linshan poured out fine wine onto the ground—a whole jar of premium liquor. The man who had sneaked along muttered inside, regretting the loss; the jar must have cost seventy or eighty taels. Wealthy folk were indeed different. Wang Xiujin wasn’t upset about the wine but worried about fire risks.

They added offerings of paper money, white banners, and delicate paper models of houses and carriages to the flames. These had been inspired by Wang Xiujin’s visit to Li Linshan’s mother’s grave. Many had praised Wang Xiujin’s virtue then, calling the Li family generous. Though he disliked the “virtuous” label, he tolerated it for reputation’s sake. Since then, paper craft shops had taken inspiration, creating not only houses and carriages but strange items. For example, when a carpenter’s descendant passed by, the shopkeeper quickly made a set of carpenter’s tools out of paper, telling him that the dead needed work too, and without proper tools, how could one manage? Surprisingly, they sold well, though some customers were less friendly, causing the shopkeeper losses.

While such customs were common in the capital, remote villages like Li Village had not fully embraced them. Villagers marveled at the exquisite paper houses and carriages, envying the wealthy and harboring private desires. No one expected the three, who should have stayed another night, to leave the village immediately after descending the mountain. The chief dared not speak words of farewell, fearing that this morning’s scene would only embolden the schemers.

After leaving Li Village, the family of three, with their servant, set off for Xiang City. Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the village. Rumors spread that the chief was pocketing all the imperial family’s benefits. Furious, the chief denounced those who sought to drive the village into ruin, summoning all village elders to recount what they had heard the previous night. He declared that if anyone felt capable of leading the clan, they were welcome to take his place—he was tired of offending people. For the favor of raising Li Yachang for a few days, the Li family would surely treat him well. As for those relatives seeking connections, if they wished to endure mistreatment and constant scorn again, they could try their luck.

Though Li Village produced a general, he was distant from the village. Some sycophantic officials, eager to curry favor with the general, exploited the village without regard for his awareness. Villagers wanting to enter the capital couldn’t even obtain travel permits, effectively trapped and struggling.

Those who had endured such days grew wary. Since the Li family rose to prominence in the capital, their lives had never improved. Now, having finally come through, some harbored ambitions, foolishly believing the capital’s Li family cared for them. But warriors on the battlefield never blinked when killing.

Several clan elders vowed to watch their juniors carefully—anyone with greedy thoughts would have their legs broken, no exceptions. Some youths chafed at this but dared not confront the elders, fearing the punishment. Yet a few were reckless, unable to turn back. Despite harsh warnings and vows, they dreamed of rapid advancement, scheming to go to the capital. The consequences were predictable—once gone, they never returned.

When the chief learned of disappearances, he coldly refused to send anyone to search. The elders remained silent. Since then, aside from annual gifts sent by the Li family, no one from the capital visited. Gradually, villagers found no buyers for their grain; officials treated them less favorably. Though not overtly oppressive, they were no longer welcome.

In the capital, the day after Wang Xiujin left the city, the ritual official again visited the granary. The shopkeeper respectfully replied that the master had not come today, and it was unclear if he would appear. The official waited all day at a nearby teahouse. Unfortunately, he was unlucky. After drinking much water, he rushed to the latrine. The Minister of Rites appeared, saw the official returning then quickly leaving, mistakenly thinking he was earnestly searching for someone and wanted to ask if he had found them. Not finding him and eager for results, the minister sent someone to inquire of the coachman. The messenger returned shortly, just as the official was telling the minister that he had not seen the imperial merchant that day. The official said no more, and after he left, the minister was furious.