In the end, Pei Shumin did not give an answer, only saying he needed a few more days to consider.
The day after returning home, minding Yuniang’s health, he took her to see a physician first.
“Judging by the pulse I’ve taken, the reason the young lady has delayed in conceiving is that cold evil has invaded her body, leaving her core lacking. May I boldly ask: when the young lady was young, did she often suffer irregular meals? Freezing in winter and laboring hard in summer?”
The young woman on the long bench hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
She wore a cloth skirt embroidered with butterflies and a blue cloth headwrap, sitting obediently as she waited for the diagnosis; her entire figure appeared rather thin and small. The old physician glanced at her, meeting her large, bright, round eyes: “That explains it. The foundation must be built well from childhood. If the womb lacks nourishment, conceiving naturally becomes difficult.”
She lowered her eyes, unsure whether she was lost in thought or disappointed. At the same time, the young gentleman who had remained silent all along, gently gripping his sleeve, spoke up: “Can it be restored? How do we adjust and treat it?”
They were a young couple who were not wealthy. Even though the husband had made it clear he wanted to use the best medicine, the old physician merely looked at those coarse cloth clothes and guessed that his funds must be tight. After a moment’s thought, he picked up a brush and wrote a prescription.
“You two take this first to brew and drink. It must be decocted in warm water daily… This medicine has the effect of warming the womb, expelling cold, and replenishing qi and blood. Use it for five months first. Next year after spring begins, come see me again, and I will write a new prescription.”
Shen Mingyu had not expected that the delay in conceiving was because she had been starved and frostbitten in her lower belly when she was young, making this body unfit for easy bearing of children.
Yet, Master Pei marrying her into the family had that very purpose in mind! If she couldn’t bear children for Pei Shumin, wouldn’t he be taking a massive loss… Shen Mingyu felt somewhat guilty over this, and also worried that he might divorce her because of it.
After all, nourishing a body was far too expensive.
Leaving the physician’s house and returning to their small courtyard, Shen Mingyu began packing the dry rations to bring to the academy tomorrow morning.
With her mind burdened by worries, she tidied up for a while, then suddenly looked up at the youth chopping firewood not far away: “Master Pei, how about we go ask around for some folk remedies?”
“What folk remedies?”
“Folk remedies for having children…”
She lowered her head, her cheeks quickly flushing red with a faint touch of embarrassment. “I heard people say some local remedies are quite effective, capable of curing people who haven’t been able to conceive for years. So I was thinking, anyway, we might as well treat a dead horse as a live one…”
Pei Shumin suddenly put down the stone axe in his hand and looked over at her.
He said nothing, merely walking over to stand in front of her.
Shen Mingyu raised her eyes with a bit of nervousness.
He still didn’t speak, but his expression was solemn and deep.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Her heart skipped a beat under his gaze. Shen Mingyu lowered her head, pretending to know nothing, and continued packing her small pink bundle.
“Mingyu.” He paused and finally spoke after what felt like a long silence, pressing down on her shoulders: “We don’t need any of those folk remedies. What kind of person do you take me for? If your body isn’t well, nourish it first. You’ll conceive eventually.”
Shen Mingyu quietly shed a tear, nodded heavily, and threw herself into his embrace.
The youth’s washed-faded cloth clothes and sturdy arms were filled with the clean fragrance of soap pods, hugging her as tightly as iron and copper. Shen Mingyu nestled faithfully in his arms, only feeling that today’s dusk was extraordinarily warm, illuminating her plain and ordinary life.
After the autumn harvest break, Shen Mingyu returned to the academy.
She did not know how much longer Master Pei would support her schooling; perhaps once she recognized all the characters and could write them out one by one, her days at the academy would come to an end.
These hard-won days of learning meant every extra day spent was one less day remaining. Thus, she was diligent and hardworking, listening and memorizing with extraordinary earnestness.
Shen Mingyu woke up early before dawn broke, packed her ink and brush, and carried her dry rations and water pouch out the door. Pei Shumin would also get up particularly early to walk the half-hour country path with her, watching his wife’s small figure enter the private school before turning around to attend to his own affairs.
By the time Pei Shumin finished his busy day, the sun was already nearing the western mountains. When he returned to the small courtyard, Shen Mingyu was often home before him. She didn’t light a lamp, merely borrowing the bit of setting sun near the window to trace and copy the characters on the book volume.
Having just learned to write, her brushwork was not yet good—crooked and uneven, like a thick, dark, plump caterpillar. She even held the brush with her fist, appearing focused and nervous.
The slanting sun fell upon her upturned eyelashes and her small, plain nose tip; even clad in coarse cloth, she was as beautiful as an ancient painting.
Pei Shumin leaned against the wall watching, a faint smile curving at the corners of his lips.
He walked over and lit an oil lamp by her hand. Then he took her hand to hold the brush anew, “Yuniang, like this…”
“Put your index finger on, press down with two fingertips…”
Pei Shumin’s deep, clean voice sounded like pearls scattered across the floor, falling into her ears word by word.
Shen Mingyu suddenly stared blankly at his hand—the hand adjusting her grip on the brush. For the first time, she noticed that Master Pei’s hand was actually so long and attractive, each bone joint firm and defined. Due to years of physical labor, there were thin calluses on his finger pads, and light, raised green veins across the back of his hand.
“Master Pei, your hand is really pretty.”
Shen Mingyu couldn’t help sighing in admiration, causing Pei Shumin, who was teaching her, to freeze for a moment.
His fingertips tightened slightly, looking somewhat amused. Shen Mingyu didn’t see his bright red earlobe, continuing her amazement: “It really is pretty, I’m not lying to you—just like bamboo joints.”
“I got it.”
Pei Shumin’s voice grew even lower. One hand reached loosely around her waist, while the other hand held her fingers to continue holding the brush.
Just as the ink was about to drop, Shen Mingyu turned back again, her bright, sparkling eyes looking at him: “Hey, Master Pei, I learned a poem about bamboo the day before yesterday…” After saying that, she even recited it aloud, fluent and smooth, proud as a peacock waiting for praise.
Unable to resist, Pei Shumin dropped the brush and instantly kissed her lips.
Days passed in turns. Several days later, an uninvited guest arrived at Baiyun Village, quietly knocking on the door of the Pei family home.
Early this morning, Shen Mingyu was hanging washed clothes on the pole.
Just before setting off, she heard the sound of knocking at the door.
Thinking it was A’qiu from next door, Shen Mingyu hurriedly wiped her hands. But when the courtyard door opened, a strong scent of rouge and powder rushed into her nose, followed immediately by the sudden sight of a woman—
The young woman’s face suddenly turned pale.