After Song Bo returned to his original spot, the cargo porters swarmed him to offer their congratulations. The boat owner, delighted and surprised that such a hidden gem was tucked away among his workers, felt immensely proud of the spectacle.
“You certainly hide your light under a bushel!” the owner laughed, clapping Song Bo on the shoulder. “Now that you are famous, I suppose having you write a letter for me will cost a fortune?”
“Writing a letter for you costs nothing,” Song Bo replied.
“That simply will not do!” Although the boat owner was a businessman, he never made a habit of taking advantage of others.
Having worked under him for a few days, Song Bo understood that the man was stubborn; once he made up his mind, he would not change it. Since today was already a day of celebration, Song Bo did not want to argue over such a small matter. He said, “Then I shall charge whatever the standard rate is elsewhere.”
“Deal!”
Song Bo took out the brush Qin Ling had used and spread out the paper from the tray. This set of the Four Treasures of the Study was indeed of superior quality; just by the feel in his hand, he could tell the vast difference between these and the shop’s standard supplies.
“Please, go ahead,” Song Bo said.
The boat owner’s vocabulary was limited, consisting mostly of repetitive phrases that went in circles. By the time Song Bo finished writing the letter, another crowd had gathered behind him.
“Young brother, can you help me write a letter too?” “I was here first! Write mine!” “Hey, do not put the letter away yet, let us have another look at that script!”
As they argued boisterously, the boat owner folded the letter into his robe and raised his hands to shoo them away. “If you want a letter written, come to the docks tomorrow. We are going to eat now.” Song Bo was polite, but the owner was a rough man.
The owner’s broad frame easily dispersed the onlookers. As the crowd thinned, the dishes they had ordered finally began to arrive.
Li Wu returned just in time. As he sat down, he pulled a heavy string of copper coins from his robe and handed them to Song Bo. “I got the winnings. We made a huge profit today!”
Song Bo took a quick look. Excluding his principal, he had won eight hundred coins. This was excellent; he now had the money to buy Jiang Jinxi quilts and padded cotton clothes.
As the dishes were served one by one, Song Bo looked out the window. The orange sunset was bleeding into the dark blue of evening. It was still early; he could stay a while to give the boat owner face.
Song Bo reached for the Sweet Osmanthus Lotus Root with Sticky Rice. He generally did not like sweets, but this dish was fragrant, soft, and glutinous. The light scent of osmanthus paired perfectly with the tender lotus root.
Over the past few days, Song Chazai had prepared bland meals because Jiang Jinxi was a patient. While Song Bo could supplement his diet with buns in town, Jiang Jinxi had been eating blandly for three days straight. His palate must be incredibly dull by now. Song Bo decided to pack some of the delicious dishes to take back as a special treat; it was a way to share the day’s success.
After two rounds of strong liquor, the boat owner shouted, “Do not hold back, everyone! Drink as much as you like, it is on me!”
Song Bo had a high tolerance for alcohol in the modern world, but he had no addiction to it and did not know the limit of this new body. He remained cautious, finishing less than a bowl. Fortunately, everyone was so rowdy that no one noticed how little he drank.
About half an hour later, Song Bo held his head, using feigned drunkenness as an excuse to leave. Since Song Bo had been a great help today, the owner did not force him to stay, merely telling him to be careful on the way home.
Once he was out of sight, Song Bo’s unsteady gait vanished. He walked quickly to the front counter to retrieve the writing materials he had left there, then ordered portions of the dishes he had enjoyed. He was startled by the price; four dishes cost him a hundred coins. Xichun Pavilion was certainly not cheap. He was glad for his winnings, or spending that much at once would have been painful.
On the way home, fearing he would be late, Song Bo jogged back to the village. By the time he arrived at Song Chazai’s house, out of breath, several people were already in the courtyard.
The original story contained no details about the Song family, and the original Song Bo had been too focused on gambling to maintain relationships. He could not immediately match the faces in the yard to names.
“Well, look who finally showed up,” a middle-aged man with a goatee remarked.
“He reeks of powder and perfume. Just where has he been?” A middle-aged woman covered her face with her sleeve, her brow furrowed in undisguised disgust.
Another man stood in the yard, roughly the same age as the original Song Bo. He remained silent but kept stealing glances to the side. Song Bo followed his gaze; it was Jiang Jinxi standing there.
This reminded Song Bo of a minor detail from the original text: one of the men who had mistreated Jiang Jinxi was his own young uncle, Song Shenwen. Looking at the age comparison, this silent man must be him.
“I was delayed by some business and returned late,” Song Bo said, walking toward Jiang Jinxi. He handed the food to him. “Take these inside and stay there for now.”
Jiang Jinxi had already been feeling extremely uncomfortable under Song Shenwen’s predatory, aggressive gaze. Had it not been for Song Chazai standing nearby, he would never have come out. Hearing Song Bo’s command, he took the food and went straight into the house.
“Alright, we are all family. Why the harsh tone?” Song Chazai, as the eldest sister of the Song family, stepped forward to take charge.
Because there was not enough room inside, she set up a large round table in the courtyard for the meeting. Usually, these meetings were routine, just checking in on each household. However, with Song Shenwen’s marriage approaching, they had to discuss the arrangements.
Having his own wedding coming up and he is still staring at Jiang Jinxi, Song Bo thought, his gaze toward Song Shenwen darkening. No wonder this man committed such crimes in the original story; he was clearly rotten to the core.
“The three-year mourning period is over. It is time to put Fifth Brother’s marriage on the agenda,” said Song Yunxiang, the fourth sister who had earlier expressed her disgust at Song Bo’s scent.
The original Song Bo’s grandfather had passed away three years ago. To observe filial piety, Song Shenwen’s arranged marriage had been delayed for three full years. Now that the mourning period was over, the bride’s family was pressing them; a young woman could not wait forever.
“True,” Song Chazai nodded. Song Shenwen was the only one in their generation still unmarried.
“Shall we bring the betrothal gifts tomorrow?” Song Yunxiang asked.
“What do you think?” Song Chazai asked Song Shenwen.
“I will follow your lead, Big Sister,” he replied smoothly.
Acting like a proper gentleman, Song Bo thought cynically.
“Why go through all that trouble? Did we not set the auspicious date three years ago? Just pick up where we left off,” said the second brother, Song Haixiong.
“How can things from three years ago still count?” Song Yunxiang immediately retorted. She was close in age to Song Shenwen and had always been his champion. “Do what you like for yourself, but do not involve our youngest brother in your shortcuts.”
“You are the only one who likes wasting money,” Song Haixiong snapped back.
As Song Yunxiang opened her mouth to argue, Song Chazai slammed her hand on the table. The loud crack silenced them both. She glared at them equally. “If you two want to fight, go outside. I am speaking to our brother.”
Song Yunxiang muttered under her breath, “The process should start from the beginning.”
Song Bo remained silent, as he could not interrupt his elders. He observed their expressions closely; this family was not as harmonious as it appeared, showing signs of deep-seated fractures.
Since it was Song Shenwen’s matter, Song Chazai gave him the choice. “You decide, Little Brother. Start over or continue from where we were?”
Song Shenwen paused before saying, “For my bride’s dignity, let us start from the beginning. I must trouble Big Sister to accompany me with the betrothal gifts tomorrow.”
“Easy for you to say. Who is paying? You spend all day studying; where is your money?” Song Haixiong scowled. “We have supported you for how long? Now a full wedding ceremony is another massive expense!”
“What if I pay for it?” Song Yunxiang glared.
“Spoken with the confidence of someone with two plots of land,” Song Haixiong sneered.
That comment reminded Song Bo of something important. In the Kingdom of Heng, land was allocated by household and population. Song Bo’s family branch had not died out, so they should still have land. However, his father, Song Shengming, had been dead for less than a month, and his fourth aunt had taken the land under the guise of “looking after it” and had not returned it.
“I am sure our third brother’s spirit would want to help,” Song Yunxiang said, looking at Song Bo. “Nephew Bo, wouldn’t you agree?”
Song Bo did not answer her directly. Instead, he shifted the topic. “Thank you, Fourth Aunt, for looking after my father’s fields. But it isn’t right to keep troubling you. After the autumn harvest, I should learn to farm that land myself.”
He took the opportunity of the clan meeting to demand the land back in front of everyone. Whether he farmed it or leased it out, it had to be in his own hands.
The sudden shift caught Song Yunxiang off guard. Song Bo’s land was not huge, but it was a steady source of income she was not ready to lose. She forced a smile. “You are still young. It is safer if your aunt keeps an eye on it for you.”
“I will not trouble you further. Great Aunt lives close by; she will teach me how to farm,” Song Bo said, using Song Chazai’s authority to pressure her.
Song Chazai had been watching Song Bo’s transformation over the last few days. If he truly had stopped gambling, he would need a stable income. Farming was the best path.
However, since his change was so recent, she chose a middle ground. “After the autumn harvest, do not worry about those fields, Yunxiang. I will look after them.”
“But,” Song Yunxiang hesitated.
“It is settled,” Song Chazai declared.