The setting sun melted into gold as the wheels of the cart rolled along the country road, raising a faint trail of dust.
Song Shi tightened the reins and gazed at the wisps of cooking smoke rising in the distance, his brows knotting together.
If his father had not sent people to hurry him home again and again, he would rather die than return to this poor, out-of-the-way village.
He was a capable shop assistant at one of the city’s largest silk shops, and he was on the verge of becoming a second shopkeeper. His future was bright—how could he allow a country marriage to tie his hands and feet?
“Oh, isn’t this Shi-ge’er from the Song family? You’re even riding in a cart now. What an accomplishment!”
Beneath the old locust tree at the edge of the village, Old Man Wang held a pipe between his teeth and squinted at him, his voice full of envy.
The corners of Song Shi’s mouth lifted slightly, and he could not hide his pride. “Uncle Wang is joking. The shopkeeper takes good care of me. He was afraid I’d be delayed on my way back to the city and miss work, so he lent me this specially.”
There were dozens of assistants in the shop, but he alone received treatment like this. How could he not be proud?
“Shi-ge’er, your father is arranging a wife for you! She’s the daughter of Scholar Fang. What good fortune!”
Song Shi’s face instantly stiffened, and he hurriedly waved his hands. “That’s not happening! I don’t want to marry yet!”
“A man should marry when he comes of age. Your father is doing it for your own good!” Old Man Wang rambled on. “Your father is the village head. Back then, he sent you to the city to become an apprentice. Now you’ve finally made something of yourself. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to marry a wife and settle down?”
As he spoke, Old Man Wang began sighing to himself.
Back then, when Shi-ge’er’s father sent his only son to the city to suffer, the village gossips had certainly not spared their tongues. They had said that the family was not short of a mouth to feed, so why send the child away to be worked like an ox or horse? But looking at things now, it was clear that the old village head had possessed foresight. Shi-ge’er was even riding in a cart now, looking every bit the respectable man!
Song Shi could not be bothered to listen to any more of his rambling. He flicked the whip and urged the horse on, and the cart sped away.
He was furious and annoyed.
He had gone to the city as an apprentice at the age of twelve. He had risen before dawn and gone to bed long after dark, watched people’s expressions, and suffered every hardship imaginable before earning his position today. What he had always dreamed of was marrying a young lady from the city—preferably the personal maid of the shopkeeper’s daughter. She would be pretty, well-mannered, and capable of helping him establish himself firmly in the shop in the future.
But his father wanted him to marry a village girl?
Had he suffered all these years for nothing?
What was even stranger was that, whenever his mother urged him to marry, his father had always helped him brush her off, saying things like, “A man should establish his career before starting a family.” He had shielded him from several marriage proposals. Yet now he had suddenly changed his tune and was rushing to arrange a betrothal. Just who had given his father some kind of bewitching potion?
“Never mind. I’ll just get through it. I’ll say I didn’t take a liking to her, and Father won’t be able to do anything about it.”
Song Shi made up his mind as the cart rolled into the courtyard.
======
The house, built of gray brick with a large tiled roof, was exceptionally imposing. Three main rooms stood alongside two side wings. It had been newly built before the New Year and was one of the finest houses in the village.
Old Master Song stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back, examining the carved designs on the roof beams. His eyes held the authority of a village head, along with a measure of self-satisfaction. At the sound of the cart, he turned around. When his gaze landed on his son, the corners of his mouth rose faintly.
“Father, I’m back.”
Song Shi swiftly unloaded the cart and led the horse into the cowshed. Old Master Song helped prepare clean water and fodder. The horse was a valuable animal, so they could not afford to be careless with it.
“My son, come wash your face. You must be tired after the journey!” Mother Song heard the commotion, mixed a basin of warm water, grabbed a cloth, and hurried out of the kitchen, her eyes filled with concern.
“Mother, slow down. I can do it myself.”
Song Shi took the cloth from her and began washing.
Watching the scene of a loving mother and filial son, Old Master Song felt that life was growing more hopeful by the day. Once his son married a new wife and gave him two plump grandsons, he would be able to enjoy his old age in peace.
“What are you still dawdling for? Eat!”
He was the first to stride into the main room, his voice crisp with the authority of the head of the household.
The aroma of pork-and-chive dumplings filled the dining table. The sourness of aged vinegar mingled with the savory fragrance of the meat, making one’s appetite leap. Song Shi wolfed down the dumplings. Food made by his mother really was the most delicious.
“My son, slow down. There are plenty of dumplings!” Mother Song looked at him with aching concern. “You must have suffered terribly out there. It’s all your father’s fault for being willing to send you off to endure such hardship.”
Old Master Song took a sip of wine and ignored his wife’s muttering. Women were narrow-minded and short-sighted. How could he not feel sorry for his own son? But only those who endured the bitterest hardships could rise above others.
“Mother, how could that be?” Song Shi glanced at his silent father and hurriedly said, “The shopkeeper’s business is doing well. We have meat to eat every day. I’m just craving the food you make. No delicacies from the mountains or seas can compare with your cooking.”
That was no lie. The shop had never lacked food, but it was rare for him to enjoy a peaceful meal. When he had first arrived at the shop, he had been young but clever. Unlike the other new assistants, who were dull and clumsy, he knew how to read people’s expressions. He had served the shopkeeper attentively, poured tea and water, and carefully observed every change in his mood. Although he had never enjoyed a single truly carefree meal, he had now become a figure comparable to a second shopkeeper.
As he chewed his dumplings, Song Shi began calculating again.
The shopkeeper’s business was enormous. He owned more than just the silk shop where Song Shi worked; he had heard that many of his enterprises had even expanded into the provincial capital. Whenever the shop assistants showed the shopkeeper’s name outside, who did not look at them with increased respect? Song Shi did not know whose connections his father had relied on back then to get him placed in a shop under the shopkeeper’s ownership.
He glanced again at his father, who took a sip of wine and a bite of dumpling. Suddenly, the old face half-hidden behind the rising steam seemed rather mysterious and unfathomable.
======
“Shi’er.” Old Master Song set down his wine cup and wiped his mouth. “I’ve already spoken with Granny Wang. Tomorrow morning, your mother will take you to Scholar Fang’s house to meet the girl.”
“What?!” The dumpling nearly sprayed out of Song Shi’s mouth. “Father, I’m not marrying! I don’t want to start a family so soon!”
“You’re not young anymore!” Old Master Song’s expression darkened. He slapped his chopsticks on the table. “Iron Egg and Doggie, who are the same age as you, are both fathers of two children already! Do you still think you’re a child?”
Mother Song hesitated as well. “Dear, Scholar Fang only just passed away. That girl has lost her father and is the eldest daughter. Shouldn’t we look at some other prospects?”
“What do you understand?” Old Master Song gave a cold snort. “If Scholar Fang hadn’t died of a sudden illness, and if his daughter didn’t need to arrange the marriage while she is still in fresh mourning, would our Shi’er ever have had a chance?”
That was true enough.
Old Master Song understood the situation perfectly. Whenever Scholar Fang drank too much, he would praise his daughter several times over.
“My Wan'er isn’t merely good-looking. Her embroidery and her ability to manage a household are both a hundred times better than her mother’s.”
Old Master Song had seen how much Scholar Fang had pinned his hopes on this daughter. At the time, he had not dared entertain any thoughts. Only after Scholar Fang passed away had he begun to consider the matter.
But now, this boy Shi’er was actually unwilling.
“Father, I don’t know what you see in that young lady.” Song Shi set down his chopsticks and tried to reason with him. “I’ll be honest with you. There’s already someone in my heart. I picked out two bolts of fine cloth from the shop. I’ll send them to the Fang family tomorrow as an apology.”
“Shi-ge’er! Come tell Mother—what young lady have you taken a fancy to?” Mother Song’s eyes lit up, her heart full of delight.
“Why are you adding to the mess?” Old Master Song slammed his chopsticks down, making the bowls and plates hum. “What respectable family’s young lady could he simply take a fancy to? Shi-ge’er, go on and tell us—which servant girl have you set your sights on?”
Song Shi was cowed by his father’s imposing manner, but he still steeled himself and said, “Better to marry a maid from a great household than a daughter from a small one.”
“Oh, heavens!” Mother Song finally panicked. “The girl you like really is a maid? Shi’er, you mustn’t lose your senses! Our old Song family may not be rich or noble, but we’re still one of the most respectable families in the village. We can’t let the villagers laugh at us!”
“Mother, she’s different from other maids!” Song Shi hurriedly defended her, his face flushing red.
That maid was the senior maid at the side of the shopkeeper’s daughter. Her name was Qingluo.
Qingluo was fair and delicate, quick in both speech and action, literate, and skilled with an abacus.
He felt that Qingluo was a hundred times better than those rough-handed, clumsy village girls. Marrying her would not only bring him honor; she would also become an extra helper for him in the shop in the future.
“How is she different?” Old Master Song gave a cold laugh. “Even if she were a fairy from Heaven, she would still be a servant! You want to marry a servant and bring her home—what will the villagers think of me? What will they think of you? Do you still want me to be able to hold my head up in this village?”
Song Shi opened his mouth but could not find a word to say.
“I’m telling you,” Old Master Song said as he rose to his feet, looking down at his son from above. “I’ve agreed to this marriage with the Fang family on your behalf. Your mother will go to meet the girl tomorrow. If you dare cause trouble, just watch—I’ll break your legs!”
Song Shi looked at his father’s livid face and groaned inwardly.
He had never imagined that his usually open-minded father could be so stubborn this time.
======
Night fell deep.
Song Shi lay on the bed in the eastern side room, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Moonlight streamed in through the window and fell across his face, revealing a deeply troubled expression.
He could not understand what was so good about that village girl from the Fang family that his father valued her so highly.
The eldest daughter of a man who had just died, with a fate said to bring death to both husband and father—if she had been in the city, no one would have dared marry her. Only people in the countryside paid no attention to such things.
“Who cares!” Song Shi pulled the quilt over his head. “Tomorrow my mother will go meet her. When she comes back, I’ll insist that I’m dissatisfied. Is Father really going to tie me up and drag me to the wedding ceremony?”
He closed his eyes, but Qingluo’s fair face appeared in his mind again, stirring up a wave of irritation.
Before leaving, he had deliberately gone to the accounts room to settle the books. Qingluo had even smiled at him and said, “Brother Song Shi, take care on the road.”
Her voice had been soft and delicate, like a kitten’s claws lightly scratching the tenderest part of his heart.
Song Shi rolled over and smacked his pillow several times.
“No matter how good that village girl from the Fang family is, she can’t compare with Qingluo,” he muttered. “Father’s gone senile to take a fancy to some scholar’s daughter. Once this matter falls through tomorrow, I’ll return to the city and get back to doing whatever I please.”
Having made up his mind, he soon sank into a deep sleep.
In his dream, Qingluo wore a bright red wedding gown and smiled sweetly at him.