"Little rascal" was good, "little rascal" was great—"little rascal" was affectionate and heartwarming.
Compared to the previous life, where her parents had always been distant and fearful of Captain Song, the nickname "little rascal" was simply too endearing for words.
Song Jin had long grown accustomed to her mother's fiery temper. Under her roar, she closed her eyes and was fast asleep in no time. When she woke again, the cotton window screen was glowing with faint light, and the shadow of peach tree branches in front of the house fell across it, swaying gently in the breeze amid the chirping of cicadas and birds.
Soft footsteps sounded outside—the little maidservant was going about her daily routine of cleaning, sweeping, and boiling water.
In a well-off landlord's household, there were bound to be a few maidservants and page boys, and the Niu family was no exception. Not to mention the seasonal laborers, they had four bonded servants among the long-term workers: the reliable and steady Xiaomei, Xiao'er who was missing half an ear, the strong but simple-minded A'Mao, and Xiao Duo with his lame leg and six fingers.
The four of them together couldn't make up two whole, normal people.
Song Jin yawned as she got out of bed, her loose hair a tangled mess, the bun on top of her head wobbling precariously as if it might fall apart at any moment. She casually undid her hair, opened the window, and leaned out.
"Xiaomei, Xiaomei, heat some water for me—I want to bathe."
She'd come back too late yesterday, and with her mother watching like a hawk, she'd been too lazy to wash up. She'd just tied her hair back, changed into her nightclothes, and gone to sleep. Now she woke up feeling sticky and uncomfortable—Song Jin, who had grown used to the good life, couldn't stand it anymore.
Ah, this place was so much better. When would they have had such conditions back then?
Hot water for a bath? You'd just roll around in the water, and if you were lucky, you might even get to fight a mutant fish. As for catching a cold—if it didn't kill you, you just kept pushing through. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes again.
Xiaomei, as the pillar of the household, was steady and reliable. She smiled. "The hot water's already been boiled and poured into the tub—perfect for a bath. I added herbal medicine as the mistress instructed. Miss, soak for a while to relax your muscles and bones."
Song Jin shrank her neck. "Is my mother up? Where's she gone? She's not in the woodshed picking out a stick, is she?"
Xiaomei burst into laughter. "How could that be? Miss, you worked so hard to bring back that deer—the mistress was afraid of wasting such good goods. She stayed up all night salting and hanging the venison with Xiao'er, and went to Old Yang's place to tan the hide before dawn. She's in a great mood."
Hearing this, Song Jin relaxed, and soon became smug again. "See, I told you—with a filial daughter like me, my mother must be secretly overjoyed."
Xiaomei said, "Of course. The mistress only has you, miss. Who else would she dote on if not you? But then again—"
Song Jin: "But what?"
Xiaomei laughed. "But if you keep standing there without moving, and the mistress comes back to see that dirty face of yours, well, that's anyone's guess."
"…"
To make hunting easier, Song Jin always wore green, gray, or blue when going into the mountains, and even smeared her face with crushed leaves for camouflage. Last night, before coming home, she'd washed once along the way—in the darkness, nothing was visible. But now that it was daylight, her face was a mess of uneven smudges.
Song Jin stopped her banter. Bracing one hand on the window frame, she vaulted out of the room and dashed frantically toward the bathhouse, determined to get herself cleaned up before Niu Tielan returned—to present her with a fair and spotless daughter.
**
This wasn't Niu Tielan's first time at Old Yang's place.
Old Yang used to be a hunter in the mountains, living rough and eating whatever luck brought. On good days, a single deer would sustain him for years; on bad days, a single venomous snake could take half his life.
It was because of the snake bite that year that he'd drained his savings and lost half his foot. Coincidentally, there was a shortage of workers for the canal project here, so he'd come down from the mountains and joined the work digging canals and reclaiming wasteland. With his skill in tanning hides, he'd managed to buy farmland and build a house over the years, and life had become comfortable.
But that was only on the surface. Inwardly, he was supporting a scholar in his household and would sooner split a copper coin in half than spend it.
For the arrival of a big client like Niu Tielan, Old Yang was warmly welcoming. "I'll make sure this hide is done up properly. Still want the full hide?"
Around familiar company, Niu Tielan didn't put on airs. But with her slender figure and fair skin, she looked delicate and frail just standing there—though the illusion shattered the moment she spoke.
Niu Tielan said casually, "Two pairs of deerskin boots, two thick gloves, two cloaks—one bigger, one smaller—and one leather trunk. Figure out the cost, and if it's not enough, I'll have Xiao Duo bring over the rest later."
Then she added the specific measurements.
Old Yang was a bit surprised. "Making all that? What, have the marriage negotiations between Jinjin and Xiao Yan been settled?"
Though Old Yang was no longer a hunter, he'd spent decades in the mountains and was rich in experience. He'd taught Song Jin quite a bit and often helped them with these things, so he knew the mother-daughter pair well.
One set of measurements was clearly Song Jin's, and the other definitely wasn't Niu Tielan's—it was for a larger man. Hence his guess.
At this, Niu Tielan shot him a look. "What nonsense are you talking? Since when do I know anything about such a marriage? Don't go spreading rumors and sullying Jinjin's reputation."
Old Yang nearly choked on his own saliva.
Reputation? What reputation? Since when did that girl have a reputation to speak of?
Is it the kind of reputation where at six you nearly tore down the town mayor's house single-handedly, at eight you split a wild boar with a single blow, at ten you carried a tiger on your shoulders, and at fifteen you killed a bandit all by yourself?
Of course, that's not the key point. The key point is—
"Although it was never said outright, everyone knows about your two families. Back then, when Old Yan was sick, if you hadn't paid for his treatment, he'd have died long ago—how could he have the glory he has now? And now Yan Sheng has passed the child examination, and once he passes the prefectural exam and becomes a xiucai, you've put in so much money and effort—surely you didn't just have money burning a hole in your pocket?"
Old Yang frowned, deeply puzzled.
Back when the Yan family was in that state, Niu Tielan had thrown herself into helping them, bustling about with great warmth. Now that the family had risen and was about to become officials, she'd gone cold.
What a strange woman.
Niu Tielan let out a cold laugh and didn't bother explaining. She only said with lazy disdain: "Not a single thing you said today was worth hearing, except that last bit—you're right, I did have money burning a hole in my pocket. I've got a deer leg stewing in my pot, so I'm heading back. You get on with your leather-curing and calculating your materials, and stop gossiping behind people's backs when you've got nothing better to do—spouting all that baseless nonsense."
With that, she set down the venison she'd brought and turned to leave.
Old Yang stared wide-eyed, looking at her graceful figure that didn't match his shabby house at all, then at his own wife, then back at her—still baffled.
"This woman—what did I do to upset her? Who's gossiping? What did I say wrong?"
Old Yang's wife gave him a dirty look and said irritably: "Just get to work, you're good for nothing."
Old Yang: "Hey, hey, hey—what do you mean 'good for nothing'? I'm the head of this household, the head of the household!"
Old Yang's wife: "Fine, fine, fine—head of the household, get to work. Your eldest son's tuition is due again next month."
Old Yang: "What do you mean my eldest son? Isn't he yours too?"
…
The couple had married at fifteen, and now past forty, after more than twenty years together, their bond ran deep. Even their most ordinary bickering carried the full warmth of everyday life.
It was the most common kind of squabbling between an ordinary husband and wife. Niu Tielan heard their voices from afar, and the irritation on her face gradually faded, replaced by a faint smile that was quickly overtaken by a cold expression again.
An ordinary couple.
Such a distant phrase.
Niu Tielan could never have that in this life, so she hoped her own child could live that kind of life.
She'd originally thought the Yan boy wasn't bad—decent-looking, gentle in temperament, and able to play well with Jinjin. His family's circumstances were a bit poor, but that didn't matter. Even if it wasn't a matrilocal marriage, Song Jin could marry over and they could set up their own household.
That was her intention, and the Yan family had tacitly agreed. Over the years, the two families had interacted with this unspoken understanding. Now both children had grown up, and the Yan family's fortunes had improved.
This should have been a good thing, but the Yan couple had behaved like petty upstarts, putting on airs the moment their circumstances improved. If that could barely be excused as human nature—just something that made Niu Tielan a bit uncomfortable—then their words belittling her child were what made her cool toward the marriage.
Still, the Yan family was the Yan family, and Yan Sheng was Yan Sheng. Niu Tielan still planned to give him one more chance—it all depended on whether he could seize it after the prefectural exam in a couple of days.
If he could, the young couple would live happily together, and she wouldn't care about those shameless old fools above them.
If he couldn't, her daughter Niu Tielan wasn't about to go suffer that kind of humiliation.
But Niu Tielan was angry.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got—so angry that her pale face flushed red. Walking down the road, she looked like peach blossoms in March, drawing every eye.
"Tielan, are you feeling any better?"
Niu Tielan's anger was scattered by this greeting. She instinctively covered her mouth and coughed a couple of times, then looked up at Town Mayor Lin and Song Xingzhi approaching from the other direction.
"Better, Town Mayor Lin. You're out and about so early?"
Town Mayor Lin studied her complexion and only relaxed when he saw she looked better than yesterday. If she really got so angry she fell ill, his house would be blooming a second time—reduced to rubble again.
He smiled: "This is Mr. Song Xingzhi from the capital, here to select promising students for study. Unfortunately, it's bad timing—Yan Sheng has gone into the county academy, or else he might have caught Mr. Song's eye and gone to the capital to study in the future."
Niu Tielan coughed heavily twice, then said weakly: "What would a woman like me know of such things, Town Mayor? But Jinjin is at home, and she's close with that boy Yan Sheng. Why don't you go talk to her? Maybe she can call him back."
Town Mayor Lin's expression stiffened: "No, no—I still need to show Mr. Song around. Your illness hasn't fully recovered, so don't come out in the wind. Go back inside and rest."
Niu Tielan coughed a few more times, gave a weak bow to take her leave of the two men, and walked off with unsteady steps.
As she swayed along, Song Jin came bounding over from the opposite direction, her wet hair loose—clearly coming out to fetch her mother. Though it was hard to say; maybe she was coming out for revenge…
Town Mayor Lin's face changed dramatically. He grabbed Song Xingzhi's hand and hurried away, not stopping until they'd put some distance between themselves and the scene, his back still cold with dread.
Song Xingzhi had no idea what Town Mayor Lin was worried about. Today he'd changed into a dark green robe embroidered with peonies, his black hair bound up in a crown, a folding fan swaying lightly in his hand. Even having been dragged along the whole way, he remained perfectly elegant, reciting poetry as he walked—refined and graceful.
"A graceful lady, a gentleman's good match…"
Truly, only someone from the capital could praise others so elegantly. Unlike him—thinking of the figure he'd just glimpsed, and then recalling the old affair from years past, Town Mayor Lin wiped the fine sweat from his forehead and said with lingering fear and a sigh,
"Mr. Song, though the beauty is fair, she is not to be viewed from afar."
Still less to be profaned.
Look at his own house—that gaping hole in it was torn open by that little whelp back then. Now the whelp has grown up, and his destructive power has multiplied who knows how many times over.
But Mr. Song didn't catch the fear in his words, only the sigh—that vexation of something unattainable.
Song Xingzhi glanced at Lin's wrinkled old face, at the fine sweat that had broken out after just a short jog, and his gaze carried a hint of disdain.
Ah, this beauty—she's not something just anyone could obtain, is she?
This old man looked honest enough, but how could he be so shameless?
After dismissing Town Mayor Lin with contempt, Song Xingzhi turned back and gazed at Niu Tielan's blurry figure in the distance. The thoughts he'd suppressed last time stirred again, restless and eager.
He had a dashing appearance and was indeed a man of romance—though fortunately, he was romantic without being vulgar, and he believed such matters required mutual consent.
But how to put it?
He was young and vigorous, elegant and refined, with modest wealth and modest learning.
And this widow—she was beautiful, very beautiful, extremely beautiful.
A perfect match, fitting in every way. He just needed to free up his hands.
Song Xingzhi waved the fan in his hand, a hint of self-satisfaction in his brows, quickly replaced by a sharp gleam. He suppressed his thoughts and turned back to continue conversing with Town Mayor Lin, subtly probing the town's situation.
"Town Mayor Lin, Linxi Town has mountains in front and water in back, convenient by both land and water, with no small number of traveling merchants passing through each day…"