“Mm!” Cao Jie wasn’t surprised when Yu Chun took the initiative to speak to him.
Seeing that the meal was ready, he directly carried the table from the main hall outside and placed it under the jujube tree in the courtyard. From the earthen jar he had brought, he ladled out two bowls of soup, placing a large chicken leg in each. He also took out a pair of jade-colored small bone toys for the baby in the cart to chew on.
Holding the lump soup Yu Chun had stirred, he bit into a sesame-covered flatbread, kicked open the door latch with his right foot, and went off to the left.
Yu Chun wrinkled her nose and frowned as she looked at the towering willow tree about fifty meters away. Its countless tender green branches swayed in the wind like thousands of hands reaching out from the River of Forgetfulness.
Vague figures gathered beneath it—just silhouettes, likely people going there to eat like Cao Jie.
Yu Chun curled her lips and said nothing.
As expected, she shouldn’t have hoped for anything. After all, he was a wife-beater. Still, she bit fiercely into the chicken leg in retaliation. The free-range chicken skin was fragrant and pleasantly chewy.
Unfortunately, the chicken was small, only about a kilogram.
She gave both legs and the tender breast meat to Cao Rong, determined not to leave even a bite for the abusive man.
However, Cao Rong smiled and insisted, “Mother, you eat. If you eat more, you’ll get better faster. Then we can go see the flowers.”
As he spoke, he stubbornly picked the meat Yu Chun had given him and put it back into her bowl. Holding his chopsticks like a scepter, his eyes lifted with authority, he declared, “You have to listen to me. I’m your warm man. If you eat, you’ll get better quickly!”
His mature and resolute tone made Yu Chun laugh.
The two of them ate heartily, tacitly finishing all the soup and meat.
The broth was milky white without any fishy smell, seasoned only with scallions and ginger—so fragrant that one couldn’t stop eating.
Even after they finished and rubbed their stomachs, Cao Jie still hadn’t returned. Yu Chun used the hot water in the pot to wash the bowls clean.
The leftover soup and bones were mixed with sorghum grains that had a hint of alcohol and fed to the dog. She also fed the babbling Cao Fang a few bites of bread soaked in chicken soup. To her surprise, the milk-fed baby didn’t cry or fuss, allowing her to finish lunch peacefully.
After eating, Cao Rong, without being told, brought out a book—Three Hundred Xuan Poems in traditional script. Yu Chun glanced at it and could only recognize a name. Soon, the child’s clear voice rang through the courtyard—
“Quiet Night Thoughts, Li Bai.
Before my bed, the bright moonlight,
I suspect it is frost on the ground.
I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon,
I lower my head and think of home.”
Yu Chun spat out a mouthful of water.
There was also Li Bai here? The same Li Bai? Was he alive? What era was this? Li Bai had lived through the An Lushan Rebellion. Had the dynasty changed names, or was this still the flourishing Tang?
“‘At dusk I lodge in Shihao Village,
Officials come at night to seize men…’”
Du Fu’s Shihao Officials—a compulsory text from nine years of education.
As a child she had memorized it; as an adult, she understood it—conscription, war, scarcity, life-and-death crises. This was practically an apocalyptic template!
And she only had a Red Chamber chat group, was a poor commoner abused by her husband—Heaven truly wanted her dead!
Yu Chun hugged the baby with one hand and snatched the book with the other. Li Bai, Wang Wei, He Zhizhang… beyond that, she didn’t recognize more.
Li Bai and Wang Wei—their poems were indeed those same poets—
Good heavens!
How could she check the date?
There wasn’t even a calendar!
What a miserable fate—
Unable to sit still, she rummaged through the kitchen for a while before turning her gaze to the small vegetable plot on the left side of the courtyard.
Beside the plot was a small pit filled with chicken droppings and dog droppings. Beneath that were straw stalks, blackened, and below them, humus soil.
Cao Rong, who occasionally looked up at her, noticed her staring and slapped his forehead. With a slender shovel, he flipped up a clump of earth—revealing a wriggling mass of earthworms. Like a victorious general, he tossed them into a bamboo feeding trough near the doghouse and carried it to the fenced corner of the yard.
Inside the fence were five hens and three roosters—likely the source of the chickens they had eaten recently.
Yu Chun recognized the object—it was a chicken feeder she had seen at a place she once worked. The center held feed, surrounded by bamboo slats—called a “dog-air killer.” The original owner knew to raise chickens with earthworms, no wonder the courtyard lacked the usual farmyard stench.
The fence was woven from bamboo and honeysuckle vines, the honeysuckle blooming beautifully.
In the yard stood a wooden rack with three layers of trays, drying bamboo shoots, tribute vegetables, radish strips, wood ear mushrooms, dried beans, cucumbers, purslane, ginger slices, and dried honeysuckle—
The original owner had been someone who worked hard to live well.
How blind must Cao Jie be to beat such a wife? A good wife with a bad husband!
Yu Chun fed the chickens, cut a handful of chives, pulled some shepherd’s purse for Cao Rong to carry, and, holding Cao Fang, went to the neighbor’s house. After thinking it through, she decided to follow Baochai’s advice and first understand her surroundings.
Nothing was more important than Li Bai.
Was Li Bai still alive?
In ancient times, especially in Chinese-speaking regions, social relationships were unavoidable.
Moreover, Cao Rong had said that if not for Aunt Zhu and her husband next door, Yu Chun would already be dead.
The neighboring courtyard was separated by a narrow alley about a meter wide. It was also about a hundred square meters but was a standard quadrangle courtyard. Aunt Zhu was eating under a persimmon tree by a table near the kitchen.
“Have you eaten? Why bring things if you still have food?” she said, though she stood up, wiped her hands, took the vegetables, and glanced at Cao Rong. Her eyes still curved in a smile, but the corners of her mouth dipped slightly.
What was going on?
‘Boot up, boot up—’
‘Feng: Oh my! You blockhead, why are you so clueless? They saved your life, and you bring this little return gift—do you think your life is cheap or that you look down on them? You’ve lived twenty years for nothing, standing there like a lump of wood—how embarrassing!’
What?
Yu Chun felt her head buzz, as if someone poked her forehead. Words rushed out of her mouth, “Auntie cares for me. I prepared this in haste and not thoroughly. I will properly thank you another day!”
‘Feng: (flinging her handkerchief, stomping) Do I have to teach you everything? You’re infuriating!’
“Come sit,” Aunt Zhu said, somehow producing a plate of sunflower seeds. She winked and lowered her voice, her round eyes shining with interest. “That Da Jie is just like that—once he drinks, he hits people. Your life is hard. Your mother-in-law too. I treat our Yinhuan like my own daughter!”
She stuffed a bowl of water into Yu Chun’s hand and gave Cao Rong a piece of candy.
‘Feng: She’s going all out—something’s up. Cao Jie is capable around here!’
‘I: What?’
Feng didn’t reply, but Yu Chun could almost see her rolling her eyes.
‘Hengwu Jun: A piece of candy isn’t guaranteed even during festivals. She must have saved it for a long time. Ordinary children, especially those looked down on by their fathers, wouldn’t get this. You’ve just been beaten and have no status—being given something so precious likely means she’s currying favor with Cao Jie.’
Yu Chun finally wasn’t completely foolish. Unsure how to react, she first cried, then wiped her tears after Feng scolded her for crying in someone else’s house. Following Feng’s guidance, she smoothly gathered the information she needed.
“It’s just that I’m unfortunate not to have a mother-in-law like you, Auntie. I just don’t understand why my own mother-in-law dislikes my ‘eldest sister’ so much—”
Calling her “eldest sister” felt like revenge, leaving her lighter than after drinking milk tea.
‘Don’t get distracted. I can’t stand your timid, mosquito-like behavior. Let me handle it—’
Yu Chun felt numb, as if under anesthesia. In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, she learned the essentials.
First, Cao Jie had once been a border soldier, trained in martial arts since childhood, highly skilled—top-tier in a world without martial arts cultivation, the kind who could work as a bodyguard.
His mother was distantly related to Aunt Zhu’s husband. Aunt Zhu dared not speak ill of her. Yet despite knowing Yu Chun was beaten, Cao Jie’s mother hadn’t appeared—strange. Wasn’t she afraid her eldest son’s marriage would fall apart?
Second, Cao Jie was raised by his grandparents, while his younger brother Cao Jin was raised by their parents.
Third, Li Bai was indeed a great poet—alive, in his prime, serving in the court of Prince Yangxia. Prince Yangxia was a woman, the granddaughter of Princess Pingyang. There was no Tang Dynasty, only the Xuan Dynasty. The current emperor was seventy-one, with a forty-two-year-old empress, cousin to Prince Yangxia.
There was no Yang Guifei, but there was Empress Lin, also favored above all others. Prince Yangxia had taken over the chancellorship from Li Fuguo two years ago. Chang’an was prosperous, with thriving industries and good business opportunities.
Yu Chun had already asked the “brain-machine” in her head, but it provided no dynastic information. She couldn’t foresee the future.
Fourth, Yu Chun’s natal family was in Luoyang. Having married far away, she had no relatives here except her children. How foolish must she have been to marry so far away?
Fifth, Cao Jie’s profession: a retired border soldier, currently unemployed as an escort. He once earned over twenty thousand a month. The Xuan Dynasty didn’t use silver; currency consisted of Kaiyuan Tongbao coins and gold leaves. After nearly twenty years of reforms like the “He Su Law” and “Two-Tax Law” introduced by former chancellor Li Fuguo, Chang’an citizens used bank-issued certificates. Living in the Western Market, they mostly used paper money issued by Persian houses.
Taxes had to be paid this way—no choice.
Meaning, even if she wanted to run away with money, it wouldn’t be easy. The paper money wasn’t anonymous.
The journey was long, and as a woman with two children, carrying money would be courting death.
“This little girl is quite pretty!” Aunt Zhu, clearly talkative, yawned when Yu Chun seemed dazed and turned to the children. “Come, A Rong, are you afraid of your father?”
“I’m not. I’ll be very strong in the future. I won’t let him drink—I’ll smash his wine bottles!” Cao Rong said, twisting the candy in his hand into knots, his small face full of determination—both adorable and tragic.
Aunt Zhu burst into laughter, already brimming with new gossip to share.
Yu Chun felt her face burn with shame. An adult protected by a child—the original owner truly had been foolish.
“This is between father, mother, and me. I will handle it.” She pulled Cao Rong onto her lap. He shyly buried himself in her arms.
“Da Jie is a good man—just drinks too much. Next time he drinks, don’t argue with him.”
“Mm. It just feels so unfair,” Yu Chun replied noncommittally. She would save money—ten days should be enough to return to her parents’ home.
“Ah, your life is hard. What can you do?”
To Aunt Zhu, Yu Chun’s life was already good—she didn’t have to worry about earning money. And who liked being contradicted?
She had her conclusion: Cao Jie’s wife was a fool.
The courtyard quieted. The wind carried dandelion seeds onto Cao Fang’s eyelashes. Cao Rong picked one up and blew gently—“Ha, hehe—”
Cao Fang’s laughter rang warmly through the yard.
Back home, Yu Chun lay on the bed, exhausted, closing her eyes. The “stage” in her mind opened again.
‘Feng: Even I wouldn’t dare say someone could successfully take two children to the capital. You’re practically a walking gold nugget… though that’s fine—fools are rarer than swindlers these days. You’re a rare species!’
‘Daiyu: Sigh, sister, you encountered such filth. If he puts on airs as a husband, then leave. People like us need not behave like street shrews. Remember—when his face turns darker, you must smile more elegantly, so those vile creatures know—even if we fall into the mud, we still carry the sound of gold and jade!’
‘Baoyu: Sister is right!’
The voices faded.
Everyone in Dream of the Red Chamber had countless schemes. Aside from the meddlesome Feng and kind Daiyu, and perhaps Baoyu, who would waste energy on others?
Even the carefree Xiangyun had to plan for her future.
That was enough.
One of Yu Chun’s few strengths was that she could listen.
To live—only by living were there endless possibilities, a future.
But why had she come from Luoyang to Chang’an?
She didn’t seem like someone foolish enough to make such a decision. Marrying far away—something about it wasn’t right.