Ch 43: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Winter had settled in cold and deep, and the village had entered the idle season.

With the shift in weather, the hustle and bustle of spring and summer was gone. The countryside seemed ready to hibernate, and folks took to farm work at a slower, more leisurely pace.

They’d sleep until full daylight, and only then would the strong young men amble out from their courtyards.

When they met others, they’d chat for half the day. No one was rushing about like they did in March.

On a typical day, gathering two baskets of firewood or tilling half a mu of land was already considered quite a feat.

The older women and grandfathers couldn’t bear the cold. They rarely left the warmth of their firepots, huddled inside like mother hens over their eggs, always gathered around a brazier. Even stepping outside, they’d carry the firepot with them.

“This winter month might freeze someone to death. That old woman in my house, she used to love walking about. Now she’s too cold to go anywhere!”

“Firewood’s hard to gather on the mountain. The ground’s iced over, and the trees have icicles hanging from them. The other day, Old Li’s second son went up to collect some and got struck by falling ice—split his forehead open, bled like mad… ahhh, it was awful.”

A bunch of villagers had gathered near the fields, talking about the latest village gossip.

Someone had brought dry grass and bamboo scraps from the riverbank and started a fire in the dry field.

That morning, even more farmers, men, and women gathered to warm up and chat.

“Burning so much firewood at home, the little we stored isn’t enough. If not for that, who’d bother going into the mountains? Everything’s twice as tiring in winter.”

“Da Niu, you’re the most hardworking of us all, and even you’re calling it tiring?”

“Hardworking? Me? Lazy bones, I am.”

The young man named Da Niu poked at the fire with a stick. “If you’re talking hardworking—nobody beats that young fellow from the Xiao household. In this bitter cold, he’s out at dawn hauling buckets of manure to the fields.”

“You can tell by the footprints in the morning—it’s definitely him.”

“He’s a loyal one, that boy. Goes around collecting leftover manure from anyone he can, just to pour it on Xiao family’s land. Honestly, more dutiful than some folks’ own sons and daughters.”

“Hey now, since you’re all praising him, I’ll say something less pleasant.”

A skinny old man with yellowing teeth jumped in.

“That fool—who knows what backwater he came from—acts like he’s never seen manure before. Carries it bucket after bucket from Old Zhang’s house, pouring it into the fields like it’s treasure. Ended up killing half the Xiao family’s cabbage patch!”

Some villagers raised their eyebrows. “For real?”

“Pfft, go see for yourself! The cabbage’s lying there in the field. You think I’d make this up? Don’t believe me, go take a look at Xiao’s plot.”

The old man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Such a waste… that half patch of cabbage, if it were mine, I’d be heartbroken.”

“Only the Xiao family could afford something like that—wasting coin and effort to keep a servant in the house.”

“We folks couldn’t even dream of such fortune. But they sure don’t know how to pick people—bringing in someone who can’t even grow vegetables. What good is he to a farm household?”

He smacked his lips, grumbling on: “No wonder he ended up wandering to Ling County. Anyone who can drown cabbages with manure—whether or not his hometown flooded—would be begging for scraps in two years.”

The villagers had only been listening in for fun, but now they felt the old man was taking it too far.

One said, “Come on now, the lad’s just a kid—of course he’s not as experienced as you, Old Xu.”

“Forget comparing him to me. Even the other boys younger than him in the village know better. Who else dumps that much manure and kills their own crops? Some might call it hard work, others might think he’s sabotaging the Xiaos! Waste of vegetables and manure!”

His voice had risen loud, drawing attention. Da Niu, still by the fire, tugged on the old man’s sleeve.

“What’re you pulling me for? You think I said something wrong?”

He hadn’t caught on to Da Niu’s hint, wrinkled his nose and said, “Ugh, what’s that stink? Who let one rip?”

He held his nose and glanced around to find the culprit—only to turn his head and see Tian Ken standing nearby, carrying half a basket of yellowed water-shield greens.

The old man fell silent.

While villagers often gathered to gossip, unless there was real enmity, they usually didn’t speak too harshly. After all, you saw each other regularly.

And it was rare for someone to walk right into a conversation and catch the insults firsthand.

Everyone went quiet, suddenly awkward, pretending nothing had happened as they rubbed their hands by the fire.

Old Xu also sulked into silence—but when he noticed Tian Ken wasn’t leaving and just stood there glaring, he started to feel indignant.

After all, he had land, property, and seniority in the village. How could someone like that—a homeless boy sold off as a servant—stand there glaring like a wild rooster?

He straightened his back and barked, “What are you looking at? You think I’m afraid of you hearing me? Tell me, what part of what I said was false? I didn’t make anything up!”

Tian Ken’s brows shot up. “If there hadn’t been a flood back home, my father and I wouldn’t have ended up wandering here! Back in our village, I farmed better than anyone!”

“Oh, still talking back, eh? Who’s ever been to your village? Who knows if you’re lying or not—just your word, and we’re supposed to believe it?”

Old Xu snorted, “You think that basket of rotten vegetable leaves is a lie too? I’d bet your father and mother raised you to be just as useless—too stubborn to learn and probably got themselves pissed to death by it!”

At those words, Tian Ken exploded. In three strides, he was across the space and grabbed Old Xu by the collar.

“You shut your mouth! You’re not allowed to insult my parents!”

Seeing things escalating, the onlooking villagers scrambled to intervene.

“Easy now, easy! We’re all neighbors here—don’t start a fight.”

Tian Ken had the strength of an ox. Even as they tried to pull him away, he still threw two of them off, his eyes red with fury, about to go at Old Xu.

Old Xu, provoked, also got riled up. He shoved aside the villagers trying to hold him back.

“You trying to kill me, huh? A wild brat with no family, and a foreign-born troublemaker dares throw hands in our village? Today I’ll teach you on behalf of your dead folks!”

In the chaos—chickens flying, dogs barking—someone panicked and ran to report to the village head.

By the time Qi Beinan heard that Tian Ken had gotten into a fight with a villager and rushed over, Village Head Zhao had already broken up the scuffle.

He was standing with his hands behind his back, scolding both of them.

He first rebuked Old Xu for bullying the weak and having no compassion, picking on a poor outsider.

Then he turned to Tian Ken for failing to show respect to elders—no matter what, you don’t raise your fists.

After that, he scolded the crowd of villagers, too, for gathering around a fire in the cold just to gossip instead of turning soil or doing proper winter work.

None of them dared talk back, each standing with heads bowed.

“Village Head.”

When he saw Qi Beinan arrive, Village Head Zhao stopped lecturing.

He explained everything that had happened.

“You’re here, so take that lad home and keep a closer eye on him. You can’t be going around raising hands against the elders of the village. Old Xu may be old, but what if he’d gotten seriously hurt? Bedridden for life—who’s going to take responsibility?”

Qi Beinan nodded. He knew the village head wasn’t being hostile—everything he said was from the heart.

He replied, “In this freezing cold, I really must thank you, Village Head, for coming out to handle all this.”

He turned to Tian Ken, who stood there clenching his jaw, eyes red with anger.

“Well? Aren’t you going to apologize to Old Xu?”

Tian Ken wanted nothing more than to bite Old Xu. He had no desire at all to apologize.

But he also knew the reality—he wasn’t even a free man anymore. He was someone’s servant, someone’s property. Being mistreated in a foreign village wasn’t even out of the ordinary.

A slave had no dignity.

But since Qi Beinan had spoken, even if he hated it with all his heart, he had to go over and say, “Don’t blame me, Old Xu. I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have laid hands on you.”

Old Xu snorted in triumph. Tian Ken hadn’t actually managed to land a punch—he’d only grabbed him before the others pulled him away—but even so, Old Xu was already feeling smug.

He didn’t even look at Tian Ken directly, breathing haughtily through his nose.

“You’re a slave. Know your place. If you’d been in any stricter household, they’d have beaten you with a stick for causing trouble.”

“Old Xu, you’re right. But even the strictest households know right from wrong—they wouldn’t beat someone unjustly.”

Qi Beinan shielded Tian Ken behind him and turned to Old Xu. “Tian Ken has already apologized for his wrongdoing. Shouldn’t you, Old Xu, also offer an apology for yours?”

Old Xu squinted. “Why the hell should I apologize? He’s just a slave!”

“A slave is still flesh and blood, born of parents like the rest of us! Old Xu, you’re someone with parents and children—how can you speak of others’ parents like that?”

Qi Beinan’s voice rose sharply. “Xiao Tian’s village was devastated by floods—his home washed away, his fields destroyed, his mother taken by the river. He and his father fled to Ling County, and his father later died from illness. The mat he buried his father with was paid for by selling himself. And you… you open your mouth and make things up, looking down on people, acting higher than even government officials!”

Village Head Zhao had only heard about a quarrel—he hadn’t known Tian Ken’s story was so tragic.

Even he said, “Old Xu, what you said about his parents really was too much.”

“I was just mouthing off. It was just some rough village talk—I didn’t think he’d take it so seriously.”

“Old Xu, Xiao Tian’s had it rough enough. What you said was way out of line.”

The villagers, who’d already felt the old man’s words were going too far, now found themselves sympathizing with Tian Ken after hearing the truth.

Old Xu fell silent for a long while, his pride keeping him from apologizing to a young boy.

But he didn’t dare defy the village head, and with everyone muttering around him, he couldn’t quite keep up his righteous anger.

His voice cracked with irritation: “You’re all siding with the outsider!”

He tried to slip away, but Qi Beinan stepped in his path.

Old Xu glared at him, but didn’t dare start a confrontation. He quietly backed off.

After a moment of awkward hesitation, he finally turned back and muttered to Tian Ken, “Alright, alright. I was in the wrong.”

Then, red in the face, he slinked away.

With the situation settled, the village head patted Tian Ken on the shoulder and sent the villagers off.

The crowd dispersed, but Tian Ken stood there with a heavy heart. His eyes, once red from rage, were now brimming with tears.

He hadn’t expected Qi Beinan not only to stand by him, but to make that old man apologize to him.

For the first time, he truly felt what it meant to be protected.

But because Qi Beinan treated him so well, Tian Ken felt even more ashamed.

He choked up and said to Qi Beinan:

“Thank you, Young Master, for speaking up for me. But… what that old man said isn’t entirely wrong. I really am clumsy. I actually managed to kill good water-shield greens with manure. I won’t mess around with fertilizer again. From now on, I’ll farm properly, step by step.”

He’d boasted before—said he was skilled in fieldwork, confident he could get the crops thriving.

But now, not only had he failed to tend the crops well, he’d ruined them. Guilt and regret weighed heavy on his heart.

Qi Beinan looked at the patch of withered cabbages, their hearts yellowed to the core, but his mood remained calm.

He looked up and said to Tian Ken, “Let me tell you a story.”

Qi Beinan motioned for the dejected Tian Ken to sit beside the fire. He tossed on some more wood and rekindled the flame.

Then he sat down beside him and began, “Long ago, there was an official who lost his wife. After she passed, he fell into despair. The emperor saw that he remained withdrawn for years and decided to send him to gain experience, appointing him to a post in Western Shu.”

“That Western Shu? The place with barren land and starving farmers?”

Tian Ken wasn’t sure why Qi Beinan was telling him a story, but when he heard that name, he couldn’t help but look up and ask.

“You’ve heard of Western Shu?”

Tian Ken nodded. “Yes. When the harvest was bad, the older farmers in our village would say, ‘This year’s yield’s worse than in Western Shu!’ My father said it’s a far-off place on the border.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Exactly that sort of place—poor and infertile. Farmers across the land knew its name.”

Tian Ken said, “Then the emperor must’ve truly despised that official, sending him there.”

But Qi Beinan replied, “In the early years, Western Shu was indeed barren. But when that official was assigned there, the Ministry of Revenue had been reviewing their tax records and found something strange: the amount of grain tribute and taxes from Western Shu had been steadily rising each year. Before long, it even rivaled the prosperous lands of Jiangnan.”

“How could that be?!”

“Exactly. The emperor was puzzled after seeing the records, and so he sent this official to investigate.”

Qi Beinan continued calmly, “When the official arrived in Western Shu, he was shocked. What people called barren land was now fields of lush green crops. There were cabbages the size of washbasins, beans thick as fingers, winter melons sprawled all over the ground, and plump, heavy stalks of rice… This was nothing like the poverty everyone imagined.”

“The official suspected that previous governors must’ve lied, using the region’s remoteness to fake hardship and line their own pockets. But after investigating further, he discovered the real reason.”

Tian Ken was captivated. “So what was it?”

“It was because of a man in Western Shu—someone who shared your surname. His name was Tian Wannong.”

“He was a master of agriculture. The fertilizers he developed could turn poor soil fertile. His pesticide formulas eliminated pests without harming crops.”

“Thanks to him, what once grew nothing now thrived. Farmers flocked to buy his fertilizers and sprays. Year by year, harvests improved.”

“The people called him a great benefactor. He even funded irrigation projects so droughts wouldn’t ruin the fields, and floods wouldn’t drown them. Poor farmers could buy supplies on credit and pay after harvest.”

“The official saw him as a marvel and went to meet him in person.”

Qi Beinan smiled at Tian Ken. “Tian Wannong had become one of the wealthiest men in Western Shu, but when the official first saw him, he mistook him for a common farmer. He had a dark, sun-weathered face and spoke with a thick accent.”

Tian Ken said, “He really sounds like a humble man.”

Qi Beinan nodded, then continued: “The official asked him what reward he wanted, after having done so much for the farmers, for Western Shu, even for the empire.”

“But Tian Wannong asked for nothing. He said everything he had done was for two reasons: one, he simply loved farming; two, he wanted to make up for the helplessness he’d felt in his youth.”

“It turned out he too had a tragic past. He wasn’t originally from Western Shu—he had wandered there after his hometown was destroyed by disaster. On the road, his parents and relatives died and were left unburied in the wilderness. He couldn’t even afford a straw mat to cover them.”

“He never wanted another poor soul to suffer the pain he had, so he did everything he could to help.”

Tian Ken was stunned.

He stared silently at the little fire flickering in the cold wind, swaying weakly.

Qi Beinan said, “Tian Wannong was a refugee who came to a barren land. It took him over twenty years to turn that desolation into fertile fields.”

“He once ruined an entire season’s crop while testing fertilizer. He nearly died experimenting with pesticide formulas. But no matter the hardship, no matter the danger, he never gave up. In the end, he became known across Western Shu—even the emperor heard his name.”

“I tell you this not because your story mirrors his, but because of the resilience and persistence he showed in creating those fertilizers and sprays.”

Qi Beinan gently patted Tian Ken’s shoulder.

“A few days ago, I saw you up before dawn, hauling manure without complaint, reeking and sweating for half the day. I thought you were someone who could endure, someone with resolve. I even used you as an example to scold Xiao Bao for slacking in his writing. He felt so ashamed he stayed indoors and quietly practiced for days, even in the cold.”

“So now look at that—the role model’s run out of steam,”

Qi Beinan teased with a smile.

Tian Ken scratched his head, embarrassed. “All my efforts were for nothing. Put in so much work, and in the end, I just killed the greens.”

Qi Beinan said, “When is anything ever done right on the first try? Even when I read and write, do you think just by putting in effort, I can immediately write a perfect essay? Place first in the exam? No—it takes failure after failure, trial and reflection. If every scholar gave up after a setback, how many would still be reading today?”

“As for Old Xu’s words, don’t take them to heart. He’s just upset because you got in his way. That’s why he lashed out in front of everyone.”

Tian Ken was confused. “But I was just hauling manure for the master’s fields. What does it have to do with him?”

“Before, all that extra manure from Master Zhang’s house? Old Xu was the one who used to carry it. But you, with your quick hands, went and fetched it, even helping chop wood and cut grass for them. They were happy to let you use it. But Old Xu, who just wanted to take the manure without giving anything back, got turned away.”

Qi Beinan continued, “Old Xu wouldn’t dare resent Master Zhang, whose household is doing well—so all that frustration got dumped on you instead. Foolish boy, it’s not really about you killing the crops—he just couldn’t stand the sight of you.”

Tian Ken finally understood. His eyes lit up with admiration. “Young Master, you stay home reading books all day, yet you see things so clearly!”

Seeing that Tian Ken had perked up again, Qi Beinan chuckled, dusted off his clothes, and stood up. “Now that I’ve finished telling that long-winded tale, my legs are numb.”

“Let’s head home. Xiao Bao’s making pig lung and radish soup today. It was already in the pot when I left. If we don’t hurry back, he’ll come out here looking for us.”

Tian Ken quickly stamped out the fire, hoisted his basket onto his back, and caught up to Qi Beinan. “Young Master, that story about Tian Wannong—was it true?”

Qi Beinan looked at Tian Ken’s curious gaze, smiled, but didn’t answer directly.

He simply changed the subject. “You don’t need to go cutting grass for the ox today. Brother Fang found a patch of lush grass halfway up the hill and brought back a full basket for us. He really loves that ox of his.”

“Oh, and another thing! You’ve been messing with all that manure—go wash up properly. It might not be as sweaty as summer in the twelfth month, but you still stink to high heaven!”

Tian Ken scratched his head sheepishly. “I’ll wash as soon as I get back.”

He didn’t press the story again, but his mind was already turning, thinking of how he’d rework the fertilizer he’d brewed earlier.

Judging from the wilted greens, it was likely too much fermented urine and not enough gypsum… maybe try using cooked gypsum instead of raw next time?

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚