Ch 10: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

“Wait a moment,” Jiang Ji said.

He slipped on his shoes and went out to ask Zhao Ru for the man’s jade pendant and banknotes.

When Zhao Ru heard that the injured man had woken up, she was delighted and handed him the items.

Back in the room, Jiang Ji crouched beside the bed and said, “These were on you—a jade pendant and four banknotes. Other than these and your clothes, there was nothing else. My mother washed your clothes. Here, take them.”

The man accepted them without glancing at the notes, his eyes fixed on the jade pendant.

“Look familiar? Do you remember anything?” Jiang Ji asked.

The man shook his head.

“You’ll remember eventually,” Jiang Ji said encouragingly, then continued, “Brother, here’s the situation. The day before yesterday, you had a high fever and were unconscious. I called the village doctor for you, but my family is poor, so we haven’t paid the consultation and medicine fees yet. The doctor used up his entire stock of wound powder to stop the bleeding from your chest wound—it’s expensive stuff. Altogether, we owe him five taels and two qian of silver.”

To justify the future use of modern medicine, he went on, “But your wounds didn’t improve, and you were still unconscious. Yesterday, I went into town to find another doctor—it cost another five taels to save your life. That fee also hasn’t been paid yet.”

Hearing that, the man handed over all the banknotes.

Jiang Ji hesitated, then took only the fifty-tael note. “This one will do—see? Fifty taels. Don’t worry, I’ll bring the rest back to you later.”

The man’s voice was weak from exhaustion. “Keep it. I’ll still have to trouble you and your family while I recover.”

Jiang Ji could guess what he was thinking—probably embarrassed to owe too much. Besides, the medicine wasn’t cheap, and there was food and care to account for too. Five taels barely covered it.

“Alright then. It’s not like I saved you for your money, but since paying makes you feel better staying here, I’ll accept it as a care fee,” Jiang Ji said.

The man nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

Jiang Ji tucked the fifty-tael note into his clothes. “Rest well. Don’t move around. Your wounds are long—if they tear open, it’ll be trouble. After breakfast, I’ll come clean and dress them again.”

Jiang Bei, listening from the side, stared wide-eyed.

When had his big brother become such a smooth talker? He’d just pocketed fifty taels without blinking!

Jiang Nan woke up too. Hearing that the man was conscious, he hurried to get dressed and, along with Jiang Bei, stood a few steps away, curiously peering at the stranger.

Jiang Ji noticed them and jerked his chin. “Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei—since you’re up, go wash up.”

“Oh.” Jiang Nan responded but didn’t move. Instead, he took a few steps closer, crouched by the bed, and asked, “Uncle, my name’s Jiang Nan. What’s yours?”

Jiang Ji’s eyes widened. “What uncle? Call him brother.”

The man wasn’t much older than Jiang Ji, and that “uncle” made him sound a generation older for no reason.

“Oh—brother,” Jiang Nan corrected obediently.

Jiang Bei tugged at Jiang Nan’s sleeve and whispered, “He doesn’t know his name. Big Brother said he lost his memory.”

“Huh?” Jiang Nan blinked in pity. “You can’t remember who you are?”

The man nodded. “That’s right.”

“Don’t ask too much,” Jiang Ji said, patting their heads. “Go wash your faces.”

“Okay.” This time, they obeyed and went out.

Jiang Ji was about to follow when he saw the man trying to get up. He quickly stepped over. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

For the first time since waking, the man’s composed, handsome face showed a hint of embarrassment. “I… need to relieve myself.”

Jiang Ji paused, blinking. “Oh, right—you’ve been unconscious all this time. Haven’t gone once, huh? Number one or number two?”

“What?” The man looked confused.

Jiang Ji smacked his forehead—right, they probably didn’t use that phrasing here. “I mean, bowel movement or urination?”

The man’s fair, well-defined face flushed slightly. “…Urination.”

“Got it. Wait here.” Jiang Ji got up and pointed at him. “Don’t move. Lie back down. The doctor said you should stay in bed for at least three days.”

A moment later, he brought back a chamber pot and handed it over. “Need my help?”

The man shook his head. “No, thank you. Could you… step out for a bit?”

Realizing he was embarrassed, Jiang Ji chuckled and said, “Alright. Just don’t get up—your abdominal wound is the worst one. There’s also a deep sword wound in your left chest that only just stopped bleeding.”

“Understood.”

“Call me when you’re done.” Jiang Ji went out and, considerately, closed the door behind him.

After a while, a low voice came from inside. “Brother Jiang Ji, you can come in now.”

Jiang Ji pushed the door open. The chamber pot sat by the bed; when he lifted it, it was surprisingly heavy.

“Just call me Jiang Ji,” he said. “I’ll bring you some water to wash up in a bit.” He cracked open the window for ventilation. “Cover yourself with the quilt. I’ll leave the door open for now.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“No need to be so polite.” Jiang Ji carried the chamber pot out.

It was the first time he’d ever emptied one for someone else. In the past, he would’ve found it disgusting, but after just a few days in this world, he realized his tolerance and limits were dropping lower and lower.

Truly, people only learn endurance when circumstances force them to.

He emptied and rinsed the pot, then went to wash his own hands and face.

Zhao Ru pulled him aside and whispered, “Jiang Bei said that man’s lost his memory?”

“Yeah.”

“Poor thing,” she sighed softly, then asked, “And you took quite a bit of his silver?”

“I took fifty taels. After paying the doctor’s fees, there’s forty-four taels and eight qian left. He said I should keep it,” Jiang Ji replied.

“And you just accepted it like that?” Zhao Ru looked uneasy—she had never in her life held that much money. “You could’ve just taken five or ten taels. That’s too much—it doesn’t feel right.”

“Don’t worry, Mother,” Jiang Ji reassured her. “He’ll need proper food and nutrition while recovering, and we’ll be taking care of him anyway. Besides, if I don’t accept it, he might feel awkward staying here.”

Zhao Ru was still hesitant, but after thinking it over, what her son said made sense. She let it go.

At this time, simple toothbrushes and tooth powder already existed, though crude. Jiang Ji exchanged for one to try it out—it was rough, but far better than chewing willow twigs.

He decided to get one for everyone in the family, plus a new cloth towel for the injured man to wash up with.

And most importantly—proper toilet paper!

He placed the items neatly on the small table. Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei stared curiously.

They had seen toothbrushes at their playmates’ homes before, but not toilet paper. Even the wealthiest families in the village didn’t use it.

“Big brother, what’s this?” Jiang Nan asked, picking up a sheet of yellowish paper. “Are you going to the schoolhouse? But Dazhu’s writing paper doesn’t look like this.”

“This is toilet paper,” Jiang Ji explained. “You use it to wipe after doing your business.”

“Huh?” Jiang Nan was shocked. “You use such nice paper for that?”

“Yeah. From now on, use this—no more bamboo chips or grass. It’s not clean, and it’s bad for you. Got it?”

Jiang Nan turned to his mother, who looked just as bewildered. “This… this nice paper is really for the outhouse?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“But isn’t that wasteful?” Zhao Ru said, pained at the thought.

Jiang Ji had expected that reaction. He used his trump card. “The immortal said it himself—it’s for hygiene. You’ll get sick less often this way.”

The moment they heard it was the immortal’s instruction, everyone fell silent.

If the immortal said so, they had to listen. What if he took back Jiang Ji’s treasure otherwise?

Jiang Ji went on, “Also, the immortal said that from now on, we must boil water before drinking it. No more drinking it raw—it’s dirty and makes people sick.”

In winter, Zhao Ru always boiled water, but in summer, they usually drank it straight from the jar.

He’d been too busy streaming and worrying about the patient to bring this up earlier. Now that the man was awake, he finally had time to take care of household matters.

Jiang Ji exchanged for a large clay pot. “The immortal said water should be boiled and then kept simmering a bit longer before drinking. From now on, pour boiled water in here. Whenever anyone’s thirsty, drink from this pot.”

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei nodded blankly. “Oh…”

Then Jiang Ji turned to Zhao Ru. “Mother, boil a few eggs this morning—to build strength.”

“Alright.” With things looking better now, Zhao Ru also wanted the children to eat well and grow tall. “Xiao Ji, ask that young man if there’s anything he can’t eat. When you go to town, pick up some vegetables.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Ji said nothing more. He carried a basin of warm water to the man’s room, along with a new toothbrush and towel.

“These are all new. Don’t worry,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Jiang Ji helped him sit up; moving inevitably tugged at the wounds, but the man didn’t so much as flinch.

He really could endure pain—Jiang Ji couldn’t help but admire him a little.

The man was still wearing Jiang Ji’s inner clothes. The weather was cold, and his own clothes had been torn and bloodstained; Zhao Ru had washed them all.

Since Jiang Ji didn’t have spare winter clothing, he used his system points to get the man a full set, including a thick cotton-padded coat.

Placing the rest neatly by the bed, Jiang Ji handed him the coat. “Here, put this on—you’ll catch cold otherwise.”

“Thanks.” The man slipped it on, rolled up his sleeves, and began washing up.

Watching how naturally he used the toothbrush and tooth powder, Jiang Ji recalled the jade pendant, the banknotes, and the fine fabric of his clothing. His mother had said it was excellent quality. Jiang Ji guessed this man was probably the young master of some wealthy family who had fallen into trouble.

“Oh right,” he said. “My mother asked me to check if there’s anything you can’t eat, or anything you dislike. She’s planning to cook something nice.”

The man rinsed his mouth and wiped it with the towel. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, right—you don’t remember,” Jiang Ji said thoughtfully. “Well, you’ll need light food while you recover. If you come across anything you like or dislike, just tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Then sit tight—you’ll be having breakfast soon.”

“Okay.”

Breakfast was boiled eggs and porridge. Zhao Ru had added a bit of shredded meat and radish with a pinch of salt—it was far better than the wild-greens porridge they were used to.

Although Jiang Ji had said they’d have eggs regularly from now on, Zhao Ru still rationed carefully: one egg per person, with two for the injured man.

Jiang Ji brought the porridge and eggs into the room, set them on a small stool, and said, “Here you go—breakfast’s ready.”

“Alright.”

The man took the bowl of porridge and began to eat. His movements were quick but not crude—his table manners were refined and deliberate.

Watching him, Jiang Ji thought for a moment and said, “Since you don’t remember your name, it’s hard to call you something. Why don’t you pick a new one for now? What would you like to be called?”

The man swallowed his mouthful of porridge and paused in thought. Nothing came to mind, so he shook his head.

“Then how about I give you one?” Jiang Ji suggested. “Just a temporary name—once you remember who you are, you can use your real one again.”

“Then I’ll trouble you,” the man replied.

Jiang Ji studied his handsome face for a bit, then smiled. “My name’s Jiang Ji—it means quiet and still. So you should be Jiang Yan, Yan as in blazing heat. Perfect balance.”

The man looked at him and said simply, “Alright.”

“You really agreed?” Jiang Ji blinked, a little surprised. He had only said it half-jokingly.

The man nodded. “Yes. Jiang Yan—it sounds good.”

Jiang Ji blinked again, then the corners of his mouth curved upward. “I think so too.”

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