Chapter 3: The Jiang Family
If one were to speak of Qingtian Village, the Jiang family was without question the most prominent household. Don’t be fooled by how the Zhou family strutted around the village acting all high and mighty—they couldn’t even begin to compare with the Jiangs. They couldn’t catch up even if they whipped their horses to death trying.
The reason was simple. The Zhou family had risen to wealth through raising pigs and squeezing their tenant farmers dry—a family of vulgar upstarts. The Jiang family, on the other hand, was the only scholarly and noble household in all of Qingtian Village, a family of genuine standing and refinement.
The Jiang family’s patriarch was a learned man who had once served as an official. It was said that he had been a close friend of the former prime minister—they had drunk together, composed couplets together, and were well-known figures in their time.
Unfortunately, he was born in troubled times. Back then, the eunuch faction held absolute power, ten eunuchs ruling the court as they pleased, even turning the emperor into their puppet. The Jiang patriarch, unwilling to join their corrupt ranks, chose to resign and return home, taking his family back to this peaceful, picturesque, secluded paradise—Qingtian Village.
After retiring and settling down, the old patriarch established strict family rules: from that day forward, no member of the Jiang family, whether male or female, was ever to enter government service. Because of this, although the current head of the Jiang family was well-read and deeply learned, he never took the imperial exams or served in office. Instead, he ran some small local businesses in the countryside.
The Jiangs were both wealthy and educated, so they didn’t quite fit in with the simple villagers of Qingtian. They usually kept a low profile, unlike the Zhou family, who always made a big show of things. Thus, they rarely became the subject of gossip—except for one matter….
That exception was the Jiang family’s only grandson and sole heir, Jiang Changxin—the village’s favorite topic of endless chatter.
The reason was none other than this: the Jiang family’s young master was a fool!
The head of the Jiang family, being a refined scholar, had given his son a cultured, elegant name. Now almost twenty years old, Jiang Changxin was tall and broad-shouldered, with a slim waist—a strikingly handsome young man from afar. Yet since childhood, he had suffered an illness that damaged his mind. Even as a grown man, he still behaved like a simpleton.
Because of that, despite the Jiang family’s noble lineage and wealth, their only son had yet to marry.
Ye Zhu smirked mockingly. Still, because of Ye Ning’s recent change in attitude, he didn’t dare be too obvious. His face was caught somewhere between sneering and smiling as he said, “I’m just saying—the Jiang family’s young master may be a fool, but their grandfather was once a high-ranking official, and their father is an educated man. Even if you tried to cling to the Jiangs, they might not even want to look at you.”
Ye Ning frowned slightly, he calmly said: “That’s none of your concern.”
Ye Ning was a straight man. After finally escaping from the apocalyptic world into this peaceful, lush countryside, he had no interest whatsoever in romance—let alone marrying someone. He much preferred farming and cooking. Back in the apocalypse, resources were scarce, and though Ye Ning had excellent culinary skills, he had nowhere to use them. Here, however, things were different.
Mother Ye, anxious and wringing her hands, turned to Father Ye. “Old man, maybe you should go over to the Zhou family and apologize. Swallow your pride, smooth things over. The Zhou family still doesn’t despise Ning Ger—such a good match, you couldn’t find one like it even with a lantern!”
Father Ye, proud and stubborn, sat with a dark expression, silent. He didn’t want to lose face, but he also didn’t want to lose the marriage. After holding it in for a while, he finally muttered, “Zhou Dalang is still angry today. I’ll go tomorrow.”
The next morning, just as dawn broke, Father Ye got up early, intending to visit the Zhou family and patch things up. But when he pushed open their rough wooden gate—splintered and full of burrs—he was met with an unexpected sight: Zhou Dalang was already standing at their courtyard entrance.
Before Father Ye could even plaster on a servile smile, a shrill voice rang out, “Oh my! Look, everyone! The Ye family finally came out!”
It was the matchmaker from the day before. Today she wore a sharp, sour expression, her face completely different from yesterday’s cheerful one. With a sneer, she said, “The Ye family sure thinks highly of themselves! I’ve been matchmaking for thirty years and have never failed to close a deal. Never have I seen such a high-and-mighty Ger! Ning Ger really is something—turning his nose up even at the Zhou family! Zhou Dalang offered five whole acres of land, and Ning Ger didn’t even look at it, acting all disgusted!”
The matchmaker was quite influential in the village. Nearly every marriage went through her hands, and she naturally wanted to take credit for arranging the Zhou family’s. But after what happened yesterday, the marriage was called off—and that was a slap to her face.
The matchmaker couldn’t read a single word. She hadn’t realized the “land deed” was actually a contract of servitude. All she knew was that her reputation was at stake. So early that morning, she came to the Ye family’s door to stir up trouble and gossip.
Zhou Dalang stood beside her, tugging at her sleeve as if to stop her, wearing an expression of helplessness and false pity. “Please, don’t say that. It’s just that Ning Ger doesn’t think much of me. What can I do about it?”
The villagers loved gossip, so a crowd quickly gathered, pointing and whispering among themselves. “The engagement didn’t go through yesterday?”
“Ning Ger turned down Zhou Dalang? In the past, sure, with his looks like a celestial being, it wouldn’t be strange for him to marry into a wealthy family in the county. But now that his health’s ruined, he still thinks he can be picky?”
“I heard the Zhou family was offering five acres of land! And Ning Ger refused? Five acres!”
Zhou Dalang acted like a poor bullied bride, putting on his best pitiful face. “It was all my wishful thinking. I offended Ning Ger—it’s no one else’s fault.”
The matchmaker grew increasingly annoyed as she spoke, as if the mood had reached a boiling point—if she didn’t say a few more words, she’d be doing herself an injustice. She raised her voice and shouted, “Good heavens—this is the first time I’ve ever seen something like this! A land deed placed right in front of him, yet Ning Ger doesn’t even spare it a glance! So aloof, he’s practically a celestial being—”
Creak—
The tightly shut door swung open. Ye Ning stepped out slowly, dressed in plain clothing. Though his outfit was no different from anyone else’s, somehow, on him, the simplicity turned into an aura of quiet detachment, untouched by the dust of the mortal world.
When Father Ye saw him, his face turned crimson with fury. “You still have the face to come out? Get back inside! Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?”
Ye Ning, however, remained calm and composed. He said evenly, “Father, don’t be angry yet. Since all our fellow villagers are here, and the Zhou family has already gone this far and forced the matter to such an end, if you swallow this humiliation without a word, wouldn’t that make you lose face and give everyone something to gossip about behind your back?”
Though Ye Ning had not been here long, he had already grasped Father Ye’s temperament well. Father Ye feared nothing more than losing face—his pride mattered more to him than anything else. He was the very image of someone who would rather puff up his face to look fat.
Sure enough, once Ye Ning said this, Father Ye fell silent. His head drooped in shame, and he kept sighing heavily.
Ye Ning turned his gaze toward the matchmaker and Zhou Dalong and asked, “I’d like to ask Zhou Dalong—what exactly did you bring yesterday? Was it a land deed or a contract of servitude?”
Zhou Dahu’s eyes darted about wildly. Puffing up his chest, he stammered, “Of course—it was a land deed. What contract of servitude are you talking about?”
But his words stumbled.
Ye Ning smiled faintly, pulling a sheet of paper from his sleeve and giving it a light shake for all to see. Fortunately, he had been cautious the previous day and had secretly tucked away the contract amid the commotion. Otherwise, with the Zhou family denying everything, he would have been forced to swallow this loss in silence.
“This…” Zhou Dahu hadn’t expected Ye Ning to have kept the document. He reached to snatch it away, but Ye Ning had already anticipated this and stepped back.
Though Ye Ning’s figure was slender, like a soft willow at the village entrance—his waist narrow enough to circle with one hand, his thighs not even as thick as half of Zhou Dalong’s arm—he had once lived through an apocalypse. He lacked neither agility nor cunning strength.
Turning to the matchmaker, Ye Ning said, “Take a good look. Is this the very same land deed Zhou Dalong brought yesterday?”
The matchmaker couldn’t read a single word, and it seemed Zhou Dalong hadn’t prepared her beforehand. She glanced at the paper, nodded quickly, and said with certainty, “Yes! That’s the one! I recognize it! Everyone, come and see—Zhou Dalong brought a land deed himself, but Ning Ger still turned up his nose at it!”
Ye Ning smiled again. “With your word, I feel much more at ease.”
Zhou Dalong was drenched in cold sweat despite the blazing summer heat. Beads of icy perspiration rolled down his face, and his back was soaked through.
Ye Ning continued, “This contract is not a land deed at all—it’s a contract of servitude!”
“What? How did it become a contract of servitude?” The villagers whispered among themselves, not understanding what was happening.
Ye Ning’s smile vanished completely. “In black and white, it states that my Ye family owes the Zhou family three hundred strings in silver, and since we cannot repay it, we are selling our eldest son, Ye Ning, to the Zhou family. Fellow villagers, we all see each other day in and day out—tell me, when have you ever seen my family owe the Zhou family three hundred strings?”
The murmurs among the crowd grew louder. Three hundred strings! Aside from the Jiang family, who in Qingtian Village could possibly come up with such a fortune? It was a staggering sum, one that ordinary farmers wouldn’t even dream of earning in a lifetime.
The matchmaker sneered, “I’ve never seen you, Ning Ger, studying or reading. You say it’s a contract of servitude, so that makes it one?”
Zhou Dalong finally managed to blurt out, “Y-yes! I offered out of goodwill, and you treat me like this? Even if you don’t like me, you don’t have to trample on my good intentions like that!”
Ye Ning lifted the paper. “Here is the contract, and the matchmaker can testify that it was indeed brought by Zhou Dalong. Then let’s find someone who can read and have them take a look.”
Just then, a voice from the back shouted, “Hey! Isn’t that Zhang family’s third son?”
“Zhang Sanlang can read! He’s the most educated man around here—let him take a look!”
The crowd parted to form a path, and a young man walked forward, carrying a book basket on his back. He had clearly just arrived and didn’t yet know what had happened.
Zhang Zhiyuan approached, dressed like a scholar. Though his robe was faded from washing, it was meticulously kept, and his whole demeanor radiated the air of a bookish gentleman.
“Uncle,” Zhang Zhiyuan greeted Father Ye respectfully. “What’s going on here?”
It turned out Zhang Zhiyuan was Ye Ning’s distant cousin. He was on his way to the capital to take the imperial exam, but his family had fallen on hard times, leaving him without travel money. When he passed through Qingtian Village, Father Ye, knowing of his scholarly talent, took him in for a few days, hoping to earn favor should Zhang Zhiyuan succeed in the future.
Zhang Zhiyuan was an upright man. Though he had not stayed long in the village, he was always willing to help. Whenever anyone needed a letter written or a contract drafted, he would gladly assist—never taking a single coin. Because of this, everyone spoke well of him.
This was Ye Ning’s first time meeting this cousin, but he showed no surprise and simply handed over the document.
Zhang Zhiyuan took it, while the villagers urged eagerly, “Well, Zhang Sanlang, what does it say? Is it a contract of servitude or a land deed?”
Zhang Zhiyuan had barely glanced at it when his brows furrowed, his face darkening with fury. The paper rustled sharply in his hands as he rebuked sternly, “Zhou family’s young master, your family is among the more reputable in Qingtian Village. Yet you dare pass off a contract of servitude as a land deed, bullying others without shame!”
“What? It really is a contract of servitude?”
“Heavens, Zhou Dalong always looked so honest… who would’ve thought?”
The matchmaker immediately shrank back. She hadn’t believed Ye Ning could read, but she couldn’t possibly doubt Zhang Zhiyuan. She stepped back several paces and fell silent, no longer daring to get involved.
Zhou Dalong wiped his sweat nervously and argued, “You—you’re Ning Ger’s cousin! Of course you’d lie for him!”
Zhang Zhiyuan raised a hand, placing himself protectively in front of Ye Ning. With a scholar’s righteous dignity, he declared, “I, Zhang Zhiyuan, study the teachings of the sages and honor their path. I would never utter falsehoods. If you think my words are biased because I am Ning Ger’s cousin, then so be it. But what about the Jiang family in the north of the village—a family of scholars? Would you trust them?”
“I, a humble student, work as a clerk for the Jiang family and serve as their son’s study companion. If you wish, we can go to the Jiang residence today and ask the old master himself to examine this contract and give judgment.”
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