Chapter 33: Dear Nephew, You've Been Deceived!

Inside the main hall of the Li residence.

Just as the old matriarch was reminiscing with the elder, the eldest granddaughter, Changsun Nonggui, entered the hall briskly, moving quickly under the watchful eyes of all.

“Mother! It’s done, it’s done!”

Her face alight with joy, Changsun Nonggui congratulated the old lady, then glanced at the uncles of the Fu family seated beside her, her gaze softening with familiarity.

“Uncle Fu! It’s settled!”

She smiled as she spoke.

When the Fu family’s arrival was first announced, it’s no exaggeration to say that Changsun Nonggui’s worry rivaled that of Madam Zhou and Erlang Li Jingjie.

Madam Zhou and Li Jingjie were anxious about past matters, but Changsun Nonggui’s concern was entirely for Li Cha.

Li Cha had grown up motherless. From the very first moment Changsun Nonggui laid eyes on her, she felt a deep, genuine pity. Seeing how indifferent Fu Zihou was towards Li Cha’s shortcomings, Changsun Nonggui’s eyes nearly filled with tears. Only someone who had watched Li Cha grow up could truly know how hard her life had been.

All the other Li children had mothers, only Li Cha did not. While her siblings studied and read, Li Cha spent her days alone in the rear courtyard. Even when the Li children conversed and laughed with others attending private lessons at the Li residence, Li Cha alone remained silent, unable to speak a word.

Many times, even Changsun Nonggui wondered why fate had been so unkind to Li Cha.

Now, seeing Li Cha’s betrothed accept her without reservation, Changsun Nonggui was so moved she was nearly brought to tears.

“What? It’s settled?”

“Is that… really true?”

“I don’t know! But judging by our sister-in-law’s expression, it doesn’t seem like a lie!”

Hearing Changsun Nonggui’s announcement, not only did the old matriarch look surprised, but the other daughters-in-law of the Li family exchanged glances as well.

As the daughters-in-law, they knew better than any outsider: though Li Cha was lovely enough, her natural affliction alone was enough to scare off not only other prominent families, but even ordinary official households. Few were willing to even speak with her.

Yet the young man from the Fu family truly seemed not to mind.

In the main hall, not only did Li Jingjie—seated behind the wooden table—look to Changsun Nonggui, but so did Li Qiong, her head bowed and stubborn as always.

Li Jingjie sighed in relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Li Qiong, too, felt a measure of relief. She had not expected the young man from the Fu family to accept her sixth sister so readily.

Seeing how delighted her aunt Changsun was, Li Qiong felt sure it was true. Her aunt had always loved her sixth sister dearly; were it a falsehood, she would never be so visibly pleased.

Turning her gaze to the head of the hall, she watched Grandfather Fu chat and laugh with her grandmother, intent on finalizing the matter. Though her grandmother still seemed somewhat apprehensive, Li Qiong knew that with Grandfather Fu’s endorsement, the engagement was as good as set.

Her grandmother might scold her, but never again with the fury she’d displayed earlier—that look had truly been frightening.

“Sixth sister…”

Kneeling behind the wooden table, Li Qiong thought of Li Cha, then recalled the courteous, handsome youth from earlier.

For a brief moment, a strange feeling passed through her heart—just moments ago, that young man had nearly become her own husband, and now, in the blink of an eye, he would soon be her sixth sister’s.

But it had nothing to do with affection.

Li Qiong had always been strong-willed. Whether in the arts, calligraphy, or martial skills, she’d never lost to any other girl, growing up amid constant praise from her elders.

From childhood, others had always tried to please her, showering her with gifts; it was rare for anyone to take away something that belonged to her.

Much less when that “something” was a man who was supposed to be her own betrothed, and now would become another woman’s husband.

Fortunately, that feeling lasted but a moment and soon faded, leaving no trace on Li Qiong’s mind.

After all, it had been her own decision—she herself had asked her grandmother to dissolve the engagement and had no wish to marry the young man. Only then had he become her sixth sister’s intended.

With that thought, any sense of loss dissipated entirely.

Looking across the hall at Grandfather Fu conversing with her grandmother, and at the Fu elders seated at the opposite table, Li Qiong understood what she truly wanted: a distinguished family as her future home.

The Fu family was neither illustrious nor renowned.

That young man was not suited to her.

…

As dusk settled, one dish after another was brought to the tables before the guests by the maids in the main hall of the Li residence.

The elder could not remember the last time he had eaten and drunk so heartily—laughing with the matriarch over old memories, he ate and drank without restraint.

Elder Liu, Madam Tao, Fu Zhi, and the others did not stand on ceremony either. Madam Zhang, in particular, grabbed a chicken leg for herself and another for her daughter-in-law, Madam Tai.

Compared to the Fu family, who had fled here as refugees, the Li women dined with far more grace, as these dishes were a common sight during festivals.

On the other side, although Li Cha was also present for the evening meal, she knelt quietly behind her table, head bowed, too nervous to pick up her chopsticks.

Even without looking up, she was keenly aware that the young man across from her had not taken his eyes off her.

“So Zihou once said there was a mountain of gold in the fields?” the old matriarch inquired, watching the flushed, tipsy elder Fu recount a tale about Zihou, unable to suppress a laugh.

Those around heard the exchange and glanced toward the young man eating at the opposite table.

A mountain of gold in the fields? Even Li Jingjie, a scholar well-versed in the classics, as well as the Li women, had never heard of such a thing.

Li Qiong, quietly eating her meal, could not help but glance at the youth, but quickly looked away.

Throughout the simple supper, Li Qiong noticed the youth stealing glances at her sixth sister, utterly unashamed.

Such behavior struck her as pretentious and off-putting.

“It’s true! When the season comes, the villagers can’t get to the fields faster than him!” the elder said, taking a swig from his flask, recounting Zihou’s rushing to the fields with an exaggerated look of disdain.

“Zihou, why would you say such a thing?” the old matriarch asked, genuinely curious as she turned her gaze on the young man.

She had seen no trace of foolishness in Zihou, but from the elder’s story, it seemed Zihou had indeed done such things.

“Ah!”

Startled out of his thoughts, Zihou quickly turned to the old matriarch and bowed.

“Zihou, treat this as your own home, there’s no need to be so formal,” the old matriarch said, waving her hand. She disliked seeing Zihou act so stiffly in the Li household.

After all, once the marriage was concluded, aside from the elder, Zihou would become the true bond between the Li and Fu families—practically half a Li himself.

“Honored grandmother, Zihou once had the privilege of being taught by a sage, who said that if one could find a certain plant in the fields and cultivate it, it would become the staple that could feed the world.”

Zihou lowered his hands and addressed the matriarch directly, forgoing further ceremony since she seemed displeased by it.

“A sage?”

“A sage!”

At these words, not only the matriarch but all present—Li Jingjie, the women of the Li family, the Fu family—looked at one another in astonishment.

Even the younger Li children, Li Zhaotian, Li Le, Li Anren, and Li Anjing, gazed at Zihou with curiosity.

“Nephew, might you share the sage’s name with your uncle? Even just the surname?” Li Jingjie set aside his bowl and chopsticks, his interest piqued.

When sages were mentioned, as a scholar, he could not help but take the matter seriously. He was familiar with the great figures and schools of thought throughout the land. He could name all the great scholars, but as for a sage—he had to inquire further.

Who would dare make such a bold claim?

“Honored uncle, the sage’s surname is Yuan. Zihou called him Old Yuan,” Zihou replied, glancing at Li Jingjie. He hadn’t expected the elder’s drunkenness and the reunion with the matriarch would lead to his own affairs being recounted.

Now, facing their questions, he could only answer truthfully.

He knew no one would believe him—not the matriarch, not even his scholarly uncle, nor anyone else, even a thousand years hence, before Old Yuan’s time. No one would believe it.

“Yuan? Old Yuan?”

Li Jingjie shook his head at Zihou’s reply, then smiled.

“Nephew, I fear you’ve been deceived. I count many great scholars among my friends, yet I have never heard this name. And how could there be such a crop to feed the world?”

Li Jingjie spoke plainly, telling Zihou he was surely the victim of a swindle.

The implication was clear: Zihou was too young, easily duped—an indirect slight against the teacher he had revered, that scholar named Liu Zhiyuan.

“Fool, even I know that’s a con…” Li Zhaotian muttered, full of disdain for her future brother-in-law, thinking even she was cleverer than him.

“Zhaotian!” her mother hissed, and she quickly bowed her head to eat, determined not to care as long as she herself wasn’t married to such an idiot.

“At the time, we all said it was a trick, but this boy is stubborn as a mule…” the elder continued, unfazed by the laughter.

“Zihou’s heart is pure, wishing only for the peace of the people. He cannot be blamed—rather, those charlatans are at fault…” the matriarch said, gently steering the conversation away, not wishing to embarrass Zihou.

Below the dais, as everyone in both families shook their heads and smiled, only Li Cha looked up at the young man.

“I knew it…”

Kneeling behind the table, Zihou ignored the others’ reactions. One day, when he found a wild, male-sterile rice plant and cultivated it using knowledge from his former life, only then would the matriarch and Li Jingjie understand the significance of that name and of the rice itself.

There was no point in arguing now.

But it was a pity: even in Huaiyang, finding such rice was nearly impossible, let alone here in the north. Only in the far south—in Longchuan or Nanhai—might there be a chance, after years of searching.

As the others ate, Zihou looked at the sumptuous dishes before him, but found little appetite.

It wasn’t for lack of abundance; indeed, this was the finest meal he had ever seen.

But seeing the girl across from him, her head bowed, risking a glance at him—then swiftly looking away—his mind drifted back to what Zhao Han had told him before he left the village.

“…The bride is the daughter of the Yang family. I’m not sure of the exact dowry, but my father said there was at least half a million in silver!”

He remembered Zhao Han’s words, remembered the banquet at the Xie house in Wanqiu, and gazed at the girl across the table, a heavy sense of guilt welling in his heart.

Though he knew he could never compare to the wealth accumulated by the Xie family over generations, he was determined not to let his fiancée suffer any indignity.

He looked at the clear, pale wine on the table, knowing well it was of low quality—its flavor lacking, its refinement minimal. Yet even this was considered the best available, reserved for special guests in the Li household.

Ordinary merchants and even well-off commoners usually drank a greenish wine called “Green Ants”—unfinished, unfiltered, its surface speckled with dregs, light green and fine as ants. In Zihou’s eyes, it was little more than a spoiled half-product.

Back in his old home, Zihou had thought of making real wine.

But after the ordeal with the refugees, he realized that in chaotic times, without influence or backing, even a family’s stores of food could spell disaster.

That was why, for so many years, he’d abandoned the idea of brewing wine.

He had thought that, coming to the Li house under their protection, he might try again—to see whether the powerful families would covet his secrets, whether the Li family could withstand such pressure.

But for now, it seemed the Li family was embroiled in troubles of their own.

Still, looking at the girl across from him, head bowed…

No. Once his father arrived in Qiao County, once he met Li Cha’s father, he would do whatever it took to brew some fine wine—if the Li family could not serve as his shield, he would find another way.

As he stared at the pale wine on the table, Zihou made up his mind.

Here in this northern city—at the crossroads of Xindu, Pingyuan, and Bohai, beside the Grand Canal—once he understood the Li family’s situation and their troubles, he would no longer hold back.

Even if he had to go to Taiyuan to seek the Li family’s aid, he would have something of real worth to offer.