Chapter 1 - Chapter 3: Selling a Wife?

From South City to North City, Xu Mu wandered the streets for half a day without finding a way to earn silver. Even though his mind teemed with a thousand get-rich schemes... they all required startup capital. After giving Si Hu his share, he had less than two taels left. Hardly enough for business ventures. "Brother Mu, where do we sleep tonight? If not the cattle shed, there's a new inn in West City—only five coins a night, I heard." "Home." Xu Mu rubbed his forehead wearily. There were things he needed to clarify with that young servant wife—tell her he planned to live properly from now on, and that she'd best leave borderlands like Wangzhou. Of course, as her nominal husband, he'd try to scrape together travel money. Though not lovers, they owed each other basic decency. Still dozens of steps from his dilapidated courtyard, Xu Mu looked up and saw smoke curling from the chimney. Straightening his tunic and brushing mud from his cloth shoes, he pushed open the creaky gate and walked toward the ramshackle house. Si Hu, following behind, wore a odd look. He'd never seen Xu Mu act like this. He remembered how, just days ago at the brothel, Xu Mu had been in such a hurry he'd started undressing in the main hall. The figure inside seemed to hear them, quickly closing the half-open door. After a long pause, a sliver of it reopened, and half a head peeked out. "X-Xu Lang?" Her voice was lovely, but tinged with exhaustion. "Xu Mu, your hardship-registered husband." The door flew open. The girl dropped her firewood, eyes red, and hurried to him. Before Xu Mu could speak, she pulled over a dozen copper coins from her bosom and held them out. "Xu Lang, this humble one sold seven loads of firewood today, earned fourteen coins." Si Hu started to reach for them, but Xu Mu's glare sent him pouting to the side. "Why give me your earnings?" "Whatever this humble one earns... belongs to Xu Lang. Starting tomorrow, I'll wake earlier—I can make twenty coins." If they were a loving couple, Xu Mu might have said, "You stay beautiful; I'll earn the money." But they weren't. Fate had tied them with an invisible rope—one a transmigrator, the other a refugee. Xu Mu lowered his head, studying her in the faint moonlight. She had charming dimples, almond eyes, and an oval face. Even with two layers of soot, her beauty shone through. "Xu Lang, I'll go firewood-cutting at the third watch tomorrow—maybe earn twenty-five coins!" The girl grew anxious when he didn't take the coins. A twinge hit Xu Mu's chest. The third watch was three or four in the morning. "Xu Lang, this humble one eats very little—only one bowl of taro paste a day." She trembled. In Wangzhou, thugs selling their wives was common. Refugee servant wives like her, sold to brothels, were hardly noteworthy. She thought earning more might make this thug husband spare her. This chance to enter the city,来之不易—she couldn't lose it. Before reaching Wangzhou, she'd borrowed heavily to treat her father's illness. A debt so large it would keep her in darkness for years. Even with a thug, as long as he didn't sell her, she wanted to live. Moonlight spilled over the courtyard, illuminating two souls with their own worries. Xu Mu didn't know what to do. He'd never thought of selling her—only of what to do with her. The servant wife bit her lip until it bled, still holding her arm high, offering fourteen coins. Half an incense stick's time passed. Xu Mu expected her to give up. But she didn't. Even as her hand shook like a sieve, she held on stubbornly. "Xu Lang, take the money... p-please don't sell me." "I won't be a courtesan. I'll cut wood, make charcoal, wash clothes—anything to earn silver. Even working till I drop, I want to live with dignity." Taking the coins meant hope. She released her lip, blood seeping from the corner, her thin frame looking frailer than ever in moonlight. Xu Mu stood silently. Night wind ruffled her hair—and his thoughts. He hesitated, then finally reached out, taking the sweat-moistened fourteen coins, brushing her hand in the process. Tears instantly filled her eyes. She remembered almost falling off a cliff years ago, how her father had stretched out his hand just like this, gripping hers tightly, saving her from death. "Thank you, Xu Lang! Thank you!" "Go inside." Xu Mu sighed, feeling the coins in his hand weigh like lead. "X-Xu Lang, I made taro paste." Once indoors, she hurried over with a steaming earthen bowl, brimming with paste. To modern eyes, it looked barely edible. Not that her cooking was bad—ancient food was simply like this. Better-off families mixed in wild greens and a bit of meat. Rice and fine wheat existed, but were reserved for nobles. Common folk ate mostly root vegetables like taro and sweet potatoes. Taking the bowl, Xu Mu found it as tasteless as wax after two bites. Fearing she'd overthink it, he gulped it down quickly, even pretending to wipe his mouth contentedly. She rushed to fetch a bowl of water, placing it on the table before stepping back quietly. "No need for that. By the way, I don't know your name." "Jiang. Jiang Caiwei." "Caiwei... 'the vetch grows thick'." She looked up, surprised. "Xu Lang knows poetry?" "A little." Xu Mu stood, the words he'd planned to say stuck in his throat. He'd meant to give her travel money, part ways, and never see each other again. But looking at her now, he knew those words would shatter her. Besides, his meager silver wasn't nearly enough to set her up elsewhere. "Don't wake early to cut wood tomorrow. I left some silver under the mattress—buy a quilt, some household things." "Xu Lang, I can earn my own silver!" Jiang Caiwei panicked, her voice cracking with tears. She feared accepting silver meant he'd sell her soon. Xu Mu rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I meant for you to buy them for me. After all, without a quilt, I won't sleep comfortably when I'm home." "O-okay." Her voice relaxed. "Rest early, then." Jiang Caiwei stood aside, afraid to ask him to stay, worried she'd annoy him. Xu Mu walked a hundred steps from the courtyard before suddenly remembering something and turning back. Sure enough, through the wooden window, he saw her pitifully tipping the last dregs of taro paste from the pot into her bowl, eating hungrily. "Brother Mu, your servant wife gives twenty coins a day—sixty a month..." Si Hu began. Xu Mu glared, shutting him up. His Brother Mu had always loved money. Goodness, that beating really scrambled his brains. "Si Hu, grab some hay. We'll sleep there tonight." Xu Mu sighed, pointing to an old cattle shed nearby. Three nights in a cattle shed since transmigrating.