Chapter 5: The Poor Family's Strained Harmony

"Let Father and Mother sleep, they are tired too." He Fang reached out and held Han Yunniang's hand, pulling her closer. Feeling the smooth, delicate texture in his palm, the slender wrist seemed as if it would break with a slight force. Looking at her face, which had become much thinner, He Fang spoke softly, "You've worked hard these days. Look, you've lost so much weight..."

Her small hand was tightly held, and they could hear each other's breaths. Han Yunniang felt her face burning hot. If it were daytime, without the flickering firelight, the blush on her face would have been immediately noticed. She didn't know why Third Brother wasn't as strict and proper as before, leaving her unsure where to place her hands and feet.

After a while of fidgeting, Han Yunniang suddenly covered her mouth and exclaimed softly, "Oh, I forgot to put out the lamp, it's wasting so much oil!" Saying this, she tried to stand up, leaning on He Fang's body.

"There's no need to rush. Let the lamp burn; it will go out on its own when the oil is finished." He Fang, who was worldly-wise, could easily see through the little girl's tricks. He playfully tightened his grip, preventing her from pulling away.

Han Yunniang gently tugged a few more times, but seeing that He Fang wouldn't let go, she stopped moving and sat quietly by the bed, delicate and graceful like a night-blooming cereus. Under He Fang's intense gaze, the little girl's head drooped lower and lower. Her free right hand fiddled with the silk belt at her waist, staring at the quilt cover, which had no patterns, as if trying to see a flower emerge.

The two in the room, one sitting and one lying down, did not meet each other's eyes, but their hands were tightly connected. The lamp occasionally crackled, adding to the silence. The beauty under the lamp made one lose oneself in admiration. Holding the delicate hand of the young girl and looking at her charming and bashful appearance, He Fang felt a sense of peace and joy. Although he had no house and no land, having a little girl by his side, he suddenly felt that coming to the Song Dynasty wasn't so bad...

"Wealth and rank are what people desire, but if they are not obtained in the right way, one should not accept them. Poverty and low status are what people dislike, but if they are not avoided in the right way, one should not shun them. How can a gentleman be called a gentleman if he abandons benevolence? A gentleman does not depart from benevolence even for the time it takes to finish a meal, and he adheres to it in moments of urgency and in times of distress."

The sun slowly rose, dispelling the chill of the autumn morning. It was the time for plowing the wheat fields after the harvest, and the villagers of Xiaolongwan, who had rested for a while after the wheat harvest, once again picked up their hoes and went out to the fields. The dirt road at the village entrance was bustling with villagers, and at this moment, the clear sound of reading was coming from a dilapidated thatched cottage not far from the village entrance. Passersby stopped and looked in surprise, though the house was different, the familiar sound of reading made them feel as if they had been transported back a few years to when the Han family's third son studied day and night.

"Is the Han family's third scholar better?"

"He must be much better! I've seen his nursemaid helping him walk around in the afternoon these days."

"I saw him yesterday too. He can walk, but he's so thin. Tsk, he used to be such a strong young man, just like his older brothers, as strong as oxen... Now a breeze could knock him over."

"Why is the third scholar studying even harder than before? He just got better!"

"He was sick for half a year, so he must want to catch up on his studies."

"Really, my two sons should come and see this. This is what it takes to pass the imperial exams. The Han family's third son hasn't wasted his two years outside..."

"It seems the third scholar is also more amiable than before. He even smiled and greeted me yesterday."

"That's right, that's right! He is indeed much more amiable."

The third son of the Han family held a high status in the small village, and scholars were always respected. In his memory, Han Gang was always buried in his books, a rather indifferent person who was polite to the villagers but rarely smiled. However, over the past two days, He Fang, with the intention of fostering good relations with his neighbors, had tried to change the poor impression left by his predecessor, and the villagers were pleasantly surprised.

"Fortunately, he is much better. Han Caiyuan has spent all his family's wealth on his son. If he doesn't get better, there won't be any money to buy medicine..."

"He has no land left, not even a single mu, and he sold his two-story house. Han Caiyuan and his wife have to work day and night in the mountains, regardless of tigers and bears. These days, one really can't afford to get sick!"

"That scoundrel Li Laizi got a big bargain. He has wanted the Han family's three mu of vegetable fields for years, and now he finally got his wish..."

"Where did he get his wish? He should be crying. The three mu of vegetable fields were mortgaged, not sold outright, and can be redeemed. As soon as the third scholar got better, Li Laizi must be worried every day that Han Caiyuan will redeem the land."

The orange-red rays of the rising sun filtered through the gaps in the window, casting light on the rammed earth walls, and the villagers' words also seeped in with the sunlight. The people discussing the Han family at the village entrance were mostly neighbors, and many felt relieved for the Han family. However, as their words reached his ears, He Fang's reading voice became lower, and there was even a barely perceptible sob.

The Qinling Mountains in this era were much more desolate than in later times, with tigers roaming freely. In Han Gang's memories, there were instances of tigers entering the village at night and carrying off sheep. He Fang never imagined that his parents would risk their lives to raise money for his medical expenses. The three mu of vegetable fields by the river were passed down from his grandfather's generation. Just by the fact that Han Gang's father was known as Han Caiyuan, one could tell that the vegetable fields were the Han family's lifeline.

Even though Han Gang's soul had dissipated, he still influenced He Fang's body to oppose the sale of the land. Unfortunately, he was a step too late. By the time he regained consciousness, the land had already been mortgaged. Fortunately, it could still be redeemed; otherwise, the Han family would have become completely landless, known as "clients" in the local dialect.

"What misfortune has befallen the Han family these past two years? Which deity have they offended? This time, in the war, they lost their eldest and second sons. They raised three sons with great effort, and now two are gone, leaving only the youngest scholar!"

"Was it because Han Caiyuan knocked over the incense burner during the sacrifice to General Li a few years ago, causing a curse? Otherwise, how could they lose two sons, and the third scholar be sick for half a year, almost losing his life? Han Caiyuan and his wife went to the temple to make a vow, and he got better right away!"

"Go away, be careful that General Li's arrow doesn't pierce you through the night! General Li is one who can cause curses!"

"…I was just saying!"

"The third scholar's illness was due to a cold and a long journey, what does it have to do with General Li? Now that he is better, it is General Li's blessing."

The constant chatter in his ears made his heart restless, and He Fang lost the desire to continue reading. Gossiping about others behind their backs was inevitable, regardless of the era or place. But being the subject of others' gossip made He Fang feel uncomfortable.

He Fang stopped reading, gently closed the "Analects" in his hands, and placed it on the desk. The entire "Analects" was handwritten. The neat, square, and clean small regular script on the paper, meticulous and precise, resembled the Ouyang style, as neat as if printed. This was the palace style derived from the Ouyang style, which He Fang had been forced to practice by his grandfather in his youth. Looking at the square, neat small regular script that Han Gang had painstakingly copied, he felt a deep sense of familiarity.

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