Chapter 42: Clingy Wife

The group continued to gossip. "It's not normal for the old Duke to be like that. He loves his wife to death; he practically hangs off her waistband. Even with a face like old tree bark, he still calls her 'Rong'er, 'Rong'er' in such an affectionate way."

"I heard the old Duke has quite a few nicknames because he's afraid of his wife?"

"You must be from out of town if you don't know that. He has too many nicknames: Ming-fearful, Ming-submissive, Ming-runner, Ming-bunny..."

"What does that mean?"

"Haha, 'fearful' and 'submissive' mean he's henpecked. 'Runner' means the moment he hears his wife call, he rushes home immediately. And 'bunny' means he's as obedient as a rabbit."

"I heard 'Ming-runner' was actually a nickname given by the Emperor. Once, while the Emperor and his ministers were discussing important state affairs, the old Duke heard his wife was anxious to see him and rushed home in a frenzy. The Emperor gave him that nickname."

A burst of unrestrained laughter followed.

One man added, "Many things in the Duke's manor are named after his wife, like Wanrong Pavilion, Huarong Hall, Rongjing Lake... It's sickeningly sweet. He's not even ashamed."

He didn't care what they said about him, but the old man wasn't happy about them making fun of his wife.

He slammed the table, walked over, and pointed at the man's mouth. "You. What you just put in your mouth wasn't a bun, it was excrement. Not only is your mouth foul, but you're also an idiot, a blockhead, a big fool, and a dimwit."

The man jumped up and cursed, "You old bastard..."

Two burly young men walked over angrily. "Who are you cursing?"

The man grew somewhat fearful. "The old man cursed me first."

The old man snorted coldly. "You cursed my... the Old Madam. Of course I have to curse you."

The group looked at the old man and the two young men. They were wearing semi-old cloth clothes and were tall and sturdy, looking exactly like servants from the Duke's manor. They grew frightened.

They quickly bowed and scraped. "Old sir, please don't be angry. We won't speak recklessly again."

A scholar from a nearby table walked over.

Pointing at the group, he said, "You shouldn't speak of the Ming generals and the Old Madam like that; it will discourage the soldiers. They endure wind and dew to protect the country, yet you insult them by saying they can't even marry wives."

"Without them, there would be no peace, no good life for us... Sacrificing oneself for the nation, viewing death as a homecoming. Drawing the bow to bid farewell to the moon, piercing the heavens with feathers. The moon of the Qin era, the passes of the Han era, a ten-thousand-mile long march and the men have yet to return..."

He spoke with such passion and grandeur that it sounded like a formal speech.

The gossiping men didn't want to listen anymore, and they certainly didn't dare offend the servants of the Duke's manor. They dropped their copper coins and scurried away.

The scholar smiled at the old man, looking somewhat sycophantic.

The old man, playing by no one's rules, retorted, "You listened to them for as long as they were talking, and I even saw you grinning with those big white teeth. Now you say these things because you want this old man to say good things about you to the Grand Duke so he can introduce you? Hmph, no way. Not even a window for that."

The scholar's face turned bright red with shame, and he left with a flick of his sleeve.

The old man returned to his table to continue eating his buns.

Feng Chuchen was secretly amused; this old man was like an old child, quite adorable.

"A seventh-rank official stands at the gate of a Prime Minister"—even the servants of the Duke's manor possessed such dignity.

From the discussion just now, it seemed not only was the old Duke adorable, but the Emperor was also magnanimous.

Feng Chuchen felt a renewed sense of anticipation for this dynasty.

Feng Buji whispered, "Sister, why does the old Duke like to hang off his wife's waistband? Isn't he afraid of being laughed at?"

He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Feng Chuchen smiled. "That's a metaphor, meaning the old Duke is clingy with his wife. I think the old Duke is a rare good man in this world. Only someone who truly loves his wife would be clingy and not care about being laughed at."

In a feudal society, and as a Duke, such behavior was incredibly rare and admirable.

Feng Buji quickly tried to please her. "When I grow up, I want to be like the old Duke and hang off my wife's waistband and be clingy. I'll even hang off sister's waistband and be clingy to sister."

Auntie Wang and the others laughed.

Feng Chuchen smiled. "You think the old Duke is you, hanging off everyone's waistband? For such an excellent man to be willing to do that, it first shows that the Old Madam is exceptionally excellent herself."

Shaoyao said, "In that case, the old Duke's wife must be exceptionally beautiful."

Feng Chuchen said, "Beautiful faces are a dime a dozen, but an interesting soul is one in ten thousand. I don't know if the Old Madam is beautiful, but she must possess great wisdom and be very likable. Little brother, you must study hard and exercise well. Only when you are excellent yourself will you be able to find a good wife."

Feng Buji said, "Sister is both beautiful and wise. In the future, I'll find a husband just like the old Duke."

*How did this turn back to me again?*

Feng Chuchen gave him a playful, scolding look. "Don't talk nonsense. Eat up, then we'll go see the new house."

Even though they spoke softly, the old man, who had sharp ears, heard them.

He silently repeated that phrase: "Beautiful faces are a dime a dozen, but an interesting soul is one in ten thousand... Well said. You have vision. Rong'er is indeed that wonderful."

After finishing their meal, Feng Buji politely bid the old man farewell. "Grandpa, please enjoy your meal. We'll be going now."

The old man stopped his chopsticks and smiled. "The little one is quite likable, just a bit thin. Exercise more and eat more."

"Oh, my sister says the same thing."

"Haha, your sister is a smart girl."

As long as his sister was praised, Feng Buji was happy. He replied loudly, "She is!"

As they walked out of the restaurant, Feng Chuchen realized belatedly that although the old man dressed simply, his aura was extraordinary; he was definitely not a gatekeeper. He didn't get angry when they insulted his descendants or the old Duke, but he jumped up to curse them when they insulted the Old Madam. It was highly likely that he was the old Duke himself, the man who loved his wife to death.

If it truly was him, he was remarkably magnanimous.

The group walked to the street corner and hired a mule cart.

After visiting the new house and buying some things at the shops, they returned to Baima Village feeling satisfied.

The next day, Feng Chuchen took Auntie Wang and Banxia to the homes of pregnant women in the village to practice listening to fetal heartbeats.

The young mistresses of wealthy families would certainly not allow people to practice on their bellies, so she had to offer incentives to poor expectant mothers.

The incentive was that Feng Chuchen would give the women fifty wen as a delivery fee.

There were currently twelve pregnant women in Baima Village, seven of whom were more than five months along.

In ancient times, the calculation for the due date was different from modern times; each month of pregnancy was considered twenty-eight days, hence the concept of a ten-month pregnancy.

The fetal heartbeats of these seven women could all be heard.

Six were relatively normal, but Zhao Chunjiang's wife had the most issues.

She was already eight months pregnant, and her fetal movement, heartbeat, and contractions were all abnormal.

Feng Chuchen spoke the truth.

Zhao Chunjiang's wife was very unhappy and sneered, "You can hear a baby's heartbeat with a broken bamboo tube?"

Auntie Wang said angrily, "Why would we lie to you? It's real. If you follow the method we told you, it might provide some relief."

Zhao Chunjiang's wife and her husband exchanged a look. She said, "What if we follow your method and it ends up hurting the baby? We didn't have this when Midwife Feng was around; she died and then you came up with this broken tube. Who would believe it?"

Zhao Chunjiang blinked and began to set conditions. "If we follow your method and my son is born with problems, you'll have to pay us silver."

They were trying to extort her.

Feng Chuchen could not guarantee that the fetal massage would definitely work, nor could she allow herself to be extorted. She had even thought about using acupuncture to regulate the contractions, but she didn't dare anymore.

"If you don't believe us, then don't. Auntie Wang, let's go."

This was what Feng Chuchen had expected.

In the early 1950s of her previous life, when government medical institutions went to remote villages to popularize maternity knowledge, people still wouldn't listen. Not to mention an ancient village.

On the way, she said to Auntie Wang and Banxia, "Speak a bit more to those who can listen, and say less to those who cannot. As long as you are listening to the fetal heartbeats, you are learning."