Chapter 3: Much Gossip in the Farmhouse Courtyard

“Enough, Second Daughter-in-law, she was just speaking off the cuff.” Old Madam Zhu was clearly biased toward the younger Mrs. Zhao, her words implying that Mrs. Chen was making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Mother, how can you say that? This is no small matter. How can one’s own family slander their own kin like this! My son is still young; he can’t handle such turmoil.” Mrs. Zhao immediately stood up to retort, shielding Zhu Ping’an like a hen protecting her chicks.

“Second Sister-in-law, how can you speak to Mother like that?” The younger Mrs. Zhao avoided the main issue, shifting the topic to accuse Mrs. Chen of being disrespectful to Old Madam Zhu.

“You only know how to stir up trouble!” Mrs. Chen sneered at the younger Mrs. Zhao, her eyes filled with disdain.

“Enough! We’re here to eat, not to cause a scene.” Old Master Zhu tapped his pipe forcefully against the table and glared at his second and youngest sons, signaling them to keep their respective wives in check so they could eat in peace.

Zhu Shouyi obediently reached out and tugged at Mrs. Chen, telling her to sit down and eat. Although Mrs. Chen looked displeased, she still gave her husband face and sat down.

“Father, I only have the family’s best interests at heart. If he really is possessed, it would be a disaster if he brought bad luck upon our house.” The younger Mrs. Zhao carefully measured her words, giving Old Master Zhu face while refusing to let go of the possession claim.

“Kiss my ass!” Seeing that the younger Mrs. Zhao was still being relentless, Mrs. Chen flared up, itching to go over and scratch her.

“Quibbling over trifles, truly a disgrace to the refined,” the eldest uncle remarked with a look of lofty detachment, shaking his head and sighing as he flicked his sleeves.

The eldest aunt watched with great interest. She didn’t intervene, instead focusing on cultivating the demeanor of a lady of a noble house. She imagined that one day, when her husband passed the *xiucai* exam, she would be a *xiucai*’s wife, and if he went on to become a *juren*, she would be the wife of an official. She felt she had to cultivate an air of distinction. Seeing her two sisters-in-law bickering like shrews, she felt all the more superior and refined.

However, Zhu Ping’an scoffed at his eldest aunt. If she were truly a lady of a noble house, she would have extinguished the conflict long ago rather than watching it like a joke.

But looking at his grandfather’s darkened face, Zhu Ping’an felt this was not a good sign. After all, this was an era of feudal patriarchy; having a reputation for being unfilial would lead to being gossiped about behind his back throughout the village.

“Mother, Fourth Aunt, what’s wrong?” After washing his hands, Zhu Ping’an trotted over on his short legs to his mother’s side, lifting his chubby little face to ask curiously.

Being so cute and polite, and greeting his Fourth Aunt so kindly, made even the Fourth Aunt, who had just been slandering him, feel a bit ashamed.

“Your Fourth Aunt says you’re possessed,” Mrs. Chen said angrily, glaring at the younger Mrs. Zhao.

“Mother, what does ‘possessed’ mean?” Zhu Ping’an asked like a curious baby.

Consequently, Mrs. Chen glared at the younger Mrs. Zhao again.

The Old Master also turned his gaze toward the younger Mrs. Zhao with some dissatisfaction. Her face paled, and she felt she might have overreacted, but she couldn’t let go of her pride. She leaned over to coax Zhu Ping’an, asking, “Zhi’er, Auntie asks you, why have you started washing your hands and face lately?”

Zhu Ping’an was not a real five-year-old; naturally, he wouldn’t let his words provide her with any leverage. He trotted into Mrs. Chen’s arms, leaning back comfortably, and looked at the younger Mrs. Zhao with wide, innocent eyes. “Last time Zhi’er was sick, the white-bearded grandpa who treated me said it was because I ate things with dirty hands that I got a stomachache. I don’t want to drink bitter medicine, so I’ve been washing my hands and face before eating, just like the grandpa said.”

Although acting cute is shameful and pretending to be young is ridiculous, try being a mature five-year-old and see what happens! You’d be tired of living!

When mentioning the white-bearded doctor, Zhu Ping’an unobtrusively observed everyone’s expressions. They were basically convinced. Zhu Ping’an had done his homework; this white-bearded grandpa was no simple man. He was a famous doctor in the county who rarely made house calls, and even then, only for high-ranking officials. His visit to treat Zhu Ping’an had been a complete coincidence—he had been passing by while visiting a friend, saw the Zhu family in a panic, and couldn’t bear to stand by.

“Enough, let this matter end here. From now on, no one is to mention anything about possession or spirits again. You are all good children and grandchildren of the Zhu family. If I hear any rumors outside that are bad for our family, don’t blame me for invoking the ancestral family law!” Old Master Zhu knew how to distinguish what was important. He didn’t let his daughters-in-law argue endlessly, ending the dispute with a timely slam of the table.

Harmony brings prosperity; this had been a consensus since ancient times. Rumors of possession within a family were very bad for the family’s reputation. Old Master Zhu had worked hard for the family’s prosperity since he was young, tightening his belt to support his eldest son’s studies for this very purpose. He hoped day and night for the family to flourish under his watch and would not allow internal problems to arise.

The dispute subsided. The Old Master put down his pipe and picked up his chopsticks.

Only after Old Master Zhu took the first bite did the rest of the Zhu family begin their dinner. It was very characteristic of the ancient feudal patriarchal system. Having been here for over ten days, Zhu Ping’an was no longer surprised. The only thing he still found hard to accept was the food on the table. The so-called dishes were just boiled with salt or steamed with salt. He recalled that stir-frying only became popular after the extraction of vegetable oil in the mid-Qing Dynasty. Stir-frying should be a luxury for the wealthy; farm families wouldn’t waste animal fat on it. The staple food was *wowotou* (steamed corn buns) made of coarse grains mixed with wild vegetables; the color was strange, the taste was bad, and it took a lot of effort to swallow. The porridge was acceptable, just too thin—he could see his own chubby face reflected in it.

The food on the table was rationed, controlled by Old Madam Zhu. The men each got two buns, while women and children got only one. The porridge was also divided; the men’s bowls were thick, while the women’s and children’s were mostly water.

His grandmother, Old Madam Zhu, was also biased. When distributing the buns and porridge, she treated them differently. The eldest uncle’s and fourth uncle’s families got large buns, while his own family and the third uncle’s family got smaller ones. Furthermore, the eldest uncle would get three buns, with the excuse that he needed to use his brain for studying. There were many such examples of favoritism. Dishes like scrambled eggs, which weren’t made often, were also distributed more toward the eldest and fourth uncles’ families.

Especially today, whether out of compensation or something else, the grandmother kept putting scrambled eggs into the bowls of the fourth uncle and the younger Mrs. Zhao. The younger Mrs. Zhao even flaunted it at Mrs. Chen, almost provoking her into biting her. The entire table was tense, filled with suspicion and hostility.

He remembered when he first transmigrated, Zhu Ping’an had tried to reach for the eggs, but his grandmother had blocked him with her chopsticks, saying eggs were for the adults to nourish their bodies because they worked hard—though he had yet to see her give any eggs to his father.

Every family has its own troubles.

Not being full and not eating well was a fatal punishment for a foodie.

Zhu Ping’an was, after all, a person with a mental age of over twenty, so he could endure it. But seeing little Yu’er in the third aunt’s arms biting her fingers and staring at the eggs with watery eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

His mother, the third aunt, the eldest aunt, and the younger Mrs. Zhao often argued at the table for various reasons, such as grabbing the same bun or reaching for the same dish. In short, the table was never quiet.

In fact, many of the family’s conflicts boiled down to one word: poverty. If they had a vast fortune, these small matters wouldn’t cause conflict. As the saying goes, "When a man is poor, his ambition is short; when a horse is thin, its hair is long."

However, looking at his own small arms and legs, becoming rich was easier said than done. Many of his experiences from his past life were hard to apply here. Moreover, his major was ancient Chinese literature; he didn’t know how to make glass or other inventions, nor was he skilled in the domestic arts like cooking that female protagonists in transmigration novels often possessed. Of course, that didn’t mean he was useless; he at least had hundreds of years of common sense and knowledge of ancient Chinese. Getting rich was a long and arduous road, but it wasn’t entirely out of reach.

(End of chapter)