Chapter 49: The Aunt Who Could Not Marry

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Aunt No One Wants to Marry

Under Luoshui’s direction, Tie Xinyuan stood atop the table and poured cold well water over the other’s head. A pale crimson liquid, resembling blood, slid down his emaciated body and finally collected in a large wooden basin.

Luoshui spat out the water droplets from his face and cursed angrily, “It really is turmeric—who would be so vile?”

Tie Xinyuan, of course, could not answer, nor would he reveal that Old Liang was responsible. He simply continued, with singular focus, to douse the shivering Luoshui with basin after basin of icy water.

Luoshui’s health was poor to the point of frailty—skin stretched tightly over every rib, his waist so slender it could be encircled with one hand. This willow-thin frame was precisely the aesthetic prized by the scholars of the Song Dynasty, yet Tie Xinyuan found nothing beautiful in it; such a body only made him feel ill.

“That’s… enough.” Luoshui’s chattering teeth commanded Tie Xinyuan to stop pouring the cold water.

Diligent as ever, Tie Xinyuan nonetheless emptied another ladle of chilling well water over him, muttering quietly, “There’s still some color at your temples.”

Ever conscious of his appearance, Luoshui clenched his teeth and nodded, bracing himself for another cascade of cold water.

When the dousing finally ceased, Tie Xinyuan, worried that Luoshui might catch a chill, hurriedly fetched a ladle of hot water someone had brought in and poured it over him.

A piercing scream rang out as the naked Luoshui leapt and thrashed in the wooden basin. For someone just subjected to freezing water, the sudden rush of heat was like tossing a live fish into boiling oil—a violent reaction was inevitable.

“Are you trying to scald me to death?” Luoshui roared.

Perplexed, Tie Xinyuan dipped his hand into the hot water, looking at Luoshui in confusion.

Carefully, Luoshui tested the water with his own hand. Embarrassed, he managed a sheepish smile at Tie Xinyuan, realizing his reaction had been excessive.

After a thoroughly satisfying hot bath, Luoshui stood by the window, which Tie Xinyuan had thoughtfully opened for ventilation, feeling an immense sense of comfort.

Outside lay the famous West River of the Eastern Capital. The cool autumn breeze drifted in, making Luoshui sneeze, but he felt invigorated from head to toe.

This river, too, was a source of pride for Luoshui. Not far from the Tie family’s shop stood the Customs Office. Three thick iron chains usually lay submerged beneath the river’s surface; if the city was ever placed under martial law, soldiers would winch the chains up, slotting giant iron spikes into the predrilled holes. No matter how sturdy the vessel, chains bristling with iron lances would bind it fast, making escape impossible.

Tie Xinyuan had no intention of letting Luoshui view the construction of the new tower from their shop. Luoshui, a master builder, would immediately spot the project’s flaws, which would ruin the plan of the Butchers’ Guild to destroy the tower, and more importantly, dash Tie Xinyuan’s hopes of acquiring more land.

Standing in front of his family’s shop, clutching a not-insignificant silver ingot, Tie Xinyuan watched Luoshui sneeze three times in a row before finally returning inside, satisfied.

With the autumn winds come all manner of ailments. If not for the aim of making Luoshui ill, Tie Xinyuan would have had no interest in helping anyone bathe.

Ever since entering this strange era, he had discovered how fragile human life was. A simple, inexplicable cold could send a beauty or a talented youth to their grave. A bout of diarrhea could turn a lively child into a small corpse…

Living on Imperial Street, Tie Xinyuan had seen such things often. In this age of shockingly high child mortality, surviving unharmed was undoubtedly thanks to his mother’s careful tending.

Even the royal family—three princes lost just in recent years…

It was obvious Luoshui had caught a cold. For someone as frail as he, first falling into a filthy ditch in a fury, then being stripped of warmth by a heartless child with cold water, followed by a shock of hot water, and finally a blast of chilly river wind—Tie Xinyuan was certain a cold was inevitable.

A scholar or craftsman laid low by a cold would have to hole up at home, choking down endless, bitter herbal brews, and thus would neither meddle in the Butchers’ Guild’s affairs nor interfere with his own plans.

Luoshui’s appearance at West Water Gate had caused no sensation—the only news was that he had fallen into a gutter, emerged covered in blood, and had to wash it off with lye at the Wang family’s shop.

Rumors of the tower’s construction site being haunted began circulating once more.

“Son, from today on you are not to go near the construction site, and you are absolutely forbidden from visiting the pigs again. Old Liang says you’re obsessed with those pigs lately…”

“Yes, Mother, I won’t go anymore.”

At dinner, Wang Rouhua advised her son not to visit the tower, and Tie Xinyuan obediently promised not to.

His frequent visits to the pigs had finally drawn attention. Sighing, Tie Xinyuan buried his head in his meal.

Seeing her son’s gloom, Wang Rouhua’s heart softened. Her boy was always obedient; once he promised not to do something, he never disobeyed. Their home was too strange a place—apart from study, he could only stay with her in the shop all day. No wonder he was bored. Now, even his small pastime of watching pigs had been taken away; little surprise he was unhappy.

Thinking this, she said gently, “Son, if you’re bored, why not go to the abandoned garden and practice martial arts with Yang Dalang and the others? It’s a good thing to do.”

Tie Xinyuan shook his head and continued eating. The matter of the tower had reached a critical point; he couldn’t leave his mother now.

The Fox returned from the palace today. These days, its entrance was grand—swaggering through the main gate like a minister. Someone had dressed it in a blazing red vest, embroidered with a massive peony that nearly swallowed its small body. It looked ridiculous, but Tie Xinyuan was unfazed; he had seen enough cats and dogs in eccentric clothes in his previous life.

Wang Rouhua shrieked, rushed over, and stripped the vest from the Fox. Relieved, the animal rolled happily on the ground, then began to wrestle with Tie Xinyuan.

Examining the garment, Wang Rouhua stared enviously at the Fox. “This is top-grade Shu brocade. The royals are so extravagant.”

Tie Xinyuan couldn’t fathom his mother’s thoughts. Watching her admire the Fox’s clothes, he teased, “If you like it so much, make one for me too.”

Wang Rouhua shot him a look. “This is Shu brocade. We can’t afford such luxury. I once had a bolt of it in my dowry—royal blue—but… never mind. If you win top honors in the exams, I’ll sell everything we own to make you a suit.”

Years of life among commoners had changed his mother.

Tie Xinyuan was sure she’d never have spoken this way before. He was curious what kind of life she had lived before marriage.

“Mother, we don’t have to expose Aunt Wang’s misdeeds, but you must make things clear with her, or she might think up other ways to trap you.”

Wang Rouhua scoffed, “The Wang family cares more about face than we do. I’ve always lived honestly with nothing to hide. It’s her—Wang Yu—who’s been married three times in seven or eight years. When it comes to a woman’s virtue, does she have any right to argue with me?”

When it came to his mother’s reputation, Tie Xinyuan knew he had no say. But he understood that while the Wang family cared about appearances, they had little control over daughters once married. A woman like Aunt Wang—already at odds with her family—could be formidable if she abandoned all shame. And since his mother hadn’t been formally married out of the Wang household, there were some issues with tradition and propriety. He didn’t want his mother to suffer at this woman’s hands.

“It’s better to invite Aunt Wang here—otherwise she won’t give up.”

Wang Rouhua shook her head. “No need. We’ll live our own lives. Children shouldn’t meddle in adult affairs.”

It was the first time Tie Xinyuan had heard his mother refuse him so bluntly. He laughed, “Mother, do you and Aunt Wang not get along?”

“Of course not. Back then, your Aunt Wang was your grandfather’s favorite. Anything good or new in the house went to her first; the other sisters got only what she left behind. Once, your grandfather brought back a cartload of Shu brocade from the palace as a festival gift. I had set my heart on a bolt of pale yellow, already had it in my arms, but your Aunt Wang snatched it away. She claimed she liked red, but when she saw me with the yellow, she changed her mind.”

Hearing this, Tie Xinyuan formed a general impression of his unseen aunt—a spoiled woman, nothing more.

“Your aunt just had no luck in marriage. She was supposed to marry the eldest son of the Duke of Pu’s family, but right before the wedding, he fell from his horse and died. She became a widow before the marriage even happened, but the family still wanted her to marry in. Your grandfather paid a hefty sum to get her out of a marriage to a dead man, then hastily arranged another match—only for her new husband, a freshly minted scholar, to start coughing blood within half a year. They say he coughed up mouthful after mouthful of blood until he finally died…”