Chapter 82: The Private School is Completed

Currently, every household is busy rushing to harvest their crops.

A child in the village, just eight years old, passed away, but to the villagers, it didn’t make much of a stir.

After all, it was just a matter of wrapping him in a straw mat, digging a hole, and burying him—no need to trouble the villagers much.

The villagers continued their rush to harvest, with no one paying any mind to the Hu family.

The Ji family took three days to finish harvesting their rice and then spent another half day helping the old scholar’s with his crops.

Within four days, nearly all the villagers had completed their rice harvest, except for the Hu family’s rice, which still stood upright in the fields, swaying in the wind.

After Hu Yaozu’s death, Zhang and Yang both fell severely ill, bedridden for days.

Yang finally relented and used her long-saved silver to send Hu Dashan to town to buy them some medicine.

But before the mother and daughter-in-law could recover, a heavy rain poured down for three consecutive days, leaving the Hu family’s rice soaked and collapsed.

When the skies finally cleared, Hu Dashan hurried to the fields to check and nearly coughed up blood on the spot.

Most of the rice had rotted in the fields, leaving them with almost no harvest.

Kneeling in the field, Hu Dashan broke down in tears, mourning both his lost son and his troublesome mother.

If not for his mother’s meddling, Hu Yaozu would never have died.

Staring at the rotting rice, with almost nothing left, Hu Dashan felt hopeless, even wanting to end it all to join his son.

Hu Yaozu was their only child. Now that he was gone, and the rice was gone too.

All that was left were some scrawny corn plants. How could they survive this year?

Perhaps this was retribution.

When Yang learned that the rice had rotted to almost nothing, she coughed up blood and was left barely clinging to life.

Hu Dashan, panicked, pinched her between her brows and tried to feed her water. After a long struggle, Yang finally opened her cloudy eyes.

A second later, Yang burst into tears.

“Oh, Heaven! What sin have I committed to deserve this? Why are you treating the Hu family like this? My grandson is gone, the rice is gone—how are we supposed to survive?”

Yang’s cries were heart-wrenching, but Hu Dashan, reaching his breaking point, shouted at her with red eyes, “What are you crying about? You still have the nerve to cry?

“If not for you, would Yaozu have died?

“If you hadn’t left his mother to drown in the canal, would she have gotten sick?

“If you hadn’t refused to spend money on medicine for Yaozu and his mother, would she have been bedridden and delayed the harvest?

“Yaozu is gone, the rice has rotted in the fields, and now you’re crying? Is this the outcome you wanted?”

Yang was stunned silent by Hu Dashan’s outburst, staring at him in disbelief.

After a long moment, she muttered, “You’re blaming me? Dashan, you’re actually blaming me? Do you think it’s any easier for me now that Yaozu is gone? My heart aches as much as yours for the rotting rice.”

“But all of this mess was your fault. From now on, I won’t give you another copper coin, in case I get sick and have to lie in bed waiting to die.”

Yang’s head buzzed, leaving her in utter disarray.

For the first time, her son was turning his back on her.

Hu Dashan walked up, yanked open her bedding, found a small piece of silver hidden under her pillow, and left her room without a second glance.

He went to Zhang room, hoisted her onto his back despite her being too weak to get out of bed, and headed out the door.

Yang screamed, “Dashan, come back! I’m your mother—you can’t just leave me!”

However, Hu Dashan didn’t look back once as he carried Madam Zhang toward the county town.

The villagers had started harvesting their corn in the past couple of days. As always, Hu Zhaodi and the Ji family united as one, working together to gather their crops.

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

The Ji family managed to complete the harvest of all their crops. The men then turned their attention back to the construction of the private school, while the women stayed home to dry the harvested rice.

Hu Zhaodi kept her routine of heading into the mountains to hunt and gather medicinal herbs, slowly building up her little stash of money. Occasionally, she heard the villagers talking about the Hu family, but she paid no attention about the gossip, showing neither curiosity nor interest.

Another half month later, with the help and teamwork of the villagers, the private school was finally completed.

On the day it was finished, the old scholar beamed with a face full of wrinkles. “Zhaodi, the school is built. When do you plan on hiring a carpenter to make the desks and chairs?”

Hu Zhaodi smiled lightly. “I wasn’t planning to hire a carpenter! I’ll just go to town and buy everything. Hiring one would take too much time.”

“When do you plan to go? I’ll go with you, and we can pick up the books while we’re at it.”

“Let’s go tomorrow. We’ll take both the ox-cart and the horse-cart. That way, we can bring everything back and start classes right away.”

The old scholar froze for a moment, then silently turned around and left.

Hu Zhaodi looked bewildered. “Grandpa Ji, where are you going?”

“I’m going to ask Tieniu if we can borrow his ox-cart for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good! Grandpa Ji, I’ll go with you.”

With that, Hu Zhaodi quickly caught up to the old scholar, and together they walked to Hu Tieniu’s house.

When they arrived, the old scholar eagerly asked, “Tieniu, do you need your ox-cart tomorrow?”

Hu Tieniu responded with a good-natured smile, “Uncle, I do need it tomorrow, but since you asked, I can put my own work aside. What do you need hauled? I’ll do it for you.”

The old scholar raised his brows, excitedly saying, “We’re going to town to buy desks and chairs. I wanted to borrow your ox-cart to make it easier to bring everything back in one trip.”

“No problem. I’ll have the cart ready for you in the morning; you just come and drive it,” Hu Tieniu suddenly paused, blinking. “Uncle, do you actually know how to drive an ox-cart?”

The old scholar laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I don’t. But I can lead the ox on foot without any issue.”

Hu Tieniu frowned a bit. “That’s not a good idea. You’re getting up there in age, and walking to town and back would wear you out. Who’d teach the kids if you got sick? I’ll go instead; it won’t take me too long.”

The old scholar smiled. “That would be perfect. Alright, it’s settled then. Tomorrow morning, let’s meet at the Ji household and head out together.”

“Sounds good.”

Hu Zhaodi added, “Uncle Hu, don’t forget to bring a rope, and come have breakfast with us at the Ji household in the morning.”

Hu Tieniu scratched his head bashfully. “Breakfast? No need for that—I can just grab something quick at home.”

“Come on, just join us, no need to fuss.”

“Well, it feels a bit awkward to impose.”

Hu Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “How about this, Uncle Hu: I’ll stay over at your place tonight and have dinner there. Sound good?”

“Of course! I’ll even ask your auntie to boil you a couple of eggs.”

“Uncle Hu, I was just kidding. See, you didn’t mind me asking to have dinner at your place. So now I’m borrowing both your cart and your help, and you’re hesitating over a breakfast at the Ji household?”

Hu Tieniu laughed, scratching his head again. “Alright, then I won’t be shy.”

“Then it’s settled. And when I build my own house, I’ll be calling you over to help—with fair pay, of course.”