Chapter 6: The Eight Pieces of the Antique Compass

Zhang Yuanxiu and Li Yurong felt sorry for Lin Bingwei, the new daughter-in-law, and didn’t let her work in the fields.

They said there were only a few days of labor left this year anyway, and she’d have to open a separate account with the brigade just to earn a few work points—not worth the trouble.

Since she didn’t have to go to the fields, she took on more housework instead.

With the original owner’s memories and the natural instincts of this body, she quickly became skilled at the chores.

She could do everything—laundry, cooking, sweeping the yard, even chopping firewood.

After splitting the firewood and preparing dinner, she noticed that her little nephew, Zhang Jianguo, was still playing with ants in the same spot. His footprints hadn’t moved an inch.

Curious, she squatted beside him to watch.

At first, Zhang Jianguo ignored her, not even sparing her a glance.

But when he saw she had been squatting there for a long time without leaving, he finally looked up at her with curiosity.

Lin Bingwei smiled at him and asked, “Do you know why ants move their nests?”

Zhang Jianguo shook his head.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak—rather, he simply didn’t want to.

His father had died when he was just two months old. Then, in the third month, his mother stole money from the family and ran away. He had only been breastfed for three months, and after that, Li Yurong had to grind rice into powder and cook it to feed him.

He wasn’t the “little fool” that others called him. On the contrary, he was very smart.

It was precisely because he was smart that he understood certain things far too early.

The villagers often mocked him, saying he was unwanted, that his father was dead and his mother had run away. They told their children not to play with him, saying his family dealt with the dead—how unlucky.

People only came to their family when someone had died.

He might not have fully understood all their words, but he could sense the malice behind them. So, he chose not to speak and refused to play with other children.

Lin Bingwei ruffled the little tuft of hair on his head and smiled. “Because it’s going to rain.”

He looked at her curiously.

Lin Bingwei said, “Don’t believe me? How about we make a bet? If it rains tonight, you have to call me ‘Jiejie’ tomorrow morning… cough cough I mean, call me ‘Little Aunt.’”

She had almost told him to call her “Jiejie” (big sister). But putting aside the fact that she was already married to Zhang Tingyuan, she was also twenty-three years old, while the boy was only three.

Zhang Jianguo glanced at her, then at the ants, and finally nodded.

Lin Bingwei smiled and ruffled his hair again.

That evening, Zhang Yuanxiu and Li Yurong came home early from the fields because the sky looked ominous—it was going to rain.

As soon as they put down their farming tools, they busied themselves tidying up the yard, muttering about the coming rain.

Zhang Jianguo stared at them in surprise.

But they were too busy to notice his reaction.

For dinner, Lin Bingwei cooked white rice, stir-fried a large bowl of cabbage with pork cracklings, and made a radish soup topped with scallions. The food smelled amazing.

In these times, rural people ate simple meals. Usually, they made just one dish per meal—less if there were fewer people, more if there were more.

Having both a dish and a soup was already considered a feast.

After finishing their meal, Zhang Yuanxiu and Li Yurong praised Lin Bingwei’s cooking.

Li Yurong said, “Weiwei, your cooking is so much better than mine. It’s the same cabbage, but how did you make it taste this good?”

Lin Bingwei thought to herself: The original owner had great cooking skills, but that was because she had no choice—if she didn’t cook well, she’d get beaten.

“It’s because I used pork cracklings.”

“Oh? I’ve never thought of using pork cracklings this way. We usually just put them in a bowl with some fermented bean paste, steam them with the rice in the pot, and eat them mixed in.”

As a devoted fan of many food bloggers, Lin Bingwei knew how to cook plenty of dishes. The only problem was that she was limited by the ingredients available.

After dinner, Zhang Yuanxiu followed his usual routine and went to the ancestral shrine to offer incense—only to find that the compass on the altar was missing.

That was odd. Who would take his compass?

He rummaged around for a long time but couldn’t find it. In the process, he made such a racket that it caught Li Yurong’s attention.

“Old man, what are you doing?”

Zhang Yuanxiu said, “Wife, have you seen my compass?”

“Compass? Didn’t you leave it on the incense table?”

“Yes, but I can’t find it.”

“Are you sure you looked carefully? No one else would touch it except you.”

“I’ve searched three times already. It’s really gone.”

“Then think carefully. Did you put it somewhere else? You’re getting older, and your memory isn’t as sharp.”

“Impossible. I always keep it here.”

Just as Lin Bingwei stepped out after her bath, she saw them and suddenly remembered that she had taken the compass and given it to Zhang Tingyuan as a protective charm.

Not knowing how to explain, she hesitated and stammered, “Dad, I gave the compass to Zhang Tingyuan. He has it with him.”

“Huh?” Both of them were stunned.

“What does he need the compass for?”

“I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt that his mission this time wouldn’t go smoothly and that he’d get shot. So I gave him the compass and told him to place it where he’d be hit—maybe it could help him avoid danger.”

The two exchanged glances.

Feeling a little guilty, Lin Bingwei asked in a small voice, “Dad, did I do something wrong?”

“It’s fine. Just have him bring it back next time he returns. That compass was passed down from our ancestor and is meant to protect the Zhang family’s descendants anyway. I don’t think our ancestor would blame you.”

Ancestor? Lin Bingwei glanced at the incense table, where several rows of names were inscribed, and curiously asked, “Which ancestor passed it down?”

“The very first one.”

The first one?

She roughly counted—there were at least thirty names on the incense table. Just how many years had this tradition been going on?

That compass was an antique!

Besides the compass, there was also a geomantic ruler, a peachwood sword, and a Bagua mirror… Were all these antiques too?

The Zhang family wasn’t actually poor. Dealing with the dead might seem inauspicious, but it was quite profitable.

Especially in rural villages under the planned economy, where ordinary families were lucky just to have enough to eat—saving money was out of the question.

The key was that ordinary people had no real way to make money.

But the Zhang family’s business with the dead was at least a proper source of income, and on top of that, Zhang Tingyuan had a salary.

No wonder they had handed over that 888 yuan so readily.

…

That night, it rained nonstop, and the temperature dropped. Lin Bingwei wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, but she was still cold.

She couldn’t sleep from the chill, so she grabbed another new cotton quilt and layered it on top before finally falling asleep.

Her mother-in-law was quite considerate. Knowing she was coming into the family, she had prepared four cotton quilts of different thicknesses for her.

By morning, the rain had stopped. Lin Bingwei noticed that Zhang Jianguo was avoiding her gaze, even dodging away from her.

This little rascal—was he trying to weasel out of their bet?

She smiled at him but didn’t confront him yet, deciding to wait until after breakfast to make him fulfill his promise.

To her surprise, she noticed that another compass had appeared on the incense table.

It was slightly different from the one from yesterday.

Just as she was feeling puzzled, Zhang Jianguo, hiding behind the shelf, tilted his head and gestured an “eight” with his fingers.

Eight?

“You’re saying your grandpa has eight of these compasses?”

Zhang Jianguo nodded.

Oh, so the ancestor had passed down eight compasses.

That was a relief—she had worried that her father-in-law wouldn’t be able to do business without one.