Chapter 17: Uncle Comes to Borrow Money

“What’s wrong with Mom?” Meng Liang quickly asked.

“Mother’s been suffering from constant headaches and chest discomfort. We’ve seen a few doctors, but none were effective. Finally, we went to the city and found a doctor who said it’s vertigo,” Shen Dazhu explained.

“She felt a little better after taking two doses of medicine. The doctor said it’ll take seven full doses for the medicine to really work.”

Meng Liang asked, “So how much more do you need?”

Hearing that the medicine had already helped somewhat put him at ease.

“I’m still short eight qian of silver,” Shen Dazhu said with some difficulty.

Eight qian—that’s 800 wen. He couldn’t just take that much out at once. Even after pooling resources with his brothers, it still wasn’t enough.

Meng Liang thought, If only I had known earlier—I could’ve managed 800 wen. Right now, we’ve only got about 700 wen altogether.

They earned 612 wen selling the softshell turtles last time, and they had around 150 wen in scattered savings. That’s roughly 750 wen total.

But giving it all away—how would their family survive? Meng Liang weighed things in his mind.

“Brother, I can scrape together around 700 wen at most. I really can’t give more—we’ve got five mouths to feed.”

Shen Dazhu said gratefully, “That’s enough. That’s more than enough. I’ll figure out the rest myself.”

He hadn’t expected Meng Liang to lend them so much—he thought he’d be lucky to borrow 100 or 200 wen.

“If things really don’t work out, come back again. I’ll try to find a way,” Meng Liang added.

Shen Dazhu visibly relaxed. “Alright. With your words, I feel at ease.”

“Sigh, we’re all family. Didn’t you lend me grain last year?”

Meng Liang said, “I was planning to repay you after the harvest, but with this rainy weather, it looks like it’ll keep going for days.”

Both of them looked outside at the gloomy sky and fell silent for a long time.

—-

In the main room, Meng Ling brought the dishes to the table. Shen Dazhu sat facing the front door.

Meng Liang said, “Brother, this is stewed chicken—try it. Our eldest girl made it.”

“Mmm, delicious! This girl’s cooking is excellent!” Shen Dazhu praised after taking a bite.

He looked at the four dishes on the table and didn’t recognize two of them, so he asked, “What are these two?”

“Oh, Daya came up with these. That one is braised softshell turtle, and the other is scrambled eggs with chives,” Shen Yun explained.

Chives with eggs?

Braised softshell turtle? First time I’ve had either.

Shen Dazhu was seeing something new.

He began to wonder if this brother-in-law’s family had even experienced hardship. Compared to them, his own family seemed to be the struggling one.

Even the rice was pristine white and clearly of high quality.

He’d eaten shrimp before—but never this tasty.

Could they be spending all this just for this one meal?

“Brother, eat more. We just had a similar meal a few days ago,” Meng Liang said.

Those words sent Shen Dazhu into doubt again.

What do you mean ‘a few days ago’?

Our family wouldn’t see a meal like this in a month—no, at least half a year.

He wanted to ask, Are you really short on food? Or are you just pulling out all the best dishes because I’m here—to thank me for the grain?

That must be it.

He felt a bit ashamed for his thoughts, so he helped himself to another bowl of rice. I can’t waste their sincerity.

“There’s more rice in the pot—have some more if you need it,” Meng Liang said.

“Mmm, mmm!”

Shen Dazhu was too busy eating to talk, just nodding non-stop.

After eating, he walked around to help digestion. Traveling right after a big meal would be uncomfortable.

He went to look at the pigpen, the chicken coop… and then spotted the sheep.

“Sheep? Sheep?!”

They’ve even got sheep now?

“Daya, when did you buy this sheep?” he asked.

Meng Ling replied, “Oh, I bought it a few days ago in town—cost over 500 wen.”

You bought it?

Over 500 wen?

Shen Dazhu’s jaw dropped again. Now he was convinced—they really could afford it. Maybe the food wasn’t just a show for him.

Meng Ling nodded.

To trust a 13-year-old niece with that kind of money? This family was bold.

As night fell, Shen Dazhu got ready to leave.

“Brother, you came all this way. Stay the night,” Meng Liang tried to persuade him.

“No, I’ve got lots to do back home. I won’t trouble you,” said Shen Dazhu.

Meng Liang pulled him into a room, gave him a pouch of money and a large bundle of goods.

Shen Dazhu tried to push the bundle back. “No need! We’ve got enough food at home.”

“Sigh, just take it. Travel safely,” Meng Liang said, stuffing it into his basket.

Seeing he couldn’t refuse, Shen Dazhu had no choice but to take it.

When he had come, he brought 10 jin of rice from home, fearing Meng Liang’s family didn’t have enough. His own household didn’t have much, but they could scrape by.

When he got home and opened the bundle, he found: a jar of lard, a bag of dried fish, a bag of dried shrimp, ten eggs—and his bag of rice came back too.

This brother-in-law is more like a real brother!

—-

Under the eaves of the Meng house, Meng Ling’s cotton jacket was finished. She tried it on—it was a little too big and long.

Meng Shiqiao watched from the side. “Sister, it looks so nice!”

Meng Ling smiled brightly. “Of course—it’s made by Mom!”

Shen Yun called out, “Erwa, come get measured!”

As soon as he heard new clothes were coming, he jumped off the stool in joy.

The household bustled warmly, while outside the rain still poured.

In the blink of an eye, the rain had lasted more than ten days.

Meng Liang had just returned from the fields.

Shen Yun asked, “How is it?”

“Some of the crops are starting to lodge. If this rain continues, they’ll fall over within three days—and worse, they’ll sprout,” Meng Liang said with a furrowed brow. It’s been raining for too long.

Shen Yun grew anxious. “Oh no, what should we do? Even if we harvest in the rain, they’ll still sprout. What now?”

If the rice sprouted, it would be useless. The whole family would go hungry, and they wouldn’t be able to pay taxes.

Meng Ling suggested, “Dad, Mom, I think we should harvest part of the field now. Dry it little by little. Instead of waiting for the sun, it’s better to bring it in early.”

“What if the next few days are all rain? Even if it clears, ten mu of land would take days to harvest—and soaked rice will sprout by then.”

Meng Liang thought for a moment and said, “I agree with Daya.”

Shen Yun nodded. “Alright, we’ll start harvesting some now.”

Meng Liang and Shen Yun picked up baskets and went to the field. Meng Ling cleared space in the hall to dry the grains, moving out everything she could.

The hall wasn’t large—about 20 feet long and 13 feet wide—it could dry around 400 jin of grain.

Meng Liang began bringing back harvested rice and hung it on bamboo poles under the eaves to drip-dry.

Even with the space in front and back of the house full, they had only dried half a mu worth of rice. Thankfully, the first batch they hung in the afternoon was now dry enough to thresh.

They placed the grain bucket in the hall, put mats on the ground, and Meng Ling experienced her first time threshing.

Smack! Smack!

The wooden flail struck hard, scattering grains into the bucket and all over the mat.

Sweating, Meng Ling muttered to herself, “Phew, I’m exhausted. When I have money, I’m definitely buying a threshing machine.”

Even with her light clothes, she was soaked with sweat. Her hands were sore and numb.

Meng Shiqiao was on the side sifting the grains, also drenched in sweat from the effort.