Chapter 45: Cutting a Cloak (2)

Wen Lan thought to herself that when she narrowly escaped death, only her younger sister Hehua had shown any real concern for her. Even when the Lin family saw her again, they hadn’t embraced her and cried like He Jingtian just had.

It seemed this childhood friend was the only one who genuinely cared about Lin Furong.

Moved, Wen Lan hugged He Jingtian back. As she thought of Lin Furong’s hardships, tears welled in her eyes too.

“Furong, are you doing well at the hunter’s house?” He Jingtian wiped her eyes and asked sincerely.

Wen Lan nodded. “It’s been fine.”

He Jingtian sighed, took Wen Lan’s hand, and was about to catch up on old times when she noticed the cuts and scrapes all over Wen Lan’s hands.

“What happened to your hands?”

Wen Lan glanced down. Ever since returning from the market today, she’d been busy cooking. The primitive tools in this era weren’t exactly well-made, and earlier, while washing vegetables, she’d been in too much of a rush and had gotten a few cuts from the bamboo basket. But it was nothing serious.

“It’s nothing. I cut myself while washing vegetables.”

Wen Lan genuinely didn’t think it was a big deal, but He Jingtian immediately burst into tears again.

“How can you say it’s nothing when your hands are like this? You must not be doing well at the hunter’s house.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“Fine? That hunter—my brother saw him once and said he’s really fierce. And the people who went to your place for the banquet yesterday also said he could pin the Song family’s daughter-in-law into a chair with one hand and smash a table with a single slap.”

The part about pinning the Song family’s daughter-in-law was true. But smashing a table with one slap? Who made that up?

Wen Lan thought, luckily the villagers hadn’t seen the hunter kill a wild boar with one stroke, or else they’d think he was some sort of demon.

“He is pretty strong,” Wen Lan admitted truthfully.

But He Jingtian read too much into it. She pulled Wen Lan closer and studied her intently, then asked, “Did he hit you?”

“No.”

“You’re definitely lying to me,” He Jingtian leaned in with concern. “Yesterday, that Song woman mentioned your elopement with Meng Qiancheng right in front of him. I don’t believe he didn’t react at all.”

Any man would react to something like that.

“He must have hit you. That’s why you’ve got wounds on your hands.” He Jingtian cried harder, her imagination running wild.

Wen Lan didn’t know how to defend herself anymore. She was completely overwhelmed by her friend’s intense concern. So finally, she confessed that she was actually working as a maid in the hunter’s house.

“You didn’t marry him? But he gave the bride price in front of the entire village!”

“That was just for show, to convince the villagers. They were trying to save me.”

“So now you just cook and wash for him?”

“Yes.”

“Then…” He Jingtian frowned. “What will you do about marriage in the future?”

“What marriage?” Wen Lan retorted. “Do you really think I can still marry into a decent family after what Meng Qiancheng did to me?”

“You’re right,” He Jingtian remembered how the Lin family had almost married Lin Furong off to that lecherous old Wang from the west side of the village.

Cooking and washing in the hunter’s house was definitely better than serving some disgusting old man.

“What are your plans, then? Will you be a maid for the hunter your whole life?” He Jingtian asked again.

“I’ll just take things one step at a time. Otherwise, I don’t even have a way to survive.”

He Jingtian looked at her sympathetically.

After they finished talking, Wen Lan reminded her, “Jingtian, you mustn’t tell anyone what I just said.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it to my grave. I won’t breathe a word.”

Wen Lan smiled. In Lin Furong’s memories, this childhood friend had always been kindhearted, even if she wasn’t the brightest. Wen Lan believed she wouldn’t gossip, but still, there was always a risk she might let something slip during an argument.

That part reminded Wen Lan of herself—hadn’t she just blurted out something in front of the hunter when she got flustered?

Thankfully, the hunter didn’t seem to care much about her background and hadn’t pressed the matter.

Even if He Jingtian did accidentally let something slip, it probably wouldn’t matter too much. It wasn’t like Wen Lan planned to stay here forever anyway.

All in all, earning more money was still the top priority.

“Jingtian, how was your family’s silk harvest this year?” Wen Lan shifted to a more serious topic.

“Not good,” He Jingtian replied, frowning. “There was a flood this year. A lot of mulberry trees were waterlogged and died. With no mulberry leaves, there’s nothing to feed the silkworms. The cocoons they spun were small, and the silk wasn’t great.”

That was also why the Meng family, who were cocoon merchants, were reportedly losing money this year. Apparently, they had taken large orders from spinning mills, and with poor-quality silk and low yield, they could only incur losses.

“Have you considered doing something else to make a living?” Wen Lan asked. Mulberry growers didn’t have farmland. After harvesting cocoons, they had no steady work.

“My brother’s gone off to haul stones,” He Jingtian said, lowering her gaze. “It’s hard work and barely supports just him.”

“I picked some matsutake mushrooms in the mountains yesterday and earned a few coins,” Wen Lan shared.

He Jingtian perked up immediately. “Where did you pick them?”

“Over a mountain ridge, on the other side where there’s a ravine and a pine forest. But it’s dangerous,” Wen Lan remembered the wild boar from yesterday.

“That far? Then it must be dangerous.” He Jingtian hung her head again. She didn’t dare go.

Wen Lan lowered her head too. She hadn’t expected it to be this hard to make money in this era.

“Let’s go back to washing clothes,” Wen Lan said, turning to her laundry. She and the hunter had spent all day in the mountains, then slaughtered a pig. Her clothes were filthy and stained, tough to wash.

“This damn place doesn’t even have detergent. How am I supposed to wash these?” she grumbled softly.

Standing nearby, He Jingtian heard her and quickly asked, “Furong, haven’t you gone to the old forest to gather soap pods? Mix them with water—it works great.”

Soap pods?

A lightbulb went off in Wen Lan’s head.

Why hadn’t she thought of that? Soap pod leaves weren’t just for washing clothes; the pods themselves, once shelled, could yield soap pod rice.

Soap pod rice was high-value—she used to buy it online for dozens of yuan per 50 grams, nearly one yuan per gram.

Converted to this world’s currency, you probably couldn’t even buy ten grains for one copper coin.

Discovering a way to make money, Wen Lan was thrilled. She grabbed He Jingtian’s hand and said, “Jingtian, let’s go gather soap pods early tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure! I’m free anyway.”

The two arranged a time and place to meet. Wen Lan, energized, washed her clothes quickly and returned to the hunter’s home in high spirits.

That night, she wanted to prepare two large sacks to hold the soap pods.

But how?

That stumped Wen Lan again.

She only had access to the woodshed and the yard. The woodshed, aside from the makeshift bed she’d rigged, had only firewood and a stove.

The yard was empty except for a single table.

Even the bamboo poles for the clothesline had been hastily cut from the back hill.
(Question for fun: How did the hunter normally dry his clothes? Creative guesses welcome—bonus for the best one!)

Should she just use the carrying basket?

She looked at it. The basket could carry at most ten pounds, and soap pods were bulky. Ten pounds wouldn’t even yield a few grams of soap pod rice.

This wasn’t something she could do in multiple trips. She needed at least a hundred pounds in one go.

Wen Lan decided to ask the hunter if he had something she could use as a sack.

While serving him dinner, she seized the chance.

“Sir, I want to go into the old forest tomorrow to gather some things.”

“Mountain goods again?”

“Not this time. Soap pods. They’re just in the old forest behind our village,” she said, blinking her large eyes. “I realized today while doing laundry that we don’t have anything for cleaning. I thought I’d pick some pods to use.”

The hunter said nothing. He stood and went into the inner room. A moment later, he handed her something wrapped in oilcloth.

“What’s this?”

“Qingfeng brought it. You can use it for washing.”

Huh? Wen Lan opened it—it was a yellowish chunk that looked like soap. She sniffed it; it had a faint fragrance.

Lin Furong had never seen this before, but Wen Lan, drawing on her modern knowledge, guessed it might be scented soap used for bathing.

The hunter was offering her luxury soap just for laundry?

No, no, that wasn’t the point. The point was, she needed a big sack.

Fine. Time to be direct.

“Sir, I’ve already arranged to go with someone tomorrow. What I really need is a sack big enough to carry things.”

The hunter thought for a moment, then brought out a travel bag he used for long trips.

But that wasn’t what Wen Lan wanted.

“This is too small, sir. I need something this big.” She gestured in the air with her hands.

“Don’t have it.”

“Then… fabric? Do you have any cloth?” Wen Lan wouldn’t give up.

The hunter pointed to his room. “See for yourself. Take whatever works.”

With his permission, Wen Lan began rummaging.

The bedsheets? No way—what would he sleep on?

The mosquito net? Also no.

His clothes? That would be too insane.

Finally, her eyes landed on a cloak in the corner.

It looked to be about a meter and a half long, and wide too. Black fabric with a lining—it could easily be made into two large bags.

Maybe this would work. It just looked like cloth. It probably wasn’t worth much.

“Um… can I use that cloak stuffed in the corner to sew a couple of bags?”

The hunter turned his head to look at the cloak. He didn’t say anything, but his hand holding the chopsticks tightened slightly.

After a long pause, he looked away and gave a small nod.

Wen Lan lit up. She rushed over, grabbed the cloak, and ran off.

She was afraid that if she delayed even a second, he might change his mind.

But what she didn’t know was that the cloak had been hand-sewn for the hunter by a woman named Shen Xinyi.

She would soon find out, though. As she was cutting the cloak and sewing it into bags, she noticed a small line of embroidered characters in an inconspicuous corner.

“May your heart be as mine.”

Signed simply: Yi.

Yi? A woman’s name. Wen Lan examined the words more closely—it was clearly a love poem.

“Damn… this cloak was a gift from his lover!” Wen Lan dropped the scissors in shock.

She felt like death was imminent.

Oh no. Why would he let her cut up such a sentimental item?

Wen Lan sat dumbfounded on the bed, unable to make sense of it.

In the end, she concluded that the hunter probably didn’t know about the embroidered poem. Maybe he only knew it was a gift, but didn’t know it had such emotional weight.

Also, Wen Lan guessed that this woman named Yi was no longer part of the hunter’s life.

Otherwise, why would he be hiding out here in the mountains?

Maybe that was why he let her cut it up—to sever his longing using her hands.

What a fool.

Wen Lan stared at the stitched words, unsure what to do next.

Restore the cloak and return it? Tell him, “By the way, your ex-girlfriend sewed a love letter into this”?

“May your heart be as mine, and never betray our love.”

Too late. The cloak had already been cut into two pieces.

Pretend she didn’t see it and keep sewing?

Definitely not.

After some thought, Wen Lan decided to cut that part out and save it. If the hunter ever regretted it, she’d sew him another cloak and stitch those words back in—to make it kind of like the original.

It wasn’t really her fault. After all, she was just trying to make a living.