BDSMST -Chapter 36 The “Family Letter” Gu Xuan Wrote

The waves in the capital’s marquisate had not yet reached the remote Woniu Village.

Life at the estate continued according to the same effective points system, proceeding in an orderly fashion.

After Uncle Fu left, Gu Xuan was in a state of excitement for several days. He boasted to everyone he met that the chief steward from the capital had taken the vegetables he grew to show the old marquis and madam. His evident pride made Wei Ziqian and the others unable to resist teasing him.

“Look at you, acting all proud—it’s just a basket of vegetables! You’re acting like you’ve won first place in the imperial exams,” Wei Ziqian said, waving his hoe with effort, a tinge of envy in his voice.

“You don’t understand!” Gu Xuan immediately retorted. Having been “chief in charge” for a while now, his scolding tone was surprisingly mature. “The vegetables I grow are going straight to the marquis’ dining table—that’s an honor! What you grow? At best, it feeds the pigs!”

“You!” Wei Ziqian huffed, swinging his hoe faster, as if venting all his frustration into the soil.

Jiang Suisui watched the lively banter of these semi-grown boys without interfering. She noticed that such friendly competition actually improved their work efficiency.

That afternoon, she saw Gu Xuan leaning over a stone table, dragging a small wooden stick across a sandbox. He muttered to himself as he worked, seemingly calculating something.

When she approached, she realized he was planning the layout for the next batch of vegetable plots. Which plots were suitable for radishes, which had enough sunlight for tomatoes—he marked them all with differently shaped stones. The seriousness in his expression made him look like an experienced young farm manager.

“Good planning,” Jiang Suisui said, sitting beside him, offering praise.

Hearing her voice, Gu Xuan looked up, slightly embarrassed, but the embarrassment quickly gave way to pride. “Of course! I am the chief in charge, after all.”

“Being chief isn’t just about planting vegetables,” Jiang Suisui said, shifting the conversation.

“What else do I need to know?” Gu Xuan asked, curious.

“You also need to know how to write,” Jiang Suisui said, bringing ink, brush, paper, and inkstone from the house and placing them on the stone table. “You sent vegetables to your grandfather and grandmother—shouldn’t you write a letter to greet them, and maybe… report on your achievements here?”

A letter? Gu Xuan’s small face immediately fell.

Back at the marquisate, he hated reading and writing above all. He always tried to dodge his lessons, and his handwriting was crooked and messy, earning him many scoldings from the old marquis.

“I… I don’t want to write,” he mumbled softly. “I don’t know how.”

“Then all the more reason to learn,” Jiang Suisui said calmly, leaving no room for refusal. “Think about it—you’ve managed the estate so well and learned so many skills. Wouldn’t it be a shame if your grandfather and grandmother didn’t know? Don’t you want them to see that Gu Xuan isn’t just a mischievous troublemaker, but someone capable of great things?”

Her words struck exactly the right chord in Gu Xuan.

That’s right—he was so capable now, and if his grandparents didn’t know, what was the point of all his achievements? He wanted everyone to see that Gu Xuan, even far from the capital, even outside the marquisate, could still live a thriving life!

His pride and competitive spirit immediately overcame his aversion to writing.

“Fine, I’ll write!” he said, puffing out his chest and picking up the brush.

But when he faced the blank sheet of paper, he froze. He only knew a few simple characters besides his own name. How could he write a letter?

He bit the brush handle, frowning and struggling for a long while, but not a single character appeared on the page.

Jiang Suisui didn’t rush him. She sat quietly, slowly grinding the ink, softly guiding him: “The letter doesn’t need to be fancy. Just tell them what’s in your heart. For example, what you do each day here, what good food you’ve eaten, what makes you happy.”

She paused, then added, “Or, if you have any troubles, you can tell them that too.”

Gu Xuan looked up at her. Troubles? What troubles did he have? His only “trouble” now was that the pig named “Hum Hum” was eating too much, growing too fast, and the pigsty was almost too small for it.

Thinking of that, his mind suddenly cleared.

He stopped worrying about polite greetings and dipped his brush in ink, writing the first character directly onto the paper.

His handwriting was still far from neat—crooked, uneven, and varying in size—but he wrote with utmost seriousness, each stroke pressed firmly onto the paper.

Jiang Suisui didn’t look at what he wrote; she simply sat quietly beside him. The courtyard was calm, filled only with the soft scratching of the brush and the distant shouts of the boys working.

An hour later, Gu Xuan finally put down his brush. He looked at his “masterpiece,” two pages full of his writing, and let out a long breath, his face glowing with the satisfaction of having accomplished something great.

He carefully dried the letter, folded it neatly, and handed it to Jiang Suisui.

“Here.”

“This is your letter to your grandparents. You should seal it yourself,” Jiang Suisui said, giving him an envelope.

Gu Xuan personally put the letter into the envelope.

That night, after Gu Xuan had fallen asleep, Jiang Suisui couldn’t resist and quietly opened the letter.

She was curious what this little guy’s “family letter” contained.

Under the dim oil lamp, his childish handwriting unfolded a vivid, lively world full of daily life and simple joys.

“Grandfather and Grandmother, I hope you are well:

Uncle Fu has left. Did you eat the vegetables I had him bring back? That cabbage was grown by me. Next time I will grow pumpkins for you—our pumpkins here can grow as big as winter melons.

I am doing very well here and I am busy every day. In the morning, I feed the chickens—they can now lay eight eggs a day. Then I inspect the vegetable plots. Wei Ziqian and the others always try to slack off, so I have to deduct points from them. At noon we eat, and in the afternoon I take them to clear more land—we’ve got a big new plot.

Oh, and the pigs I raise are named ‘Hum Hum’ and ‘Ha Ha.’ Hum Hum eats a lot and is almost two hundred jin now. Jiang Suisui says we will slaughter it for red-braised pork at New Year. I feel a bit reluctant, but red-braised pork is really delicious.

The food here is a hundred times better than at the marquisate. Today I ate sweet-and-sour pork. The day before, I had beggar’s chicken. I’ve saved eighteen points and tomorrow I plan to exchange them for a special meal. I want to eat Buddha Jumps Over the Wall—I wonder if Jiang Suisui can make it.

I am the chief in charge here. They all call me ‘Boss.’ Wei Ziqian listens to me very well now.

I’m not going back to the capital. This place is more fun than the capital.

Don’t worry about me.

Your grandson,
Gu Xuan”

The letter contained not a single complaint, not a hint of grievance. It was filled entirely with his small achievements and pride: the pigs he raised, the vegetables he grew, the eggs the chickens laid, and his title as “chief in charge.”

Between the lines, it revealed the pure joy and pride of a boy.

Jiang Suisui looked at the letter and couldn’t help but smile softly. She carefully refolded the paper and returned it to the envelope.

This letter, more than any magic elixir, could soothe the hearts of the two elderly people far away in the capital.

The next day, she arranged for Li Si to make a special trip to the capital and deliver this profoundly meaningful family letter to the Yongning Marquisate.