TIPS – Chapter 13

Before Song Jingwei married into Chashan Village, rumors had already spread that he had been taken advantage of, abandoned, and was even carrying an illegitimate child. To protect their family’s reputation, the Song family had supposedly decided to marry him off to the mute eldest son of the Shen family.

These rumors originated from a few gossiping village women. Most decent families wouldn’t be so heartless as to spread such slander. However, as the saying goes, “Three people make a tiger”—when a falsehood is repeated often enough, people start to believe it’s true.

Soon, those who had no idea what had really happened assumed the rumors were facts. They accepted as common knowledge that the marriage between Song Jingwei and the Shen family was arranged for this reason, nodding in understanding as if everything suddenly made sense.

Of course, people still cared about appearances. Even if they believed the gossip, they wouldn’t openly show their thoughts in front of the Shen family. At most, they’d discuss it in private.

That morning, the gentle May breeze swept through Chashan Village, peaceful and quiet.

Two figures walked along a narrow dirt path, neither too far nor too close to each other. From the foot of the mountain, one could see lush green tea fields stretching across the landscape, with groups of villagers chatting and laughing as they worked.

Now and then, people would glance up and notice the newly married couple walking together. This, of course, sparked even more lively conversations.

Noticing these groups of people, Shen Junxi subtly guided Song Jingwei toward a quieter path.

He was born and raised in Chashan Village and knew all too well how sharp-tongued the villagers could be. He didn’t want Song Jingwei to hear any of the hurtful gossip.

At the foot of Xiaoliang Mountain lay a vast stretch of fertile land. The area was expansive, flanked by mountains on two sides and a river on the third, with Chashan Village directly to the south.

Stopping in his tracks, Shen Junxi spread his arms, motioning toward the land—this was the Song family’s property in Chashan Village.

“There are people farming here?” Song Jingwei asked.

Indeed, many villagers were working the fields—some tending to crops, others tilling the soil.

Shen Junxi remained silent. Since he hadn’t brought a brush and ink with him, he thought for a moment and then led Song Jingwei directly to a nearby villager.

The man, who appeared to be in his forties, had tanned skin like Shen Dongming and was busy with farm work. Seeing the well-known Song family young master—the new Shen family bride—approaching, he paused in his work.

Song Jingwei, unbothered by formalities, asked directly, “Sir, are you renting Song family land?”

The villager shook his head. “I don’t know. The land is rented, but I’m not sure who it belongs to.”

“How do you pay rent each year?”

“A steward comes with the land deeds to collect it. We pay once we see the deed. The collectors change every year, though the one in charge for the past three years has stayed the same.”

The villager looked confused but answered honestly.

Song Jingwei thought for a moment—this meant that the Song family had only acquired this land in the past three years. He took out a land deed from his chest pocket and showed it to the villager. “Take a look. Is this the land deed?”

The villager examined it and saw that it was identical to the one he had seen before, complete with the official government seal. He nodded. “Yes, yes, this is the one.” So this land belonged to the Song family? He looked at Song Jingwei with a hint of surprise.

“If I want to reclaim this land, can I?” Song Jingwei asked, gazing at him.

The villager’s mouth fell open in shock. “You want to take back this land and stop renting it to us?” His reaction was intense, his face flushing red with agitation. “How can that be? If you don’t rent the land to us, how are we supposed to survive?”

Song Jingwei frowned but said nothing.

The villager gestured toward the other laborers working in the fields. “We tenant farmers rely on this land to make a living. If you stop renting it out, we have no way to survive.”

“How many families are there?” Song Jingwei asked.

“More than twenty,” the villager replied uncertainly. He was terrified that Song Jingwei might actually stop renting out the land. He pleaded desperately, “Young Master Song, please have mercy. Don’t take back the land. My whole family depends on these few acres to survive. If you take it away, you’ll be cutting off our livelihood.”

Song Jingwei hadn’t expected to run into such a dilemma. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’ll think about it and decide later.”

He and Shen Junxi walked around the area a few more times. This was indeed a rare and valuable piece of land. It had access to waterways, and if they traveled ten more miles ahead, there was a dock where a market was held on the tenth day of each month, attracting many merchants.

Although the rent from these 150 acres brought in a decent sum each year, it still wasn’t enough for Song Jingwei. After inspecting the land, he had a new idea—besides building a house, he could also develop agriculture.

But the issue of the tenant farmers was a tricky one.

By the time they returned to the Shen household, it was nearly noon. After lunch, Shen Dongming began constructing the thatched shed, with Shen Junxi assisting him.

Inside the house, Yang Shi sat embroidering, occasionally glancing at her daughter-in-law sitting across from her. Finally, she gathered the courage to speak. “Daughter-in-law, I heard from his father that you want to build a new house?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Song Jingwei replied, “I have that idea.” He had been preoccupied with thoughts about the land and was somewhat distracted.

Yang Shi nodded. “Oh, oh. But… the family doesn’t have much money.” Like Shen Junxi, she was easily embarrassed and spoke with lowered eyes.

“Money isn’t a problem,” Song Jingwei said. After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Do you know how much income six or seven acres of land can generate in a year?”

Yang Shi hadn’t expected this question. Perhaps he was just curious? She answered as best as she could. “I’m not entirely sure. It depends on what’s being grown. Our family has ten acres of tea trees. We harvest tea three times a year, which brings in around twenty to thirty taels of silver annually.” Since Shen Dongming was skilled at tea processing, their tea sold relatively well.

“What about other crops?” Song Jingwei asked. Twenty to thirty taels… that wasn’t even worth as much as one of his hair ornaments.

“Not much. Also around twenty to thirty taels a year, maybe forty to fifty at best—but that would require dozens of acres.” Yang Shi chuckled. Farmers’ incomes were always this low. They couldn’t compare to merchants, let alone the Song family.

“Dozens of acres for just two or three people? That’s too exhausting.” Based on this, most families probably earned around twenty to thirty taels a year, and many earned even less. The Shen family’s struggles stemmed from spending most of their money on education and medical expenses in the past, and later, saving up for Shen Junxi’s marriage.

Song Jingwei continued, “If I offer them a job that pays fifty taels a year, would they be willing to take it?”

“Of course!” Yang Shi responded immediately, but then blinked in confusion. “But where would such a good job come from? Around here, who would be willing to pay fifty taels a year to hire workers?”

“I would,” Song Jingwei said.

By nightfall, Shen Dongming had completed the basic framework of the thatched shed, leaving only the roof to be covered with straw the next day. He climbed down from the scaffold and said to Shen Junxi, who was standing below, “Alright, we’ll finish up tomorrow. Hopefully, it won’t rain.”

Judging by the sky, rain seemed unlikely.

Shen Junxi glanced at the colorful clouds at the horizon, then looked toward their house’s window. A dim light flickered inside—it was Song Jingwei, reading and writing.

“Shen Da! Shen Da!”

An urgent knocking startled the father and son. Shen Dongming immediately went to open the door, while Shen Junxi hesitated for a moment before following.

When Shen Dongming opened the door, he saw seven or eight men from the village gathered outside their courtyard gate. What were they doing here at this hour?

“Brothers, what brings you here?” Shen Dongming asked.

“Shen Da, we’re here to see Young Master Song,” one of the men replied.

Shen Dongming frowned. “What do you need with my daughter-in-law?”

One of the men said, “Let us in first, or have your daughter-in-law come out. We need to talk to him.”

Their tone made it hard to tell whether their intentions were good or bad. Shen Dongming felt uneasy about letting them inside. Turning to Shen Junxi, he said, “Xi’er, go ask your wife what this is about.”

Shen Junxi glanced at the group of men and found them somewhat familiar—he had probably seen them working in the fields earlier that day. He nodded, beginning to understand why they had come.

Inside, Song Jingwei was in the middle of drafting his plans when Shen Junxi walked in. Seeing the look on his face, Song Jingwei immediately handed over the paper and brush without hesitation.

The movement was so natural that Shen Junxi was momentarily stunned before stepping forward to write: “Some people have come to see you. They are tenant farmers renting your land.”

Song Jingwei took one look at the message, then got up and went outside. He had been wondering when to gather these people for a meeting, and now they had come to him.

Perfect timing.

Stepping outside, he saw that Shen Dongming had stopped the villagers at the gate without inviting them in. Without hesitation, Song Jingwei walked forward and addressed them directly. “Fellow villagers, have you come regarding the land rental issue?”

The crowd responded in unison, “Yes! Young Master Song, we heard that you’re taking back our land. Is it true?”

Song Jingwei scanned their anxious faces and nodded. “It’s true. But there’s no need to worry—I won’t cut off your source of livelihood. In fact, I’m reclaiming the land to continue farming, and I certainly can’t manage it all by myself. That’s why I plan to hire long-term workers at a high wage.”

“High wage?” The villagers immediately perked up at those two words. “How high?” they asked curiously.

Song Jingwei replied, “At least thirty taels of silver per year per person. If your household has two workers, that’s sixty taels per year.”

Thirty taels for one person? Sixty taels for two?

The villagers gasped in shock. “Is that true?” they asked skeptically. After all, their entire family working the land for a whole year only earned twenty to thirty taels. Yet Song Jingwei was offering thirty taels per person? It sounded too good to be true.

“It’s true. I wouldn’t deceive you,” Song Jingwei assured them.

The villagers exchanged glances, finding it difficult to believe. But then again, he was the son of the wealthiest family around—money wasn’t an issue for him. He probably wasn’t joking.

If it was real, then this was an incredible opportunity. After all, farm labor was still farm labor—why not do it for better pay?

“We will sign a formal contract for long-term employment, with official seals and signatures. It will be legally binding, so there’s no way to trick anyone,” Song Jingwei added.

Hearing this, the villagers’ doubts began to fade. Excitement replaced suspicion, though some still asked hesitantly, “Really? Each person will get thirty taels?”

“Yes. As long as you meet the requirements for long-term workers, you’ll receive thirty taels.”

Song Jingwei gave them a fair warning: “However, those too young, too old, lazy, or in poor health will not qualify.”

The villagers nodded—of course! Only capable workers deserved the pay. Their own yearly incomes were low, so having the chance to earn thirty taels each was a dream come true.

A simple and honest man asked, “When do we start working for you?”

Song Jingwei replied, “There’s no rush just yet. Besides the eight of you here, I still need to discuss this with another ten or twenty families.”

At his words, the villagers suddenly remembered a problem. Their expressions turned awkward as one of them spoke up.

“Young Master Song, you should go check on the village chief’s house. Sun Zheng and his uncle, ‘Scarface’ Sun, are causing trouble over there.”