TIPS – Chapter 147

Song Jingwei agreed and said, “Mother is right. This time you finally stood up for yourself. Because this matter is no longer just between two families—it has become the business of the entire village.”

If the villagers didn’t know about it, it might’ve been manageable. But now the situation had escalated into a village-wide issue.

“Ah! What are you saying? I’m not someone who can’t tell right from wrong. It’s just… I get nervous whenever I see Aunt Liu, so I won’t go out.” Yang Shi gave an awkward laugh. “You all go out and entertain the guests. I’ll stay and keep an eye on Benben.”

“Alright,” Song Jingwei replied, and just then, he noticed a young man trailing behind him silently. The young man didn’t say a word, merely followed.

Smiling faintly, Song Jingwei walked forward and entered the living room, where a group of people had gathered.

As soon as Er Baozi’s father saw him, he eagerly stepped forward and said, “Young Master Song, we truly apologize for last time. I brought my wife and child to personally apologize to you.”

Song Jingwei stopped where he was, keeping some distance between them, and asked, “It’s been four or five days since then. If you were really sincere about apologizing, why did you wait until today?”

This one question left Er Baozi’s father speechless. But he quickly responded, “We’re sorry. We came with genuine remorse. We shouldn’t have acted that way that day.” As he spoke, he hurriedly called over his wife and child. “Come quickly and apologize to Young Master Song. Ask for his forgiveness.”

Er Baozi’s mother quickly came forward and apologized in a soft and submissive tone—completely different from her previous shrewish behavior. As for Er Baozi himself, his face was full of embarrassment and frustration. He disliked the way his parents behaved, but they were still his parents, and he couldn’t bring himself to resent them.

“Er Baozi, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and apologize to Young Master Song!” Er Baozi’s father urged. “If he doesn’t forgive us, we’re done for.”

That line made Song Jingwei speak up immediately: “Don’t be in such a rush to apologize. First, explain what you mean by, ‘If I don’t forgive you, you’re finished.’ Are you saying I’m the one threatening your survival?”

Er Baozi’s father realized his words were inappropriate but still braced himself and said, “If our family doesn’t participate in the village defense, we’ll have to move out, right? There are so many enemies outside now. How can our family of old and young defend ourselves? Isn’t that just sending us to our deaths?”

“So, your family doesn’t want to contribute to the defense, but still hopes to be protected by the villagers? Is that what you mean?” Song Jingwei stared directly at them.

Er Baozi’s father turned red, and his son, Er Baozi, looked even more ashamed, bowing his head deeply, not daring to lift it.

“You call yourself a man, and yet you say such things.” Song Jingwei glanced at Er Baozi and said, “Your life is your own. If you always live under others’ control, what’s the point of living at all?”

Er Baozi’s eyes reddened. He was a well-behaved and filial child, and he also wanted to step forward and loudly declare himself a man. He really couldn’t bear it anymore.

“You should go back. Telling me this is useless. But if you can get the entire village to agree, I won’t oppose it,” said Song Jingwei.

“Really?” Though ashamed, Er Baozi’s father saw a glimmer of hope.

“Yes. Go ahead and ask everyone. If they all agree, you can do whatever you want,” Song Jingwei said.

“Alright, we’ll remember that. Your words better count,” Er Baozi’s father said. Then the room fell quiet for a moment. Holding the gifts they brought, he added, “We really came to apologize… We’re truly sorry for last time… these gifts…”

“Take them back. There’s no need for all this,” Song Jingwei replied, not even glancing at the gifts.

“Forget it. He probably looks down on our things anyway,” Er Baozi’s mother muttered quietly as she tugged at her husband’s hand. Although she spoke softly, everyone in the room heard it clearly.

This made Er Baozi and his father even more embarrassed. He quickly pulled at his wife, signaling her to stop talking.

“Then we’ll be leaving for now. We’ll come back once we have an answer.” They hurried out as if a fierce tiger was chasing them.

Watching the family leave, Song Jingwei sighed softly, “Really, there are all kinds of people.”

His sigh wasn’t just about how selfish Er Baozi’s family was, but also their inability to grasp reality.

Even though he had told them that if they got the whole village’s agreement, they could stay, they didn’t stop to think: with how calculative the villagers were, would they really let a family stay peacefully without contributing anything?

If his family acted this way, and others followed suit, how could the village continue?

“They won’t succeed,” Shen Junxi said, shaking her head with a mixture of helplessness and exasperation.

“Of course. Your village is full of tough-minded people,” Song Jingwei chuckled. He remembered how much gossip he endured when he first arrived.

“It’s your village too,” Shen Junxi said with a smile, taking his hand.

As expected, Er Baozi’s father went door to door, asking every household. And as expected, not a single one agreed. It wasn’t just that they refused. Most people mocked him the moment he mentioned the matter.

That’s just how the villagers were—if you were doing well, they’d say you were great; if you made even a slight mistake, they’d talk you down until you had nowhere to hide.

So, before he could make any progress, Er Baozi’s father returned home with his tail between his legs after visiting a few families, never daring to go out and humiliate himself again.

“How could they be like this? Our family didn’t offend them, all we wanted was to live quietly. Is that not allowed? How can they be so mean?” Er Baozi’s mother sobbed at home, overwhelmed by the malice from those around her. She felt terribly wronged. All she wanted was to be a pampered wife and a loving mother—how did it end up with everyone targeting her?

“Mom! Can you stop crying already?” Er Baozi suddenly stepped forward, his face full of determination. “I’m going back to stand guard tomorrow. Don’t try to stop me, I’ve already made up my mind!”

“Er Baozi?”

“Young Master Song is right. I’m a man—why should I be a coward? I respect and honor you as my mother, but that doesn’t mean I have to obey you in everything. If you’re trying to control even this, then you don’t deserve to be called a good mother!”

“…” Er Baozi’s mother pouted and cried, feeling even more wronged. Why was her own son talking to her like this?

“I don’t care anymore, I’m going out to find Young Master Song,” Er Baozi said, and dashed out like the wind. He had been cooped up indoors for the past few days and his usual lively spirit was almost worn out. He desperately needed a way to release his energy.

If there were enemies today, he would charge straight into battle!

Despite all the crying, fussing, and threats from his mother, she couldn’t stop him, and in the end, she gave up trying to hang herself too. So just like that, Er Baozi stayed.

This incident became a hot topic for everyone to gossip about during their idle time. To them, it was just another piece of juicy news. But for some, it marked a moment of growth—a transformation.

Still, it wasn’t a particularly major event, and it would soon be swallowed up by the tides of time. Amidst the occasional tension from enemy threats, life moved along at a fairly quick pace.

In the blink of an eye, it was already February. The weather was still cold, but at least not that cold anymore.

Following Song Jingwei’s suggestion, Shen Dongming led the idle villagers up the mountain to cut bamboo. After returning, everyone sat around the bonfire weaving baskets, chicken cages, sifters—everything you could think of.

In the past, only one or two people in the village made such things professionally, earning a living from it. Now, they generously taught their skills to others. Within a few days, the elderly and children in the village could all weave a few simple items.

Whenever they were free, Song Jingwei and Shen Junxi joined the others by the fire to learn the craft too.

Shen Junxi had nimble fingers and learned quickly. The baskets he made were neat and beautiful. Later, he learned to weave not only baskets and sifters but also various household items made from bamboo.

Seeing their house gradually fill with beautifully woven bamboo items, Yang Shi was so happy she couldn’t stop smiling. She even asked Shen Junxi to make a larger basket to store miscellaneous items.

Watching the young man concentrate on weaving the bamboo strips, Song Jingwei teased, “You shouldn’t farm anymore. Just making baskets would be enough to support yourself.”

Shen Junxi looked up and gestured, “No way, making baskets won’t be enough to support you.”

Song Jingwei loved it when the young man spoke such serious words in a joking tone. He pinched his cheek and said, “Why not? I’m not that hard to provide for.”

“…” Shen Junxi grasped his fingers and kissed them lightly before smiling and gesturing, “You are hard to provide for.” It took so much effort to win you over. He didn’t even want to think about those days again.

“Nonsense,” Song Jingwei said, holding his hand in return. There wasn’t anything particularly important he wanted to say, but whenever they were together, they always ended up talking—usually nonsense, trivial and meaningless chatter.

“Mm…” Shen Junxi withdrew his hand, picked up a small knife, shaved a few thin bamboo strips, and started weaving again.

“What are you making?” Song Jingwei asked, watching him from the side.

“…” Shen Junxi kept weaving, occasionally glancing at him with a warm smile on his face.

Soon, the item in his hand took shape—it was a chubby, adorable little dog.

“Is it Xiao Hei (Little Black)?” Song Jingwei asked, waiting for him to bring it over. He didn’t reach out to take it right away.

“…” Shen Junxi shook his head and pushed it toward him again. This was his second time giving something to Song Jingwei. He remembered the first time was not long after they got married—he had brought flowers, but Song Jingwei didn’t accept them and told him to throw them away. This time, although he wasn’t as anxious, he was still nervous inside.

“Don’t like dogs?” he asked with his eyes.

“I like it,” Song Jingwei said quickly, noticing the nervousness on the young man’s face. He took the little green bamboo dog and added, “It’s very cute. Thank you. I really like it.” After saying that, he kissed Shen Junxi on the cheek.

“…” Shen Junxi’s eyes curved into a smile. He shook his head to say there was no need to thank him. It was just a bamboo dog—compared to what Song Jingwei had given him, it was nothing at all.

“The expression kind of looks like Benben, don’t you think?” Song Jingwei examined the dog in his hand and said.

“…” Shen Junxi leaned over for a closer look. Now that his wife had mentioned it, it really did resemble their son a little. His smile grew even warmer.

“Look at you, your heart and eyes are full of our son,” Song Jingwei said with a laugh, refusing to believe it was just a coincidence.

“No,” Shen Junxi gestured to him, “My heart and eyes are filled only with you.”

Song Jingwei reached out again to pinch his face. “You’ve been slacking off for a while, and now you’ve learned how to say sweet things, huh?”

Shen Junxi grabbed his hand and gestured back, “I’ve always known how, at least when it comes to you.” There was so much more in his heart, but he couldn’t speak it aloud, so he had gotten used to simply gazing at him.

“…Once the war is over,” Song Jingwei leaned in closer and said, “You can give birth to a younger brother.”

“…,” Shen Junxi smiled bitterly, knowing the other was teasing him again. If Song Jingwei was actually serious, he wouldn’t refuse—but clearly, he wasn’t.

Every time they were intimate, Shen Junxi had to put in real effort to arouse Song Jingwei’s desire. Most of the time, even if they were hugging and kissing, it was always Shen Junxi who got excited, not Song Jingwei. Only rarely did Song Jingwei show passion just from a kiss.

“What, you’re not willing?”

Shen Junxi opened up his palm. “I am.”

Song Jingwei nodded and said, “Oh, that’s good then.”

Actually, Shen Junxi had guessed correctly—what Song Jingwei wanted was just an attitude, nothing more. If Shen Junxi had been the kind of selfish man who always claimed to love him but insisted on never yielding, then Song Jingwei would probably have had a hard time accepting that.

To Song Jingwei, having unresolved issues meant they were not far from breaking up.

By mid-February, things had gradually calmed down in the village. It had been ten full days since the last enemy incursion. Before, enemy scouts would appear every five or six days, but the village men never let a single one slip away. Because of that, the outside world still had no idea what was going on here.

Losing a few soldiers was common, and the military officers didn’t care about those who didn’t return.

Chashan Village was just a small, unremarkable place.

Lihua Town, on the other hand, had suffered far worse. When the enemy broke through the defenses, the remaining imperial forces gave up on defending the town. The surrounding small cities and towns were subjected to brutal attacks.

Some people were lucky enough to flee with their belongings during the night before the enemy arrived. Others weren’t so fortunate—caught before they could escape. Many civilians died, but some managed to survive in the chaos, though life was extremely hard for them.

Now, all the nearby towns were under the enemy’s control. After several brutal purges, the enemy shifted its focus to seizing cities and stopped searching for remaining civilians.

But as long as the war’s outcome remained undecided, the civilians could never truly be safe.

When news of the surrounding areas falling reached the mountains, everyone was plunged into sorrow and fear. Life in hiding on the mountain might be safe, but there seemed to be no hope. It felt like they would never return to their peaceful lives again.

“Everyone, don’t be discouraged. No matter who wins or loses, things will eventually settle down. For now, we just need to stay here quietly and not overthink it. When the time comes, arrangements will be made,” Song Jingwei stepped forward to comfort the disheartened villagers.

“What matters most right now is living our lives well and protecting our families. Let’s leave tomorrow to tomorrow—maybe we’ll even get a surprise soon?”

According to intelligence gathered by Yuan Guanlin, it seemed the court was preparing to send troops to aid them. There were even whispers that there had been a change in leadership.

“A change in leadership?”

“Hehe, leadership just means the top guy. Who’s the biggest boss in the imperial court—you get it, right?”

Song Jingwei suddenly understood. After all, chaos often brought out dark horses.

The new emperor was just such a dark horse. After ascending to the throne, he immediately deployed troops and threw his full effort into the border war.

As the villagers anxiously waited, February slowly dragged on. By the time March came, outside news had dried up, but the warming weather seemed to lift everyone’s spirits a bit.

In the clearing within the valley, a large grass shed had been set up to shield against the spring rains. People sat inside, tending fires and continuing to weave all kinds of bamboo products.

Although Song Jingwei had told them these could be sold later and bring in income, few truly believed that. No one knew how the outside world looked now, or how long the war would last. Perhaps by the time the baskets filled the whole valley, they still wouldn’t have a chance to leave.

In truth, this constant weaving was just a form of emotional support, something to help them believe they would one day return to peaceful life in the village.

After months of life on the mountain, everyone had gradually grown used to it. The longer they stayed, the closer they became—as if they all ate from the same pot and lived under the same roof. Their hardships had forged strong bonds.

Now, after meals, people would gather in the big shed to weave. Those with children gathered in one area to look after them together. The elderly who could no longer weave would huddle together to chat.

Yang shi, after finishing her chores at home, would usually bring Benben out to join the women and househusbands of the village in childcare.

Shen Dongming had been out early, either leading people to cut bamboo or weaving baskets in the shed. He always felt proud—it was his idea to build this big communal shed, his personal achievement.

Of course, the one who did the design was his good brother Xianggui, who also worked part-time as a contractor.