Two days later, a group of people came from the foot of the mountain to the west. Wang Xiaoman was walking in front, and a coffin was being pulled behind him. Zhao Fang quickly found out the news: "It's Wang Chao. I heard he was killed by bandits in Linshui County."
"Wang Chao is dead?" Qin Xiaozhou was shocked. He was about the same age as Lu Yunfeng, only twenty years old this year. He was the one who led the team that searched for people in Xishan.
When houses collapsed due to the snowstorm in the village, he was busy rescuing people, and such a vibrant life was lost just like that.
Wang Lan paused for a moment, then sighed, "Good people have such hard lives."
The news spread quickly throughout the village. Upon hearing it, the village chief, whose body had been ill for a month, finally succumbed to grief and coughed up blood. His second son, Wang Zhao, knelt before his father's bed and kowtowed, while his eldest son, Wang Li, choked out, "Xiao Man, go to Lijia Dam and fetch Doctor Li."
The village chief's wife held her third son's hand and wailed, "Third son, what happened to Achao? How could he be gone? I, an old man, have to bury my black-haired son. How could he be so cruel? He went to Linshui County and he's gone."
Wang Zhao crawled over on his knees, "Mother, it's all my fault, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have come back, and I even took my third brother and eldest nephew with me. That's what caused A-Chao's death."
After listening for a while, the village chief's wife finally understood that three days ago, the rioters and bandits in Linshui County had been wiped out, but one bandit leader had escaped and fled to Wang Zhao's yard. The desperate man was already at his limit and started killing indiscriminately. Wang Chao fought with the thug to save his second uncle's family and his father, and the two of them died together.
The village chief's wife pointed at the third son, her voice filled with disappointment and anger, "How could you just watch your own son die? How could you, as a father,..."
She couldn't continue speaking, so she knelt down and hugged her third son. He was the father of her grandson, but he was also her own son. She couldn't bear to let either of them die.
The third brother wiped away his tears. His son was the oldest and most spirited child of that generation. Everyone in the village had high hopes for him and was waiting for him to become the village chief in a few decades. How could he have died like this?
Wang Chao's mother had already fainted from crying, and Wang Chao's wife was hiding in the house with her two-year-old son, refusing to see anyone. The village chief's house was in chaos, and Wang Li, though exhausted, had no choice but to stand up and discuss his nephew's funeral arrangements with his uncles, nephews, and brothers.
Firecrackers soon went off in front of the village chief's house.
According to the village rules, people are invited to weddings, but not to funerals. When the villagers heard the firecrackers, one person from each household went to the village chief's house.
Zhao Fang returned after about half an hour, saying, "I've arranged for Dayun to dig up the grave and carry the coffin."
Originally, Zhao Fang was supposed to be assigned to cook at the threshing ground, but the two wounded members of the Lu family were too busy to take care of themselves, so only one task was assigned to her.
That night, Lu Yunfeng rushed back and went to the village chief's house to prepare Wang Chao's body for his funeral. When he returned, his eyes were a little red, as if he had been crying. He sat under the eaves, looking at the starry sky without saying a word.
The next morning, he carried a hoe and went out to the cemetery to the south.
Even after returning home in the evening and taking a shower, he still sat under the eaves without saying a word.
On the third day, Lu Yunfeng went to carry the coffin to the cemetery again. He didn't return home until after dark, having eaten at the threshing ground. He was reeking of alcohol and completely drunk. It was Wang Xiaoman who brought him back.
In late January, Qin Xiaozhou was reading a storybook under a rocking chair under the eaves. The style of the storybook was very familiar, with stories of domestic intrigue and the real and fake heiresses. The domestic intrigue was particularly well-written, and one couldn't help but admire the author's writing skills.
Zhao Yong came in from the door and said with a smile, "Sister-in-law, my cousin said he's busy today and won't be coming back. Here's a letter from the capital, he said it's for you."
The letter was written by Zhu Xian. In it, she said that she was going to get married to a member of the Lu family in Fanyang. Her husband was from a collateral branch of the Lu family and was also an official in the region.
Qin Xiaozhou sighed. A woman's only option is to get married, and even someone with Zhu Xian's good background and business acumen cannot avoid this.
The two had known each other for a while. Qin Xiaozhou leaned back in his rocking chair, thinking about the gift he wanted to give. Finally, he took out a pen, ink, paper and inkstone, wrote down some methods to prevent being framed in the inner quarters, and told her to be careful. After thinking for a moment, he packed the storybook into the package. "Cousin, give this package to Dayun tomorrow and have him send it to the address."
Having witnessed the vastness of the world, Qin Xiaozhou could only pray that the woman, who had always been so accustomed to such freedom, would be confined to the inner quarters.
As Zhao Fang read the letter, she thought of the bright young girl on horseback. However, she was genuinely happy for Zhu Xian. "Women should get married. With Miss Zhu's status, she will surely marry a man of high status and position. Pomegranates are associated with many children and good fortune. We only have so many pomegranate trees. Xiao Zhou, why don't we dig one up and send it to Miss Zhu? I remember she also likes our pomegranate juice. Last autumn, when she came to the shop, her favorite thing was pomegranate juice and the flowers on the cakes dyed with pomegranate."
Qin Xiaozhou nodded. He wondered how the Lu family cultivated their pomegranates. They were comparable to those of later generations, and even tastier than many varieties of this era. They were large, sweet, and blood-red in color, extremely beautiful. "Then I'll trouble you, cousin, to dig one up."
"No need, pomegranate cuttings will grow. Your grandmother took several cuttings last year, they're in the earthenware pots. Just take one." Zhao Fang went to the corner of the backyard and brought out two somewhat broken earthenware pots. If she had to patch up the broken pots, she wouldn't have been willing to plant flowers and plants in them. She took one of the pots and gave it to Zhao Yong.
"Take this tree home and plant it in your yard. In two years, the children and adults can enjoy the fruit."
The fruit trees in the Lu family orchard were all of good quality, so Zhao Yong was naturally delighted to receive them for free. He happily carried the pottery jar and drove the oxcart home.
He would arrive at Zhao Family Village just as the sun was about to set, drive the cattle to the shed in the backyard, where his wife was still cooking and the little ones were chopping grass to feed the chickens. "Dad's back."
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