Chapter 4: A House with Bare Walls

Han Youniang wept sorrowfully, her hands tightly gripping the coffin, fearing that if she let go, she would collapse to the ground. Usually, she cared for him without complaint or regret, merely fulfilling her duties as a wife. Having just married, the two had hardly exchanged a few words, and in truth, their relationship could not be described as deep.

Dressed in rough white linen mourning clothes, with a white silk headband tied around her head, her oval face is quite delicate, her eyes are red, and her eyelashes are still damp. Her little nose is also frozen red, and she is timidly looking at him.

Noticing her husband looking at her, Han Youniang thought that perhaps her eating manner was somewhat unrefined, and she couldn't help but shyly turn her body away. Since their marriage, this was the first time she and her husband had sat together for a meal. Although they had been married for over six months, in her mind, her husband remained a blank slate. Apart from knowing his name, that he was the youngest scholar in Xuanfu, and the only man with a degree in Jiming Post Station, she knew nothing else about him.

Previously persuaded by his son to come and seize the property, it was certainly for his son's sake; however, deep down, he was also partly worried that this young widow would not be able to hold on to it and might remarry after a few years, taking the Yang family's land with her. Now that his nephew has survived, this concern has dissipated, and he has set aside those thoughts.

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He was contemplating in his heart, and when Han Yoniang set down her bowl, he pushed his half bowl of corn porridge over to her, gently saying: "Aren't you full yet? Here, drink this as well."

Han Yoniang saw a figure walking into the courtyard and was taken aback. She thought it was that scoundrel Yang Quan come to harass her again. With one hand holding a small half-bag of grain and the other hand casually pulling out a stick from behind the courtyard gate, she whispered fiercely, "Get out of here, or else... or else I will call my husband."

She felt a bit shy and hesitantly walked into the room, brightening the oil lamp a little. Noticing his gaze still lingering on her, her cheeks grew increasingly warm, yet she did not know how to start a conversation with him. After fidgeting in the room for a while, she blushed and leaned over to pull the thin blanket across his legs. Stammering, she said, "My lord, you have just awakened; please rest for a while. I... I will go to Aunt Li's house next door and will be back shortly." With that, she hurriedly left the room.

In this house, the center is the dining hall. As soon as you enter, there is the stove. To the right is the bedroom, which faintly carries a hint of medicinal smell. To the left was originally the residence of Yang Ling's parents, but after the elderly passed away, it has been left unused, serving as a storage space for some miscellaneous items

The fifteen-year-old girl, having just entered the household, is tasked with caring for a bedridden patient in such a destitute family, which truly makes it difficult for her. It is hard to imagine how she has endured these past six months. Observing her beauty and gentleness, Yang Ling cannot help but feel a stir in his heart. The girl's simple and pure appearance evokes a sense of compassion and affection within him. Considering that he may only live for another two years at most, he genuinely cannot bear to mistreat her.

Then the young girl said in a crisp voice: "Ah, thank you, Aunt Li. I will definitely return this grain to you once we have a harvest from our fields next year"

Looking at the bare walls of the house, Yang Ling couldn't help but sigh inwardly. He watched as the little girl, Han Yoniang, sweetly finished a bowl of corn porridge, even licking the rim of the bowl clean with her little tongue. A wave of bitterness surged in Yang Ling's heart: "Damn that ghostly judge; it seems he has played me for a fool. Had I known this would be the case, I should have enjoyed my days as a billionaire while I could, even if I was a bit older... What should I do now? Should I really live for ten thousand years and then subtract a thousand?" Yang Ling felt a pang of sorrow again: "Damn that ghostly judge; it seems he has played me for a fool. Had I known this would be the case, I should have enjoyed my days as a billionaire while I could, even if I was a bit older... What should I do now? Should I really live for ten thousand years and then subtract a thousand? Wouldn't it be better to just muddle through for a couple of years? At least... this wife, though a bit younger, is indeed pleasant to look at."

Han Yoniang finished tidying up and turned her head, only to find him sitting on the kang, observing her. She couldn't help but feel a flush on her face. For more than half a year, she had been hoping every day for her man to wake up, and now that he truly had, being looked at by him made her feel completely uneasy.

Yang Ling quietly approached the low wall, where a pile of swept snow lay at its base. He leaned against the wall and looked over, only to see an elderly woman with a head full of white hair, holding an oil lamp in one hand and half-pushing the door with the other. The young girl had presumably already left the courtyard.

The old woman merely shook her head and sighed. As she closed the door, she heard an old man's voice from inside the house saying, "My dear, the Tartars came in autumn, and our remaining grain is running low."

But now she realizes what he means to her and how important he is. Even if he has only one breath left, he is still her man. With him around, this family is not considered finished; he is the pillar that supports it.

Zheng Shaopeng stared blankly at her, "Yang Hanshi? Isn't she a bit too young? Shouldn't she be in the first or second year of junior high?" Although he had experienced death and rebirth and quickly adapted to a new life many times, seeing his new wife in this 'young' state still felt extremely strange to him.

Yang Ling smiled faintly, and a wave of warmth surged in her heart. She did not know what illness she had originally suffered from, but ever since she had taken possession of this body, apart from being bedridden for a long time and suffering from malnutrition, which had left her limbs weak and her heart restless, there had not been any major issues.

In the previous eight lifetimes, one was either born into a wealthy family or held high power and nobility. Upon suddenly tasting such food, despite being ravenously hungry, Zheng Shaopeng, who is now a scholar from Xuanzhou in the 17th year of the Hongzhi era of the Ming Dynasty, could only manage to eat to about seventy percent full before finding it increasingly difficult to swallow.

Seeing Han Youniang run out, he lifted the quilt and got out of bed, seizing the opportunity to familiarize himself with his surroundings. Upon looking around, his heart inevitably sank; everything was empty, and it truly was a house with bare walls, which was indeed pitiful

Upon entering the room across the way, he learned from Han Yoniang that this was originally the residence of Yang Ling's parents. It was now vacant, filled with some miscellaneous items. He walked to the door, lifted the grain sack, and found it contained less than a bowl of broken corn. No wonder she only cooked two bowls of porridge at night; even her half bowl of leftover porridge tasted so good. He couldn't tell how many days it had been since she had a full meal, and Yang Ling felt a slight pang in his nose.

The old woman murmured while closing the door: "Sigh, I know, but that child You Niang is pitiful. If I can help, I should lend a hand. Moreover, that child Ling Er has a degree; surviving a great calamity surely brings future blessings..."

Han Youniang's eyes were wide open, fixed intently on him without a moment's hesitation. Tears gradually blurred her vision, and after a long while, she suddenly burst into tears.

Such days make it a challenge to even stay alive, how can one get through this harsh winter? I said I would just eat and wait for death, but I never said I wanted to starve to death. He cursed each of the judges and little ghosts in his heart.

The dining hall also serves as the living room, and at the same time, it is Yang Ling's mourning hall. Han Youniang, fearing that his frail health might worsen, insisted on not letting him lift a finger. She helped him to sit on the kang and then went to pile up the wreaths, joss paper, and gold and silver offerings sent by others behind the door, dismantling the mourning hall, which made her break into a fine sweat.

This cry sent a chilling sensation from Zheng Shaopeng's tailbone all the way to the back of his head. How much sorrow and grievance must one endure to cry so heart-wrenchingly

Yang Ling scrutinized her carefully. The girl had already changed out of her mourning clothes and donned a set of blue cloth garments. Her face still appeared youthful, possibly due to her years of martial arts training, her figure had developed into that of a young woman. She was strikingly beautiful, with slightly tanned skin, thick eyebrows, a well-defined nose, full lips, and bright, sparkling eyes, making her look exceedingly charming

At this moment, Han Yoniang boldly glanced at her man. He still looked quite haggard, but his spirit had improved significantly, and his pair of eyes had regained their luster. Seeing his beautiful eyes gently fixed on her, Han Yoniang couldn't help but feel a bit bashful. She lowered her eyelids and softly said, "Husband, you have just recovered from your illness; you should eat more."

He awkwardly called for someone to help lift his nephew onto the bed, then sent someone to find a doctor. After a busy half day, he finally left with the support of his children and grandchildren

The mourning hall was once again in chaos as Han Yoniang, having regained consciousness, cried and shouted while dragging him out of the coffin. Old Master Yang had heard of cases where some people feigned death only to come back to life, so he was not overly astonished. Upon seeing Yang Ling resurrected, although he felt somewhat awkward, he was ultimately more pleased.

As the door closed, the words below became inaudible. Yang Ling heard the sound of her courtyard gate and saw a petite figure walk in, prompting her to take a couple of steps forward to greet.

Listening closely, one could hear the voice of an elderly woman in the distance saying: "Young girl, it is dark at night, be careful while walking."

The room was not large, and there was not much in it; he had quickly explored it. He pushed open the door and stepped outside. The night in the mountain village was dim and hazy, with the small oil lamps lit in each household barely illuminating the surroundings, unlike the bright rural areas of today. Looking up at the crescent moon obscured by dark clouds, he felt a bone-chilling cold. The surroundings were silent, and he had no idea where Han You-niang had gone. Just as he was about to return to the room, he suddenly heard a creaking sound not far away, followed by a dog barking.

Watching Han Yoniang swiftly tidy up the room, Yang Ling couldn't help but sigh inwardly. It is often said that modern girls are exposed to many things and enjoy good food, leading to early maturity. But what does early maturity really mean? It is merely their bodies and desires that mature early. Look at Han Yoniang; this is true mental maturity.

The extremely weak body could barely support him as he knelt for a while, and he was once again on the verge of collapsing. Before losing consciousness again, he managed to smile faintly and said to her: "Do not be afraid, I am not dead yet"

Zheng Shaopeng felt a pang of heartache as he watched her cry. He intended to comfort her with some pleasantries like "Nice to meet you, please take care of me," but unfortunately, his body betrayed him. His mouth opened as if it were stuck, yet he could not utter a word. Instead, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted again.

After all, Yang Ling is the only person in the Jiming Yibao with a title of merit. Having such a person in the family is indeed a matter of honor, as he is a part of the Yang family's lineage.

Han Youniang, however, ate with great relish. Although the simple meals were rather harsh, seeing her husband not only alive again but also able to get up and eat by himself filled her small heart with joy and contentment

Yang Ling thought for a moment and recalled that he should call her "wife." However, this ancient term felt quite awkward for him to use. Fortunately, the original Yang Ling had been in a daze since falling ill, hardly even opening his eyes, and had never called her "wife." Thus, he addressed her by her childhood name: "You Niang, I have just recovered, so I cannot eat too much. If you do not eat, it would be a waste."

Two bowls of corn porridge, one plate of pickled radish, were the first meal that Zheng Shaode, a great benefactor of nine generations, had after being reincarnated as Yang Ling with his wife. A flickering oil lamp swayed on the stove, and the room was filled with the aroma of smoke and fire.

Han Yoniang thought for a moment, smiled shyly at him, took the bowl, and said softly: "Thank you, my husband"