The next day, Xie Yushu woke up early.
This wasn’t her natural schedule—it was the original owner’s body clock. But waking up automatically at a set hour didn’t feel great at all.
She made up her mind: she had to break this unhealthy habit of rising early. Sleeping in until naturally awake was the healthy, nature-honoring way!
Without even opening her eyes, she went to rinse her mouth and wash her face, then boiled an egg to settle her stomach.
She was already sick of boiled eggs. She’d never liked them—they had that weird eggy smell, were dry and hard to swallow, and had no flavor. But the house had no oil, no salt, nothing at all, so she had to make do. At the same time, she silently grumbled about the village chief.
Really, Village Chief—if you’re going to bring gifts, at least throw in some seasonings too!
Once she had money, of course, she wouldn’t forget good little Village Chief Su.
Xie Yushu shamelessly thought to herself as she wolfed down the egg.
After putting on her long robe and locking up the house—so shabby even a thief wouldn’t bother to case it—she strode toward the village entrance.
Every day, there were a few ox-carts that carried people and goods to town. A trip cost one copper coin. To get to Mapu Ferry, she first had to reach Songwan Town, then either walk or pay another coin to take a donkey cart or ox-cart the rest of the way.
The main road through Qingluo Village was quite wide, its dirt surface packed hard and shiny from countless footsteps and the deep ruts left by ox-carts.
Xie Yushu idly took in her surroundings.
The houses along both sides were all better than her little shack. Most had solid, tidy courtyard walls covered in lush green pumpkin and cucumber vines, with fences around them. Spring onions and garlic sprouted in eager clusters. In several yards, chickens, ducks, and geese clucked and squawked. Coarse-washed clothes hung on lines, fluttering in the breeze, and neatly arranged bamboo baskets dried all sorts of preserved goods. It was indeed a prosperous, lively village.
As curious gazes from the villagers came her way, she straightened her back and held her head high. She had nothing to fear—a clear conscience fears no scrutiny.
After walking a while, she reached the village entrance, where an ox-cart was just about to depart. Xie Yushu hurried over, paid the driver, and found an empty spot to sit.
She pulled out a clean piece of linen cloth she’d washed the day before, spread it over the wooden bench. A few people nearby found her behavior odd.
The ox-cart was mostly filled with villagers heading to town to sell their farm produce. They carefully cradled baskets of eggs and homemade dried goods, while others carried cages of live chickens and ducks.
The cart smelled strongly—the mingled odors of livestock and people mixing together. Xie Yushu wrinkled her nose in discomfort.
She dutifully pressed her knees together, tried to make herself as small as possible, and kept her distance from everyone. But the cart was only so big; no matter how she tried, she was still close to the person on the other side. She could only silently pray they wouldn’t brush against her—her cleanliness obsession was starting to act up.
The ox let out a low “moo” and the cart lurched forward, crawling along at a leisurely pace. Every now and then, it bumped over a pothole or a patch of loose stones, jostling both cart and passengers.
Xie Yushu sat at the very back, gripping the wooden planks to keep steady. Once the road smoothed out, she began enjoying the fresh, rustic scenery on both sides. Suddenly, someone called out to her. She turned—it was the woman sitting next to her.
“Are you Zhai Jin’s daughter?” The woman had an honest, simple face, wore plain clothes, and had a cage of flapping ducks at her feet.
“Yes,” Xie Yushu nodded.
The woman asked her name.
“Xie Yushu,” Xie Yushu answered honestly. It was just a name—nothing to be shy about.
The woman didn’t know which shu or which yu it was, but that didn’t stop her from thinking it was a beautiful name. Villagers wouldn’t come up with names like that.
People in the village weren’t educated—they named their children casually, just putting two simple characters together.
Or they’d take seasonal terms, crops, rivers, mountains, animals, or plants and arrange them into combinations. They’d never heard anything like those two elegant characters.
“Are you heading to town too?”
Xie Yushu gave a slight nod.
Having gotten her answer, the woman said no more. The other passengers, meanwhile, were secretly stealing glances at Xie Yushu while they talked.
After getting a good look at her face, they all silently gasped.
Oh heavens! How could the Zhai daughter be so handsome? Her brows and eyes were more delicate and clean than any man’s. Her looks and bearing didn’t seem like they belonged to someone from the countryside.
Where in the village would you find such a beautiful woman? She was even better-looking than the finest young men in the village. How on earth did Zhai Jin give birth to someone like her?
Xie Yushu tried her best to ignore the stares, feigning relaxation as she took in the scenery along the way.
The ox-cart rocked and swayed for about half an hour before stopping at the entrance of Songwan Town. Everyone gathered their belongings and got off.
Xie Yushu picked up the linen cloth she’d been sitting on, shook off the dust, folded it, and put it away.
The town was at its liveliest in the morning. From the town entrance to the main street, stalls and shops lined both sides, one right after another—a dazzling array of goods that left one’s eyes spinning.
There were fresh vegetables and fruits still glistening with morning dew, live fish splashing about in buckets, baskets and bamboo frames being woven on the spot, and all sorts of breakfast items: pancakes, sweet rice cakes, tofu pudding, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and more.
Fishmongers carrying a variety of freshly caught aquatic produce hawked their wares, drawing crowds of picky customers. The townsfolk had a real taste for fish.
Xie Yushu had already gotten a rough sense of the geography soon after transmigrating here.
Songwan Town belonged to Jiangzhou, a region with flat terrain, crisscrossing lakes, and a dense network of rivers. To the east lay the sea, to the west the mountains—bountiful in both mountain delicacies and seafood. It truly enjoyed the advantages of both mountains and sea.
Moreover, as part of an alluvial plain, Jiangzhou’s farmland was fertile, producing more than enough grain every year even after taxes were paid. From the prefectural capital down to the remotest villages, every household could fill its belly. Even if farming families didn’t eat meat or fish every day, simple fare was enough to keep hunger at bay.
The entire prefecture was prosperous and well-off—a true land of fish and rice. With its warm, humid climate, it was a very pleasant place to live.
Xie Yushu was quite satisfied with it. Not only was it not a bitter, cold wasteland, but its climate and terrain were remarkably similar to her former home in her previous life.
She happened to pass by a congee stall, and the savory porridge being cooked inside caught her eye.
She’d spent one copper coin on the ox-cart, leaving her with seven coppers in her pocket—a small fortune. If things went smoothly today, she’d get her wages back, and those seven coppers would be nothing.
She was confident about retrieving her pay and had already figured out how to go about it. So she walked into the shop and ordered a bowl of savory congee, splurging even more by adding a fried dough stick.
The congee cost three coppers a bowl, and the fried dough stick two coppers. That was five coppers gone in one go, leaving her with just two—a broke pauper.
The owner efficiently brought her order and told her to take her time.
The savory congee was packed with chopped greens, tiny dried shrimp, a bit of minced meat, and was quite thick. The seasoning was simple—just salt and a drizzle of sesame oil—but it was fragrant enough and a good value.
Xie Yushu scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and brought it to her mouth. After a few satisfying bites, she dunked the fried dough stick into the congee, letting it soften and soak up the savory broth. It tasted even better that way.
The fried dough stick wasn’t the griddle-fried pancake the village chief had given her—it was deep-fried until golden, fluffy, crispy, and savory, as big as an adult woman’s palm.
She ate quickly, and soon the bowl was empty. Then she got up and headed toward Mapu Ferry.
Mapu Ferry was located along the Luo River, which flowed through Songwan Town and Tang’an County, at a stretch where the terrain was open and the current gentle. It had been a disused ferry for years until a few wealthy local families pooled their capital to revive it. Before long, it became the economic backbone of Songwan Town.
It took less than two quarters of an hour to walk from town to the ferry—a short distance. Xie Yushu walked fast and arrived before long.
Though Songwan Town was small, its ferry was nowhere near the scale of those in the county or prefectural capital, and the merchant vessels plying its waters were much smaller. But the mountain goods and seafood here were famous far and wide, drawing a steady stream of local and out-of-town merchants, as well as many independent traders.
The ferry was just as busy as the original owner remembered.
Fully laden ships unloaded their cargo at the docks, and the emptied holds were quickly filled with local dried mountain delicacies. Passing vessels sent men ashore to stock up on firewood, grain, rice, flour, and other supplies. Stevedores strained under heavy burlap sacks. Nearby, a waterfront market sold fresh catches on the spot, with vendors crying out and dockworkers chanting in unison.
Piles of goods awaiting transport or freshly offloaded were stacked along the revetment. Rows of shops with their doors wide open lined the area, and all sorts of people gathered together in a lively, bustling scene.
Xie Yushu’s eyes lit up. Not bad at all.
But business came first today. After a quick glance, she followed her memory to find her old “office.”
It wasn’t far—just a brick-and-tile bungalow up ahead, the original owner’s former workplace. The main door was wide open, facing the docks. From there, one could see the berths and cargo stalls at a glance. A few people bustled about the yard, clearly busy.
Xie Yushu cut straight to the point and headed directly to the accounting office. Without ceremony, she pushed the door open. Startled, Accountant Yang—who had been lounging in a reclining chair with her eyes half-closed—scolded:
“Didn’t you learn to knock before entering? Which foreman taught you to do things that way? Can’t you see I’m resting?” Yang assumed it was some lowly helper lacking the sense to stay out of her way during a rare break, and her brow furrowed deeply.
When she didn’t hear any apologetic pleas, she grew curious and opened her eyes.
There stood Xie Yushu, whom she hadn’t seen for many days. Yang sat up and looked at her. “Oh, if it isn’t Steward Xie. What brings you here?”
She emphasized the word “Steward,” a clear mockery—she was no longer a steward.
Xie Yushu caught the sarcasm in her tone but pretended not to notice. She settled into the armchair across from her. “Nothing much. I’m here to collect my wages. The accounting office still owes me three months’ pay.”
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