Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Pawning
Tang Da Fu stared at the bundle in Li Tao Hua’s hands as if it were a lantern in a dark room. His eyes shone, moved to the marrow.

“Of course I know you’re a good woman,” he said, voice thick. “You won’t abandon the men of this house. You’ve been wronged, Tao Hua. When my injury heals, I’ll definitely find work.”

Outside the room, Qin Hui Yin listened and couldn’t help going blank.

[Her new stepfather had to be the ultimate hopeless romantic of this era, right?]

Over the past few days, Li Tao Hua had thrown plenty of contempt his way. He filtered it out like it was smoke. Now she softened her tone by half a breath, and he looked ready to pledge his life.

[No wonder the original story did him like that. He really lost his mind over women.]

Still… for Qin Hui Yin, his terminal love-brain was oddly useful. It meant he trusted Li Tao Hua without question, and Li Tao Hua—who loved her daughter like her own heartbeat—trusted Qin Hui Yin the same way.

Li Tao Hua came out with the bundle tucked against her side. She pulled Qin Hui Yin close and started counting it out in a whisper, as if money could hear.

“This hairpin is solid silver,” she said. “It should be worth two taels. If we pawn the clothes outright, getting 150 wen won’t be a problem. With that, forget a few jin of peas—we can even afford rice and flour.”

Qin Hui Yin steadied the bundle in her arms. “Mom. If we get silver, I can decide how to use it, right?”

Li Tao Hua didn’t hesitate. She tied the cloth tighter and shoved it fully into Qin Hui Yin’s hands. “Of course. Everything your mom owns is yours. Tomorrow I’ll go with you into town to pawn it.”

“After we pawn it,” Qin Hui Yin said, “I want to buy medicine for Tang Yi Xiao. His medicine ran out a long time ago. What he’s drinking now is just dregs boiled over and over—so bland it’s like water. It stopped working ages ago. If this keeps up, his body won’t hold out.”

Li Tao Hua’s brows pinched. “He was born weak. The medicine he takes is all tonics, and it even has ginseng whiskers in it. A month’s supply costs a tael of silver. We’ll be broke again.”

“There’s an order to what matters,” Qin Hui Yin said. “We deal with what’s urgent first.”

[And I just saved Tang Lu Wu. If Tang Yi Xiao dies the way he did in the original story, won’t everything slide right back to the beginning?]

Li Tao Hua looked pained enough to stagger. Then she snapped, more at the world than at Qin Hui Yin, “You’ve already asked—how could I say no? I just hope that little brat remembers your kindness.”

Back in her bedroom, Li Tao Hua went on and on about her precious daughter with the kind of pride that didn’t need breath. Tang Da Fu kept nodding and praising Qin Hui Yin for being sensible, which only inflated the goodwill in the room.

Qin Hui Yin used the moment to slip two more outfits into the pawn bundle.

She’d started the season with eight sets. Two had already been altered down for Tang Lu Wu. Adding two more to pawn left her with four wearable outfits—enough to get through the weeks ahead, if she was careful.

She also had several thick winter sets that would fetch more and be easier to bargain with. But winter clothes weren’t cheap. Pawn them low now, buy them back later for two or three times the price—unless they were truly at the end of the road, it was better to keep what could keep them alive.

When Qin Hui Yin stepped outside, Tang Lu Wu was in the yard with a broom, sweeping dust in slow, patient strokes.

Qin Hui Yin’s gaze flicked to the basket under the eaves. It was full of wild greens again—those thin, miserable leaves that tasted like bitterness and resignation.

[It isn’t a famine year. The mountains are green, and the river’s full of fish and shrimp. So how did they fall to eating wild greens and corn mush every single meal?]

Tang Lu Wu looked up, shy and earnest. “Sister Yin… I heard you say you were going to buy medicine for my younger brother.”

Her cheeks went red as she forced the words out. “Thank you.”

Qin Hui Yin smiled. “We’re family. Looking after each other is only right. You don’t need to thank me.”

She tilted her head. “My mom married your dad, so we’re sisters now, right?”

Tang Lu Wu nodded fast, like she was afraid the answer might change. “Right. Sister, if there’s ever anything you need from me, just say the word. As long as it’s something I can do, I’ll help you.”

[As long as her younger brother didn’t have to stop his medicine, she would do anything.]

Tang Lu Wu didn’t know why Qin Hui Yin had suddenly become kind—why she’d pulled her out of the water, why she was insisting on medicine now. She only knew her younger brother needed it. Without it, he would die. If medicine continued, she would listen to that mother and daughter about anything.

Tang Lu Wu had lived with the original Qin Hui Yin for two months. In some ways, she understood her better than the Tang brothers did. The original girl bullied her in secret more than once, but Tang Lu Wu never told. She didn’t want her older brother and younger brother to worry.

A sting of sympathy rose in Qin Hui Yin’s chest.

In her old life, she’d been 25—an entire cycle older than a 12-year-old like Tang Lu Wu. Back in the modern world, a kid that age would still be clinging to parents, sulking over homework, begging for snacks. Here, Tang Lu Wu did the housework and cared for a sick child on top of it. She was steadier than many grown adults.

After Tang Da Fu lost his first wife, he hadn’t remarried for years. A grown man alone didn’t know how to raise children. Tang Yi Chen, the eldest, had practically raised his siblings—changing diapers, cleaning messes, learning what he could with no one to teach him. Later, a tutor at the village school took a liking to Tang Yi Chen and brought him in to study, and the burden of caring for sickly Tang Yi Xiao fell onto Tang Lu Wu’s narrow shoulders.

By rights, with Tang Da Fu earning that much silver, their life should’ve been decent. Tang Lu Wu shouldn’t have been dressed in rags.

But Tang Da Fu hadn’t always been ambitious. Two years ago, like most farmers, he’d only known how to keep his head down and tend his plot. Then he met Li Tao Hua, the refugee widow, and something in him flipped like a switch.

Li Tao Hua was a pretty widow. Men circled. She chose the one with the most money—Hunter Song.

Tang Da Fu, desperate and hungry-eyed, ran to town day after day until he found work at a rice and grain shop. The owner liked his honesty and promoted him to steward.

Not long after that promotion, Tang Yi Xiao fell seriously ill. A physician examined him and declared it one of those “rich man’s diseases”—the kind that didn’t kill quick, just drank silver month after month. One tael of silver each month, just to keep him breathing.

They hid it until Li Tao Hua married in. Only then did she discover the truth. If she’d known the Tang household was already bleeding silver, she never would’ve agreed to the marriage.

Li Tao Hua never lacked pursuers, but she knew how unreliable “rich men” were. And wealthy men went after young, untouched girls—no matter how pretty she was, she couldn’t compete with maidens barely grown. So she chose by her own standards: a man with money, a man who’d listen to her, a man who would treat her daughter well.

Whether it was Hunter Song or Tang Da Fu, both had met those standards. Hunter Song had been broad-shouldered, with sharp brows and bright eyes, and he could earn silver. Tang Da Fu couldn’t compare, not in looks or in swagger, but he was the best available when she needed someone steady.

If someone better had appeared… Li Tao Hua would’ve chosen better. That was simply how she survived.

A thud at the gate pulled Qin Hui Yin out of her thoughts.

Tang Yi Xiao came in carrying a load of firewood taller than his thin frame. His face was pale, but stubbornness held him upright. When he saw Tang Lu Wu talking to Qin Hui Yin, he called out, breathless and anxious, “Sis—help me with this.”

Tang Lu Wu rushed over. “Why are you carrying so much?”