Chapter 17: Red Beans Grow in the Southern Land

As the sun dipped toward the west, crimson clouds spread across the horizon, rolling and shifting in the vast sky.

A group of people descended the mountain, their laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air.

Fan Jin and the village chief, Fan Changlin, lagged behind the others, discussing plans to organize the villagers to dig irrigation channels.

The rest of the jubilant villagers dashed back to the village, eager to spread the news of the newfound water source on the mountain.

Before long, the news spread like wildfire, igniting excitement throughout the entire village.

Beneath the great banyan tree at the village entrance, a crowd gathered in layers upon layers, inside and out.

Baibiao Village was a moderately sized community, home to 271 families.

Thanks to the belief that “as long as the parents live, the family remains united,” it was common to see four generations living under one roof, and even five generations were not rare.

At this moment, old and young alike, at least a thousand people had gathered.

Every villager’s face gleamed with heartfelt smiles.

A water source meant life had not yet run dry; there was still hope.

Those struggling to survive never paused to ponder the meaning of life.

It seemed that living was simply an instinct.

“Quiet down, everyone! Quiet!” Fan Changlin stood atop a large oval stone, raising his arm to call for silence.

Once the neighbors quieted, he announced, “I’m sure you’ve all heard: Fan Juren and I spent the entire day exploring the forest, and we discovered a spring of fresh water on the mountain!”

His words sparked a roar of chatter among the villagers.

Rumors were one thing, but confirmation from the village chief was another entirely.

Even Fan Jin could see the respect and authority Fan Changlin commanded in Baibiao Village, earning the villagers’ unwavering trust.

After speaking, Fan Changlin deliberately paused, giving everyone a moment to absorb the weighty news.

“Changlin, is there really water on the mountain?” An elderly man, bent with a cane and sporting a graying beard, stooped forward, eager to verify the truth.

Fan Changlin glanced at him and replied, “Absolutely certain!”

“Moreover, besides the spring, we found a swampy area on the mountain.”

“The fields are filled with lotus roots—conservatively, there must be tens of thousands of jin!”

He delivered the news in one breath, barely noticing the villagers moved to tears by excitement.

Turning to Fan Jin, he said with some excitement, “All this was achieved under your leadership, Fan Juren. It is the blessing bestowed upon me by the God of Literature!”

Without warning, Fan Changlin jumped down from the stone and bowed deeply to Fan Jin.

Fan Jin quickly stepped aside, about to protest that he did no deed worthy of reward.

Fan Changlin grasped his sleeve earnestly. “Fan Juren, you are the village’s great benefactor, the bearer of our fortune.”

“Otherwise, how could it be that our ancestors lived in Baijia Village for generations, living by the mountain and water, yet no one ever discovered a water source on the mountain?”

Fan Jin hesitated.

Perhaps the village chief’s words held some truth.

His thoughts deepened.

Could the benefits of having fortune flow into his body be far more than just feeling younger?

Otherwise, why had no one ever spoken of a water source on the mountain over hundreds of years?

Only those who dared venture deep into the mountain ever found it.

With the village chief’s endorsement, everyone present joined in unison to express their gratitude.

“Fan Juren, you are truly our great benefactor.”

“Fan Juren, I once spoke ill of you out of petty jealousy—please forgive me as if I were nothing!”

“Fan Juren, do you remember old me? I used to carry you when you were a child...”

The gratitude meeting, once solemn, quickly devolved into a session of name-dropping and relationship-building.

Fan Jin forced a smile. “I did nothing special. It was all fate.”

Seeing the villagers treat him almost like a deity, a living talisman, he finally made a hasty retreat.

...

By the time the carriage entered the city, the gate was already closed.

However, when the driver stepped forward to explain the identity of the passengers, the soldiers on guard dared not block them and hurriedly opened the gate.

“Woof! Woof woof!” The barking of a stray dog somewhere added a touch of earthly warmth to the night.

“Master is home!” Old Qin, the night watchman, quickly lifted the gate to welcome them.

Fan Jin, weary and aching all over, waved a hand and said to the steward, “Instruct the servants to keep quiet—don’t wake the madam!”

“Also, have the maid prepare hot water—I want to take a bath.”

After a day of hard labor, soaking in a comfortable hot bath was one of life’s greatest pleasures.

The steward respectfully acknowledged the order and quickly went to arrange everything.

Fan Jin, unable to sit or stand properly, slouched awkwardly in a chair, nibbling on snacks and sipping oolong tea while the maids massaged his shoulders and legs.

For a moment, a wave of emotion washed over him.

Fan Jin, Fan Jin, who would have thought that in such a short time you would fall so far.

Indeed, it’s true: three years of study can be undone in three days of indulgence.

After dozing briefly, the steward reported, “Master, everything is ready.”

Fan Jin nodded and waved dismissively. “Understood. You’ve had a long day too—go rest early.”

After speaking, he rose slowly and headed toward the bathing chamber.

Compared to the modern freedom of bathing, ancient customs imposed elaborate rituals.

In ancient times, the bathhouse was called a “wei,” and the bath basin was known as a “yu.”

In grand households, two towels were always used when bathing.

A fine towel for the upper body, and a coarser one for the lower.

After stepping out of the basin, one would stand on a straw mat and rinse again with hot water.

Only then would one dress and put on shoes before drinking something warm to soothe the stomach.

One had to admit, the lifestyle of the gentry was extraordinarily decadent!

Of course, such luxuries were reserved only for the privileged.

Common folk had no such refinements—who among them was not foul-smelling?

After dismissing a few maids who had tended to his bath, Fan Jin idly wiped himself dry.

The misty steam filled the bathhouse, and soon Fan Jin found himself yawning repeatedly.

Suddenly, a petite figure burst in, utterly naked, her pale skin exposed to the air in large, unbroken swaths.

Fan Jin’s eyes snapped open.

Before him stood a woman.

Like a bud half-closed, she possessed a delicate charm all her own.

The shy expression on her face revealed an inviting vulnerability, as if she were waiting to be cherished.

She was a beauty—not for excessive adornment, but for her perfect natural proportions.

Like an uncut jade, untouched by human hands, a gift of nature itself.

Her facial features, torso, and arms seemed unremarkable individually, yet together they harmonized to create a breathtaking allure.

Frowning and panting slightly, Fan Jin barked, “Who let you in? Have some manners!”

The woman immediately dropped to her knees, her expression full of pitiable innocence, biting her lip, eyes glistening with tears.

After a moment’s hesitation, she stammered, “I am Hongdou, the chambermaid arranged by the madam, the old madam, for the master...”