Chapter 18: Carrying a Heavy Shell, Climbing Upward Step by Step

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Who would have thought that even someone like me could succumb to such decadence."

Fan Jin stroked his chin, clicking his tongue in wonder. Before transmigrating, he had always been self-reliant; he never imagined he would so quickly come to take the service of others for granted. How long had it been since he passed the imperial examination? Was it a case of "it takes three years to learn good, but only three days to learn evil"?

Of course, Fan Jin was not about to enjoy feudal privileges while pretending to oppose feudalism, much like those other transmigrators who kept a house full of wives and concubines while loudly preaching monogamy and gender equality.

The young girl, her initial shyness fading, said with a mix of shame and annoyance, "Master, you should at least lift your head to speak."

"No, I feel the warmth of the sun right here."

Fan Jin embodied the stubborn ways of the gentry class, refusing to bow his head to the common folk. This was a matter of his dignity as a master; he would not retreat in the slightest. In fact, he intended to push his advantage further.

"Ahem—continue kneading my shoulders. Don't stop for a moment," Fan Jin commanded. It was much like the post-climax ritual of a cigarette. Come to think of it, one really couldn't blame King Zhou too much in many respects. For a man, isn't this the ultimate pursuit? To wake up holding the power of the world and fall asleep on the knees of a beauty—who could resist such temptation?

Having spent the day trekking through the mountains and forests, a wave of exhaustion had finally set in.

Hongdou obeyed without a word. "I really don't know what to do with you, Master."

A while later.

"Slap, slap, slap..."

After a flurry of mosquito-swatting sounds, Fan Jin stood up with effortless grace as the croaking of frogs filled the night air across the wilderness. Hongdou knelt on the mat, her head tilted slightly upward in a position of humble devotion, wiping the beads of sweat from her skin.

Fan Jin profoundly felt the indescribable benefits that the influx of worldly fortune had brought to this body. The withered appearance was merely on the surface; deep within, a vast reservoir of power lay hidden, and his hands felt as strong as iron pincers. He could even feel his cells cheering and his meridians pulsing with vigor. It was a long-lost vitality, something he once possessed but had been quietly stolen away by the passage of time.

The young girl’s massage skills were truly exceptional.

"Remind me, what did you say your name was again?" Fan Jin asked, hands on his hips.

"This humble servant’s surname is Zhao, and my childhood name is Hongdou..."

The woman murmured softly, never allowed a moment of rest; she was clearly destined for a life of toil. Fan Jin silently noted the name, then cast all his worries aside. He felt as if he had boarded a rollercoaster, with drifting clouds floating past him. It was as if he were riding a small skiff, swaying back and forth under the moonlight of a lotus pond, swaying and rocking...

After enjoying the metaphorical sauna, Fan Jin felt completely refreshed. It was as if all the impurities of his body had been washed away, leaving behind only abundant energy.

"Good technique. Do it again tomorrow."

Leaving behind those words, Fan Jin ordered a lamp to be lit and headed straight for Hu Yingying’s boudoir. Eventually, the red candle burned in silence, and the moon hid behind the treetops, observing every move of the two inside, listening to the soft sound of their breathing.

...

After breakfast, Fan Jin had just wiped his mouth and intended to hide in his small courtyard to read in peace when the old matriarch immediately called him to a halt.

She gave a light cough. Soon after, Hongdou, who had been a naive girl only the night before, appeared in the mature attire of a married woman, her high-coiled hair particularly striking.

Fan Jin’s eyes lit up. In this attire, although Hongdou lost a bit of her girlish tenderness, she gained a sense of maturity. If she had been a half-blooming flower bud the night before, she was now a brilliant red peony—radiant, vivid, and bright, so dazzling one couldn't tear their eyes away.

"Old Madam..." Hongdou wrung her handkerchief, her face full of bashfulness.

The old matriarch patted her hand, signaling her to relax. Fan Jin’s mother deliberated before saying, "Jin'er, since you have already taken Hongdou, why not choose a date to elevate her to the status of a concubine?"

Fan Jin instinctively glanced at Hu Yingying, as if seeking some form of affirmation, or perhaps out of a sense of reluctance. It was an expression of tangled melancholy and helplessness, not at all lighthearted. He only exhaled when he saw no trace of resistance in her eyes.

As a wife who had shared his hardships, Fan Jin did not want Hu Yingying to force herself or swallow her pride. Of course, even if Hu Yingying had objected, he would have insisted on his own way.

Seeming to sense his concern, Hu Yingying took the initiative to say, "I am also fond of sister Hongdou. Bringing her into the household, while not perfect, is certainly a fitting addition. If she can bear children for the Fan family in the future, I will be happy from the bottom of my heart."

The corners of Fan Jin’s mouth curled up. The subtle, intense undercurrents in the air told him it wasn't that simple. With three wives and four concubines, fires in the backyard were a common occurrence. Fan Jin, however, was happy for it; his art of managing his wives was becoming increasingly refined. Although Hu Yingying had no particular talents, she was the primary wife and held his promise, so she was essentially sitting securely on her throne. No matter how many concubines there were, could they really turn the world upside down?

Whenever this happened, Fan Jin couldn't help but marvel at the wisdom of his ancestors. A man could navigate between his wives and concubines, handling each situation with ease, and even the choice of whom to sleep with could be viewed as a bestowed favor from the husband. It was nothing like the henpecked men of later generations who suffered from all sides.

"I will leave everything to your arrangements, Mother."

Fan Jin replied respectfully and hurried away under the pretext of studying. In the days that followed, Fan Jin could be said to be both in pain and in bliss. Every day, Hu Yingying ordered the cook to prepare all sorts of nourishing broths for him, so he would have the energy to deal with the flock of nightingales and swallows brought into the house. After a few days, Fan Jin felt he had gained some weight, living a life of a perpetual bridegroom.

Half a month passed. Finally, good news arrived from Baimiao Village. The water from the mountain had been diverted through channels to the foot of the hill, and the long-parched fields finally welcomed the long-awaited irrigation.

Fan Jin stroked his beard and chuckled, "It seems the drought in Baimiao Village has been initially resolved."

Saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. The old butler chimed in with flattery, "Who could say otherwise? Everyone outside is saying that the Master is mindful of his kin and cares for his village!"

Fan Jin’s brow unfurled; he was clearly in a good mood. In ancient feudal society, clan ties were the most reliable connections; a man who could not unite his uncles and brothers would find it difficult to gain a foothold in society. Someone like Director Qi, who wanted even the dogs in his hometown to become police dogs and eat government rations—that might be criticized as worthless in later generations, but in ancient feudal society, he would be praised by all. After all, who wouldn't want a relative who could "play half a move to win the heavens"?

However, Director Qi eventually fell. The most terrifying thing about reputation is that only the official dies; just like in *Journey to the West*, those with powerful backgrounds returned to heaven to enjoy the elixir, while those without were finished off by the Monkey. From this perspective, Hou Liangping’s nickname being "Monkey"—one really wonders if it was a coincidence or destiny.

At this thought, Fan Jin pushed himself up from his wicker chair. For now, everything seemed peaceful and quiet, but who could say if this was just a false, illusory bubble? In this world, only by carrying a heavy shell, constantly setting out, and climbing step by step to the very top, could one find even a sliver of security.

(Postscript: To clarify the meaning of "three wives and four concubines." It does not literally mean three wives and four concubines, but rather a total of three or four; it is an indefinite number that can represent five, six, seven, eight, or even more. There is only one true wife; those so-called "equal wives" are essentially concubines.)