Chapter 47: Unspoken Throb

As Cheng the Second raised his head, sweat seeped into his eyes, stinging them and causing him to narrow them into slits.

"Eldest Brother!"

"Uncle!"

Cheng Erniang and her eldest son released the plow and eagerly greeted him with joy.

"Shh~" Leopard Head raised a finger, making a gesture for silence.

This vast expanse of land had all been reclaimed by the Cheng family, and there were no other villagers around.

Yet, Leopard Head still scanned his surroundings vigilantly.

His gaze lingered for a brief moment on an old man guiding a plow far off in the field.

That was his elderly father.

Leopard Head withdrew his gaze and jutted his chin toward the grove outside the field ridge: "Er'ge, come with me."

He took two steps, then turned back to add an instruction.

"Er'ge's wife, you and Dazhuang just pretend you never saw me, and don't tell a soul!"

"Alright, alright!" Cheng Erniang and her son repeatedly agreed.

Watching their father follow the eldest uncle into the grove, Cheng Zhuang asked in puzzlement:

"Mother, since Eldest Uncle came down the mountain, why didn't he go pay respects to Grandfather and my aunt? What is he doing coming to find Father, acting all so stealthy?"

"What does a half-grown kid like you know? Your eldest uncle must have his reasons for doing what he does, just do as you're told."

The true backbone of the Cheng family nowadays was Leopard Head.

If not for Leopard Head, the Cheng family could never have acquired so much land over the span of more than twenty years.

If not for Leopard Head, even if they had painstakingly reclaimed vast tracts of wasteland, it would have long since been forcibly seized by Master Zhang through crafty maneuvers, leaving them with an end no better than that of honest Zhen.

In the hearts of the Cheng family, the eldest brother Leopard Head commanded a prestige that long ago far surpassed that of their very prolific old father.

***

As for Qingmei, she had originally been a blank sheet of white silk when it came to matters of love and romance, yet she had repeatedly eavesdropped through the window on the sounds coming from Yang Can's room.

Those bashful sounds, soaking through the window paper night after night, had also quietly blushed a smear of rouge onto the tip of her heart.

These repeated acts of eavesdropping and imagination had unexpectedly become her most clandestine initiation.

Now that Yang Can took the initiative to flirt, that fragile window paper naturally tore at the slightest touch.

A single double-entendre joke from Yang Can left the little maid feeling intensely shy and bashful.

Every fleeting exchange of their glances felt like butterflies fluttering lightly across the lake of her heart.

For Yang Can, teasing such a maiden just awakening to love held a unique charm of its own.

And for little Qingmei, that sensation tasted even sweeter than freshly blooming jasmine.

The young girl was beginning to surrender, inch by inch.

Beneath the tree, Manor Steward Lai Gulu and Field Inspector Peng Jin stood shoulder to shoulder.

Habitually, they kept their hands tucked inside their sleeves like people in winter, their necks slightly thrust forward.

Viewed from afar, they looked rather like a pair of hanged ghosts suspended beneath a large tree.

They could not comprehend this kind of romantic interplay between men and women, even though each of them had kept more than one woman.

Watching Steward Yang and Stewardess Qingmei chatting so merrily on the field ridge, Peng Jin could not help asking:

"Old Lai, should we go over and listen in?"

Lai Gulu replied dismissively: "Let them chat about whatever they please. As long as we keep our eyes on him no matter where he goes, there's no fear of any trouble!"

Gradually, the two of them also began to catch on to the mood—those two were... flirting?

All of Peng Jin's suspicions vanished instantly, and he burst out with a chuckle.

"Old Lai, to my mind, our master is simply scaring himself with phantom doubts. Look at Steward Yang—does he look like he has the slightest intention of inspecting our Feng'an Manor? Clearly, the man is just seizing an opportunity to bring his paramour down the mountain for a tryst."

Lai Gulu laughed: "Isn't that just wonderful? As long as he doesn't make trouble for us, then all's well and good for everyone. The sooner we serve this master to his satisfaction and pack him off, the better for the world."

If Yang Can's tactics were used against modern young girls, relying on his good looks to seduce them might yield a higher success rate.

Yet set in this era, when dealing with a blank slate like Qingmei, she was completely defenseless.

Armed with Yang Can's sharp tongue, little Qingmei quickly blushed and retreated in defeat.

Far from acting willful, she now dared not even answer Yang Can't words.

Her ears burned and her heart hammered wildly—who could possibly endure such a thing?

Yang Can also knew when to quit while he was ahead; since he had unlocked her heart today, why fear unlocking more tomorrow?

Yang Can said, "Come, let's go take a look over there."

Calling Lai Gulu and Peng Jin over, Yang Can walked toward a farming household busy tilling the land ahead.

They were tenant farmers of Feng'an Manor, using a draft ox belonging to Zhang Yunyi's household.

Naturally, the ox was not provided for free; the cost would be factored into their rent at the autumn harvest.

Yang Can was merely strolling around leisurely with the intent to lull Zhang Yunyi into complacency.

Yet as he drew closer and looked at the plow pulled by the old ox, Yang Can suddenly felt it looked rather different from the plows in his memory.

After observing closely for a good long while, Yang Can suddenly realized.

The plow beam was straight; no wonder it always looked somewhat clumsy and the ox labored so heavily to pull it.

Peng Jin smiled and asked, "Steward Yang, you have an interest in farming as well?"

Yang Can furrowed his brow slightly and said, "Inspector Peng, you may not know this, but what Yang has studied is rather miscellaneous, and I have dabbled somewhat in the arts of mechanics and craftsmanship. This is indeed my first time watching fields being plowed, but from my observation, the plowshares pulled by the draft oxen here are far too crude and clumsy, making deep tilling particularly difficult."

Hearing this, Peng Jin felt a trace of quiet disdain. A scholar who neither labored with his limbs nor could distinguish the five grains—what did he know about farming? Why put on such a grand facade?

Yet he still smiled politely and said, "Steward Yang speaks the truth. Farmers scratch a living from the dirt; it is indeed no easy task."

Lai Gulu smugly chimed in: "Though this plow is crude and clumsy, it is already the finest farming implement available. Families without even a plowshare have no way to turn the soil on vast fields like these. Here in Feng'an Manor, we have moldboard plows and draft oxen, sparing the tenants a great deal of hardship."

Upon their arrival, a group of weathered, dark-skinned tenant farmers had already gathered around.

Not daring to stand too close, these commoners simply bent their waists and stood off to the side with ingratiating smiles.

Both the manor steward and the field inspector had arrived, and they treated this young master with such deference; the fellow must undoubtedly be a person of great eminence, and how dare they show disrespect?

Hearing Peng Jin's words, several farmers hastily smiled in agreement, bowing and scraping repeatedly.

Yang Can mused aloud: "All people under heaven depend on food as their greatest necessity. And the source of food lies first in agriculture. Inspector Peng, you surely understand the principle that 'an artisan must first sharpen his tools if he is to do good work.' Since this kind of plow is so clumsy, has really no one ever thought of improving upon the farming implements invented by the sages?"

Lai Gulu failed to hold back and let out a sudden chuckle.

Realizing he had lost his composure but not knowing how to smooth it over, Lai Gulu's face flushed bright red.

Unfazed, Yang Can turned with great zest to an old artisan nearby and asked, "What does Elder Tie think?"

"Elder Tie" was a polite and refined form of address for a blacksmith.

This old artisan was named Li Yue, and most of the farming tools in the manor were forged by his hands.

The plow currently out in the fields was precisely the one he had just finished forging and delivered.

Li Yue shook his head and replied, "Replying to the grand master, this meager craft of old servant's was passed down by my ancestors. Old servant dares not be careless in my work, yet I only strive to make tools sturdy and durable. As for improving farming implements... old servant lacks any such ability."

Yang Can smiled: "Just now, watching these farmers till the fields, an idea suddenly occurred to me, and I wish to make an improvement upon this type of plowshare."

Everyone looked on in utter astonishment; given Yang Can's scholarly and refined demeanor, they truly could not connect him with farming tools in the slightest.

Little Qingmei stared with wide, dark eyes, looking at Yang Can with worry.

If he merely wished to avoid the baking sun at the edge of the field, he shouldn't have fabricated such an excuse.

When he failed to produce anything later, wouldn't people secretly mock him?

Yang Can continued: "Though I have ideas in my mind, if we are to actually build it, I must rely upon Elder Tie. If we can truly forge a farming implement that benefits the common people, both you and I will leave our names revered for generations."

When had an old blacksmith like him ever harbored such a grand aspiration in all his life?

The enormous pie in the sky that Yang Can had tossed out left the old man dizzy and disoriented, stammering without words for a moment.

Hearing this, Lai Gulu inwardly rejoiced.

He certainly did not believe this Steward Yang, who had never soiled his hands with mud, could improve any farming tool.

However, if Yang Can truly became obsessed with this matter, wouldn't he have no time to make trouble for Feng'an Manor?

Lai Gulu hurriedly showered him with flattery: "Steward Yang, if you can truly improve the plow, that would be a boundless act of virtue! Old man Li, why are you still standing there in a daze? With such a heaven-sent opportunity, why don't you wholeheartedly cooperate with our Steward Yang!"

Lai Gulu exchanged a knowing glance with Peng Jin, who immediately grasped the intent and chimed in with praises of his own.

Yang Can was young after all, and under the fervent flattery of Lai Gulu and Peng Jin, he seemed somewhat carried away.

Pulling Li Yue along, he said with eager excitement: "Come, let's head back right now. I will explain my thoughts, and I must trouble Elder Tie to help me deliberate on them."

Abandoning his stroll, Yang Can dragged the blacksmith straight back to the village, heading directly for the Li Family Blacksmith Shop.

Upon arriving, Yang Can pulled Li Yue to squat beneath the large jujube tree in the courtyard, using a branch to sketch outlines in the sandy soil.

While Yang Can was not a specialist in agricultural implements, he could naturally not draw a curved-beam plow with absolute precision overnight.

Yet simply knowing the name allowed him to generally understand the difference between it and a straight-beam plow.

Moreover, Yang Can had indeed seen pictures of curved-beam plows online.

Sketching a rough outline was well within his capabilities.

With the blacksmith possessing practical operating experience and Yang Can able to draw a rough draft, the two soon found a synergy.

As a result, regarding how the various spare parts should be combined, matched, and assembled, the veteran blacksmith quickly identified problems and conceived solutions.

Discovering that his skills were genuinely useful, the old blacksmith's confidence surged immensely.

For a time, the steward and the blacksmith traded words back and forth, plunging heart and soul into the design of the improved farming tool, utterly absorbed and forgetting all else.

Lai Gulu and Peng Jin had successfully fooled Yang Can just as they wished.

Yet this also left the two of them remarkably bored.

The tea at the blacksmith shop was unpalatable, brewed from coarse jujube leaves that left one's tongue numb at the root.

Yet they dared not leave; who could tell whether Yang Can was merely playing the pig to eat the tiger?

What if the moment they departed, Yang Can went wandering about to investigate?

Should Yang Can discover the hidden fields and unregistered households of Feng'an Manor, it would spell utter disaster.

Qingmei was likewise left with nothing to do, yet she felt no boredom whatsoever because Yang Can was right here.

The blacksmith's wife brought out a winnowing basket of dried jujubes for Qingmei.

Seated beneath the large jujube tree, Qingmei picked through the plump, fine jujubes, nibbling on them while watching Yang Can and the blacksmith engrossed in their discussion.

Earlier, his flirtations had left her heart fluttering and filled with shy delight—she was both afraid of him speaking and eager to hear his voice.

Now that things had quieted down and she sat alone nearby, watching that handsome and focused man so intently, an indescribable sensation slowly welled up within her heart.

It was an unspeakable palpitation that left her simultaneously flustered and filled with yearning.