A Poor Man's Son-in-Law: He Picks Up the Daughter of a Duke's Mansion at the Start

The next morning, Lu Qingyan didn't rush to write.

He stood in the yard for a while, looking at the clump of wild chrysanthemums in the corner—bright yellow, in full bloom. Suddenly remembering something, he turned to Lu Dashan, who was chopping wood, and asked, "Brother, are there any medicinal herbs that can be gathered on the mountain at this time of year?"

Lu Dashan stopped hitting the axe and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Medicinal herbs? You'll have to ask Doctor Li about that. Why are you asking?"

"I read in a book that some herbs can be sold for money," Lu Qingyan said, taking a few steps closer. "For example, honeysuckle, which should be blooming now."

"Honeysuckle?" Lu Dashan thought for a moment. "Is it the kind of vine that blooms with white and yellow flowers?"

"Yes. Have you met my elder brother before?"

"I've seen them. There are plenty in that old forest behind the mountain," Lu Dashan said. "Can you sell those for money?"

"Yes. Pharmacies will buy them. We can dry them and use them to make tea; it's good for clearing heat and detoxifying." Lu Qingyan remembered reading in her previous life that honeysuckle was a common and expensive medicinal herb in ancient times. "Shall we go pick some and try it?"

Lu Dashan hesitated: "That stuff is everywhere on the mountain, can it really be sold for money?"

"We'll know once we try," Lu Qingyan said. "We'll pick a basketful, dry them, and then go to the pharmacy to ask. Even if we don't make much money, we won't lose anything."

Lu Dashan glanced at the sky: "If we go now, we can be back by noon."

"Then let's go."

The two brothers tidied up quickly. Lu Dashan found two baskets and a sickle. Lu Qingyan took a water bag and some flatbreads—made by Zhao that morning, a mixture of coarse grain flour and wheat flour, softer than usual.

As she was leaving, Zhao chased after her from the kitchen, saying, "Be careful going up the mountain, don't go too deep."

"Yes, Mother."

The back mountain wasn't far, only a two-mile walk away. The mountain wasn't high, but the trees were dense. In May, the vegetation was lush and green, the whole way was verdant. Lu Dashan walked ahead, his steps steady, occasionally turning back to pull Lu Qingyan along.

"Watch out here, there's a pit."

"There are too many thorns over there, let's go this way."

Lu Qingyan followed him and discovered that his elder brother knew the mountain very well. He knew exactly where the wild fruit trees were, where the springs were, and where the paths were slippery.

"Does your elder brother often go up the mountain?" he asked.

"Hmm." Lu Dashan didn't turn his head. "When I was a child, I often came here to chop firewood and pick wild fruit. My father wasn't in good health back then, so I was the one who chopped the firewood for the family."

He spoke calmly, but Lu Qingyan felt a pang of unease. In his memory, the original owner of this body had never cared what his elder brother did every day; he only knew that he had books to read and food to eat.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, they entered a grove of trees. The trees were taller, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns. Lu Dashan stopped and pointed to a patch of vines ahead: "Look, isn't that it?"

Lu Qingyan went over to take a look. Vines twined around the tree trunk, and clusters of flowers bloomed among the green leaves—white when they first opened, gradually turning golden yellow; they were honeysuckle. They were in full bloom, emitting a faint fragrance.

"Yes, that's it."

Lu Dashan put down his basket: "How do we pick them?"

"Pick the flower buds, the ones that aren't fully open are best." Lu Qingyan demonstrated, gently plucking a flower. "Be careful not to damage the vine; it can grow again next year."

Lu Dashan tried to imitate him, but his hands were a bit clumsy. He had done manual labor for many years, so his hands were big and his knuckles were thick. He was always afraid of crushing the small flower buds. It took him several tries to find the right technique.

The two picked flowers side by side, silent for a moment. The woods were quiet, save for the birdsong and the rustling of their hands as they picked the blossoms.

After picking about half a basketful, Lu Dashan suddenly asked, "Third brother, how do you know all this?"

Lu Qingyan paused, "I read it in a book."

"Oh." Lu Dashan nodded, not asking any further questions. After a while, he added, "You've changed a lot lately."

"What has changed?"

"I can't explain it." Lu Dashan slowly picked the flowers. "You used to study too, but you always frowned, like someone owed you money. Now you're more settled."

Lu Qingyan smiled and said, "People always have to grow up."

"It's time to grow up," Lu Dashan said. "Our parents have had a hard life. My second brother in town has had a hard life too."

These words were spoken casually, but Lu Qingyan sensed their weight. His elder brother was usually a man of few words, but he understood everything perfectly well.

"Brother," he said softly, "things will get better at home."

"I know." Lu Dashan looked up at him and smiled憨厚ly, "I believe you if you can make money."

After picking for a while, his basket was almost full. Lu Qingyan straightened up and stretched his shoulders. It was a bit stuffy in the woods, so he unbuttoned his collar and saw that Lu Dashan's clothes were soaked through on the back.

"Take a break," he said.

The two found a rock to sit on and took out some flatbread to eat. The flatbread had cooled and become a bit hard, so they chewed it slowly with some water.

Looking at the basket full of honeysuckle, Lu Qingyan wondered: How much can I sell for a pound after drying? Will the pharmacies in town buy it? If it works out, this whole mountain will be a money pit.

"Brother, besides honeysuckle, are there any other medicinal herbs on the mountain?"

"Yes." Lu Dashan thought for a moment, "In spring there is Bupleurum and Plantain, and in autumn there is Platycodon and Polygonum multiflorum. Doctor Li often comes to collect them."

"Did Doctor Li pick them and sell them?"

"He uses it himself and also uses it to treat patients in the village," Lu Dashan said. "But I heard him say that the pharmacies in town buy medicinal herbs at very low prices."

"Even a little is better than nothing," Lu Qingyan said. "In the future, during the off-season, we can come and collect some. Once we've collected enough, we can take it to town in one trip."

Lu Dashan's eyes lit up: "Can it really sell for money?"

"Give it a try," Lu Qingyan said. "Even if it doesn't make a lot of money, it'll help supplement the family income. It's better than nothing."

Lu Dashan nodded emphatically: "Okay. I know the way and I know the herbs."

After resting, the two continued picking. This time, Lu Dashan was even more efficient, and soon filled a basket. His own basket was also more than half full.

The sun rose higher, and the woods grew hot. Lu Qingyan's forehead was beaded with sweat, and his clothes were soaked. But he didn't stop, carefully picking each flower one by one.

These flowers, once dried, become money. Money can buy rice, meat, paper, and pens. It can save Zhao Shi from shedding so many tears, save Lu Tiezhu from smoking so much in silence, and allow the elder brother to stand taller when he gets married.

By noon, both baskets were full. The honeysuckle was fluffy and looked plentiful, but after drying, it would only weigh about ten pounds.

"That's enough." Lu Qingyan straightened up. "I can't carry any more."

Lu Dashan weighed the basket on his back: "It's not heavy. Should I pick some more?"

"Come again tomorrow. Fresh flowers need to be dried quickly; they'll spoil and become worthless."

"Okay then."

The two packed their things and prepared to descend the mountain. Lu Dashan walked in front, the basket on his back appearing light as a feather. He was a seasoned farmer, strong, and this weight was nothing to him.

The path down the mountain was easier to walk. Lu Qingyan followed behind, looking at his elder brother's back—broad, steady, like a mountain.

"Brother," he suddenly said, "I'll make you a new set of clothes after we sell it."

Lu Dashan turned around, grinning, "Why would I make it for you? I'll make it for you. You're a scholar, you need to maintain your dignity."

"We'll all make them," Lu Qingyan said. "The whole family will make new ones."

Lu Dashan didn't say anything, turned around and continued walking. But Lu Qingyan noticed that his ears were a little red.

On the way down the mountain, Lu Dashan became more talkative. He pointed out to Lu Qingyan which grove of trees had mushrooms, which ditch had wild celery, and which rock might have a rabbit burrow. His eyes shone as he spoke, as if he were talking about his own precious treasure.

Lu Qingyan listened attentively. This knowledge wasn't in books; it grew from life experiences.

When they arrived home, Zhao was airing out her quilts in the yard. Seeing the flowers in their basket, she was surprised: "What are these?"

"Honeysuckle, it can be sold for money." Lu Qingyan put down his basket. "Mother, find some winnowing baskets and spread them out to dry."

Zhao was skeptical, but he still found a winnowing basket. The three of them spread the flowers out in a thin layer and placed them in the sun.

"Can it really be sold for money?" Zhao picked up a flower, smelled it, and said, "It does smell good."

"Once they're dried, we can go to a pharmacy and ask," Lu Qingyan said. "Even if we can't sell them for money, we can still make tea to cool down and relieve the summer heat."

Zhao nodded, then remembered something and asked, "Have you eaten?"

"not yet."

"Wait a minute, I'll heat up the food."

At lunchtime, Lu Tiezhu returned. Hearing that honeysuckle could be sold for money, he squatted in front of the winnowing basket for a long time, and finally only said, "Go again tomorrow, call me."

Lu Qingyan felt a warmth in his heart: "Okay."

In the afternoon, Lu Qingyan was writing in his room. He had finished the sixth chapter of the story, in which the protagonist earned his first money through his own abilities and bought rice and noodles for his family. As he wrote, his pen paused.

He looked up at the window. In the courtyard, honeysuckle basked in the sunlight, shimmering with a golden-white light. Zhao sat beside him doing needlework, glancing up at the sky every now and then, worried that it might rain.

My older brother was repairing farm tools in the yard, the sound of his axe striking the ground steady and rhythmic.

This family is getting better little by little.

He lowered his head and continued writing. The pen scratched softly, each character clear and distinct.

When the protagonist handed over the money he earned to his mother, he suddenly thought: After selling the honeysuckle, the first money should also be given to Zhao.

Let her buy something she wants, even if it's just a new hair tie.

Zhao's voice came from outside the window: "Yan'er, come out and have some water, don't tire yourself out."

"They're here."

Lu Qingyan put down his pen and walked out of the room.