The Fearless Husband - Chapter 17

Chapter 17 — The Mother-in-law Comes to “Take a Look” Early in the Morning…

Fang Shu did not learn that Yu Qinglong had not, in fact, been betrothed until four days later.

For those four days, he had been pestering his mother nonstop, begging her to go and make the proposal. She refused every time, and the two were locked in a stubborn standoff.

He knew his mother was simply waiting—waiting to see if the other family’s proposal succeeded so she could put an end to his persistence once and for all.

But every time he thought about never again seeing those delicate wooden toys Yu Qinglong carved, or the small, clever contraptions he made, a suffocating frustration grew in his chest.

He had been just about ready to stage a hunger strike when his father secretly came to tell him the news—the match had fallen through.

“They say the Yu family’s third son made a scene in town,” Fang Dingman whispered. “But Doctor Mo said that’s nonsense. I went to ask him myself—pretending to have a headache, of course. He told me that the boy did go to town, but not to confront the family who wanted to propose. He went to find his cousin, a scholar named Yu Qingxi—you’ve heard of him, haven’t you? The eldest son of the second branch.”

“Qinglong went to him?”

“Exactly. He told that cousin of his that if he ever married into town and was treated badly, he’d have no choice but to turn to him for help. He went there in patched clothing from head to toe, looking pitiful. You can imagine—Wende Academy is full of students; how could Yu Qingxi keep face after that? He ran straight home and blocked the whole marriage arrangement that very day.”

“Really, Father?”

“Would I lie about it? I saw you moping around like a ghost, so I went myself to Shangxi Village to confirm. Faked a headache just for the excuse.”

“But what do I do if Mother still refuses to propose?”

“Well…” Fang Dingman narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, do you truly like that Yu family’s third son? I mean like him, in the way a man likes a ge’er?”

“That—Father, how can I say such a thing?” Fang Shu’s face turned crimson.

“I’m asking if you want to share a bed with him and have children, not whether you want him to carve you more toys!”

Fang Shu: “……”

Seeing his son’s guilty expression, Fang Dingman nearly choked on his breath. “You—you really do?!”

Fang Shu waved his hands quickly. “No, no! Father, I truly want him. From the heart.”

Affection could be cultivated over time, yes—but a person like Yu Qinglong, someone so genuinely bright and hardworking, someone who shared his interests… if he let that slip away, he might never meet such a person again in his life.

At first, he had only been afraid that someone else would take Yu Qinglong before he did. But now—now he was determined to marry him, come what may.

What if another family came to propose first and succeeded on the spot? Then wouldn’t he have nowhere left to cry?

“Father, please,” he begged, “talk to Mother for me. I’m nearly twenty-one—it’s time I settled down.”

“Oh, so now you remember you’re nearly twenty-one? Every other time we brought it up, you said you were still young!”

“That was before I met him! I can’t miss this chance, Father!”

“Well, that’s true. But…” Fang Dingman hesitated. “I think it’s going to be hard.”

He knew his wife too well—she’d never agree to let that Yu boy into their home. She wasn’t a bad woman, but she valued equal family backgrounds.

And she didn’t really know Yu Qinglong’s character—only the rumors, which lately had gotten worse and worse. If anything, that would make her dig her heels in deeper.

Still, looking at his son’s miserable, pleading face, he felt a twinge of sympathy.

He asked, “If I help you this once, can you promise me that within a year I’ll have a grandchild in my arms?”

“How could I promise that?” Fang Shu stammered. “Even if we succeed, there’s the proposal, the preparations—how could it all happen within a year?”

“Then one and a half!” Fang Dingman said. “A year and a half, and I want to hold a grandchild—boy or girl, doesn’t matter!”

“Two years, maybe…”

“Then I’m not helping you! You think I’ll wait forever? Your uncles already have grandchildren running all over the place, and I don’t even have one!”

Fang Shu: “……”

Pregnancy takes ten months, he thought, add three to six months for the proposal and wedding prep, and maybe… maybe a year and a half really is enough.

He clenched his jaw. “Fine. You talk to Mother for me. If this works, I’ll make sure you get your grandchild.”

After all, once he was married, he’d already have what he wanted. The rest… he’d figure out later.

Fang Dingman grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

But when he brought it up to his wife, Madam Fang Wu, she erupted on the spot.

“Is Shu’er even your son anymore? How could you encourage him like this! He’s still young, doesn’t know how cruel gossip can be! He’s a scholar! Do you know how many families would die to have their daughters marry him? And you’d have him marry into the Yu family—of all people! The eldest branch is poor enough, but I’ve heard about the second and third branches too—they’re all lazy good-for-nothings! And that old matriarch, always claiming to treat her sons equally—what a lie! If she were fair, the eldest branch wouldn’t be living in rags! A stepmother’s children never prosper, and hasn’t that always been true?”

“But our son said he’ll give us a grandchild within a year and a half!” Fang Dingman countered. “If you refuse now, who knows how long we’ll have to wait! Besides, it’s not just about family background—it’s about the person! We’re marrying a husband, not his whole family. And don’t tell me you’ve never seen those fancy families whose sons and daughters can’t do a thing once they marry. Yu Qinglong’s different. He’s clever, diligent—see him for yourself before judging. Hearing’s one thing, seeing’s another.”

“And how am I supposed to ‘see’ him?” she snapped. “I can’t just go knocking on their door!”

“You silly woman,” Fang Dingman said. “Go to Doctor Mo’s place! Ask him, see the boy there. You know Doctor Mo’s a good man—he won’t lie.”

That was… true.

As luck would have it, she had planned to visit their field workers in Shangxi Village anyway, so she decided to stop by Doctor Mo’s first.

If Yu Qinglong had truly taken a liking to her son, surely he would show some sign of it when he saw her.

She entered the courtyard with her husband, chin held high.

Yu Qinglong was, as usual, studying with Doctor Mo that day. He recognized Fang Dingman immediately, but not the woman beside him. Perhaps the original host had seen her before, but he couldn’t recall. Judging by their closeness, though, she was likely Fang Shu’s mother. The way she looked him up and down—measured, assessing, neither warm nor hostile—made it clear she was sizing him up.

Ah, he thought, here to demand payment for the toy, no doubt.

He couldn’t rule it out. If someone’s son had stopped studying because of his toys, any parent would be annoyed.

Dangerous situation. Very dangerous.

He forced himself to appear calm, bowed politely to the couple, and said, “Good day.” Then, turning to Doctor Mo, he added quickly, “Master, I’ve been studying with Mo’er for an hour. I’ll take him to gather some firewood and rest our eyes.”

Doctor Mo waved him off. “Go ahead.”

Before leaving, Yu Qinglong whispered something to young Liang Mo, who immediately dashed off to hide his treasured toy where no outsider could see it.

Then the two of them slipped out the gate.

Madam Fang Wu wanted to call after him but couldn’t find an excuse.

Just then, Fang Dingman raised his voice cheerfully, “Qinglong, how’s your recitation of the Three Character Classic coming along these days?”

Yu Qinglong had no choice but to turn back. “I’ve memorized it already. These past few days, I’ve been studying the meridian charts and the theory of yin and yang.”

“That fast?” Fang Dingman said, surprised.

Doctor Mo chuckled. “More than that. He’s learned over a hundred characters in just ten days, and his handwriting’s quite good. Look—those on the ground are all his.”

Fang Dingman leaned over to see. Indeed, the ground was covered with brush-written characters—some simple, some complex, some repeated dozens of times until perfected.

Loose and uneven still, but the form was there.

“This child only started learning six or seven days ago,” Doctor Mo continued, “and he can already write this well. Remarkable, really.”

And it wasn’t just writing. The meridian chart he’d been given—Yu Qinglong had memorized it and redrawn it almost perfectly.

Rough but accurate. The boy had truly studied.

Doctor Mo was becoming increasingly pleased with his pupil.

Fang Dingman nodded approvingly. “Such diligence! He could even help my son organize his books someday.”

He turned to say more—but Yu Qinglong and Liang Mo had already vanished.

Madam Fang Wu frowned. “What’s the use of a ge’er learning all that anyway? It’s not like he can take the imperial exams.”

Her husband sighed. “That’s not the point. Even rich girls learn to read! If he can’t earn titles, he can at least write letters or keep accounts. Better that than drawing a cabbage every time you calculate our monthly expenses.”

Smack!

She slapped his arm and glared. “Who are you calling out right now?”

“Ow, ow—fine, fine, you ask your questions!” he grumbled, rubbing his elbow.

Doctor Mo, amused by their bickering, only smiled. He’d long noticed how often this family had been coming for “injuries” lately. As if he couldn’t tell which ones were real.

“By the way,” he asked, “how’s Scholar Fang’s back these days?”

“Completely healed, thanks to your magic hands,” Madam Fang said. “Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask. That ge’er earlier—the one studying under you. My husband says he’s learning medicine. So, he plans to be a physician in the future?”

“He did mention that,” Doctor Mo replied mildly. “But the future is the future—no one can say for sure.”

“And… in your opinion,” she asked hesitantly, “is he… healthy? As in, good for bearing children?”

Doctor Mo blinked. “……”

Realizing she’d been too blunt, she gave an awkward laugh. “I—I was just asking casually.”

The truth was, her branch of the Fang family had always been thin on descendants. Fang Shu was already the third generation of single sons—an unbroken line of “only one.”

When times had been good, their ancestors had taken concubines, but even so, none had ever produced more than one boy.

Doctor Mo stroked his beard. “Health is always a good sign. Strong bodies bear strong offspring—same as cattle, no?”

Madam Fang’s eyes lit up.

That did make sense. Whether a woman or a husband, childbirth was a perilous thing—better a healthy, sturdy body to get through it safely.

For the first time, her resolve wavered. But not enough. She wanted to see Yu Qinglong once more—just once. If he truly liked her son, surely he’d come back soon to greet her properly.

So she waited.

And waited.

But Yu Qinglong never returned.

Up on the hillside, gathering firewood, Yu Qinglong asked Liang Mo, “Mo’er, has the cow(ox they used nu which is cn for cow) gone yet?”

“Not yet,” the boy said, peering downhill.

Yu Qinglong kept picking up sticks. After a while, he asked again, “Has the cow left now?”

“No. Why are you waiting for Salted Egg Yolk to leave, Uncle Qinglong?”

Do I even need to explain? he thought. That couple’s definitely here to demand money or something. No one spends over an hour ‘seeing the doctor’ for nothing!

So long as their cow was still tied outside, he wasn’t going back.

Author’s Note:
Mama Fang: Why is it so hard just to meet the person my son’s smitten with? 😭
Yu Qinglong: No returns, no refunds. 😎