Chapter 2: Wealth Draws People Together Across a Thousand Miles

She had assumed the system was stuck, but in fact, it was racking its mechanical mind. After a long silence, it finally spat out:
[Facial recognition failed; person not found.]

Song Ruozhao was left speechless. She had just been about to praise its improving answers, but alas, it had stumbled into another knowledge gap.

The system cut in abruptly, “No more talking, someone’s coming,” and, detecting outsiders, slipped into self-protection mode.

Sure enough, someone outside the window deliberately cleared her throat and tossed out a couple of mocking remarks.

“Second Sister, weren’t you trying to go for a spring outing like everyone else? How did you end up wading through Qujiang Lake instead? No wonder, your mind has never worked right…”

“Fourth Sister! That’s uncalled for!” A bold, sharp female voice chimed in, though it only poured oil on the fire, even sharper than before: “Our Second Sister is clever, enjoying the blessings of many husbands. Yesterday she brought home two men and a child, happily playing mother. Solved half her life’s important matters in a day—now the only trouble is, who’s the main husband and who’s the concubine?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The main wife should be virtuous, the secondary pretty—otherwise, people might think Second Sister just dislikes that uncle for being old.”

Back and forth, the third sister’s tongue was sharp as three, and the fourth sister’s heart black as ink.

But last night’s lessons from the Golden Flower Legend weren’t wasted. Song Ruozhao turned the tables: “Third Sister, before you worry about main or secondary, perhaps you should consider your own position!—”

“Your fiancé, Chen, the son of the county constable, already fathered a child with another before your wedding. When you marry in, will you be main or secondary?”

The third sister’s face twisted with fury. For once, her three tongues failed her, pierced to the quick. The clan head had wanted to break the engagement, but the groom’s family refused, and so the matter dragged on.

Her sisters were astonished. Was this the same simple-minded Second Sister who used to be unable to ask for tea or rice without stumbling? Had a walk through Qujiang really washed the muddle from her mind?

Fourth Sister couldn’t believe Second Sister had truly changed, and so she peered through a crack in the window—only to meet a pair of eyes bright and sharp as fire, as if exorcising demons, making her own heart quiver.

She could only tug at the sleeve of the one beside her, “Third Sister, don’t argue with a half-wit. When Eldest Sister returns, she’ll set things straight. Let’s go.”

Their “eldest sister” served as a palace scribe, much respected by the people. At Qingming, she ought to have returned home early, but perhaps court affairs detained her.

Born of the same root, why such mutual torment? Watching their arrogant silhouettes fade into the sunlight, Song Ruozhao felt an unexpected sorrow.

Perhaps modern families were simply too harmonious and bland, and the system had arranged for her to experience life’s thousand flavors?

She sighed, taking a couple of steps—then suddenly felt something soft and furry beneath her foot. Curious, she wondered, what poor household would lay a carpet so plush?

A gruff, gritted voice suddenly broke in:

“You’re standing on my shin—!”

She looked down. The “uncle” sported legs as hairy as trousers—enough to win any step-counting contest against a mosquito. She couldn’t help but marvel, “How does one grow such lush, soft hair on one’s legs, yet have so little on one’s head?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Two years gone and you finally speak without stammering.”

Song Ruozhao didn’t grasp the reference at first, but with a moment’s eye contact, she accessed his memories as easily as turning a page.

This was her innate gift from the modern world—one that had once made her a lab rat in a research institute. After escaping on her own, her face appeared on wanted posters across the country, making her a minor celebrity. After tiring of life on the run, she’d agreed to this journey through time.

At that moment, Little Brother Song burst in like a whirlwind, and she knew with a sinking heart that a grand scene of public embarrassment was about to unfold.

“Second Sister, Second Brother-in-law, Little Second Brother-in-law, little nephew—I’ve brought food!”

He raised his voice, balancing four bowls of cold porridge and a few side dishes as he burst through the door—only to freeze at the sight of “Second Brother-in-law,” whose freshly washed, clear face was unmistakably familiar.

Jaw nearly dropping into the porridge, he stared.

“Second Brother-in-law” glanced up, and the shadow of Little Brother’s past mischief flickered across his mind. He shivered inwardly, feeling his coin pouch waving goodbye to him.

A fated meeting, a thousand miles apart.

Yet those who meet are not always fated—sometimes, it’s just that one is wealthy.

Little Brother, reading the room, knew at once: This brother-in-law must be rich!

Her borrowed memories confirmed it. The original Second Sister had “picked up” this man three times, and Little Brother had extorted him three times as well.

And here they met again—a real-life case of ill-fated adversaries crossing paths.

Little Brother quickly soothed his latest victim: “Brother-in-law, don’t be afraid! We’re all family here.”

The state treasury wasn’t enough to cover his losses—could he not be afraid?

One pair of eyes brimmed with greed, another with the sorrow of a generous god of wealth. Song Ruozhao took pity on them both, “Extort if you must. If he can escape, I won’t stop him.”

Little Brother shamelessly grinned, eyes narrowing to slits, “Second Sister, how can you call it extortion? It’s sharing the family’s good fortune! Brother-in-law, don’t run; four lifetimes together, that’s a beautiful tale.”

To break the tense atmosphere, he surreptitiously stepped on the bedding at the other end, activating the “little dirty bundle.”

“Look, the baby’s awake—about to cry—!”

The innocent child protested in a milky voice, “I’m well-behaved, not crying, just hungry…”

Little Brother had little sense of child development, but comparing the rumors that Second Sister hadn’t spoken until eight, he couldn’t resist a mocking smile: “So even little kids can talk, Second Sister.”

Song Ruozhao rolled her eyes, as round as a rice dumpling. “You’re grown, and you barely can.”

No time to bicker further, Little Brother eyed the cute child, already scheming a new way to make money. For a child’s first birthday, one ought to…

“We ought to figure out who the child’s father is, right, Second Sister?”

He surveyed the two “brothers-in-law,” but it wasn’t hard to guess: “This older one, with his thick beard and mature bearing, looks like a father. The younger one, face fair and clean, hasn’t even grown a beard yet—he’s not fifteen.”

“What, you’re ignoring the coronet on his head?”

At twenty, a man was of age. Even coming from the modern world, Song Ruozhao understood such basics better than a fool. The youth simply chose not to grow a beard; besides, a scruffy beard would mar his looks.

The beardless one, who had been feigning sleep, blushed furiously at being discussed, clenching his fists and glaring coldly enough to freeze the entire family.

Though his expression was frosty, his features were exquisitely carved, strikingly handsome. Song Ruozhao mused that the goddess Nuwa must have slacked off after shaping such perfection. No wonder there were so many plain faces in the world—creating beauty like his must have taken all her effort. Even his anger sparked a desire in others to draw closer, to smooth his frown. She was grateful he didn’t grow a beard—it would have ruined the effect.

Yet such beauty was almost too much, bordering on effeminate.

By contrast, the man extorted thrice, already in his thirties and a true Son of Heaven, carried an air of dignified nobility in his brows. In terms of grandeur, the pretty youth couldn’t compare.

It was a contest between the ultimate in gentleness and strength, and it was hard to choose. Little Brother himself was caught in Second Sister’s dilemma: “Second Sister, are you sure you want the older one as your main husband?”

Song Ruozhao pondered. The pretty youth was young and fair, but his background was uncertain. The older man, though, was a true emperor—hesitating even a second would be an insult to gold bricks.

After weighing her options, she announced:

“Of course. He’s got plenty of Mao bills—he’ll bring our family prosperity!”

“…”

Second Sister seemed to say the man had plenty of hair and would give the family many children. Little Brother, innocent in such matters, hurriedly covered his face.

If things moved this quickly, just how desperate had she been last night?