[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-assuming-the-langya-surname":3,"chapter-assuming-the-langya-surname-assuming-the-langya-surname-chapter-14":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The False Clan of Langya",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2273810,4442,"Chapter 14","assuming-the-langya-surname-chapter-14",14,"\u003Cp>The black man’s home was tiny, just two gray, dingy little huts. The western hut had a stove and doubled as a storage room; the eastern hut held a dirt kang, barely qualifying as a bedroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the western hut, little Awu stood on a large stone, bustling by the stove.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang saw how small Awu was, having to stand on a stone just to reach the stove, and wanted to help—but remembering his disguised gentry identity, he held back and asked the black man, “How old is Awu?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord, she is seven this year.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps due to malnutrition, the girl was far too slight—she didn’t look seven at all. Wang Yang couldn’t help but sigh: “So young, and already cooking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My girl has been running this household since she was little. All the chores are done by her alone,” the black man said, leading Wang Yang into the eastern hut and motioning him to sit on the kang he had just re-laid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Where is her mother?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man sighed softly. “Her mother thought Awu was unlucky, born on the fifth day of the fifth month, and insisted on throwing her into the river. I refused, we quarreled fiercely, and in a fit I hit her... then... then we divorced...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man fell silent, paused, then gave a bitter smile. “I heard she married a candle merchant and moved to Jiankang. She must be living well now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back then, most common families couldn’t afford candles, so when the black man learned the woman had married a candle merchant, he knew she no longer lacked money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang, moved, asked: “When you’re at the barracks, is Awu alone at home?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes! At first I asked neighbors to watch her, but none would come. Luckily, Awu is clever and hardworking—she takes care of herself. Last month when I returned, guess what? She’s learned to sew!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang had seen the black man’s ingratiating smiles many times—this was the first time he saw him so proud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A girl’s voice drifted from the western hut: “Dad! There’s moonlight! Why light the lamp? Blow it out!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man flushed with embarrassment and shouted: “This lamp is for Master Wang!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl’s voice fell silent for a few seconds, then came again: “Dad, come help me carry the food.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wang Yang heard the father and daughter arguing—quietly, the words unclear—but he caught Awu saying something about “not much ramie oil left.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang smiled, blew out the lamp. The arguing in the western hut stopped instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man rushed over: “Did the lamp go out? Let me light it again for my lord.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang said: “No need. The moonlight is enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man’s expression tightened instantly. He stammered: “My lord, my girl is wild and ignorant—please don’t hold it against her!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang smiled indifferently: “Why would I? I’m not reading or writing now—I don’t need a lamp. Moonlight is enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man, still fearing Wang Yang’s displeasure, tried to explain further—when little Awu ran in: “Dad! Master Wang! Dinner’s ready!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Wang Yang’s second meal since his transmigration: a bowl of soybean and barley porridge, a bowl of soybean leaf soup, and a dish of salted black beans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The porridge was made by boiling soybeans and barley together. The soup used dried soybean leaves, also called “huo cai.” The salted black beans, known as “douchi,” were a common side dish among common folk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t I tell you to cook soybean and barley rice? Why did you make porridge?” The black man pulled Awu aside and whispered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu wrinkled her tiny nose: “We only had so little barley—we need to save it for the Cold Food Festival.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You little thing!” The black man couldn’t scold his daughter, so he gently tapped her forehead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He dared not sit at the same table as Wang Yang, instead leaning against the stove with Awu.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang knew that to convincingly play a gentry scholar, he should keep his distance. But he was sleeping under their roof, eating their food—he couldn’t possibly dominate the meal. So he invited the black man and the girl to join him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when they sat down did he realize their food was different.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The father and daughter ate steamed soybeans. An ancient term for poverty was “han shu yin shui”—“han shu” meant eating soybeans to fill one’s stomach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu ate while sneaking glances at Wang Yang’s meal—she hadn’t smelled barley porridge in over a month, and she hadn’t tasted huo cai soup in even longer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang caught her longing gaze and asked: “Want some?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu shook her head frantically, burying her face in her bowl of beans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Here, I’m not hungry—share some with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” Awu whispered like a mosquito. She feared she couldn’t resist, and wouldn’t even lift her head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man urged: “My lord, you’ve gone a day without food—eat up. Don’t mind her.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang sipped his porridge: “I can only finish half. The rest will be thrown out if no one eats it.” He feigned rising to dump it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu shot up like a tiny rocket, darted to Wang Yang’s side, thrust out her bowl, turned her face away, and mustered courage: “If you’re dumping it, dump it here!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Awu!” the black man snapped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang laughed: “It’s fine.” He poured half his porridge into her bowl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu beamed and sat back down—then paused, scooped two large spoonfuls into her father’s bowl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man had been annoyed at her asking for porridge—but seeing his daughter ladling it into his bowl, his heart softened. He returned the porridge: “You eat, Awu. I eat well in the barracks.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Dad’s lying again!” Awu stubbornly poured it back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang watched the father and daughter arguing over porridge, his throat tightening. He said: “Black Han, bring your bowl—I’ll share some with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man hurried to refuse: “No, no, no! My lord has already eaten too little!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have no appetite. Besides, it’s your grain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No matter how Wang Yang insisted, the black man refused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Wang Yang told little Awu to serve the black man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man scolded Awu: “Don’t go!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang’s face hardened: “I told her to.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The black man fell silent, only glaring at his daughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu stuck out her tongue, picked up the bowl, and dashed to Wang Yang. He ladled two spoonfuls into it—when he reached for a third, she pulled back, whispering: “Enough!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Awu carried the porridge to her father. He saw Wang Yang eating the douchi, swallowing the last of his porridge in three bites, then frowning as he drank the huo cai soup—he could tell Wang Yang hated it. He ordered his daughter: “Take the cloth from the bottom of the chest. Go to Zhang Lisi’s and get Master Wang some gan zha.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No need!” Awu’s eyes widened. If this was the price of porridge, she’d rather pour it back!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go!” the black man snapped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Gan” meant earthenware jar; “zha” meant pickled or fermented fish—a popular dish in the south.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For Wang Yang, accustomed to modern food processing and with some taste for quality, this wild-vegetable soup was truly unpleasant—its taste was a murky, bitter fishiness. But seeing how destitute the black man’s family was, how could he ask them to buy gan zha? He hurriedly said: “No need—I’ll drink this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He dared not taste it again, gritted his teeth, and gulped down the entire bowl of huo cai soup, his face twisted as if swallowing medicine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Little Awu watched, deeply pained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not for Wang Yang—but for the huo cai soup.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hey! If it’s so disgusting, don’t drink it! Leave me half!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After returning to his room, Awu pulled her father into the western hut, her face solemn: “Dad, I think Master Wang is strange.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>————————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Note: “Divorce” is an ancient term, not exclusive to modern usage. For example, when Wang Xianzhi was gravely ill, he said: “I feel no other concerns, only recall my divorce from the Xi family.” (Shishuo Xinyu, Chapter on Virtue) The Book of Jin, Biography of Wang Yan: “The crown prince was falsely accused by Lady Jia; Yan, fearing disaster, petitioned to divorce.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The term “he li” (mutual divorce) emerged during the Tang dynasty, as recorded in the Tang Code Commentary; it did not exist in the Southern and Northern Dynasties.\u003C\u002Fp>",1397,"2026-06-19T23:36:03.373Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","2d005481ac46eeae179ef42df57c02566b6e9bd5a6e05591145617bd4a1a8057","assuming-the-langya-surname-chapter-15","assuming-the-langya-surname-chapter-13",62,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-false-clan-of-langya-cover.jpg"]