Chapter 167: True Son of Heaven

Desolate graves, a lonely scene — the beauty sheds tears.

Yunniang, sobbing in Du Shanü's arms, could barely catch her breath, as if she wanted to spill all her grievance, fear, and anger.

"My father is gone…… My second uncle wants to marry me to a forty‑seven‑year‑old…… I don't know that man…… My father only died three hours ago……"

"If it weren't for you, I truly wouldn't know what to do......"

Du Shanü listened silently, then felt even more unwilling to push her away, so she could only let Yunniang's tears dampen her own front.

After a long while, Yunniang's crying gradually subsided into soft, intermittent hiccups.

Du Shanü waited until she had calmed a little, then asked:

"Although this is a Mass Grave, with many people and mixed eyes, we really shouldn't overdo it......"

"The look on your second uncle's face when he left was rather hostile; you must remember to be on guard."

Yunniang pulled away, wiped her face with her sleeve, her eyes swollen like two peaches.

She shook her head, her voice hoarse:

"I can't go back; even if I could, I wouldn't want to return to daily guard against such petty folk, lest one move lands me in trouble."

Yunniang paused here, took a breath, then went on:

"It's all right. My father doted on me; from childhood he hired a female teacher to teach me reading and writing. I can write, keep accounts, recite the 'Female Precepts' and 'Female Instructions', and even compose a few off‑beat poems......"

"I could serve as a private tutor in a rich family, or keep accounts in a shop; either way I'll earn enough to feed myself and my mother."

She said this with a tone of sorrow and stubbornness, yet without fear.

When her father was brought back in the morning, she had been frightened; when her second uncle saw the corpse and instantly changed his expression, she too had been afraid.

But after all those incidents, she was no fool; she always found the best way to live for herself.

Her voice held a girlish softness; hearing it, Du Shanü's heart suddenly stirred——

A sixteen‑ or seventeen‑year‑old girl stood on the Mass Grave, her clothes torn, her face smeared with mud, yet she spelled out this road clearly......

She cherishes talent.

Du Shanü cherishes talent above all in this life.

Talent, ability, innate aptitude.

It should not be reserved for men alone.

In the secular world, there is no distinction between man and woman—only ordinary folk whose destinies are set.

Some ordinary folk meekly accept their fate, muddled and confused.

Yet some 'ordinary folk' dare to fight their destined lot, striving to prevail against heaven.

This girl before us is exactly that—father dead, uncle hostile—yet she can still say, 'There will always be a mouthful of food.'

Literate, capable of keeping accounts, and strong‑willed.

These three qualities together, in this Zhoufu steeped in incense and the smell of copper, are a rare piece of raw jade.

Du Shanü fell silent for a moment, then spoke, her voice low but steady and firm.

Are you willing to go with me?

Yunniang stared, stunned.

The beauty's red‑rimmed eyes widened as she gazed at Du Shanü, as if she hadn't heard clearly, or as if she had but dared not believe.

Du Shanü repeated:

"Whether as a private tutor or an accountant, neither suits your talent and disposition; it's better to follow me, for I have business to entrust to you."

Yunniang's lips twitched twice, but she spoke no word.

Du Shanü, worried Yunniang might not come to her senses, lowered her voice and said to the fragrant, soft beauty in her embrace:

"I govern two cities; they previously suffered floods, and I have taken in many disaster victims."

"Disaster victims need shelter and education; the men have elderly scholars, so the women ought to receive the same—they, too, need a good teacher."

Cities, disaster victims, teacher......

Yunniang never imagined she would hear such things; her mind was a knotted tangle, and for a moment she couldn't grasp what she had heard.

Nowadays, no one understands better than she how hard it is for a woman to be literate.

Even though her father doted on her, back then, to hire a private tutor, he exhausted himself—effort akin to nine oxen and two tigers—and even drew much side‑eye from other elders in the family.

"'Women's learning is useless,' 'She'll inevitably marry,' 'Just be virtuous and obedient'......"

These sayings, Yunniang has heard them thousands of times since childhood.

But now, someone has told her for the first time, 'What men have, women can also have.'

She wanted to ask for clarification, but upon lifting her gaze to see Du Shanü's calm eyes, she broke into tears again.

This time her crying was different—not resentment, not fear, but an indescribable feeling lodged in her chest, so overwhelming she could only weep.

She bit her lip, nodding frantically, her head bobbing like a chick pecking grain, shaking tears and snot across her face.

"Good..... good......"

"This too counts as giving oneself in marriage......"

"How is it again 'giving oneself in marriage'!"

Behind her came a few intakes of breath and muffled laughs—evidently the men hired by Chen Er to bury the coffin haven't left yet.

Du Shanü didn't laugh; she simply reached out, touched Yunniang's hair ends, and spoke softly:

"You need not promise me, thank me, or, because I saved you, regard me as some sort of Son of Heaven......"

"I merely saved you once; you, thereafter, can save yourself countless times."

"So from now on you are not to say 'giving oneself in marriage'...... We must not allow others to dictate; first, love yourself."

Throughout history, when a woman loves someone, she seems able to make that person shine.

Yet few say that one must first love oneself.

Why must one insist on imposing one's own approval on others?

Clearly, clearly, you can do it too, right?

The breath on her shoulder came to a complete halt; those fallen tears were no longer scalding, leaving only a cool trace.

Du Shanü lowered her head, and with those eyes that made Yunniang's heart thump, she glanced at her.

That glance, just that glance.

Yunniang suddenly, as if struck by inspiration, thoroughly pinched the sourness at the tip of her nose, foolishly staring at Du Shanü, unable to speak for a long time—

Isn't he the Son of Heaven?

This person, clearly, bears the appearance of the Son of Heaven!

Du Shanü, unaware of her own accidental success, coaxed her a little longer, then turned and said to Chen Er waiting aside:

"Chen Er, go get a sturdier coffin for Yunniang's father, finish handling the two funeral matters here, then immediately rent a carriage and take the person to Dun Cheng Xian Xie, await arrangements."

"I will still calculate your silver; don't worry."

After speaking, the silent Chinu beside also said:

"Good slave slave, go write a handwritten letter to Yunniang, to serve as proof for Chen Weifang."

Afang is not ordinary clever; she should be able to understand her meaning.

Chen Er nodded first, but did not leave.

Du Shanü frowned slightly, and Chen Er somewhat embarrassedly reached out his hand:

"Master, please don't be angry; this servant naturally wishes to work, but my pocket is completely empty......"

Renting a carriage and handling funeral affairs both require silver.

And he truly cannot produce even a penny!

Du Shanü twitched her brow, about to pull out money, feeling the money pouch that had almost gone flat after just two days, she helplessly stopped her hand:

"First send the person, first send the person."

"Good slave slave, remember to add a line on that handwritten letter, tell Afang....... he will pay the money."

?? In Afang's eyes, Du Shanü —

? "Afang, I've come back causing trouble again! Let me work! Give me money! Oh right, Chinu, I've had enough of you too! And give you!"

? Standard yellow-haired image......