Chapter 70: The Issue of Heirs

After listening to Pan Jinlian’s words, Zhang Jie summed up:

“So you felt sorry for her and wanted to bring her home as a maid?”

“Yes.”

Pan Jinlian nodded vigorously, casting a glance at Yan Boxi.

“This humble servant, Yan Boxi, is alone and destitute; I beg the young master to take me in.”

Understanding the cue, Yan Boxi knelt and bowed slightly, her voice trembling with pitiful grace.

“Hmm…”

Zhang Jie tapped the table.

His household was wealthy; taking in one more maid, or even ten,

twenty, posed no problem—but Yan Boxi was a double-crosser!

If he took her in now, what if she betrayed him later?

Internal strife, betrayal from within—those were unacceptable.

“Jinlian…”

Zhang Jie was about to give Yan Boxi some money and send her away.

Thud~

Yan Boxi, ever skilled at reading the room, dropped to her knees with a cry, tears streaming like pear blossoms in the rain:

“My father is dead, my mother is old, our home is destitute—

I beg the young master to grant my mother and me even a single meal.”

As she spoke, she moved to bang her head on the floor.

“Young master, please keep her.”

Pan Jinlian tugged at Zhang Jie’s arm, pouting.

“Young master…”

Wu Song’s eyes also showed pity.

Winter was coming soon; if Zhang Jie refused to take her in, Yan Boxi and her mother would either freeze to death in the cold,

or be forced into the brothels—better dead than alive.

Wang Fu, who had stayed silent out of respect for Zhang Jie’s household matters, watched him with hopeful eyes.

Compared to Zhang Jie’s wealth, her husband, even after passing the provincial exam,

remained poor because he refused to accept land transfers.

Supporting two children already strained them; adding another mouth was impossible.

A juren’s degree reduced farmland taxes significantly, so farmers often

transferred their land titles into the juren’s name to evade taxes—a practice called tóuxiàn.

Of course, the farmers had to give a portion of their tax savings to the juren.

“Well… let’s keep her for now.”

Seeing everyone’s earnestness, Zhang Jie reluctantly agreed to keep Yan Boxi.

Besides, he didn’t believe a mere Yan Boxi could outwit a man with a system.

His earlier hesitation was merely to avoid wasting energy.

“Yay!”

Pan Jinlian, always spoiled by Zhang Jie, nearly jumped for joy.

Seeing Pan Jinlian so exuberant, Yan Boxi and Wang Fu exchanged strange glances.

This wasn’t master and servant—

even husband and wife weren’t this close.

Wu Song’s expression remained calm: Zhang Jie had always been this easygoing,

and that was precisely why he chose to follow him.

He, who cherished freedom, couldn’t bear to serve someone moody and unpredictable.

“Thank you, young master.”

Coming to her senses, Yan Boxi bowed deeply again.

“You’ll serve under Jinlian from now on. Do as she says.”

Zhang Jie made his arrangement.

“Yes.”

Yan Boxi rose gracefully and stood behind Pan Jinlian.

“Huh? Where’s my husband?”

Only now did Wang Fu, who had been watching the scene, remember her husband, Chen Wen.

When they left, Chen Wen had been discussing the classics with Zhang Jie.

Now Zhang Jie was sipping tea here, but her husband had vanished.

“Brother Chen had a breakthrough in his studies and is now pondering in the study.”

Zhang Jie offered a casual excuse.

Rebellion, slander of the sages—better known by as few as possible.

He hadn’t even told Wu Song or Pan Jinlian, yet he’d confided only in Chen Wen.

This was one reason Zhang Jie felt secure:

Even if Chen Wen reported him, there’d be no physical evidence, no witnesses.

Who would believe that Zhang Jie, a promising jieyuan with a bright future, was plotting rebellion?

Grand Secretary Yan once said well:

“Since ancient times, rebels have always been farmers.”

Wang Fu believed him instantly—after all, the bond between Zhang Jie and Chen Wen was undeniable.

Evening came, and it was time for dinner.

“Li’er, go call your father to eat.”

Wang Fu, apron tied, bustled between stove and pot, instructed Chen Li.

Pan Jinlian and Yan Boxi stood beside her, assisting.

Zhang Jie had offered to help, but Wang Fu and the others insisted: “A gentleman stays away from the kitchen,” and refused his aid.

Seeing their firmness, Zhang Jie gave up.

“Yes, Mother.”

Chen Li’s face was serious, as if entrusted with a vital mission.

As Wang Fu set the dishes on the table, Chen Li returned.

“Mother, Father says he doesn’t want to eat—he told us to start without him.”

Chen Li reported.

‘Brother Wen probably doesn’t want to face me.’

Zhang Jie smiled inwardly, guessing Chen Wen’s state of mind.

Chen Wen had surely noticed the Song Dynasty’s decay before—

but his ingrained worldview had made him ignore it instinctively.

Today, Zhang Jie tore away the veil of the sages, forcing him to confront the cruel truth.

Tormented by inner conflict, he naturally felt complicated toward Zhang Jie,

this hidden rebel.

He probably hadn’t yet decided how to face him.

“This…”

Wang Fu frowned at Chen Li’s report.

Chen Wen was the head of the household; Zhang Jie and the others were guests.

Guests present while the host was absent—that was deeply impolite.

A narrow-minded person might harbor resentment.

Zhang Jie, of course, was not such a man—but Chen Wen couldn’t be so rude.

Wang Fu immediately went to the study to “fetch” Chen Wen:

“Uncle Zhang, Uncle Wu, Sister Jinlian, Miss Yan,

please take your seats—I’ll go call my husband.”

“Sister-in-law, Brother Chen’s enlightenment is a good thing—such moments are rare.

Let’s not disturb him. We can eat first.”

Zhang Jie spoke calmly.

“Sister-in-law, we all know Brother Chen’s nature—no need for such formalities.”

The easygoing Wu Song echoed Zhang Jie.

“This…”

“Thank you both for your understanding.”

Wang Fu bowed deeply, grateful.

……

At night, a plaintive sound rose from Zhang Jie’s room.

“You’re terrible—how do you come up with so many tricks?”

After one bout of lovemaking, the exhausted Pan Jinlian lay sprawled across Zhang Jie’s chest, pouting.

“Books contain golden mansions; books contain beauties like jade.”

“Knowledge is power; knowledge is posture.”

Zhang Jie smiled mysteriously:

“Hehe, Jinlian, don’t you like it?”

“I, I…”

Thinking of the heavenly pleasure she had just experienced, Pan Jinlian’s cheeks flushed crimson.

Just as Zhang Jie was about to end tonight’s activities, Pan Jinlian whispered softly:

“Master, what do you think of Boyi?”

“Yan Boyi~”

Zhang Jie thought of Yan Boyi’s graceful beauty and delicate form, and sighed inwardly:

“Yan Boyi is foolish, but quite beautiful.”

Of course, the emotionally intelligent Zhang Jie would never praise another woman’s beauty to a woman.

After a moment’s pause, he said casually: “Boyi’s probably not bad, I suppose?”

“Master, if Boyi’s not bad, then why don’t you take her in?”

Pan Jinlian stared straight into Zhang Jie’s eyes.

“Huh?”

This time, it was Zhang Jie’s turn to be startled.

When did women start actively finding concubines for their husbands?

Isn’t a woman’s second name supposed to be jealousy?

“Master, Master, you’re too strong—I’m no match for you at all.”

Pan Jinlian spoke hesitantly, revealing her reason.

She knew Zhang Jie had been restraining himself these past days; otherwise, she feared she wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

She didn’t want him to suffer in silence, and in the Song Dynasty,

a woman who failed to satisfy her husband was considered a complete failure.

Though this reason was highly plausible, Zhang Jie sensed insincerity beneath it.

He cupped Pan Jinlian’s face and asked seriously:

“Jinlian, tell me the truth.”

“Master, I…”

Seeing how earnest Zhang Jie was, Pan Jinlian could no longer keep up the lie.

If there weren’t real reasons, how could a woman willingly share her husband with another woman?

“Tell me. If there’s a problem, we face it together,” Zhang Jie encouraged.

“Master, after all these days, my belly still shows no sign. I—I’ve failed Master, I’ve failed the ancestors of the Zhang family.”

Pan Jinlian wept, her voice breaking between sobs.

“So that’s it.”

Zhang Jie finally understood.

Pan Jinlian was distressed over the issue of heirs.

Yet as a transmigrator, he had overlooked this aspect.

Twenty-first-century data told him childlessness was the norm;

the idea of “sons and grandsons without end,” as the Foolish Old Man said, was actually difficult.

Coupled with his divine advantage, Zhang Jie felt he had a chance at immortality,

so he hadn’t cared much about heirs, unconsciously ignoring the issue.

After all, short-lived beings needed heirs to pass on bloodlines, beliefs, and life’s imprint;

immortals could simply watch dynasties rise and fall, seas turn to mulberry fields.

Moreover, immortals often had to clean up after their unworthy descendants—or even be dragged to death by them.

Haven’t you seen how many transmigrator protagonists fight the son, then the father shows up;

fight the father, then the grandfather appears; fight the grandfather,

then the great-grandfather comes; it’s always “ancestors without end.”

And the result? The protagonist wipes out the entire family.

Not every ancestor can be like Luo Feng in *Devouring the Heavens*,

who shows no mercy when dealing with criminal descendants.

Those who can show no mercy in striking down criminal descendants.