“What?”
“May I have some wine?”
I looked at the craftsmen present, who were all looking at me expectantly and couldn’t help but laugh. Turning around, I said: “A little bit is fine.”
With the help of these “professionals,” our renovation project indeed progressed rapidly.
I became the construction team’s canteen sister, cooking large pots of food for them.
Looking back after all this time, I finally saw Deng Ying again without his scholarly robes, wearing short clothes, with rolled-up trouser legs and sleeves, working alongside the craftsmen, immersed in earth, wood, and stone.
This was good too.
Being a principled scholar in the Great Ming too easily led one to the court rod or execution blade. Being a craftsman brought more freedom and happiness.
However, as Yang Lun said, having him work on house construction seemed a bit like using a talented person for menial tasks.
Fortunately, my drawing skills presented him with challenges.
The difficulty of the entire renovation project probably came entirely from my collection of “oddly shaped” drawings.
I originally had an almost dreamlike design for our house, but gradually became more practical.
Mainly because my drawing technique was too abstract – every drawing had to be studied and redrawn by Deng Ying before the craftsmen could understand it.
Even so, my “designs” still amazed the craftsmen.
The most interesting was the “sunroom” I designed in the courtyard.
From the outside, it looked like a wooden house, but I had Deng Ying create two “panoramic skylights” that could be fully opened on the roof. I wanted the interior furnishings to be simple, but it needed a bed. On clear summer nights, we could lie there and watch the stars. So Deng Ying and the craftsmen built a wooden platform base for water protection. They laid mats on the platform, cushions on the mats, and placed bedding.
During summer, we spent many nights enjoying the cool air in this “sunroom.”
Deng Ying would sit on the cushions reading while I lay against his legs watching the stars. When tired, I’d just fall asleep beside him.
Sometimes, Chen Hua and Yunqing would visit. I’d cool fruits in the well water, cut them into platters, and bring them to the sunroom, teaching Song Yunqing and Chen Hua to play cards, and getting Deng Ying to join our “group gambling.”
I’m embarrassed to say that although I’m from Sichuan, I can’t get interested in any activity that involves sitting in one place for over three hours, so I don’t play mahjong – only “Fighting the Landlord.” I drew the playing cards myself, on soft paper that needed redrawing almost every game. Later, Deng Ying made me a new deck from thin bamboo strips, with the “Big Joker” and “Little Joker” bearing my portrait.
Honestly, Deng Ying’s drawing skills were too good.
Every time Song Yunqing played cards with us, she would tease Deng Ying.
“Master, you spoil Yang Wan too much, even drawing her on these. If she doesn’t win our money, who will?”
Deng Ying looked at my cards and said to Yunqing: “You’re about to lose again.”
Song Yunqing frowned, looking at her cards: “Yang Wan, you always win when the Master helps you look at your cards, but when you play alone, you always lose. You might as well let Master play against us directly.”
I turned to ask Deng Ying: “Will you play?”
Deng Ying smiled and shook his head, “I won’t play.”
Chen Hua said: “You should play, let’s all fight against Miss Wan.”
Deng Ying still shook his head, “I have no money.”
“Don’t you have some hidden…”
Chen Hua let slip and used her cards to slap herself.
I rested my chin in my hand and smiled: “You still have some?”
Deng Ying said: “I don’t anymore. You just questioned me, how would I dare do it again?”
Song Yunqing laughed: “Don’t let Master help you fight Yang Wan anymore. If he takes the cards, we might as well just give our money directly to Yang Wan.”
That was indeed true.
That day, Yunqing and Chen Hua only went home after losing everything.
Deng Ying went to wash the cups and plates, then came back to see me sitting on the bed counting money. He crouched in front of me, looking at my hands without speaking.
I looked down with a smile: “What’s wrong?”
He replied softly: “I want to buy two books about construction methods.”
I smiled at his earnest expression.
Deng Ying watched me smile and reached out to pat my head, asking with a smile: “May I, Wan-wan?”
I was laughing too hard to speak, so he gently rubbed my hair, “Wan-wan, can I?”
I nodded through my laughter, “The household money is just in the cabinet, not even locked. If you want to buy something, just take it. No need to always ask me.”
Deng Ying put his other hand on my knee and said softly: “I want to ask you. From now on, whatever I do, I want to ask you first, and only do it after you agree.”
I slightly contained my laughter: “Why? There’s no need for that.”
Deng Ying shook his head, “Because I made mistakes before.”
“What… mistakes?”
Deng Ying withdrew his hand from my head and looked up at me: “Before, I never asked you about anything I did, acting on my own for several years. I didn’t listen to you at all, but until now, you’ve never punished me.”
I was stunned.
So that’s what he was thinking about.
I put down the money in my hands, put on my slippers, and got off the bed, pulling him up from the ground.
“Do you feel at peace being with me?”
Deng Ying nodded and made an “mm” sound.
I took his hand and said to him: “Me too. So, don’t think too much. When you’re with me, do what you want to do. When you have money, you treat me to good food; when I have money, I treat you to spicy food.”
Don’t blame me for being a prophet.
Later, Deng Ying made a name for himself in the Great Ming capital’s construction circle.
So we saved some money, planning to travel while we still had the strength. We went back to Sichuan together, visited Suzhou and Hangzhou, went beyond the Great Wall to see snow, and finally returned to the capital to age peacefully.
I saw Deng Ying grow old.
As I said before, he became a very gentle old man, without a temper, eager to do housework.
Occasionally he would still write poems for me, secretly reciting them to me while I slept.
I used to be someone who greatly feared “growing old.”
But Deng Ying helped me understand how difficult it is to complete this life fully.
Getting “old” is good.
When Deng Ying grew old, I won.
This is where I’ll end my account of daily life with Deng Ying in the Great Ming.
If you’re still eager for more, then read Deng Ying’s “Our Modern Daily Life.”
I heard he knew who I was, but I forgot him.
Come on, little Deng Ying, it’s your turn to pay your debt.